chapter one, ophelia

     OPHELIA HAS ALWAYS WONDERED if her father has ever beaten her mother up. Her mother has never spoken about him in an insulting way as she was an intelligent woman—she was a warrior in her own ways, demanding rights in the household even if she was supposed to be an obedient wife.

     Lily Salvatore wanted to do something, anything really apart from being a housewife. Her beliefs brought the unloving hand of her husband on her cheeks, ribs and elsewhere, but she hid them well.

     Ophelia always observed her mother, mimicing her. The way she sat, the way she held her chin up, the way she curved her lips into a forced smile—it was all taken from her mother. It didn't take her long to understand that her mother was abused by her father who took out his anger on her, only on her.

     It was understandable that when her mother died, Ophelia quickly overtook her mother's place, getting beaten up almost daily, the bruises on her body never properly healing. However, she carried her mother's courage inside of her until the end of her days, just her smile didn't appear as often as it should have, alerting the men that tried to court her. Something was utterly wrong with her.

     Ophelia trusted her mother blindly, drinking every word as holy water that has ever left her lips. Lily was her faith, taken away too soon. Soon, the young woman believed that she was capable of being strong, of shaping her own life, but she ended up in the bed of the river as the little rippling of the water oozed into her as a deadly lullaby she ought to avoid.

     "The world is yours, Ophelia. You are the only one who can change it."

The whisper of her mother made the woman's eyes flutter open as the breath got stuck inside of her throat. It was one of the times when you would become alert about your breathing and try to even it out. Except she wasn't supposed to be breathing.

It stung. Her whole body was as if frozen, as if mummified as she deeply inhaled some musty air into her lungs, revealing a familiar ache in her chest. Her body uncomfortably twitched as she coughed out a few drops of water out of her lungs, causing her dry throat to pulse intensely.

Her wide eyes seemed to be at the back of her head; her mind flooding with thoughts, endless questions that just clumped into huge nonsense and she didn't understand anything. The darkness that surrounded her, the pain in every muscle and bone, were known to her and it didn't scare her as much as it should have.

Her extremities twitched again, only this time hitting the hard surface that was surrounding her whole. Her mind suddenly grew silent - she was stuck inside of a box.

The woman's wounded heart, which was not working for the previous century and longer, started to beat fiercely in her chest. Fear, what a horrible friend... Her arms and legs, which were not fully provided with blood, started to strike the damned surface with every ounce of strength she had in her body. She was stuck, she was stuck, she was stuck...

Realising none of this was helping, surrounded by dark and panic, she opened her mouth to scream for help, but no sound escaped her throat, making the girl believe this was just some kind of another nightmare of hers. Why was she in a box if she spent all the time enduring the rough coldness of the water on her skin that was fiercely moving to her lungs? Choking her over and over again?

She, with difficulty, kept on hitting the coffin and to her surprise, it suddenly opened, inflating the lady's lungs with fresher air. Even if the coffin opened, she was still surrounded by the dark, causing her to feel unwelcome. She squinted her frightened eyes, eagerly trying to get used to the dark, unwittingly making her temples pulsate, developing a terrible migraine.

The poor lady slowly sat down and every brittle bone cracked, solemnly announcing she was indeed alive. Her trembling hands hugged her own petite body and squeezed herself as if she had to know this was not a lucid dream. While squeezing the silky fabric of her ruined dress, she exhaled sharply, trying to calm herself down to make her discover some solution.

She slowly stood up, placing her bare feet on a cold, stony ground, which made her shiver even more. This breezy and moist air caused her to feel sleepy, but she could not allow her to fall asleep again and go back to her nightmares. Instead, she focused on the fact that she was smelling the mould in the place that surrounded her, that she felt the rough stone against her feet, that she could feel something else apart from water.

With difficulty, she turned her head around and encountered a tiny light source in the distance, which was behind her. It was undoubtedly her only chance to stay alive. She was walking leisurely and painfully, trying not to fall with each step that she took. She was getting closer to the source of light that was dimmed, making her eyes get used to it faster than she expected to.

