I'm being carried away. My captors are strong. I reach out, searching for Arlo, but this damn helmet blocks my senses. I have to find a way...

Panic gnaws at me, but then I catch it, a warm, comforting blend of sandalwood and cedarwood, with a subtle hint of something spicy and alluring - perhaps a touch of cardamom or black pepper. It evokes images of a crackling fireplace and leather-bound books, a sense of strength and quiet confidence.

Arlo's cologne. He's close. I cling to that thought, the sweet aroma grounding me amidst the chaos.

A sense of peace settles over me, Arlo's presence a comforting balm. But the journey is far from over. I strain against my limitations, desperate to find a way to see, to understand where they're taking us.

My senses sharpen, reaching out beyond the confines of the car. The salty tang of the beach fades, replaced by the earthy scent of open fields. Then, a rhythmic whooshing fills the air, punctuated by stretches of silence. The smell of salt returns, stronger now, mingling with the whooshing sounds, the salty air replacing the earthy scent. The pattern continues, a strange, unsettling rhythm, until finally, the car lurches to a stop.

The car door slams open, and I'm roughly pulled out. Arlo's scent fades, moving away from me. Panic rises in my chest. I rush to follow him, but a cold voice cuts through my fear, "Now honey, don't worry. If you've done well with your training, you'll see him again."

That voice... it triggers a distant memory, a shadowy figure from my past. But before I can focus, a new sound assaults my senses. Laughter, applause, moans of pleasure - a horrifying contrast to my own desperate situation.

The sounds of revelry fade as I'm positioned and held firmly in a large chair. The air here is heavy, and thick with the scent of old stone, aged wood, and settled dust. It speaks of a place long untouched, a forgotten corner of the world.

I struggle against the chair, but a gentle hand presses down on my shoulders, holding me in place. Other hands grasp my wrists and ankles, securing them with restraints to the chair's sturdy frame. A wave of helplessness washes over me.

The soft fingers lift, and a shiver runs down my spine as the helmet is finally removed.

My vision clears, and the scene before me solidifies. Four men stand in a semi-circle, their faces grim. Alistair sits in the middle on an imposing throne bathed in moonlight with Veritas looming behind him. Two men stand to his left and one to his right.

"Where is Arlo!" I scream, my voice raw with fear and anger. My gaze locks onto Alistair, demanding answers.

A chill runs through me. It's not Alistair who answers, but that same cold, manic voice. "Honey, Arlo is waiting for you. All you have to do is find him." The words drip with a cruel sweetness, a promise laced with menace.

I whip my head around, fury surging through me as I spot Vivienne sauntering from behind me. She takes her place at Alistair's right, her hand resting possessively on his shoulder. My aura flares, a desperate attempt to control her, but she merely laughs, her amusement mocking my feeble effort. Alistair's voice cuts through the tension, "We're getting ahead of ourselves."

Alistair leans forward, his voice a low rumble. "Why didn't Arlo bring you here, Evie? He knows the consequences of defying my orders. Every masquerade is mandatory."

"Maybe he finds your little gatherings beneath him," I retort, my voice laced with cool disdain. Despite my fear, defiance burns within me.

"I already know this," I snap, my voice sharp with frustration. Alistair's demeanor mirrors my own. His tone is clipped, his posture rigid. It's clear he's not enjoying this any more than I am.

Alistair sighs a weary sound that sends a shiver down my spine. "I'll get to the point, Evie. Arlo defied my command. I can't have that. But he's too valuable to me to simply kill, as I normally would. So, I'm going to test his life against your training. Let's see how well he's been doing."

"What?" I gasp, my defiance momentarily faltering. "I've only been a vampire for a week! You can't..." The words trail off, a cold knot forming in my stomach.

Vivienne cuts in, her voice dripping with condescension. "Alistair, we're off to a bad start already. Vampires should always exude an air of superiority over all others."

"Indeed," Alistair agrees, his voice edged with a hint of amusement. "So, getting to the point. Here's the deal. Arlo is trapped on this island. You must save him before he succumbs to sunburn." A cruel smile twists his lips. "You bring him back here, free of his bonds, in the next 24 hours, and you both will be free to leave my island. But you probably really have only about 7 hours once the sun comes up, so don't dally."

With that, he and Vivienne turn and leave, their laughter echoing through the chamber as I struggle futilely against my restraints.

I strain against the bonds, my muscles burning with the effort. But they hold firm, unyielding. It's clear these restraints were designed for this very purpose, crafted from a material far stronger than anything I can break.

I focus my aura, searching desperately for Arlo's presence. But amongst the multitude of vampire signatures within the building, his remains elusive. A chilling thought strikes me: what if he's not even in this building? What if he's trapped somewhere else, confined by the same aura-suppressing material as the helmet?

