When Darkness Meets Light

When Darkness Meets Light

Status: Finished

Genre: Romance


Status: Finished

Genre: Romance


two star cross lovers who's only crime is to love each other. Why? Because they are from two different worlds. He is a vampire and she is a deadly assassin belonging to a secret society known as The Order whose soul mission is to keep peace between humans and supernaturals. After years of hiding their love, a old human flame now werewolf will thrust their forbidden romance into the light. When all is known can they truly be together, or is darkness truly their only savor.


two star cross lovers who's only crime is to love each other. Why? Because they are from two different worlds. He is a vampire and she is a deadly assassin belonging to a secret society known as The Order whose soul mission is to keep peace between humans and supernaturals. After years of hiding their love, a old human flame now werewolf will thrust their forbidden romance into the light. When all is known can they truly be together, or is darkness truly their only savor.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Chapter 1

Author Chapter Note

Eveva starts reminiscing as she sits in cell, waiting to die.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 14, 2014

Reads: 725

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 14, 2014



 My name is Eveva, Eveva Whitmore and believe it or not, but I was born ten years old for I cannot remember anything pass that age. All I have is picture of a little girl standing by herself. Her dress, socks, shoes are all black matching her long flowing hair. The girl in the picture is me. How do I know? Because I remember everything about that day, and I look the same as I did then; just older.

I remember how alone I felt when my parents came to collect me from school that day. I remember feeling lost and afraid as if I had lost something very dear to me. That day when my parents came I looked into their eyes and I knew they were not my parents. Something about them was off and I saw none me and in them.

It would be seven long years before they would admit it to me and tell me the truth, but still I knew. I did not know what they were, but I knew what they were not; and they were not my parents.

Those were the days of 1898 and it was very confusing time. To those who knew of me they thought I was weird because I did not look like the other children. For starters I have violet and they unto itself is strange, but black suited me like leaves suit a tree. Something was off about me I heard my teacher commit to another parent one day. Looking back I guess they saw it, even before I did.

One day a traveling circus came to town and my parents took me. I had never seen so many different colors and most kids were scared of the clowns but not me. To think about it I’ve was never scared of anything in those day. Sneaking off was something I often done and when I saw my chance to do so I did. I went exploring and I saw many wonderful things. I found myself walking into the tent of gypsy.

“What do you wish to know, child?” I heard dark but sweet voice say from the darkness.

Fear, for the first time had found me at long last, but I did not run.

Feeling a creeping darkness shoot down my spine filled me with dread and I had felt it before. I just couldn’t remember when or where it had surrounded me, paralyzed me, and crippled me beyond all reason. Suddenly feeling boney finger upon my shoulder I scream but I can’t run. It has a hold of my dress. Is this where it ends for me I ponder, but I feel another hand pull me around.

“Stop struggling child, I mean you no harm,” I hear her say.

Out of the darkness comes a sweet face with old features. Her skin was saggy and she had long shiny ear rings. She was heavy and jewelry flows from her head on down her dress.

“Please, don’t her me?” I plead.

Shaking her head, “child I mean you no harm now come over here and sit before your guardians miss you,” she says pulling me to a chair in front of small round table. 

With curiosity replacing the fear, “why you call them that?” I ask wanting an answer.

She walks around the table sitting down across from me.

“Because that is what they are. They are not your parents and you are no ordinary child. You have been chosen for you were born under special circumstances. You child are a potential keeper, a great honor for there are things in the darkness that wish to do us great harm,” she says looking deep into my eyes.

Taking a deep breath, “your eyes are very rare; one has a destiny when they are there.”

Her words made no sense but still I was not afraid, not anymore. Reaching under the table, she pulls out a round crystal ball placing it on the table.

“Look child if you dare in to the realm of truth, but I warn you it reveals many things.”

Taking a deep breath, “what will I see?” I ask leaning closer.

“Even I cannot tell for it reveals many things. Some past, some present, and some things that have not yet come to pass. So child do you wish to know?” she asks looking for something.

The curiosity was too much to ignore, “I wish too,” I say but then a ill wind out of nowhere comes in the tent and shatters the ball.

“Leave,” I heard a voice as clearly as day say to me.

Suddenly the fear finds me again and I run out of tent as fast as my legs can take me. I never told my parents about it. I just kept it to myself, carrying it like burden on my shoulders. From that time on my days were filled with unanswered questions and feelings of isolation, but at night it was different.

I went to this beautiful garden and from there I could go and do anything. Most people dreamed and when they woke they rarely remembered all the details. Usually just bits and pieces here and there, but I was different. I always remembered my dreams. Not too long after I turned fifteen I started having nightmares and stranger still sometimes my guardian mother would be in them. The next morning she would always look tried as if she had a bad dream too.

Was I responsible for this? How could I be, their just dreams I would tell myself. I never said anything about my little dream world to her to anyone. It was mine, no one else belonged there. If it was just dreams then why did it feel like sometimes I was looking through a key hole, almost as if I did not belong there?

One day after school she called me into the kitchen calling me to sit at the table. Laura was my guardian mother’s name and even though I did not know her she did help me that day.

Sitting across from me she smiles softly, “Eveva, dear we need to talk.”

Laura leans on the table, “Did you have an interesting dream last night?” she asks softly.

“Maybe,” I uttered looking away.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush. You pulled me into your dream last night, and it’s the first neither,” she said.

I tried to play it off as if she knew not what she was talking about, but somehow Laura always knew when I was lying. The look on her face said she wasn’t buying it.

“Eveva, stop playing dumb,” she said in a forceful voice.

