Reincarnated Soul

Two : Deception

Kriiiing! Kriiiing!

The sharp, grating sound shattered the silence, pulling me from the fragile embrace of sleep.

Kriiiing! Kriiiing!

I winced, my sensitive ears throbbing at the relentless noise. Beside me, Dylan slept peacefully, undisturbed by the piercing sound that echoed through the house. Of course, humans didn’t share my heightened senses.

Kriiiing! Kriiiing!

I turned my head to the clock—2:57 a.m. Who in their right mind would call at this hour? My stomach churned with unease.

With a groan, I swung my legs out of bed and trudged downstairs. Each ring of the telephone clawed at my nerves, the sound becoming sharper, more sinister.

Kriiiing! Kriii---

I snatched the receiver. “Hello?”

Silence.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” My voice faltered slightly.

Nothing but faint static answered.

“Listen, if this is a joke—”

“It’s time, my child.”

Wait… is that…

The voice was soft yet chilling, each word laced with a familiarity that struck me like lightning.

“No…” My grip on the phone slackened, and it fell from my hand, clattering against the floor.

It was her.

After all these years—my mother.

My heart thundered in my chest, a cacophony of disbelief and fear. But before I could make sense of it, cold hands gripped my shoulders. A sharp sting pierced my neck, spreading icy fire through my veins.

“NO! DYLAN!” I screamed his name as darkness closed in, my vision spinning.

"What have they done to me?! What did they inject into me?!"

I saw him then—Dylan—racing toward me like a desperate force of nature, his face contorted in sheer terror. His eyes burned with panic, locked on me, but shadowy hands clawed at him, restraining him, dragging him back.

I couldn’t make out who—or what—held him, only the struggle, the frantic thrashing of his arms as he fought to reach me. His voice, raw and filled with anguish, pierced the chaos, calling my name.

But it was too late.

The world was fading, pulling me under like a merciless tide. Darkness consumed me as his cries became a distant echo, slipping beyond my reach.

“Dylan…” His name was my last whisper before the world fell silent.

—

The crackle of flames…

The haunting calls of owls…

The rustling whispers of leaves in the wind…

I jolted awake, engulfed in suffocating darkness. Panic slammed into me as I realized my senses were sharp and painfully alert, yet my body was powerless—betrayed by a terrifying, unfamiliar weakness. My wrists and ankles were bound tight, biting into my skin, and a blindfold smothered my sight, leaving me stranded in a void.

My breath came ragged, fury building like a storm in my chest. I twisted and pulled at the bindings, desperation igniting every movement, but they held firm.

Only one thing comes to my mind…

"Mother!" I spat her name. It was a curse, a plea, and a declaration of war all at once. My blood boiled as the word tore from my throat, each syllable laced with hatred.

“Oh, my darling,” her voice slithered through the darkness, cold and mocking. “Look at you now. Weak. Helpless. Pathetic.”

“Where is Dylan?!” I roared, my fangs bared as fury surged through me. I strained against the darkness, my ears attuned to every sound, my senses desperately searching for her. Was she close, watching me with that infuriating smirk? Or hidden, savoring my helplessness from afar? My hands clenched into fists as frustration bubbled over—I wanted to find her, to unleash every ounce of my wrath on her.

Her footsteps drew closer, a sinister rhythm to her approach. “He’s close, dear. Closer than you think.”

“Tell me where he is!” My voice cracked with desperation, my chest heaving with the effort to remain composed.

“You disappoint me, Cassandra,” she sneered. “You’ve abandoned your clan, your power and influence, for a human. A mortal. Look at what it’s cost you.”

“I don’t care about your throne or your power!” I snarled. “He’s my everything, I do not need anything else. Tell me where he is!”

“Very well,” my mother purred, her voice smooth like velvet but laced with venom. “He’s at the edge of a cliff. It’s for you to figure out which one, but I assume you’re too weak to find him.” Even if I cannot see her, I can feel her lips curling into a smile so wicked, it sends a cold shiver crawling down my spine. “In that case, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. A mortal woman, wounded, waits in the forest. Feed on her, regain your strength, and only then may you save him.”

My heart stuttered, the weight of her words settling like lead in my chest. Dread pooled in my stomach, heavy and suffocating. “What are you talking about?” I demanded, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to remain composed.

