Clara opened her eyes to darkness. Her head hurt, and she couldn't remember where she was. Then it all came crashing back—the locket glowing blue, the forest, the stone with strange symbols, and those silver eyes.
She sat up quickly, heart beating. She wasn't in the forest anymore. Instead, she found herself on a soft bed in a room lit only by moonlight coming through tall windows. The walls were made of dark stone, and heavy curtains hung beside the windows. It felt old and cold, like a place from another time.
"Hello?" Clara called, her voice small in the big room. No one answered.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, shocked to find she was still wearing her clothes from earlier, though someone had taken her shoes. The floor was icy cold under her bare feet.
The charm still hung around her neck, but it no longer glowed. Clara touched it, hoping it might light up again, but it stayed dark and quiet.
A door creaked open at the far end of the room. Clara froze, her eyes trying to see who was there.
"You're finally awake," said a deep voice—the same one she'd heard in the forest. A tall person stepped into the moonlight.
Clara gasped. It was a man, but unlike any she'd ever seen. He had long black hair that fell past his shoulders and skin so pale it seemed to glow in the dark. But it was his eyes that made Clara's heart stop—silver eyes that watched her with a focused stare, the same ones from her dreams.
"Who are you?" Clara ordered, trying to sound brave even though she was shaking. "Where am I?" The man moved closer, his steps quiet on the stone floor. "My name is Lucien Ravencroft. And you, Clara Thorne, are in my home."
Clara backed away until she hit the wall. "How do you know my name? What do you want with me?"
Lucien tilted his head, studying her like she was a puzzle. "Interesting. You don't remember." He reached out as if to touch her face, then stopped when she flinched.
"Remember what?" Clara asked. "I've never met you before."
A strange look crossed Lucien's face—sadness mixed with something else. "You always say that, the first time."
Clara's confusion grew. "What are you talking about? Take me home right now!"
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Lucien said, stepping back. "The trees won't let you leave. Not now that you've finally returned."
"Returned?" Clara felt her anger rising. "I've never been here before!"
Lucien walked to a big mirror hanging on the wall. "Come," he said. "I want to show you something."
Against her better sense, Clara approached. In the mirror, she saw herself—tangled hair, scared eyes, the silver locket around her neck. But as she stared, the mirror's surface started to ripple like water.
The picture changed. Now Clara saw a picture of a woman in an old-fashioned dress with her hair styled in a way people wore it hundreds of years ago. The woman had Clara's face. Around her neck hung the exact same charm.
"That's impossible," Clara whispered.
"This painting is from 1745," Lucien said softly. "Her name was also Clara."
Clara backed away from the mirror. "This is some kind of trick. I want to go home!"
"This is home, Clara. You just don't remember it yet."
Something snapped inside her. Clara dashed past Lucien toward the door. To her surprise, he didn't try to stop her. She ran into a long hallway lined with doors and more mirrors. The castle seemed endless, with twisting corridors and stairs that went up and down.
Clara ran until she was lost and out of breath. Nothing looked familiar, and every turn led to another empty path. The castle was a maze intended to confuse her.
Finally, she found a door that led outside. Clara burst through it, expecting to find freedom, but stopped short at the edge of a stone ledge. Below her stretched the dark forest, and beyond that, nothing but mist. No town, no way home.
"The castle exists between worlds," Lucien's voice came from behind her. Clara swung around to find him standing there, not even breathing hard. "The forest guards it. You can't leave unless it lets you to."
"What do you want from me?" Clara asked, tears forming in her eyes.
Lucien's expression relaxed. "I want you to remember who you are. Who we were."
"I know exactly who I am!" Clara shouted. "I'm Clara Thorne from Blackwood Village. My aunt raised me after my parents died. I never knew anything about you or this place until I had those dreams."
"The dreams," Lucien said, his eyes lighting up. "Tell me about them."
Clara paused, then decided there was no point in hiding anything. "Silver eyes watching me from the darkness. They started after Aunt Meredith died."
"Meredith," Lucien repeated the name. "So she was your guardian this time."
"This time? What does that mean?"
Instead of replying, Lucien reached into his pocket and pulled out something small. He held it out to Clara. It was a locket—identical to hers, but with different patterns etched into the silver.