A slight breeze reached her calves and small shivers ran down her body, making her grit her teeth together, her hands painfully grasping her fragile body. It was unbelievably silent, but within each step, she could hear the light breeze that was making the leaves shake, creating a melody. She forgot what it was to be alive.

Soon her feet stood on the grass, her hands were holding the stone walls beside her as the full moon shone on her, creating dangerous shadows all around her for her paranoid mind. She didn't know where she was, she didn't know how she was here and she didn't know where to go if she will be able to make it out of here alive.

Suddenly, her mind got alerted again—warmth, she needed warmth to stay alive. Without guidance, without a clear mental state, without anything, her footsteps crunched on the grass as she made her way through the forest. Moving as if she was barely alive, and she was, her lifeless eyes looking forward, as her feet were a bit behind her—she didn't even feel the way of the rough pebbles ripped her skin.

Strangely enough, she felt hopeful—her chapped lips were curved into a small smile that was unnecessary as if she was about to make it. Her mind kept asking her for warmth, stating that water was her worst enemy. She kept on moving forward until she noticed a distant source of light that shined in warm orange, making her halt in her steps.

There, she had to go there. She bitterly gulped to relive the ache in her throat again as she moved past the branches towards the light that was igniting around her, guiding her towards her. Distant voices were overheard and her chest got flooded with panic. What will the people do when they see her like this? What will they do when they see that she didn't die? Will they tie her ankles, won't they?

Tears formed in her eyes, except nothing fell down her cheeks, but her lips trembled as she kept on going forward, trying to mutter out a shout for help, but nothing left her lips. She was damned, cursed in the worst ways.

She walked close enough to the source of light to see that it was a fire. Her eyes lit up with relief as she kept on moving forwards, her eyes blurring within each step as it was too light, but it was getting warmer. As she stood enough into the reach of the fire, she was revealed with the warmth that carried a sin beside it. Her wide eyes dropped to her feet where she pushed her head to the right and to the left, noticing a corpse in front of her.

     Her mouth opened to scream, only a silent wail leaving it as her heart started to thud faster, her eyes fixated on the dead woman's body, her blood staining the grass... It took a moment for her to realise that something was going on in front of her, that the attention was slowly shifting on her - the outsider.

     Witchcraft, it had to be witchcraft. Was she creating it? Didn't the people of the town accuse her of the murders, of the horrors in this town? Did she actually kill this woman?

     "Something's wrong," a female voice reached her ears and her fragile body had to remain put even if she wanted to hide.

     "Fix it," a rough voice appeared, making her body develop shivers as she started to slowly move back from there even if the fire was inviting.

     However, within each step back, she felt heavier and heavier, shifting her eyes from two women that were standing in the circles of fire and another woman who spoke with the man. She halted as soon as she saw the male's back, tilting her head to the side as her mind grew silent, too silent.

     A loud ringing sound overtook her hearing - high-pitched and vibrating. She huffed out in pain, not even fully realising that she was in danger—witchcraft was not allowed, it didn't exist and she was a witness to such a horrible event. She couldn't go back, she couldn't go further. She was stuck, she was stuck, she was stuck...

      Her mind didn't tell her to run, it didn't tell her that this was the end of her, it was silent as if it was meant to be. She was in the right place even if her reflexes should have fled a long time ago. She knows how cruel people are, she knows what they can do. However, suddenly the fire disappeared, revealing a dimmed source of fire in the middle where a woman was standing beside it chanting something in a distant murmur, making Ophelia's heart beat faster.

     "It's not working! There is no magic—I—I have no magic," the woman wailed, raising her hands and pushing them closer to the little altar of fire.

      The male's posture changed, it was overtaken by anger, pure rage that has never been seen before by anyone. How could anyone hate something so much that it would bring destruction? Just by the way his shoulders were wide, by the way his head was tall Ophelia could sense that he was about to do something forbidden. It oddly resembled father before he struck her.