Her laughter rang out, cruel and sharp, slicing through the tension in the air like a blade. “Oh, my dear child, you’ll understand soon enough,” she mocked, once again, making my blood boil “Consider this a test,” she continued, daring me to defy her. “Prove your love—or reveal your weakness.”

Her words struck like a blow, each syllable weighted with cruel intent. My throat tightened as the gravity of her challenge settled over me. Feed on a human again? After all, I’d sworn to leave behind for Dylan? She was forcing me to choose between the very essence of who I’d become and the life of the one I loved most.

I felt my mother step closer, her presence oppressive. “Make no mistake, Cassandra,” she whispered, her voice dripping with mockery. “If you fail, it is you who will doom him. The choice is yours—but the consequences, they’re mine to orchestrate.”

Her laughter faded into the night as she vanished, leaving me alone with the crushing weight of her ultimatum. My fists clenched as fury and fear warred within me. Prove my love—or succumb to the monster she so desperately wanted me to be.

—

The forest loomed ahead, a twisted maze of shadow and silence, its dark heart pulsing with malevolent energy. Each step was a war against my own body and the venom they injected–I don’t know what kind–still coursing through my veins.

My wrists, raw and aching, bore the angry marks of the rope I had clawed free from earlier. My hands shook from the effort, the nails still crusted with blood where they had scraped against the bindings. The blindfold was gone, but the world around me was a distorted, wavering nightmare. The venom had tainted my vision, blurring shapes into shadows and transforming light into ghostly smears.

Yet the scent of blood lingered, sharp and metallic, weaving through the air like a sinister thread. It was intoxicating, its pull irresistible, dragging me forward even as my body screamed to stop. Each step felt heavier, the earth itself conspiring against me, but I couldn’t stop. The siren call of that scent left me no choice.

Then I saw her—the mortal woman my mother had described.

A figure emerged from the haze, kneeling in the dirt. Her form was wrapped in what appeared to be a dress, the fabric stained and torn, clinging to her frail frame. Her hands were bound behind her back, trembling with the desperation of someone utterly helpless. A sack covered her head, concealing her face, though faint sobs reached me through the oppressive silence. Her very presence radiated fear, the kind that twists in your stomach and leaves you hollow.

I squinted, trying to make sense of her, but the venom still clouded my sight. Her movements were a blur, her silhouette fractured as though she were a mirage in the thickening shadows.

Her trembling shoulders mirrored my own internal struggle—two souls bound by the inevitability of this moment.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of my guilt. The words tasted like ash in my mouth as I stepped closer, each movement a betrayal of the person I had fought to become.

The scent of her blood grew stronger, saturating the air, and making my fangs ache with a hunger I could barely control. She had a wounded shoulder, and from what I could make out, her legs were just as injured. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, fighting the predator inside me. My vision blurred once more, shadows twisting and flickering like cruel specters, taunting me, pushing me closer to the edge.

And still, I moved forward, the monster clawing its way closer to the surface with every step.

Tears blurred my vision as I hovered above her, my heart twisting into a cruel knot of grief and regret. I hadn’t wanted this. I hadn’t wanted any of it. But Dylan… His face, his voice, his love—he was the reason I had come this far. He was out there, somewhere, terrified at the edge of an unknown cliff. I had promised myself I would do anything to save him, and now, here I stood, looking down at a woman whose life I might have to take to keep that promise.

The weight of the decision crushed me. If I didn’t do this, Dylan might die. He might fade away before I could find a way to save him, and I would be left alone, weak, helpless. I couldn’t allow that to happen. But if I did it—if I gave in to the hunger, to the blood that sang to me—I would be a monster in his eyes. He might never forgive me. He might never look at me the same way again.

Could I really condemn her for the sake of my love? Could I condemn myself?

My vision swam, everything around me blurring as the thought of losing Dylan, of watching him die because of my weakness, gnawed at my soul. The blood could restore my strength, could give me the power to save him. But at what cost?

I hesitated, but only for a moment. The hunger, the desperation—it was too much. Dylan’s voice echoed in my mind, urging me to act, to do whatever it took.

I couldn’t let him die.

Not like this.

Not when I could do something about it.

