It was exactly like the travelers had said. They had warned us time and time again that we needed to take precautions – sprinkle salt on the doorsteps and walkways, hang garlic above the doors and windows, keep a blessed silver knife on our persons at all times. But we never listened. And we paid for our mistake.

The attack happened on Samhain, after the celebration in which we thanked the gods for the bountiful harvest and prayed for a safe winter. After the ceremonial fire had died out, they came. We were unprepared for the attack. I saw friends and family throwing rocks and dirt at these strange creatures, but it was in vain. Men were killed, women were captured, and the village was burned to the ground.

I was among the ones who were captured. We were thrown into a bag and taken far away from our village. When we were removed from the bags, we had no idea where we were. All we knew was that we were in some sort of dungeon. We were afraid of what would happen to us. Mothers cried for their dead children. Widows wept for their dead husbands. And all of us maidens huddled together to try and comfort one another.

Our captors roughly grabbed our arms and forced us to walk to a dimly lit chamber deep. The glow of the candles on the walls gave the room an eerie feeling. At the far end of the room was a throne of gold. Upon the throne sat a strikingly beautiful young woman, dressed in a blood red robe. When she stood, we were forced to kneel. She separated us into two groups – those who had known the touch of a male and those who had not. Those of us in the virgin group were taken to another room, where our already tattered clothes were ripped off. Then, we were stood in a line and one by one, they came to us and asked us all the same question:

“Will you swear your allegiance to Nyx, the Ruler of the Night and Queen of the Coven?”

Those who answered no were killed on the spot. Those who answered yes were taken to yet another room, where we were blindfolded and our hands were bound. If they feared we would rebel, they should not have. We were all too terrified to move, except for when we were told to.
Once we were bound, each one of us received a bite. Then, we were forced to take a sip of liquid from a chalice – we found out later that the chalice we had all taken as sip from was filled with some of the Queen’s blood.

That night could only be described as hell. We were separated, each placed within a small, one person cell, and we were left there to suffer the transformation.


After enduring that horrible transformation night, we once again appeared before the Queen. She told us that we were now Vampyres, under her command, and she named us. Sometimes, she just took the original name and added another word to it. I went from being Nova to being Novarose. For others, she changed the name entirely. Annushka, my childhood best friend, was renamed Anastasya. Once we were renamed, we were part of the Coven. For over 100 winters, we served at the Coven. We hunted the nearby villages, feeding off of their blood and bringing more into the service of the Queen.

As the Queen’s Coven grew, so did her thirst for power and control. Soon, ruling over all of the Vampyres in the area was not enough for her. She began ordering that the male humans be kept alive so that she could use them as slaves in her palace. And then, the Elves fell and also became her slaves. Then, one night, a night when the moon was soaked in blood, she launched an attack on the neighboring Lycan colony. The Coven was destroyed, and those of us who survived found ourselves as captives of the Lycans. We hated being captives of the Lycans, and many of us tried to escape. I was one of the few who succeeded. However, life as a Vampyre, away from a Coven, was hard. I almost died from starvation. And I would have, had I not been rescued by a strange young man. He brought me to a new Coven and told me that this would be my new home.

And here I have been ever since.