This is dedicated to this amazing person for all of his support, votes, and everything, he was literally my first actual vote, minus a few friend given votes, and I thank him for that. So thank youuuuuu <3

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So, the title of this chapter is actually really coincidentally relevant, considering that not only are there complications in the chapter but also in the writing world for me. I never thought writer's block was a real thing, I actually kind of thought it was just an excuse for writers to not update . Like "Oh I have writer's block so I wont be writing for a few years." in reality, "Oh, I'm not really feeling it, blah blah blah." y'know? But I was obviously wrong, because for awhile there, I couldn't write. Anything. Effing frustrating, lemme tell you. BUT, I think I'm good now, so lets see, shall weh?

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Ashlynn----

I wake up in the bed of my given room, my hair tangled, hanging in limp wild curls. I groaned, its been a week of being stuck in this damn hotel, and I was ready to kill someone. Nikolas had pretended our little interaction had never happened, which was fine with me, I had no interest talking about it. It was a low point for me in my mind. I had given in, I let my walls crumble, and it was one of those moments I cringed at. I was weak, and it was disgusting to think about. I wouldn't allow myself to think of it any other way, that would turn personal..and well, I had already made that mistake once recently.

I swung my legs over the side of the large queen bed, my feet touching soft carpet as I stand finding my reflection in the mirror. All seemed to look good as I scanned from my feet to my long legs, to my slim curvy upper body. It all seemed fine. Until I got to my face, my face was still as ivory pale as per usual, but my eyes. Bright violet, the color rounding my pupil just as any other eye color, but it was bright violet. Vivid, and almost illuminating. My mouth dropped open, my now abnormally colored eyes widened. This obviously wasn't right. Someone must have poisoned me, or I'm sick, deadly sick. My paranoid untrusting self started to jump to every conclusion there.

If anyone would poison me, it would be Elizabeth. My quick temper was all too ready to start boiling as I stalked out of the royally decorated room and down the red carpeted halls, looking with a killing glare for the little brat. I practically walked half the damn place before I came at a stop at the kitchen finding both Nickolas and Elizabeth there, Nickolas was at the breakfast table in the corner of the room by the large window, but I ignored him, strutting straight up to Elizabeth who was standing at the counter island, sipping coffee.

"What the hell is this, Tracker?" I start motioning to my violet eyes, continuing, "What did you do to me? Huh? Poisoned me? Thinking you could kill me, just like that?" I was dangerously close, my capable hands clutched into fists at my sides.

"Whoa, hybrid, calm it--" Elizabeth starts but I cut her off immediately, still not done with my ranting,

"Got pissed because another girl came into the picture and you didn't get as much attention as her? Is that it? Just attempt murder then? I swear if I end up dormant because of you--" I start to threaten only to be cut off by an abrupt yank at my arm by Nickolas as he intercedes,

"What the shit are you talking about, Ashlynn?" he asks roughly, and I pull free, spinning around to face him as I narrow my eyes up at his. And as he looked on the issue, there was silence. Then a cocky smirk started to pull at the edges of his lips.

"What's so funny, Nickolas?" I asked my voice filled with the seething anger I felt.

"You aren't done maturing, hybrid." he replies as if trying to stifle a laugh.

"I finished that when I was nineteen, noticed how I didn't age? I've been this way for decades now." I point out, my hands on my hips now as I flip my dark bangs out of my face.

"You're a hybrid, the first kind of this hybrid, you are highly complicated where genetics are concerned, your vampire transfer may have finished, but I wouldn't be surprised if your witch side has yet to complete." he explains, and I hear, to my absolute rage, Elizabeth break into laughter. I turn around painting my face with boredom.

"Oh, stop it, you look like a dying, cackling witch." and then I stop with mock understanding, "Wait, that's what your regular face looks like isn't it?" And she stops, glaring at me, bringing an upmost satisfied smile to my face before I walk out in my pajama shorts and tank topped glory.

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I sit in the library, lounging on the leather couch, my feet propped up on the side of it. I was trying to find something to explain the hybrid transfer, but I was left with nothing but stacks upon stacks of useless leather bound books lying around my area, as well on my lap. There's nothing. And I was stuck with purple, frigging, eyes. Imagine the time it would take to find clothes that wouldn't clash with this color? Like, hell..

I heard a knock on the wall and my head swung to the side to see the intruder of my very important thoughts. And there I saw her. A short, golden haired, blue eyed girl. The sickness she undoubtedly felt was etched all over the young girl' face, bringing out the bags under her eyes, and the droop of her lips, along with the frailness of herself.

"I..uh..I was just coming for something." the girl said to me, her voice light and cracked, making think of a fallen angel.

Swallowing my guilt, I say dryly, "Well, good luck finding it."

" For someone who is living in the place of someone who could kill you instantly, you sure are ungrateful." she replies and I find a glare from those seemingly innocent blue eyes. A smile edged its way onto my lips. Might not hate this girl.

"Well, for someone who is deathly sick, you sure have a mouthful to say." I retort, my smile turning into a half grin, pulling on only one edge of my mouth.

"What is your name, anyways?" she asks, her voice filled with seeming boredom.

"Ashlynn Brooks, is what most call me." I reply dully as I look back at my book.

"Alright, Ashlynn, then most people call me Clare." She replies walking over to me and sitting down at the couch across from mine. "Whats up with your eyes?"

"Your brother says unfinished maturing." I answer still scanning through the paragraphs.

"My great grandpa said he saw Michael with those eyes once, said it meant somethin about power. But I guess his eyes changed a lot, from what I heard, said it was part of the process." she explains, slowly bringing my eyes up to her, I was caught, now intrigued, I ask,

"What process?"

"Its part of some triangle, I don't know the details. I just know three people in the world will posses it, the trick is all of them being alive. I assume that's why your father was hidden. The Ring is always so dramatic." she says dryly, rolling her eyes.

I didn't find it dramatic, I found it a piece to a thousand pieced puzzle.