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I can still recall the night that turned everything around—the night our pack was ripped asunder.

It feels like ages ago now, but the agony is as biting as the winter's chill. Conrad and I, and our little group of survivors, had to run when the slaughter descended upon us like a whirlwind. Frigg, our ancient patroness whose magic we had long revered, wove an impenetrable cloak of silence to hide us from our enemies. Heavily with child with Tasha as I was at that desperate time, I could hardly imagine that our new life in the human realm would exact such a monstrous price.

Our flight was at the same time sweet and bitter.

We had left behind a world full of tradition—a pack of loyalty and love and tradition—only to step unceremoniously into a world of cold concrete, uncaring skies, and man-made rules.

For seven long years, Conrad and I built a modest sanctuary in this new-found land.

We found refuge in a small flat in a remote corner of town, and amidst the turmoil of daily life, we tried to establish a semblance of normalcy.

I still recall that sunny afternoon in the park—a brief day of laughter and sunlight.

Our daughter Tasha, now a smart, stubborn little girl with her father's effortless grin, played on the lawn. Conrad and I sat together on a weathered wooden bench. For a moment, our little family was whole. The soft crunch of leaves and the distant laughter enveloped us in a tentative peace. But as abruptly as that peace had come, it was shattered.

Suddenly, our own child—Conrad's younger brother's son, a boy we had grown to love like one of our own—vanished from us.

In the very middle of that serene park, the atmosphere shifted abruptly.

The cheerful voices were stilled, and there came instead an unnerving hush, while the sky was ominous with a strange quiet.

I remember how Conrad's own hand, so strong under other conditions, trembled as he stretched out, pleading with me in a whispered but agonized tone.

"Lila," he said, using the name of my late husband's beloved, "take Tasha and come home. I... I must search. We can't just stand here while something awful occurs."

I hesitantly scooped Tasha up in my arms.

The happy afternoon became one of fear as the minutes, then hours, passed with no sight of our son.

Conrad's eyes were clouded with worry and an unspoken fear that nagged at me. We strolled the park, quietly calling, hoping against the still air, but nothing answered. The day passed, and the change in the park was certain—a cold, stifling silence replaced the once sunny warmth, as if the world had grown cold and indifferent.

The next morning, Tasha—my beloved child, old enough now to be conscious of the change in my tone—began questioning the absence of her brother and father. Curiously and without knowing any better, she asked, "Mom, where is Dad? And what about Uncle Richard's boy?"

My heart shattered with each question, and before I could even get an answer, the doorbell rang.

I opened it with trembling hands, hoping perhaps for a harried neighbor or a messenger bearing bad tidings.

But instead, standing at the door was nothing but an empty porch and one solitary, unmarked package on the mat.

With a feeling of dread that I already knew what was in it, I took the package inside.

Tasha stood by me while I sat at our dining table.

We both looked at the cryptic package in silence, its nondescript cover hiding the horror that it would later unleash.

My hands shook as I methodically opened it.

Inside, arrayed in horrific order, lay the severed heads of my beloved Conrad and young Richard's son—a sight so horrid that time froze. A battered note lay across the ghastly tokens. In shaking, tight handwriting it read: "Nowhere is safe."

I fell into a chair, my world crashing apart around me as tears filled my eyes.

Copper flavor, hard and bitter, filled my mouth as I wept for the family lost to me and for the innocence stolen from our pack.

In darkness, I realized I had to act.

I could not be alone with this terror, so I reached out to Frigg right away.

I told her everything—the disappearance, the package with blood, the escalating threat to our secret world—and she had us reserve the next available flight out of the nation immediately.

It was during those frantic hours of departure that fate intervened once more.

In the mayhem of the airport, Tasha clutched tightly against my tear-stained side, I learned that we would be seeking refuge in a new world, one where we would meet Mina, whose healing gifts would be yet another beacon for our shattered family.

I remember the sterile, white light of the airport terminal versus the blinding brightness of my sorrow.

With every move we took, there was sadness and resolve that I would protect Tasha no matter what.

Even as we set out on this painful path, there was a fresh horror brewing back at school.

During the days that followed the shattered ceremony, our apartment—the one we'd shared for years—was in the grip of some unseen power. We would hear supernatural sounds, objects being shoved by unseen hands, and doors slamming shut like angry ghosts. I was totally helpless in that place, under siege by the malevolent presence that never relinquished its hold. And the terror of it all did not alleviate the grief, as I would come to learn about wreckage in the insane ritual—the lost lives, the broken dreams, and the taste of terror that still lingered.