Waves of despair wash over me, threatening to drown my resolve. But a flicker of defiance remains. "I just started," I whisper to myself, my voice barely a breath. "There must be a way. I just have to find it."

Alistair's words echo in my mind, a spark igniting within me. "A vampire must show superiority..." I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and reach out with my aura. I feel the presence of the three men in the room, their auras a symphony of power and subservience.

With a surge of will, I begin to manipulate their energies, weaving a subtle command into their minds. "Boys," I purr, my voice laced with newfound confidence, "will you help a lady out?"

I strain against the bindings, and two of the men hesitantly step forward. The third barks a warning, "What are you doing? Alistair will kill us if she escapes!"

They hesitate, but my influence holds. The third man realizes what's happening, his eyes widening in alarm. But instead of attacking me, he lunges at one of the others. A life-and-death struggle erupts, their auras clashing in a silent battle of wills.

The room transforms into a makeshift arena, the air crackling with the intensity of the clash. The two men grapple, their bodies entwined in a brutal dance of kicks, punches, and throws. One moment, they're locked in a ground fight, limbs blurring in a flurry of strikes; the next, they're back on their feet, exchanging blows with the ferocity of caged predators.

Their auras mirror their physical combat, weaving and clashing in an invisible ballet of dominance and submission. Tendrils of energy lash out, seeking to overpower and control. One man's aura glows with a fiery red, reflecting his aggression; the other's shimmers with a cool bluish-red, a testament to his steely determination.

I watch, transfixed, my heart pounding in my chest. The third man works quickly, his fingers deftly undoing the knots that bind me. I'm caught in a strange limbo, the spectator to a deadly spectacle.

Finally free, I rise from the chair, my gaze fixed on the two combatants. The third man stands at attention, awaiting my command. "Help your friend," I say, my voice firm but not unkind.

My words backfire instantly. The obedient man leaps into the fray, aiding his comrade. Panic surges, and I bolt from the room, the sounds of the brutal fight chasing me down the corridor. A sickening crack echoes, followed by an eerie silence. Then, a voice, harsh and urgent, "Snap out of it! We must get her back!"

Panic propels me down the corridor, my hands frantically testing each door I pass. They're all locked, their heavy wood resisting my desperate efforts. This labyrinthine castle seems designed to trap me, its endless passages offering no escape.

Footsteps pound down the hallway, their voices echoing through the stone corridors. "Where are you, lassie?" they taunt, their words a chilling reminder of my predicament. "There's nowhere to run."

Desperate and cornered, I follow the distant sounds of revelry, the echoes of the masquerade party still in full swing. It's a risky move, but it's my only chance. I have to blend in, and disappear amongst the crowd.

The grand ballroom bursts into view, a grotesque spectacle of masked figures indulging in forbidden pleasures. My pursuers are closing in, but I plunge into the crowd, my aura mimicking those around me. I vanish into the throng, a ghost amidst the revelry.

My heart pounds in my chest as I navigate the opulent space, heading towards the library where I first encountered Alistair. A silent prayer escapes my lips, hoping against hope that it's empty, a sanctuary in this den of depravity.

The familiar sight of the Monet painting brings a momentary sense of calm. The library is blessedly empty, a haven amidst the chaos. I quickly find a secluded corner, my mind racing. I have to think, to strategize. Time is ticking away, and Arlo's life hangs in the balance.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Crouching in the shadows, I try to gather my thoughts. Finding Arlo is paramount, but how? Once again, I reach out with my aura, desperately seeking his familiar warmth amidst the sea of vampire energy. But the attempt proves fruitless; his presence remains shrouded, a needle lost in a haystack.

Frustration mounts. I try to recall my training, but nothing seems relevant. The endless hours spent honing my aura control, the lessons on heightened senses, the nonsensical rules... none of it offers a solution. My mind feels like a tangled web, each thought leading to a dead end.

Alistair's cruel words echo in my mind, a lifeline amidst the chaos. "Seven hours of sunlight..." He must be exposed to the sun, directly. That means he's outside! A surge of hope courses through me. I have a direction, a purpose.

I spot a tall window overlooking the grounds. Frantically, I check for alarms, but there are none. Of course not - who would need them? To reach this island, you'd have to be a vampire, and Alistair clearly believes his kind is above such mundane concerns.

With a silent prayer, I carefully ease open the window, its hinges protesting softly. My movements are slow, deliberate, and mindful of the vampires' heightened senses. Thankfully, the sounds of the ongoing revelry seem to mask the subtle creak of the window.

I slip through the opening, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the oppressive atmosphere inside. The window closes behind me, leaving no trace of my escape.

The cool night air invigorates me, sharpening my senses. I reach out with my aura once more, and this time, a subtle difference emerges. The auras within the castle remain dimmed, but those outside shine with a newfound clarity. The castle itself must be acting as a dampener, similar to the helmet, but not as potent. Hope flickers anew.

