Her life changed long ago
After enduring three exhausting weeks of arduous travel
through the rugged countryside, they finally made their way back to the
magnificent palace. Aya eagerly anticipated the comfort of her luxurious
quarters and the flock of servants who would cater to her every need and whim.
At just eighteen years old, she emitted delicate beauty that had stolen the
pharaoh’s heart when he took her as his third wife only a year ago. Her
flawless skin glowed in the sun, framed by luscious dark locks and deep,
alluring eyes.
***
Although she
had initially resisted the arranged marriage, it was a great honor and
elevation in status for her family. Yet deep down, her heart still belonged to
Tanamet, her first and only love. He was a low-status merchant, and they both
knew their forbidden relationship could never be more than stolen moments of
happiness during her time living in her father’s house while Tanamet delivered
his delectable baked goods.
On her wedding day,
as Aya said her final goodbyes to Tanamet, her heart ached with the realization
that she may never see him again. But he promised to find a way for them to be
together, and she clung to that tiny shred of hope as she was whisked away to
the wedding ceremony.
Despite the
grandeur surrounding her, Aya couldn’t stop dreaming about Tanamet. She
complacently followed orders and endured the middle-aged pharaoh’s clammy hands
groping at her and his wet kisses on her body. The marriage bed was only
visited once a month, much to her relief, and when she became pregnant, the
pharaoh showered her with gifts. With the birth of her son, Aya’s status rose
even higher, inciting bitter jealousy and hate among the other wives who could
only bear daughters. Fearing for her son’s safety and his role as her ticket to
a higher status, Aya surrounded him with loyal servants from her father’s
court. The palace was filled with intrigue and tension, with sharp daggers
hidden in the eyes of two wives who held higher status than Aya’s own. And
though the pharaoh doted on his son with joy in his eyes, he showed no interest
in his daughters, who seemed to fade into obscurity after their births.
***
Aya strolled
through the palace, her steps gliding effortlessly as three handmaidens
followed closely behind. The grandeur of the long corridors never ceased to
amaze her, with its breathtaking wall paintings and magnificent statues of the
Gods. Her heart swelled with a sense of longing and nostalgia as she walked,
each footfall echoing off the marble floors.
As they reached
the ornately carved door to her quarters, Aya’s pace quickened, and her eyes
sparkled with excitement. The servants bowed and opened the massive door for
her, revealing a lavish room filled with luxurious furnishings.
With a joyful
smile on her face, Aya rushed inside and scooped up the chubby baby boy from
the nanny’s arms. She held him close, examining every inch of his healthy body.
“Is he well?” she asked the old woman who had nursed her as a child.
“He is thriving
and content,” the woman replied with a warm smile, bowing her head
respectfully.
Aya showered
the child with kisses before gently handing him back to the nanny’s care. “My
skin feels rough and dry,” she noted, turning to her handmaidens. “I think a
milk and honey bath would wash away the grime of the awful travel.”
The young women
nodded in agreement and quickly scurried away to prepare the relaxing bath. Aya
motioned to her favorite maid to assist with undressing her. “Ugh,” she sighed
wearily. “I feel soiled.”
“You will feel
clean and refreshed after your bath,” the maid promised, handing her a cup
filled with cool lemonade.
***
The piercing
screams and chaotic yells jolted Aya awake from her peaceful after-bath nap.
She stumbled out of bed, her heart racing as she spotted Tanamet leaning
against the wall with a dark, sinister look in his eyes.
“How did
you...” she stammered, fear coursing through her body. “What did you do?” she
screamed, horrified by the sight of her loyal servants lying lifeless on the
carpet, their once vibrant clothes now drenched in blood. “Where’s my son?” she
demanded, panic rising in her voice.
With a firm
grip on her arm, he dragged her toward the adjoining room where the old nanny
stood trembling, cradling Aya’s baby in her arms.
Tanamet threw
Aya to the ground and shouted, “You belong to me!”
She cowered
before him, lowering her head and whispering through quivering lips, “Why did
you kill my servants? What happened to you?”
“I died,” he
laughed. “And now I’ll live forever.”
“You’re not the
Tanamet I fell in love with,” Aya whimpered.
“No!” Tanamet
laughed again. “I was weak. Now I’m strong, and I do as I wish.”
“Kill me, but
spare my son. He’s just an innocent child.” Aya begged with tears in her eyes.
He took a step
back and observed her with a calculating gaze. “Your son will be Pharaoh! But
that old man can’t touch you anymore. You’re coming with me.” The air hung
heavy with tension as Aya resigned herself to her fate, knowing she had no
choice but to follow Tanamet’s command.
“Where?” Aya
whimpered and shrank back, but her coal eyes flashed with murderous rage hidden
by her thick eyelashes. This is not the kind and lowly merchant I parted
from a year ago. He’s a murderer!
