She danced with the stranger, but somehow, he felt like a dream.
A dream where she was swept into an unknown abyss, lost with no way out. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound escaped. She tried to grasp what it all meant, but her thoughts scattered like mist.
This time, there was no rose garden. No strong hands holding her steady. She stood utterly alone—yet somehow, she could still smell him.
"Elias," she breathed, the name burning her tongue. Every time she thought of him, her heart ached. And yet, she couldn't even remember him.
"How sad… that's the first name you called."
Catherine spun around. There was no one there—but she had heard that voice. Familiar. Low. Icy.
Her heart pounded. The smoky grey of her eyes seemed darker now, touched faintly with blue.
And then he stepped out. His brown suit clung perfectly to his frame. His dark hair, trimmed close, carved the hard, stern lines of his face. Hazel eyes narrowed, sharp as blades.
He stood in a haze of smoke that curled around his feet, spreading outward.
"George," she whispered. Yes, she knew him—by name, by warmth. But she didn't run to him. She didn't fall into his embrace.
"I am pained," he said, his eyes darkening. "That you seem to forget me so quickly."
"Whatever do you mean?"
George stepped closer. "Elias. You thought of him. You thought of that vile creature who will one day feast on your blood."
Catherine's breath hitched.
"He is not human, Cath. Yet you bled for him?"
"I don't understand," she whispered. "I swear—it isn't my will to think of him. But I can't stop myself." She turned her face away, unable to bear the hurt in George's eyes.
"Catherine!" George's roar shook the air around her, and the atmosphere seemed to shift—thicker, heavier.
"Please…" Her chest tightened. Tears welled up and slid down her cheeks. She lifted her gaze slowly. But he was gone. "George?"
A chill crept down her spine as cold fingers brushed the back of her neck. She shivered, pulling away at once.
It brought no warmth. Only fear.
George stood there with a half-smile. "This is the only way I can come to you—through your dreams."
Catherine touched the spot on her neck where he'd laid his fingers. Nothing. She felt nothing at all. It was like the love they'd once shared had vanished.
"You have to think of me often. It's the only way I can stay with you."
"B-but… you're dead," Catherine whispered, shaking her head.
"I wouldn't be… if it weren't for that vampire."
Catherine blinked. "What do you mean?"
"He killed me, Cath. And now… now he wants to replace me."
Catherine staggered back. "No."
"He'll kill you too—given time. You must be wary of him."
"No…" Catherine's voice broke as she wept. It isn't possible. Elias would never hurt anyone. She trusted him, even if there were still pieces of the puzzle she didn't understand.
But deep down… a shadow of doubt stirred.
Suddenly, George roared, his voice echoing like a dark mantra. "He killed me. He killed me!"
The outburst made the wind howl. The ground trembled beneath her feet.
"Make it stop!" she pleaded, her voice raw with fear.
But it didn't stop. She could only sob, hollow and broken, lost in grief — though she no longer knew for whom she wept.
Gasps…
She opened her eyes. She was back in her room. The curtains swayed gently in the breeze. The soft glow of candlelight flickered across the walls. And strong arms circled her, anchoring her against a solid chest.
She turned — Elias held her close, so tightly she could feel him against her cheek.
"He killed me, Cath. And now he's coming for your soul."
No...
Catherine jolted back, her heart racing. Elias drew his hands away, his expression shifting — puzzled, almost self-conscious.
"You're awake," he said softly.
She sat up on the bed, her back to him. Her chest heaved, sweat glinting on her forehead.
"He'll kill you too,"
Elias frowned, confused by the fear in her eyes. Why did Catherine look so shaken? He rose, poured water into a mug, and walked over to her.
"What did you dream about?" he asked softly. Now that George's soul was suppressed, had she finally remembered? Remembered what they once shared?
"Here." He offered her the mug, his gesture gentle, almost formal.
But as the mug neared her hands, she slapped it away. Water splashed across the floor, and the sound startled him.
She shot to her feet and moved to the far end of the room. Moonlight spilled over her tall figure, catching the cascade of chestnut hair that framed her face.
"What's wrong?" Elias asked, concern darkening his voice. He started toward her, but she raised a hand, stopping him where he stood.
Her hand clutched at her chest. She seemed to struggle for breath, but she closed her eyes, drew in a deep inhale, and lifted her gaze to him.
"What did you do?"
Elias blinked.
"To George? What did you do to him?"
The fierceness in her eyes, the weight of her words — it struck him like a blade.
He stepped back, lips parting as if to answer… but no sound came. Only silence. His sin stood bare before her, heavy and absolute.
Catherine shook her head, tears streaking down her cheeks.
"You didn't… did you?"
Still, Elias couldn't speak. If he'd had a heart that beat, it would be pounding now. But it was the hatred in her eyes that hurt him more than the truth itself.
"Elias!" she cried, voice breaking. "You didn't?"
Her scream shattered the quiet of the night. The horses in the stables must have woken, but she didn't care. One look at his face told her everything she needed to know.
"How could you?" she cried, striding toward him. She struck his chest with her fists, turning wild, like a woman undone. "How could you do this to me? You killed the one person who meant so much to me — the one person I loved!"
Elias's hands trembled. He lifted one, meaning to touch her, but it fell uselessly to his side. His fingers clenched together, helpless.
"That's why you came to me? That's why you took my letters — because you felt shame? Guilt?"
Catherine's shoulders sagged. She stepped back, her gaze lifting to the open sky.
"All this while… I thought we might have had something."
"We did," Elias whispered. But she wasn't listening.
"You filled my head with all these ideas about reincarnation, and I believed you." She let out a bitter laugh. "You told me we were once lovers. And how foolish of me… to let you in."
"It's the truth," Elias said softly.
She spun toward him, her gaze hard as steel.
"George was right. It was wrong of me to so easily let another man in when I'd just lost him. It's a betrayal to him."
Elias shook his head. "Don't think of him."
Catherine closed her eyes. She couldn't bear to look into the depth of his auburn-red eyes — not without hurting. He did so much to her heart without even trying.
"You must have charmed me," she whispered. "You must have cast a spell on me. How else could I forget what I am — who I am? A woman in grief. A woman meant to mourn her lover."
He raised his hand, reaching for her. "Cath..."
"Leave," she said sharply. "Right now, Elias. Before I open my eyes."
"Please. Hear me out." He took a step closer.
But her eyes flew open, and the hate that flashed through them made him stop in his tracks.
"I do not want to hear a word you say. And I do not want to see you here again!"
Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Elias nodded to himself, then hurriedly leapt out the window.
From the garden, he watched the small opening of her window. A woman had entered the room and now held Catherine in a tight embrace.
Elias sighed. The pain she felt seemed to seep into him, heavy and suffocating. He longed to go to her — to hold her, to beg for her forgiveness. But he knew she was right. He had hurt her in the most unimaginable way… and now, she hated him.
He turned to leave. But a sharp pain seized his chest, stealing his breath. He clutched at it, grimacing, then shook his head, trying to will it away.
He took a step — and his leg buckled beneath him. He staggered to the ground.
The pain stabbed him like needles, sharp and relentless, and a throbbing ache gnawed at his skull.
Then, a faint light flickered at his hand. He stared down — one of his fingers was beginning to fade.
"No!" he roared, clutching his head. His eyes burned blood-red, his teeth lengthening into sharp points.
Pain. Agony. Guilt. But above all, rage — dark and consuming — took hold of him.
The night pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating, as if the darkness itself shared his anguish.
With a feral cry, he leapt into the night.