Abigail's POV

The large, newly bought mansion loomed imposingly in front of me from the front window of the Escalade, and the sound of moving trucks and movers filled my ears through the rolled down window as I looked on almost impassively at the ongoing action and hustle and bustle of the afternoon.

"So, what do you think?" My father, Aleksandar, asks looking quite pleased with himself as I finally hop out of the car and come to stand behind him.

"It's fine, father. It's not like we'll be here long." I shrug almost apathetically, holding back a heavy sigh and kicking at a pebble in the driveway.

"This time will be different, dottir." My father promises; I didn't believe him.

"Honestly, I don't. You say this every time. I give us three months. It doesn't matter anyways, I'm used to it. You're keeping me safe, that's all that matters." I say simply, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

I was so used to running. All my life I had been running, always watching my back, always fearing something because of who I am, or rather because of the blood that ran through my veins, the very essence of who I was or what kept me alive.

You see, I was a Dragomir. And all because of a certain Immortal and First Witch in the first century, my bloodline was marked.

To bring the balance back, after the creation of the Immortals and vampires which came after, humanity's essence had been bestowed on one family, giving the bloodline the power to completely and forever destroy Silas and keep Qetsiyah and Amara from rising from the Other Side.

However, because of this, I had spent all my life running from Silas' followers, any witch, vampire, werewolf, or otherwise that wanted to kill me to prevent his destruction. The Travelers particularly, who wandered the Earth seeking to break their prophecy and curse, which prevented them from using traditional magic and gathering as a coven, but also hoping to bring about the rise of Silas in hopes it would help their cause.

"No, I promise this time will be different, dottir." My father assures, placing a hand on my shoulder.

Shrugging lightly, I shake my head in disbelief before walking off to explore the house. I highly doubted it.

Mystic Falls... The last Dragomir had arrived…

Guess which story is FINALLY getting some edits! This story!

Ugh... I shudder when I re-read it... I mean, granted it WAS my first story ever written on this site... But still... It's AWFUL!

Seriously... From grammar to plot holes... How do I miss my own plot holes? *slams head against wall*

Anyways... I hope I can fix them!


dottir ~daughter