𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

                                    

                                          










❧ kristen stewart ❧
≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫
Amalie tossed and turned in her bed, the velvet sheets tangling around her restless body as her mind refused to settle. Every time she closed her eyes, Katherine's wicked smile, and now Elijah's mysterious presence invaded her thoughts, swirling together like a storm she couldn't escape. The silence of the house felt oppressive, pressing down on her chest as if it too carried the weight of her fears and desires. She should have been exhausted—the past few days have been an emotional rollercoaster—but her body refused to give in. Instead, she lay there, staring at the ceiling, the ticking of the clock on the wall echoing in the stillness, each minute dragging by as though mocking her inability to find peace.
Around 4 a.m., frustration clawed at her insides, and she finally threw off the covers, the cool air of the room chilling her skin. She padded silently down the stairs, the marble floors cold beneath her bare feet, heading to the basement. The stone walls of the cellar greeted her with a familiar chill as she opened the freezer and pulled out a blood bag. For a brief moment, as the cold liquid hit her tongue, she thought she might find some relief, some grounding amidst her thoughts. But even the taste of blood, couldn't quiet the storm in her mind. Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes, trying to shake the feeling that something was pulling her toward a destiny she didn't understand.
She knew she should be afraid. Elijah's sudden appearance, the gifts, the note—it should have scared her. A normal person would have been on edge at the thought of someone watching them, someone weaving their way into their life without explanation. But Amalie wasn't scared. That was the most unsettling part of all. Instead of fear, there was an undeniable pull, a connection she couldn't shake. It was as if the universe itself was whispering to her, telling her to follow Elijah, to trust him, though her mind screamed at her that she shouldn't. The thought of him tugged at her, a thread tying her to something ancient and inevitable, something far beyond her control.
As the blood bag emptied, she tossed it into the trash, wiping her mouth. The house around her was silent, the ghosts of her thoughts louder than anything else. She wouldn't sleep tonight. She knew that. And, despite everything, there was a part of her that wanted to give into the pull, to see where it would lead her. What was it about Elijah that made her feel like she was on the edge of something monumental, something dangerous, but something she couldn't resist?
By morning, the house stirred to life, but Amalie still felt the remnants of the sleepless night clinging to her. Her fingers trailed lightly along the polished banister as she descended the grand staircase, her movements graceful despite the fatigue she felt deep in her bones. When she reached the bottom, voices drifted from the parlor—Elena and Rose, their conversation soft but filled with a kind of quiet intensity. She paused just outside the room, listening for a moment before stepping in.
"What's going on?" Amalie asked, her tone light, masking the curiosity that had been nagging at her since the moment, she overheard their voices. Her eyes locked onto Elena, whose expression was unreadable but determined.
"We're going to Richmond," Elena said, her voice steady, though there was a note of urgency beneath her calm demeanor. "I want you to come with us."
Amalie raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement crossing her face. "Richmond?" She echoed, folding her arms loosely across her chest. "No thanks, I was thinking of having a quiet day. You know, catching up with Jenna, getting a bite to eat."