Prince of Crows

As the final rays of sunlight cast long shadows across the room, Konstantine and I stood facing each other, the weight of our impending farewell heavy in the air. The parchment, sealed with Branwen's and my family's crest, lay between them on the table, its surface shimmering with a faint magical glow.

   "It's quite simple, really," I began, my voice calm and reassuring. "To activate the teleportation enchantment, all you need to do is set fire to the parchment. Once it's burning, you'll be instantly transported to Rook Manor."

   Konstantine nodded, his expression a mix of determination and a hint of sadness. "Thank you, Malakai," he said, his voice quivering. "For everything." He looked at his daughter, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips as if trying to etch her image in his memory. 'Not that I haven't done the same.'

   Her long, luscious chestnut hair cascaded down her back like a silk waterfall. Smooth olive skin, kissed by the morning sun, radiated a soft glow. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of green, sparkled like the finest emeralds. Seraphina was not just beautiful; she was a living, breathing masterpiece. Looking at her, my heart, which beat with a magical rhythm, seemed to skip a beat. "Exquisite," I whispered under my breath, unable to contain my admiration. 

   "Meus ignis angelus, before heading out to explore, please visit your Mater. It is about time you finish your training, Sic?" With that, Konstantine took a deep breath and lit a match, holding it to the edge of the parchment. As the flames licked eagerly at the paper, a sudden rush of energy filled the room, swirling around Konstantine in a vortex of light and color. And then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving behind only the faint scent of smoke and a sense of bittersweet farewell.

   After Konstantine's departure, the atmosphere in the Volterra house seemed to shift, his absence leaving a palpable void in the room. Seraphina and I exchanged a solemn glance, our thoughts lingering on the older man as we settled into our seats.

   With a heavy sigh, Malakai leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his Jett black hair as he processed the events of the evening. Seraphina, her expression a mirror of his own, reached out and took his hand in hers, offering a silent gesture of comfort and support.

   For a moment, they sat in silence, the only sounds being the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the mid-morning breeze. But then, with a shake of his head, Malakai turned to Seraphina, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

   "Well, it seems we're on our own now," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "Shall we continue our journey, darling?"

   Seraphina returned his smile, her eyes sparkling with determination. "Absolutely," she replied, her voice filled with excitement. "But first, there's something I need to tell you."

   As they settled in to talk, the warmth of the fire casting a soft glow over their faces, Seraphina began to recount the story of her mother.

   "Her name is Raphaela. Her maiden name is Venator, and she is... well, she's quite remarkable. My mama is very old," she began, her voice soft and wistful. "Not as old as Branwen, mind you, but she is at least a century older than my papa."

   She paused, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. "She has a talent for water and ice elements," she continued. "Papa wants us to head to Chile, where my mama lives so that I can train my fire magic with her."

   'Fire magic? That would explain the irresistible scent of flames and moonlight.' Malakai nodded, a sense of understanding dawning in his eyes. "It sounds like she's quite the formidable woman," he said, a note of admiration in his voice. "I look forward to meeting her."

   As Seraphina delved deeper into the intricacies of her family's history, her voice took on a solemn tone. Her eyes reflected the weight of the secrets she was about to reveal. With a steadying breath, she began to speak, her words carrying the weight of generations of tradition and responsibility.

   "Malakai, you must understand that my family on my mother's side has a long and storied history," she began, her voice tinged with reverence. "We are the leaders of an underworld organization that has existed for centuries, dedicated to protecting and supporting witches in their time of need."

   As she spoke, a sense of pride filled the air as Seraphina recounted tales of bravery and sacrifice, witches fleeing persecution and finding sanctuary within the walls of her family's safe houses. As the morning turned into the afternoon, she spoke of the trials and tribulations her family had faced, their unwavering dedication to their cause never faltering in the face of adversity.

   As she spoke, Malakai listened intently, his eyes fixed on Seraphina's face as she recounted stories of her mother and her family. 

   "What about you, Malakai? What of your family?" Seraphina wondered. She must have just realized she didn't know my familial relations, just that Branwen was my mother. I recall her saying that throughout her childhood, Seraphina had heard tales of the legendary White Raven, the sister of Bran the Blessed. "Died" by the pain of losing her beloved brother at the hands of her abusive husband, the story tells of Branwen taking her own life, but instead of entering the afterlife, she became the Celtic goddess of love, beauty, and sometimes war.

   Surprised by the question, I was slightly baffled by what to say. Thinking over my mother's words about my father, I nodded and spoke, my voice solemnly curious. I knew I would never meet the man I would have called father.

   "You already know of my mother, Branwen, the White Raven, but my father is somewhat of a mystery even to me. Mordecai Ezra Rook was an ancient vampire born around 1500 BC. Mother believes he was turned around the time the Romanians were turned. I apparently inherited his Jett black hair and olive skin tone. My eye color is from my mother. Mother explained that my father named me himself." 

   Looking into her jade-like eyes, I continued as I played with the ends of her curled hair. "Did you know the name Malakai means 'my angel'? My father thought it was fitting, and it sounded similar to Mordecai. My middle name, Azriel, is a form of his middle name, Ezra. It means 'God's help'."

   "What happened to him, if you don't mind me asking? By the way, you speak of him, and the sadness in your eyes makes me assume he is no longer alive?" Seraphina looked so cute when she was worried.

   "Mordecai was killed by Caius of the Volturi coven days after my birth. Mother explained that Caius and my father had never gotten along since he turned Caius around 1300 BC. My parents were living in Turkey during the pregnancy when the Volturi came to "collect" a man in the village where we were living. My father fought the Volturi to save the man, but..." Pausing in my story, I closed my eyes to the memory of Branwen's tears when she told the story of my father's death. Feeling something wrap around me, I opened my eyes, and I saw Seraphina hugging me as she cried. "I am so sorry for your loss, mea alia media." 

"It is fine, Seraphina." Did she just call me 'her other half? How cute.'

   "So, Chile, yes? Have you ever ridden a man-sized crow before?" I teased. Seeing that puzzled look on her beautiful face was a priceless treasure; I think I will keep it close to my magic beating heart.