Many claim that mythical creatures do not exist, that they're just stories woven by imagination or the deceit of the eyes. Well, where I'm from we are surrounded by them mostly hearing of their doings but never directly involved until now.
My name is Aylin of Luneshire and this is my story.
I've always had dreams where I'm in the arms of a strange man his head between my thighs as he ravages me with his tongue making me moan before thrusting into me. The sheets are red, my hair disheveled. His head snaps back, releasing sharp canines, as he sinks his teeth into my neck. It's always the same each night, either that or I'm being chased by someone I can't see through the woods causing me to wake up with beads of sweat all over my body frame.
I was born to a blacksmith, although I never knew my mother and my father refrained from talking about her something about ill luck and wine, whatever that means. He said some maiden knocked on his door one night and when he opened it, there was I wrapped in thin rags and a bag of coins on my belly and a note saying I was his, which seemed unbelievable, if not for the fact that we had the same striking blue eyes, although his had gone grey over time.
The plan was to learn a trade like mending father's knickers and cloaks and preparing stew for when he came back from the day's work and maybe someday he would find me a husband, probably a farmer or a blacksmith like him, as there isn't much of an option around here.
The village we had to settle in was now called Luneshire. It was called Eldora once but because our village was now under the control of a werewolf king, of course the name of the village had to change. Luneshire meant a place under the moon, anything to give praise to their so-called moon goddess all because of those dreadful vampires plucking us one by one from our homes, either by luring us out or hypnotizing us to let them in.
I remember when one knocked on our door and beckoned to my father to step outside. I had heard the door open and thought my father wanted to empty his sacks until I heard the voice.
"Welcome me in, Blacksmith." It was deep and full of power.
I shuddered in knowing and ran to pull my father back in. The vampire looked into my eyes and spoke but nothing happened. The bloodsucker cocked his head sideways in bewilderment.
"It doesn't work on you." He closed his eyes briefly, opening them the color seemed to turn brighter. He spoke again.
"'Tis you the legends speak of, one with the blood of the moon, one with the blood of creation and destruction." Then he smiled not in a nice way but in a manner that made me want to crawl under the earth and bury myself in layers of hay and thick clay.
"What do you want, bloodsucker?" I said shakily.
"That's harsh. I just feed like the rest of you, except the demon king decided our choice of meal had to be different, you know, judging by the fact we sold our essence for power." He smirked, his canines glinting in the moonlight.
"Leave us," I snarled, throwing salt on the creature, causing his skin to sizzle as he hissed.
"You'll pay for that, little girl," he drawled and left like a gust of wind as it was nearly sunrise.
It has been a year since then. The vampires have not been seen in the land ever since the werewolf king claimed territory. No one had seen him in person, which I guess is a good thing, as I've heard he's not necessarily a pleasant element to be around.
"He eats virgins for vitality and drinks the blood of babes to give him extra years in life," the village storyteller usually says to the children, ensuring them not to venture into the woods, and dare I say it actually works.
On the day I turned twenty, my father sat me down with a bowl of stale bread and mice broth which I had caught in the corner of my cot and made into a gnarly stew for dinner. It was stringy, but it was dinner still.
"Aylin," he murmured, gulping down a part of the meat.
"Yes, Father."
"I'm getting old, you need a husband and children who'll run at your feet. You're getting a tad bit old."
I frowned. I've always avoided this topic, I didn't want to leave my father alone in this house.
"But Father…" He raised a palm at me, cutting me off.
"The Miller's son, he's a good match and he just clocked nineteen last moon. I did tell him you're seventeen, given you don't look your age. He'll come tomorrow with a trade for your hand in marriage."
"Father!" I spat, rising up abruptly, causing my chair to fall, which made my father flinch slightly before shrugging it off.
"It has been done. I bought you a dress which you must wear for the gathering tomorrow to pick a day you are to wed." My eyes were beginning to tear now.
"But Father" I ran swiftly to his side. "Please, Father, I'm not ready to leave you, and what will happen if he finds out you lied about my age?" One or two tears had fallen off my cheeks, staining my dress.
"They will never know, not unless you tell them, and you will not tell them." He looked me square in the eyes. Father has only done that once when I ventured into the woods at sixteen, and now for the second time he did.
"Yes, Father," I sighed in defeat.
"Good. Now clear the table. I seem to have lost my appetite."
He got up and went towards his room, leaving me to wash the bowls and bawl my eyes out quietly.
The cock crowed a little early the next day, mocking my fated union with the boy who would be coming to ask for my hand in marriage.
I got off my bed and made my way to the river where the maidens had their baths. Dipping my toes into the water, they recoiled from how cold it was.
"Even the waters mock me too," I murmured.
Taking off my nightdress and settling in the water, I rubbed my washcloth with a fat bar I had dipped in jasmine and used it to wash off all the sweat and tears, realizing this could be the last bath I might have in my father's house.
Shuddering, teeth chattering and lips blue, Aylin ran into her father's shack and headed for her room. Meanwhile, in the deep parts of the forest, the werewolf king was getting ready to make his random rounds done every ten years. It was supposed to be a quiet check, where the residents would stay in front of their shacks and new individuals would be listed and pay tribute, but fate decided it was time for a bit of a twist