With shaking hands, I gripped her shoulders, and before I could think, I sank my fangs deep into her neck. The moment my teeth broke through her flesh, her blood flooded my mouth in a rush, so warm, so rich, so alive. Each sip was like fire, spreading through my veins, chasing away the weakness, the dizziness, the emptiness that had overtaken me. My body responded, strengthening, returning to me in waves—my senses sharpened, and the darkness that had threatened to swallow me receded.

But with every drop, something darker clawed at my soul. The guilt, the horror, the awareness of what I had just done—it was suffocating. I could feel her life slipping away, her body going limp, her hands brushing against mine in a final, fragile gesture.

I was about to pull away, but then she stopped me. A touch—a familiar touch.

My heart froze.

Every fiber of my being screamed in confusion, as if the universe itself was twisting the very fabric of reality. The sensation was unmistakable, a touch that felt too familiar, too intimate.

“No…” The word barely escaped my trembling lips, a whisper of disbelief as my hands, seemingly guided by some force beyond my control, reached out to pull the sack from her head. My pulse hammered in my ears, a deafening drumbeat that matched the thunder in my chest, each beat louder than the last.

I hesitated, the touch igniting something deep within me. As my senses and vision slowly returned to normal, I realized with growing shock that the body I was clinging to was not as fragile as I had expected. Its frame felt different, the muscles beneath the skin stronger, more solid. It was not the delicate curve of a woman, but the defined strength of someone—something else. The wrongness of it clawed at my sanity, but I couldn’t stop myself.

When the sack finally came away, the world around me crumbled into nothingness.

There, beneath the veil, was not the woman I had expected.

“DYLAN!” The scream tore from my throat, raw and anguished, a cry that felt as though it were being ripped from the very marrow of my bones. My breath caught in my throat as I slowly—reluctantly—pulled away from the wound.

NO. NO. THIS CAN'T BE TRUE.

It was his blood all along. His.

My hands trembled, the weight of betrayal and grief threatening to collapse me. I had drained him. I had taken his life in the name of my twisted, desperate love for him. It suffocates me.

I could hear the pulse of my own blood, thick with the realization. The hunger, the strength flooding through me now, was not from the woman I thought I had killed.

It was from him. From Dylan.

Dead.

His body was so still, too still. His chest didn’t rise, his heart didn’t beat. His eyes were closed, vacant, as if he had been stolen from me long before I realized what I had done. His face, once full of life and love, now a mask of cold indifference, seemed miles away from the vibrant man I had known. His lips, stained with the remnants of blood, didn’t tremble, didn’t speak.

I noticed then, the cloth—tightly bound around his mouth, gagging him. It was meant to stop him from crying out. To silence the screams that could have torn through the night, to prevent him from begging for mercy as I fed on him. To prevent me from recognizing him.

My heart shattered even further as I gently, reluctantly, lifted his lifeless form, searching for some sign that he might still be with me. But there was nothing. Only the silence of his stillness, and the coldness that seemed to seep deeper into me with every passing second.

I had taken his life.

The realization struck like a tidal wave, overwhelming in its devastation. I crumpled to my knees, clutching his lifeless form to my chest, my sobs wracking my body as I whispered,

“What have I done? No… no…”

The truth crashed over me with a force that threatened to tear me apart—my mother had lied. She had played me, knowing exactly what would happen, knowing what I would become.

Her laughter echoed in my mind, cruel and cold, as if mocking me for being so naïve. She knew I would be broken by this. She knew, and she made me do it.

“YOU'RE A MONSTER, LUCINDA! I despise you with every ounce of my being!” I screamed to the heavens, my voice cracking as tears blurred my vision. “You knew all along, and you made me do this!” But there was no answer. No comforting presence. Just the sound of the rain falling, mingling with the blood that stained my skin, my soul.

The storm raged above me, an unforgiving reflection of the agony tearing through me, as I held Dylan’s body closer. My chest tightened with the weight of grief too heavy to bear. “I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry…”

I pressed my lips to his forehead, gasping for air, but there was no comfort. No solace. The love I had fought for, the love I had sacrificed everything for, was now gone, destroyed by my own hands.

“You were my everything…” I whispered, my voice breaking as tears flowed freely. “And now… I am nothing.”