“We’ll be
together forever!” Tanamet shouted, grabbing her waist; he pulled her close.
Aya’s body
tensed as she watched the transformation come over Tanamet. His once gentle
features contorted into a menacing snarl, his eyes glowing a deep, fiery amber
color. As he opened his mouth to reveal sharp fangs glinting in the light of
the oil lamps, Aya’s blood ran cold. She recoiled in horror as Tanamet bit into
his own arm and forcefully dripped a few drops of his blood into her mouth. The
metallic taste flooded her senses, making her retch and gag, but before she
could react, Tanamet sank his razor-sharp teeth into her neck with a ferocity
that sent shivers down her spine.
***
For what felt
like an eternity, Aya had been subsisting on a strict diet of only fresh blood.
The thick, coppery taste heralded the beginning of her eternal existence as she
remembered the fateful evening when Tanamet sank his teeth into her neck and
fed her his potent blood. But the feeling of immortality coursed through her
veins, a constant reminder of that transformative moment when her fate was
forever sealed.
Tanamet,
consumed by his newfound power as a creature of the night, becoming a powerful
immortal, had changed him in ways Aya could never have imagined - transforming
him into a cruel and heartless monster who saw Aya as nothing more than an
object to be owned. But she was no longer the timid victim she used to be when
she was controlled by her family and her despised husband. Embracing her
strength and abilities, she couldn’t tolerate Tanamet’s mistreatment. And so,
one fateful day, she took action as he slumbered in their darkened dwelling.
She paralyzed him by piercing his heart with a wooden stick with such ferocity
that the sharp stick went through his body, pinning him to the bed. Gathering
bundles of hay, she set fire to her oppressor’s body and watched with great
satisfaction as he burned to ashes before her very eyes. It was a final act of
retribution, freeing herself from his grasp and taking back control of her
life.
Her heart ached
with longing to see her son again, and she was determined to find a way. Using
the secret passages that one of the servants had shown her while she was still
human, she managed to sneak into the palace under the cover of night. The
narrow and interconnected passages were like a giant cobweb, with hidden doors
concealed behind statues and tapestries. It was as if the palace itself were
conspiring to keep her mission a secret. With stealth and agility, she
navigated through the maze-like corridors, able to enter any room undetected.
The adrenaline raced through her veins as she inched closer to her ultimate
goal - to see her beloved son. She watched the peacefully sleeping baby but
quickly retreated when the hunger for warm blood overwhelmed her.
In the eerie
depths of the palace, where shadows danced and whispered secrets, she
encountered creatures of the night. They prowled the dimly lit passageways,
their glowing eyes reflecting the moonlight. In the daylight hours, they
disappeared into hidden rooms and crevices, waiting for the cover of darkness
to roam once again. One fateful night, Aya came face to face with Bahia, her
beloved handmaiden who had vanished without a trace not long after their
arrival at the palace. The others had searched tirelessly for answers about her
disappearance, but all that could be found were wild speculations and hushed
gossip. Now Aya understood why - for she, too, had become privy to the dark
secrets lurking within the walls of the palace.
Bahia’s voice
held a bitter edge as she spoke. “I’ve been turned against my will, just like
you, my lady,” she said. Her words were laced with resentment and regret. “But
unlike so many others who succumbed to their primal urges to drain and kill
their victims, I swore to never harm a human, no matter how tempting their life
force may seem.”
Aya leaned in,
her curiosity piqued. “How do you do that?” she asked. “Sometimes I can stop,
and the human lives, but most of the time, my hunger is so great, and they
struggle so much that I can’t stop until I drain them.”
Bahia’s eyes
flickered with ancient wisdom as she whispered her answer. “An old immortal
taught me that all of us have the ability to mesmerize humans,” she revealed.
“We hold the power over their minds and can use it wisely.”
Aya’s eyes
widened in understanding as she processed Bahia’s words. She could feel the
weight of her own desire coursing through her veins, a savage hunger for fresh
blood that she struggled to control. But Bahia’s words offered a glimmer of
hope - if only she could learn to leave behind only dazed, living humans,
perhaps she could ease the guilt and shame that consumed her. “Show me how to
stop,” she urged, desperation creeping into her voice. “What do I have to do?”
Continue reading AYA'S STORY in the book:
https://books2read.com/u/4Xvkwv
A short story collection to make you shiver. The stories we tell through chattering teeth around campfires and on Halloween nights always contain a kernel of truth, a sinister echo of something ancient and malevolent that prowls the shadowy corridors of our minds. On stormy nights, as we huddled under blankets, those aren't tree branches scraping your window. Those aren't pipes groaning in your walls. That's IT. It’s clawing through the membrane between worlds, its breath freezing the back of your neck. Its breath a cold mist that fogs the windows of perception, refusing to be forgotten even as daylight tries to burn away its presence…