The vastness of the island makes finding Arlo a daunting task. His aura remains frustratingly absent, perhaps too distant for me to sense. However, I do detect the faint auras of sentries patrolling the grounds. With a deep breath, I suppress my own aura, becoming a phantom in the night. Moving slowly and deliberately, I navigate the shadows of the forest, my every step a careful calculation.

The deeper into the forest I venture, the safer I feel. But the distance from Arlo weighs heavily on my heart. I pause, a wave of anxiety washing over me. "What time is it?" I whisper, pulling out my phone with trembling hands.

The phone's screen illuminates my face, a wave of relief washing over me. "How could I be so stupid?" I mutter to myself. Arlo's phone! Mom insisted he has a tracking app installed. With trembling fingers, I open it, and there he is, his face smiling back at me, a beacon in the darkness. The time reads 4 AM. A cold dread grips my heart. I have about an hour before sunrise. Time is running out.

I sprint through the forest, my eyes glued to the phone's screen. Arlo's location blinks, a guiding star in this treacherous night. I push myself to my limits, dodging the occasional sentry with a silent prayer. They seem oblivious to my presence, their focus elsewhere. But I can't afford to be complacent. Every second counts.

The GPS signal pulsates, indicating Arlo's proximity. Yet, my eyes scan the surroundings, a growing sense of panic gnawing at me. He's close, I can feel it, but where? The forest seems to mock me, its shadows concealing my beloved.

Desperation claws at me as I extend my aura once more, searching for any trace of Arlo. But the void remains. Fear gnaws at my resolve. Did I just waste precious time chasing a phantom signal? Could they have planted his phone to mislead me, to buy themselves more time?

"This might be the dumbest idea ever," I mutter to myself, my voice trembling. But desperation has taken hold. With a surge of reckless courage, I dial Arlo's number.

The phone rings and rings, unanswered. But the buzzing grows louder with each step, fueling a desperate hope. Just as I think I'm closing in, my aura tingles with a warning. New, hostile presences are approaching, their auras burning red with menace.

My heart sinks as I spot Arlo's phone, discarded amidst the undergrowth. It's just a lifeless object, devoid of his warmth, his scent. No sign of him, no trace of his aura. Despair threatens to overwhelm me. Was it all a cruel trick?

The sound of approaching footsteps snaps me out of my despair. I snatch Arlo's phone and bolt, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I burst past the circle of red auras, their surprise giving me a momentary advantage. They give chase, but as I reach the beach on the far side of the island, they abruptly halt.

The first rays of dawn peek over the horizon, painting the sky with fiery hues. "Oh shit," I gasp, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut. Sunrise.

A collective gasp rises from my pursuers as the first rays of sunlight touch the sand. They stumble back, their faces contorted in fear and retreat towards the safety of the castle.

I frantically scan the beach, searching for anything that might shield me from the strengthening sunlight. "Stay in the early light," I remind myself, desperation fueling my search. I can't let them catch me now.

With the threat receding, I retreat into the forest, seeking refuge beneath its thick canopy. It's not much, but the dappled shade offers some respite from the strengthening sun. I cling to a desperate hope, praying that it's enough.

Every stray sunbeam feels like a branding iron, searing my skin with agonizing precision. Blisters bubble and burst, the raw flesh beneath instantly charring under the relentless heat. The pain is excruciating, a symphony of agony that threatens to shatter my resolve. Yet, the moment I find cover, the wounds knit back together, leaving only the phantom sting of a fresh burn.

I collapse against the cool bark of a giant oak, its leaves providing a blessed sanctuary from the burning sun. The pain recedes, the wounds knitting themselves back together. I clutch Arlo's phone, my desperate plea a silent whisper. "Please," I beg, my voice cracking. "Give me something, anything."

I swipe through the missed messages, a pang of guilt stabbing at my heart. Then, one notification catches my eye. Mia's number flashes on the screen, followed by a series of numbers. My breath hitches. It was sent at 5 AM, sunrise. Why? Why these numbers? What could it mean? I rack my brain, desperation fueling my thoughts. There has to be a connection, something I'm missing.

A thought strikes me like a lightning bolt. I programmed Mia's contact into Arlo's phone. It shouldn't show just her number, but her name too. He must have deleted it. "Okay, we'll need to talk about that later," I mutter to myself, a wry smile tugging at my lips despite the dire circumstances.

My fingers fly across the screen, a desperate message to Mia. "What are these numbers?" I type, my heart pounding. But both our phones are on their last legs, the battery icons flashing a dire warning. I need to decipher this code, and I need to do it fast.