       So he turned around, his eyes dropping on the outsider as if he knew she was here. Ophelia felt small, she felt so small and weak that she wanted to dig a hole and bury herself in it. Her mind still didn't tell her to run, nothing about her body functioned the way it should have. She just kept on looking at him.

It was safe to say he was blinded by his power, blinded by the loneliness that he created himself. This ritual was everything for him, it was the only reason for his terror that travelled through the centuries. It was his savior moment, it was his future.

Now, it was ruined.

Ruined because some sort of woman was standing in front of him, away, clutching into her gown as if it was her dear life. Murder, he wanted to murder her and he didn't think about it again as taking someone's life was easy for him.

He believed that taking people's life that stood in his way to getting the ritual done was a good job, a necessity even. However, as soon as his eyes dropped on her—he froze.

She was overflowing with power even if she was shaking out of fear. Was it fear? Just a little bit. She was simply cold. The whole view made him chuckle, his strict eyes dropping to the grass as he completely zoned out from the whines of the witch who lost her power and from the doppelgänger who tried to change his mind once again.

He knew it was her doing. It was the woman's doing. It was her fault.

His steps were slow, predator-like as he was eyeing her as if she was a prey, and she was. Oh, he will have so much fun ripping that power from her throat and devouring it whole since she ruined his ritual. He will have to wait for another month to do it again, for another fucking month.

"What did you do?" His voice was low and dangerous. He sensed the way her skin covered in shivers—good. Now she was afraid of him.

She shook her head, frantically, her wide eyes moving down as she seemed stuck, as if she couldn't move or there was simply just no strength for her to do so.

"Come on now, girl, what did you do?" His voice was stern, moving closer to her and at that moment her eyes flashed with anger, pure anger. Oh, she didn't like to be called a girl? What a pity...

The woman didn't talk and he took it as a sign, moving to her and grasping her throat with force, pushing her back to the closest tree— she didn't even flinch. Why was she like this?

     The fire was sparkling in his eyes, turning his lovely blue into darker tones, revealing him as a murderous man. His sharp facial structure was composed of angry undertones that showed only by the way how furious he was standing there in front of her. His lips were pressed together, the redness of his lips were turning white—he was hesitating, he was hesitating if he should kill her this exact moment or after a few more seconds.

"Do you understand what you just did?" His voice was low, unusually calm, "You better tell me what your intentions are before I gut you out," his threatened with pure venom in his voice.

Her body uncomfortably squirmed underneath his metal grip, she had nowhere to go. But as soon as her eyes met his, something— something changed.

He felt immense pain in his arm that was holding her throat, dark veins moving up to his body as she groaned out of pain, the same dark veins appearing on her neck. The fire behind them completely went out and he didn't even spare a glance at the doppelgänger behind him.

The woman groaned out in pain as her brown eyes shifted into a lovely, familiar amber, dark veins appearing underneath her eyes, making him step back in surprise as she fell down to the ground, letting out a deep huff.

It couldn't be. It couldn't... She was a hybrid?

"What the hell did you do?!" His voice raised as he grabbed the fragile woman from the ground and pushed her roughly against the tree, hearing a loud crack as her lovely amber eyes disappeared.

Her eyes teared up, her breath got stuck in her throat as she seemed clueless, but that didn't ease his anger. He believed that she stole the ritual from him, that this girl took everything from him.

"Klaus! Let her go!" The doppelgänger's voice reached his ears as he turned his head to face the woman with the unpleasantly high-pitched voice, seeing how she was holding her aunt, now a vampire in transition, and soon enough Stefan vamped to him, ready to stab him with a branch, but he halted.

Stefan Salvatore halted, the stake dropping out of his hand as the woman in Klaus's grip let out a squeak of relief.

"Ophelia?"

Hello, my lovelies!

Thoughts on the new chapter?
I want to hear your opinions!!
I miss Klaulia so much!

-sunny