For three days and three nights, Gabriela slept. 

It was a profound sleep, devoid of dreams -- and nightmares. She was not haunted by the ghosts of those she had killed, nor was she tormented by the one who owned her soul. There was only the darkness of exhaustion, and the peaceful river of the abyss, which carried her under a star-filled sky. But she could not see these stars, even as they bore their light down and illuminated her passage over the dark waters, she could only sense them against her skin. She was aware of the existence of the world beyond her unconscious prison and mindful of the passage of time that did not stop simply because she was no longer participating in reality.

There was a risk of slipping into torpor. 

The exhaustion was so heavy, and at times it felt like the black waters of the abyss would lap over her body and pull her under. She would cease to exist them. She would forget the world, lose all track of it, and sleep until such a time as fate deemed her worthy to be awoken once again. 

However, this was not the fate she chose. She did not sacrifice everything only to birth Orisia’s Seed into the world and abandon it. She could not merely plant the seed of paradise and hope that it would survive. No -- this new world needed her. She would nurture it. Gabriela fought against the demons of her debilitating fatigue and managed somehow to crawl back out to the surface. 

But a great many things were lost in the trauma of it all…


As the first rays of moonlight broke through the dense canopy, casting a pale, white glow over the mystical forest, a woman slowly stirred beneath the towering trees. From a cradle of roots, shaped to protect her small figure, she slowly moved to sit up. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing a radiant golden gaze that mirrored the hue of the setting sun. And the moment that her eyes opened, a sea of lanterns flickered to life, casting warm firelight all abound. 

This was a marvel to her. She lingered, looking up through dark lashes, at the golden show of lights above her head, the warmth of the lanterns reflected in the color of her eyes. And when she could drink no more of the sight, she felt herself take a breath -- a deep and needed breath. 

She sat up, and her dark, chocolate-brown hair cascaded down her back and fell in thick sheets all around her. The forest was alive with enchantment, and she did not know whether to be delighted or frightened. The lanterns that floated gracefully from the branches above, illuminated and revealed a path that opened ahead of where she lay. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant calling of a nightingale shifted her focus.

With an elegant grace that she did not realize she possessed, the woman rose to her feet and revealed a figure that epitomized delicate femininity. Her attire, though tattered and worn, clung to her form and accentuated her slight curves. The black tunic she wore was loose but torn in so many places that it barely concealed the pale, moonlight skin of her back, her belly, and her shoulders, and her tight breeches, though soiled with grime and dirt, clung to her hips, her rounded bottom, and shapely thighs, highlighting her lithe physique.

Confusion clouded her mind as she tried to piece together the fragments of her memory. 

[i]Who was she? 

How had she come to find herself in this strange place? 

And the hunger. 

What of the hunger? [/i]

For there was a hunger within her, an insatiable thirst that gnawed at her very being.

Curiosity mingled with trepidation as she cautiously began to explore her surroundings. Every step she took seemed to be guided by an invisible force, drawing her deeper into the heart of the forest, until eventually, she stood upon the very path that had been lit for her. The lanterns gently swayed in the breeze and cast playful shadows before her -- teasing her to follow.

As she ventured onward, a subtle aroma filled the air -- a scent that set her somewhat numbed senses ablaze suddenly. It was the unmistakable scent of life, of warm, pulsing blood. Her golden eyes widened, reflecting the predatory edge that lay dormant within her. She knew what she craved -- what she needed to survive.

In the distance, a soft whispering sound reached her ears. The calling of a nightingale. Intrigued, she followed the sweet song until she arrived at a tranquil clearing. The lanterns, ever her companions, lit up the opened space amongst the trees. There, amidst the dappled moon and starlight, ran a peaceful stream, its waters shimmering like liquid silver.

Unable to resist, she went to the water's edge and knelt down, peering at her own reflection. She became captivated by the juxtaposition of the captivating beauty she witnessed and the darkness that lurked right behind her own golden eyes. The face staring back at her bore the marks of immortality -- a timeless and ethereal creature that barely concealed an eternal hunger.

With trembling fingertips, which she only now realized were badly injured and painful to utilize, she touched the corners of her mouth. And while she stared at her own reflection, she parted her lips and saw the sharpened canines that sat so neatly along the top row of her teeth. Without consideration, her tongue ran over the surface of one of these sharp incisors until she felt the prickle of pain and saw the stain of black blood dripping down her chin. 

And although blood is what she craved, the taste and sight of her own filled her with a familiar dread she could not exactly explain. She cringed and quickly did away with the droplets of vita with the back of her sleeved hand until there was no evidence of the self-inflicted wound. And when it was all said and done, she sat back, her bottom resting on the back of her caves, and her hands dipped at the edge of the cool waters. Her eyes were shifting, examining her surroundings once again.

She had smelled blood but there was no sign of it.