Her tone and words shook me to the core. Laura quite often had to get loud and show force to get me to talk, but with one look at Eveva she knew I was scared. In a softer more gentle tone, “Listen child, I know you have found it best to keep this secret, but you are among friends.”

Her words were true but I found no comfort in them and Laura could see it in my eyes.

She smiled a bit and put her hand on Eveva’s knee,

“How about this, I will talk and you will listen. You can jump in at anytime.”

I sat back in the chair like a child waiting to be punished.

“You’re scared as hell…of yourself because when you dream—you remember your dreams. Sometimes it’s like it wasn’t even your dream. It’s as though it belongs to someone else and you are just looking through a key whole. Sometimes if you try hard enough you can even pull someone into your own dream.”

I was completely shocked, “How do you know this?” I ask. 

Laura reaches for my hand, “You’re not alone child, there are others like you. I knew you were special when they brought you to us,” she says sending shock ways down my spine.

I could no longer hide and she saw the truth in my eyes.

“Eveva, I know you know I’m not your mother and it’s ok. We knew you would find out evently but you’ve kown for quite some time haven’t you?” Laura asks sweetly.

“Yes ma’am,” I uttered catching her gaze.

“Eveva you need to know that I know what you are and what you are is a dream walker. You were born with a particular gift. The dream world is yours to control, and for you that control is so important; especially when you have a nightmare. You lose control and then the dream becomes quite real. When the mind believes something totally, that is when the dream becomes very dangerous.

Being what you are, you end up pulling someone into your dream to help or even protect you. Eveva, it is very important that you learn to control this. It can be very dangerous, and not just to you but to others who dreams you enter.”

“Wait a minute, I can’t…”

“Yes you can and have for quite some time I believe,” Laura continues leaving me trapped in state off disbelief.

“See those dreams where you feel like you are just being in, not really meant to be there. Well you’re right; you’re not supposed to be there. Quite simply, you are in someone else’s dream and you could make it quite real if you wanted to. Too real, so real you could hurt them…even kill them.”

“You mean to tell me if someone dies in their dream they die for real?” I asked.

 “If you make it real enough…yes,” Laura said still in calm motherly tone.

“How is that even possible?”

“The mind Eveva, the mind makes whatever you want real. Mortals are easily fooled and their minds are easy to control. The mind makes it real and the body cannot live without the mind. That’s why you must learn to control it and use it when order to do so. Now do you understand?”

I nod my head. Then Laura stares at me as if she knew what lied ahead for me, even before I did. I wonder if she knew I would be sitting on a cold black stone floor waiting to die. It has been 111 years since that conversation and I can still see her face. The kindness in her eyes and as I sit here I know they cared. In their own way they cared for me and I miss them.

It’s funny when you’re going to die everything becomes clear. I have been in this room for five days now. Dressed a white almost plain looking gown covers my body leaving my knees and arms exposed to the world. The walls and the floor are some kind of black stone. With no bed and seat less toilet I am forced to sit on the floor. A small opening of the sky is on the way I can tell the time, but even in this place I am comforted by my dreams.

In there I am free from this dark cold cell. In there I walk on white sand beaches and I can feel the warmth of the sun on my cheeks. In there I am free, but like a coming flood it never lasts. The sound of my cell door opening wakes me up and I remember that I am waiting to die.

“On your feet Orderly, it’s time to go,” I hear a strong male voice say.

He is wearing black and armed. His face his covered the helmet he wears and I know why. I cannot be trusted. I am dangerous, deadly even. If I wanted I could probably kill him and anyone else in my way. That is why I was put in this dismal, empty room. There’s nothing in here to aid in my attempts for escape; if I desired such a thing.

On my feet I stand even though my legs are weak. I stand because I want my last moments of life to be worth something. I want them to say Eveva Constance Whitmore without strong. She did not cry or beg, no—I will not beg. What would be the point?

I can’t help but notice the steal handcuffs in his hands. They look different; they aren’t like the ones I have encountered every day of my life. They are different, for one they are made of 20 percent more steel. Too think for me to break and they are magnetic controlled by a small device kept somewhere else. Most likely on my guard, best not to take chances when a Orderly is involved.

I walk over to him trying to find his eyes. Must look one in the eyes, you owed them that—I owed him that.

“Hands out,” He says watching my every move.

I can since his fear, he reeks of it, “relax, I’m not going to put up a fight,” I say putting my hands out and together.

The cuffs feel cold as he puts one on my wrist and another on the other risk. He then pulls out a sliver small device and pushes a button forcing my wrist together. I can’t pull them apart, even if I tried I couldn’t.

“Walk,” he says moving aside.

For the first time in days I am seeing the grand gloomy hall that seemed to match my cell. With me in front and him behind me I feel like I’m marching to my fate. I was indeed a dead woman walking.

Walking, “Where are you taking me?” I ask softly.

“For a final interview, your Overseer wishes a word with you.”

It seems as if I’m walking forever, but finally he says, “Stop,” and a black door slides open. The room is light with bright white light going down the walls at each and every corner.

“Inside,” he says pushing me.

There’s a table and two chairs. One chair has odd looking handles. One can assume the handles have magnets on them as well.  There is no need for him to tell me to site, I already know what I am expected to do. Sitting in the chair I wait for his next move. Pulling out the sliver device again he presses the button and my wrists are free from the force that bonded them together, but the magnets on the ends of the chair pull my wrist down. Once again I am unable to move them.

The guard looks at me one last time, and I feel his eyes.

“I am sorry for this, what a shame to kill such a beauty,” he says before leaving the room and me to my unseen fate.

© Copyright 2018 JessicaA. All rights reserved.


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