Mia's voice floods my ears, a lifeline in the encroaching darkness. "Evie? God, I hope it's you. Arlo messaged me while I was sleeping. He's in trouble. He sent me these coordinates to his location and told me not to message until the sun was up, to his number, and only to your phone after you messaged back. To make sure it was you and not someone else. Oh god, you're Evie, right? I should have asked what the name of your favorite stuffed animal was."

Relief washes over me. "Mia, it's me. My favorite animal was a purple unicorn named Sparkle."

"I gotta go," I gasp, my voice choked with emotion. "My phone's dying. But thank you, Mia. Love you." The line clicks dead, leaving me alone in the silent forest. But now, I have a lifeline, a glimmer of hope. Arlo's coordinates flash on the screen, a promise whispered on the wind.

"It's not just our phones dying," I mutter, the urgency of the situation sinking in. I quickly input the coordinates into the map app. A location pops up, not far from my current position, northeast of where I stand. The phone flickers, then goes black.

A bitter laugh escapes my lips. "If I survive this, I'm going to have a lot to explain to my parents and Mia." The weight of the situation crashes down on me once more. But there's no time for self-pity. I have a mission and every second counts.

I spin on my heels, the rising sun a fiery beacon in the east. "Northeast," I whisper, orienting myself. With a surge of adrenaline, I sprint towards the treeline, the first rays of sunlight warming my back. "Please, let this be right," I plead, my voice lost in the rustle of leaves.

I race through the undergrowth, my lungs burning, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm. The rising sun paints the sky in fiery hues, casting long shadows across the forest floor. As I run, a familiar scent wafts on the breeze, an earthy aroma that tugs at my memory. I can't quite place it, but it draws me in, a comforting beacon amidst the chaos. I follow the scent, my footsteps guided by an instinctive pull.

The familiar scent intensifies, leading me to a small clearing bathed in the harsh morning light. And then, a flicker catches my eye - a faint aura, a red-violet hue shimmering weakly amidst the greenery. It's so dim, so fleeting, that it could easily have been missed. But my heart leaps in recognition. Arlo!

I sprint toward the faint aura, my body screaming in protest. Every step is agony, the sunlight burning my skin with merciless intensity. My pace falters, each movement a monumental effort. But my determination burns even hotter than the sun. "I won't give up," I grit through clenched teeth, my skin bubbling and blistering with every agonizing step.

"Arlo!" I scream, my voice hoarse and desperate. But the clearing appears empty, my hopes dashed once more. Just as despair threatens to consume me, I spot it - his faint aura, a red-violet hue flickering weakly in the shadows. It's coming from below.

I stumble towards the source, my body wracked with pain and exhaustion. And then, my heart leaps into my throat. A grate leads to an underground cell. Arlo!

I collapse onto the metal bars, my voice a ragged whisper. "Arlo!" I cry out again, my voice echoing through the darkness below.

"Arlo!" I scream, my voice echoing through the underground chamber. But he remains motionless, a crumpled figure shrouded in blisters from the sun. The sun beats down on me relentlessly, my skin blistering and bubbling with each passing second. The pain is excruciating, a relentless symphony of agony.

My legs give out, and I crumple onto the grate, my strength waning with every agonizing second. The pain threatens to engulf me, held at bay only by sheer willpower. My vision blurs, but I force myself to focus on Arlo. His aura, that familiar red-violet hue, flickers weakly. But there's something else... a dark scarlet taint, a sinister presence clinging to his energy.

"Vivienne's Sire's Command!" I realize, a wave of fury washing over me. It's the only explanation for Arlo's unresponsiveness. "Arlo, fight it!" I scream, my voice a desperate plea. I throw myself against the grate, but it's unyielding. A padlock, a simple, mundane lock, stands between me and his freedom.

A gut-wrenching realization hits me. If I had found him sooner, if the morning sun hadn't drained my strength, I could have ripped this cage apart. Tears well up in my eyes, a mixture of frustration and despair.

I focus my dwindling energy on Arlo, trying to purge Vivienne's command from his aura. I can feel it working, the scarlet fragments slowly dissolving. His features soften, and his blue eyes regain their familiar warmth. The shade I cast provides a small sanctuary, his sun-ravaged skin slowly healing beneath my shadow. But even as he looks at me, the conflict is evident. He wants to fight, to break free, but he can't.

His aura struggles against the lingering command, a valiant but futile effort. I have to save him, but the sunlight is relentless. My body screams in protest, my vision blurring at the edges. How long have I been here? I've lost all track of time. All that matters is Arlo, the scarlet in his aura, and the pain. The unbearable, all-consuming pain.

My vision fades, the pain a relentless tide threatening to drown me. "Arlo," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry. I failed you, my love." Tears mingle with the blood and blisters on my face, a testament to my broken promise.

Darkness descends a merciful release from the agonizing reality. My body finally succumbs, the pain too much to bear. Consciousness slips away, leaving only a void, a silent echo of my desperate love and my utter failure!