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Hello. Bonjour. Ciao. Hola. Olá. (Insert your chosen language here.)

I know, I know. Intermission already, yet the story hasn’t even kicked off. Thing is, I’ve been watching all this play out since for fucking ever , but now you’re here and I’m so damn happy to have someone to share the drama with.

It’s been a long —like endlessly long—few centuries, and now, we’re about to experience two idiots falling in love despite being enemies.

Well…eight idiots, actually, but they’re not all enemies to one another. Four couples, starting with a witch and a vampire. I’ll admit, when Hecate—that’s the Goddess of magick and witchcraft, by the way—first prophesied their stories to me, I wasn’t particularly excited about the drama that’d be unfolding, but damn if they won’t all undoubtedly win me over. Call me an old softie for the slow bonding until they realize how right they are for one another.

But before that happens, there are three main pieces of information you need to know. The boring, pre-story shit that sets the scene, so to speak.

Stick around, because here we go…

First, I’m going to take you back a little bit, to when I was given the prophecies and essentially who I am and what my entire role is.

Bear with me, because I’ll be showing you this scene from an outsider’s perspective rather than a direct recounting. Sorry about the random perspective shift, but humour me. When you’ve been around since the dawn of time, you get bored and find amusement in the little shit.

Anyway, sorry again. Here we go…for real this time.

* * *

Freya, First Witch and earthbound representative of the Goddess, stands above the small pond of water that reflects the vivid moon above and the twinkling stars scattered around it. She breathes in deeply while waiting, tipping her face to the sky to enjoy the few moments of peace.

The night is calm, while the world is not. The chaos feels never-ending.

The pond ripples, and the moon shifts into a new shape. A shape without a design. A woman without a body. A soul without a manifestation.

Daughter, the being greets, her melodic voice chiming through Freya’s mind. It’s a familiar and tranquil sound, reminding Freya of the very breeze that blows around her.

“Hecate.”

I tire of my witches dying from their ongoing wars with other beings, especially now.

“What is now?”

That detail does not matter yet. The bigger concern is how my witches must be on the same side as the others. I have seen the solution, though the witches involved will not be born for some time.

“You’re giving me a prophecy?” Freya puts the Goddess’s strange dialect into a more simplistic explanation.

A promise. There will be four who bring a truce to the fighting. See here.

The pond swirls again, and Hecate’s spiritual figure is replaced with a series of images quickly flashing over the surface.

A witch standing in the arms of a vampire, without fear, as he grazes his fangs up and down her neck. Around them: a kingdom of vampires bowing.

A witch standing beside a wolf, her hand buried in its fur. The wolf shifts into a man and pulls her into his arms. Around them: a pack bonded.

A witch standing with a mortal, her head on his shoulder. He’s holding a sword, a city from the future as their background. Around them: a world protected.

A witch standing hand in hand with a warlock, their joint elemental magick swirling together to create a myriad of white and green. Around them: covens united.

The image swirls again, returning Hecate’s undefined form to the surface.

“Vampires?” Freya questions, thinking of the human male who became the first vampire after making a deal with a demon—one of the original fallen angels. The new vampire spent centuries spreading his disease to innocent humans, ruining their souls and ensuring they’d end up in one place only: with his master in Hell.

It must happen to end the war. The vampire I am showing you will be a king amongst their kind. With a witch by his side, others will follow suit and obey, understanding witches should not be targeted. In turn, the covens will learn that vampires, while creatures of Darkness, can be led to the Light.

“But when this vampire taints the witch–a Sinclair, if her red hair is indicative-he’ll spread Darkness into her, ruining one of your daughters.”

Perhaps that is what is needed. Balance, after all, is the only way the world truly functions. The Goddess’s manifestation fades away again, the outline of the moon becoming clear once more while her final words ring through Freya’s mind. You will see this come to pass, Freya. Help if you must, but do not intervene in a manner that will change the outcomes. It is the only way.

Freya settles beside the bank, the images of the couples imbedding into her mind, where they’ll remain for the centuries they’ll take to come true. Until then, the bloodshed continues while she can do nothing but let fate run its course.

Fate, of course, is a fickle bitch. Despite the Goddess’s visions, fate has her own plans for the couples…and she isn’t kind.

* * *

From the journal of Clarice Sinclair…

June 1521

I have recently concluded casting a protection barrier around the coven’s territory while asking myself, when will the Goddess save us? When will She protect her daughters?

We have been at war for much too long—and we are losing. Too many of our coven have been lost to us in recent months. We are a fraction of what we used to be.

Today marks the day we have lost yet another, this one particularly close to me. My dear sister, Elizabeth, was attacked by a vampire. Drained of her blood, all to feed the undead soul originally bred from demons. I do not understand why Hecate is allowing demons, and thus the Devil, to win.

After her body finished burning on the pyre, Hazel, the High Priestess of the coven, announced she has been working on a new curse with some of the elders. A spell I am in disbelief over her performing. She has nearly forsaken Hecate by using black magick—a dangerous feat, but one I now pray will benefit the cause.

Before Elizabeth’s body burned, Hazel collected a few drops of her blood, explaining the use of a deceased witch’s blood would ensure the curse’s potency. With it, she cast the hex onto our bloodline for all those coming after me. Elizabeth was the eldest Sinclair daughter, the first-born; therefore, it will only affect the eldest daughter of each generation of Sinclair women. This means Annabelle—Elizabeth’s daughter, my niece, and a mere baby—has now been placed in danger by our High Priestess.

I do not agree with Hazel’s choice. She has not helped witches but sentenced future Sinclair women to death.

A cure to vampirism now runs in Annabelle’s blood. In the blood of every first-born Sinclair witch.

The High Priestess claims it will assist in extinguishing vampires from Earth. That if the Goddess does not wish to save us from the demons’ children, we must come up with our own solutions.

I will protect Annabelle in ways unlike any before. She’s a baby and will now be hunted by the vampires who wish for humanity again. Hazel seeks to end vampirism, but the demonic bloodsuckers will not be satisfied with a couple sips to change back. No. They’ll likely drain my niece for dead. And if not her, then every first-born Sinclair witch the future produces.

The High Priestess did not end the war between witches and vampires.

She’s deepened it.

Clarice

* * *

A few months ago…

May 15 th

“We’ve just gotten reports of breaking news. What you see here behind me is the house of Emily and John Sinclair, who tragically died in a house fire. At approximately midnight, neighbours phoned 9-1-1 about smoke nearby. When police and firefighters arrived on scene, two bodies were found burned beyond recognition, but are presumed to be the homeowners, Emily and John Sinclair. Their adult daughter is alive and unharmed—as is the house, save for minimal interior damage, strangely enough. It has left authorities questioning how a fire large enough to trap a family inside did not seem to have lasting effects on the structure. Foul play is suspected, but no leads have been released yet. Tim, back to you.”

* * *

Me again. Makes no sense, right? It will soon, I promise.

For now, we must wait a few more weeks.

Oh, don’t bitch. I’ve waited centuries, witnessing entirely too much bloodshed. Needless to say, I’ll do anything to help the first couple get together.

Get your popcorn ready. It’ll be a show.

Oh, remember that thought I had after the Goddess’s visit? Fate, of course, is a fickle bitch. Remember that point, won’t you? It sets the stage for what’s to come.

And oh, it’s good …