I remember the day very well when I was summoned to the infirmary.

I sprinted through the corridors, my heart racing as I reached the room where Tasha had been hurt.

I fell to the ground beside her bed, screaming out my hurt as I saw the pain on her face—a hurt that I had struggled so much to shield her from.

My eyes overflowed with tears that matched the unwavering love and despair within me.

Every tear was a prayer, a quiet vow that I would do whatever it takes to guard her, even if it meant sacrificing my very existence.

It was in the quiet of that mournful vigil that I discovered something in Frigg's discarded diary—a reference to potent ingredients required for the construction of a weapon strong enough to vanquish the dark evils now threatening to consume our worlds. According to that ancient script, my vampire blood and my tears—my grief essence and indomitable love—were the two essential ingredients needed in order to craft a weapon powerful enough to banish the oncoming shadows. The realization sent a shiver down my spine and ignited an unyielding determination. I would use the spirit of my own existence, every tear and every drop of blood I gave, if only it would spare my daughter and what was left of our ravaged pack.

I swore to myself at the time: I would sacrifice all, even the life force from my own veins, to ensure that Tasha and the rest would never once have to go through this bottomless night.

The pain of Conrad's and wee Richard's loss was unbearable, but it had hardened me into an unyielding will.

Even as I cried for what was lost, I vowed to make that grief a weapon—a weapon hammered out of our heritage, out of our ancient strength, and out of the unbreakable love that still bound us together.

In the empty hours that followed, I wept until my tears blinded me, my screams echoing through the empty halls of our apartment.

I called out to the spirits of our dead family, to the old powers once supreme over our pack, begging for wisdom and the ability to protect Tasha.

I promised that I would not let this be the end of our story; that despite our brokenness, a new life would burst forth from the shadows.

At last, after a night-long vigil of sorrow and bitter resolve, I sat with Frigg once more.

In the shadows of her study—now left to us as a series of warding charms and ancient runes—I sat as her voice, fading, recited the ancient rituals.

She described with the gentle assurance of centuries of knowledge, and spoke to me of ritual herbs and incantations that might possibly shape the weapon that would chase our foes from our shores forever.

"Your tears, your blood, dear one—these are not weaknesses," Frigg breathed, her eyes soft with pity in the face of the gravity of the moment. "These are the price of our survival and the seed of our new strength. Use them wisely, and let your sorrow pave the way to redemption."

I nodded, swallowing the bitter agony and preparing myself for the trials that lay ahead. Though my heart ached at Conrad's loss, and the image of little Richard's beheaded head would forever haunt me, I knew that every sacrifice was a call to awaken a power that cannot be wasted.

Now, with the weight of our tragedies on my shoulders, I stand firm before the encroaching darkness.

I would do anything to protect Tasha even if it is by giving my last drop of blood, every tear, every morsel of strength I possess.

I had long hidden our world, our realities behind walls to protect my daughter.

The time for secrecy was gone, though.

The enemy is at the door, and I have to answer the call.

I pressed my palm against my heart and gazed into the mirror—the face of a woman marked by grief, but burning with an unyielding fury to protect her family.

I promised that I would not let fear and sorrow rule our fate.

Even while I wept for Conrad, I clung to the burgeoning flame in my heart—a flame that would, if necessary, consume me whole if it would help me build a weapon strong enough to vanquish the dark depravities that now came crashing down on our world.

At that final, sorrow-stricken instant of isolation, I wept for Frigg—our wise and honored protector, our guardian, and the light of hope who had lost her life to protect us.

Her sacrifice was a painful reminder of what we had lost, and a beacon of hope for what yet might be gained.

I vowed then, through my tears and unyielding resolve, that I would live, and that I would create a future where our hidden legacy would not be a curse, but the power that saved us all.

As I was preparing to leave the apartment—my sanctuary transformed into prison by the invisible powers that now filled its halls—I looked at the remnants of our past for the final time.

The recollections of our family moments, the unuttered sacrifices, and the hidden strengths that flowed through our veins all merged together into a burning determination: I would protect Tasha, I would preserve Conrad's spirit, and I would battle the darkness that was spreading back in, no matter the cost.