"What's the last thing you can remember, Mary?", the woman with the stone-cold face, a stern beauty, asked cut and dry. She readied her pencil to write down my words, her eyes drilling into my head.
Every single word of mine was documented.
I took a deep breath.
Pictures. Sounds. They all flashed before my own eyes.
Screams.
Fire.
Burning.
Blood.
The word survivor.
I closed my eyes.
Red
I saw red. Only red.
But before I could think more about it, my mouth already chose an answer.
"Forget-me-nots." Even to me, my own voice sounded foreign.
"Myosotis", she stated, nodding, causing her ink black hair with the blue shine to shake. "What do they mean to you? Is that your favourite flower?"
"I don't know."
I could only remember their screams and the heavy weight on my shoulders.
But who were they? What had I done?
But more importantly - why couldn't I remember?
Endless wandering comes to an end - and a new life begins.
Not an easy one - but long and agonizing.
The last witch of her kind and family, born to thrive but forced to forget why.
Mary Rebecca Brooks found herself in the middle of nowhere, lost, alone and confused.
Who was she? Where was she? Why was she here?
Mary wanders the world for a purpose, travels in search for her home that she can never seem to find.
Her search comes to a halt when she is taken in by a stern looking woman. Under the excuse of treating her mental state, Mary is given a home until she can remember herself and who she is - but living in the mansion of "Sieur Baldwin" has its price.
And the price is finding out your true identity.
Death accompanies her every step, as well as a handful of vampires, witches, demons, angels - all because of who she is.
Or was.
The last Southeil witch.
A survivor.
A weaver.
Born between two worlds, despised by those who should love her. Being labeled as "defective", "incomplete", "impure". Suffering repeated and constant persecution. How could she believe in happiness? Her heart had been bombarded by countless insults over the years in her home pack..., but against the setbacks of life, she remained determined to overcome all obstacles and prove that she was not weak but "unique", as her father always claimed. Her Witch blood did not diminish her courage at all... But lately she had been feeling strange... dreaming every night of a man, or rather, of his silhouette. The strength he emanated was terrifying, like a being from the coldest, most soulless underworld... making her doubt her real existence and her own sanity..., but why, even though she felt a terror that paralyzed her body, she couldn't forget the sadness she saw in his eyes? They were begging... for what? Someone? A love? To be rescued? Who was that "God" that lived in the darkness? His face gave her the feeling of recognition, he was not totally strange to her soul..., but at the same time, she was absolutely sure she had never seen him before... her blood warmed and her heart beat faster... What did it all mean? Was it all a result of her longing for her companion who she was told would never come? Or did it really have some other meaning? I had to find out...