Yet, we are always lying low in towns plagued with these night creatures. The towns we stay in are constantly crawling with vampires and Blood Witches. Sometimes, there is the occasional werewolf or shifter, but they prefer to stay in their own territories in the West, where vampires and witches would not set foot unless required. It's mostly the vampires and Blood Witches that seem to have some sort of mutual understanding. So what is it we’re actually hiding from?
Even though we share our world with the darklings, Mother rarely speaks of them, as if she can’t see them. They stay away from us because of the peculiar magic we hold; it makes it unbearable for them to be too near to us. We can even kill them if we touch them, or if they somehow manage to touch us.
When I was fifteen, I asked my mother if we could please stay in one place for longer than a few months, especially now that we were older. There was a flare of emotion in her eyes before she grimaced and told me she couldn’t give me that yet, but she promised me it would besoon.
But soon never came.
I asked because I wanted to settle and finally build a life of my own. Find a partner. It was the only time I asked, and I resented her for not allowing it, for refusing to comply with such a simple request. The resentment built over the years, and I was left in the dark about why we moved so often.
It’s been almost three years. My brother and I are turning eighteen soon, but she doesn’t seem to care about our time, only her own. She always says the same thing when we ask why we have to move, and despite the pain I see in her eyes—the hurt she hides behind her smile—her promises mean less each time, her excuses becoming weaker. And perhaps some things are better left unsaid, to move on in silence, but she owes us an explanation as to why she is stealing our lives away.
Every person is born into this world with the same guarantee. It is a beautiful yet delicate vow from parent to child—if you believe in it. I used to believe in it, but now I find it a sickening, delusional promise.
When you are born into this world, you receive the guarantee that you can become extraordinary if you wish hard enough and are willing to work toward becoming all that you can be. It is an assurance that every parent, caretaker, or guardian lays ahead for their children as they enter this world. Or perhaps it is a vow they make only for themselves, something to hold onto in this rotten, infested world we live in nowadays.
No matter which part of society you are born into, every being is guaranteed to be told the same ideal. Both humanity and those representing it. That fragile promise lingers around us, like profanity almost; it gives us aspiration, often in an unfair manner—a curse, cloaked as hope, a forsaken dream. We grab at that promise, yet it steadily slips away from us, a little further every day, while the clock keeps ticking.
We know it’s a lie, yet our minds play tricks on us, desire keeps us going, chasing after that elusive dream—nothing more than a mere illusion for most of us.
My mother seems to think my brother and I believe in that valueless oath of hers—the one she claims to keep—but it is she who keeps us from embracing it. Because due to her actions, it has become worthless, empty. The life we live makes it impossible to even consider chasing such a fate. Maybe we were never destined to be extraordinary, and all of it is merely a fantasy.
But I think it is something a mother wants to hold on to, and she needs us to believe that vow of hers. A part of us still does, I guess, or at least wants to; she, too, must believe it if she wants to keep herself going.
Sometimes it’s better to believe in a hollow promise than to have no hope at all.
I can see the sorrow on her washed-out face. The thin lines from worry, etching deep creases into her skin, casting shadows that make her appear older than she truly is.
When we are on the road, the dirt on her face from the long days of traveling only seems to make it worse; the dark silhouettes are more evident. Yet, I know she is just doing the best she can, and by reassuring us that her vow has worth, she can keep going. I can tell from her eyes that there is something vital about it, that damn promise, but I cannot figure out what it is that makes her hold onto it for dear life.
So, for the love of the old Gods and the love I have for my mother, I comfort her by reassuring her that I believe I can have the life I’ve always dreamt of. The life that she’s always dreamt of for me, for us, even though I hate her for taking that guarantee from me until she is ready to give it freely.
When she claims that we will settle down eventually, start a family, and have all the beautiful things we both deserve, that she thinks we deserve, I nod. However, I stopped believing those pretty words when I was still a teen, and her continuous refusal to deliver on it only solidifies it. And so, I nod whenever she tells us again that we will be settling somewhere soon, so we can finally start a family ourselves.
From a very young age, I learned that the vow, my mother's oath to us, her children, was not for me and that I would never get hold of what was dangled in front of me. The only thing I am promised is constant upheaval. It is a phantasm. Perhaps this promise had value back in the old days, when the world was different and there was still a balance, but equilibrium is nowhere to be found nowadays.
Everywhere you look, balance no longer exists in each village we pass through. There is no way to retrieve it. It is just gone. There’s no Light to push back the Darkness.
In most towns, like the one we are staying in now, people desperately cling to inhumane coping mechanisms—like sacrificing young girls and women. They slaughter them like they are cattle and leave them to rot for the crows to eat, until Mother Nature is ready to take back what was forgotten. The trees surrounding these towns have bones scattered around them, corpses still decomposing while the next one is dumped atop, their bark stained dark red.
Other towns have been rampaged and destroyed during small-scale wars, with humankind always on the losing end. A battle that is wrongly chosen every time. We are too fragile, no match for these dark-natured critters.
Some towns do their best to combat unwanted visitors with their herbs and salts, putting their faith in Mother Nature—a better bet than the old Gods.
I’m sure the witches have a laugh at it regardless. The witches have clearly lost all respect for nature in general, now solely relying on blood for their magic.
Most villagers are too scared to leave their homes, even during the day. Most activity occurs during the day's peak hours, creating a false sense of safety and a herd mentality, even though many nocturnal creatures are now Daywalkers as well. For some, it was the result of evolution, while for others, it was due to the black magic the witches possessed.
Because of this, even broad daylight is no longer a safe haven. Children can no longer play outside, and people's lives are dictated by fear.
Abductions are common. I’ve heard they auction off humans in the cities up North, and I’ve also heard rumors of so-called blood banks up there.
Mother interrupted that conversation when she heard, from a distance, what the vampire was telling me. I despised her for it. Vampires both frighten and fascinate me, and it took me a long time to find one willing to even speak to me.
The male vampire told me that it's primarily human children who are abducted, young and fresh, but they will also abduct adults who cannot protect themselves.
There are a few brave humans out there who try to fight off the terrors, and towns that have agreed to a pact to maintain a truce.
Rarely do we come across travelers when we are on foot to a new place where we can live for a short while, and the few humans we do meet have the same compact form of magic as we do. We who can freely roam are the lucky ones since the magic is scarce.