"Open your locket, Clara," he said.
Clara touched her locket. "I can't. It's never opened."
"It will now. For both of us."
Clara's fingers trembled as she tried once more to open the teardrop-shaped charm. This time, it clicked open easily. Inside was not a picture, but a tiny mirror. In the mirror, she saw Lucien's silver eyes staring back at her instead of her own face.
Lucien opened his locket too. In his tiny mirror, Clara saw her own eyes looking back.
"What does this mean?" she whispered.
"It means our souls are bound," Lucien said. "It means you're not just Clara Thorne from Blackwood Village. You're much more."
A cold wind suddenly whipped around them. The mist from the trees rose up, swirling closer to the balcony.
"She's coming," Lucien said, his voice urgent. "We need to go inside."
"Who's coming?" Clara asked, but Lucien was already pulling her back toward the door.
They weren't fast enough. A figure formed from the mist—a woman with bright red hair and eyes as green as emeralds. She floated above the balcony, her form half-solid, half-mist.
"Found you at last," the woman said, her voice echoing weirdly. "After all these centuries, the cycle can finally end."
"Erynn," Lucien growled. "Leave her alone. She doesn't remember yet."
The woman—Erynn—laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "Perfect. That makes everything easier." She reached toward Clara with misty fingers. "Come with me, child. I'll tell you the truth about who you really are."
Clara felt a strange pull toward Erynn, like the woman's voice was casting a spell. But then the locket around her neck burned hot against her skin, breaking the daze.
"No," Clara said, stepping back.
Erynn's green eyes narrowed, then suddenly turned completely black. "You don't have a choice, little witch. Your blood is mine."
She lunged forward, her misty form becoming solid. Lucien jumped between them, his eyes shining silver in the darkness.
"Run, Clara!" he yelled.
Clara turned and ran back into the house. Behind her, she heard crashes and strange hissing sounds as Lucien and Erynn fought. The whole castle seemed to shake.
She ran blindly through halls that seemed to shift and change around her. Doors emerged where there were none before. Stairs changed direction.
Clara turned a corner and came face to face with a woman with pure white hair and golden eyes. The woman smiled, and something about her seemed familiar.
"Hello, Clara," she said. "I've been waiting for you to return."
"Who are you?" Clara asked, backing away.
"My name is Isolde. I'm here to help you." She held out her hand. "Come with me. I can protect you from both Erynn and Lucien."
Clara paused. Something in the back of her mind whispered a warning. "Why should I trust you?"
Isolde's smile wavered. "Because I've protected your family for generations. I knew your Aunt Meredith. I know about the book."
Clara's eyes widened. "How do you—"
A loud crash cut off her words. The castle shook strongly. Dust fell from the roof.
"We don't have time," Isolde said quickly. "You need to come with me now. Your skills are awakening, and you're in danger."
"Powers? What powers?"
Before Isolde could answer, the air between them shook. Erynn appeared, her red hair flying around her face like fire. Blood dripped from a cut on her cheek.
"There you are," she hissed, reaching for Clara.
Clara screamed and stumbled backward. As she fell, her hands shot out reflexively. To her shock, a blast of blue light erupted from her hands, throwing Erynn across the hallway.
Clara looked at her hands in horror and wonder. "What's happening to me?"
Isolde grabbed Clara's arm. "Your true nature is waking. Now run!"
They raced down another hallway as Erynn's angry screams echoed behind them. They came to a secret door that Isolde opened with a touch. Inside was a small room filled with books and strange bottles.
"What am I?" Clara asked, her voice shaky as Isolde locked the door.
Isolde turned to her, golden eyes sparkling in the dim light. "You are the last of a great bloodline, Clara. Half human, half witch, and bound to a vampire across lifetimes."
"Vampire?" Clara whispered. "Lucien is a vampire?"
"Yes. And you, my dear, are the key to breaking a curse that has lasted for ages." Isolde took Clara's hands. "But first, you need to remember who you really are."
She pressed her fingers to Clara's face. Suddenly, Clara's mind exploded with images—memories of lives she'd never lived, places she'd never seen, and a love that covered centuries.
As darkness took her again, one thought burned in Clara's mind: nothing would ever be the same.