44. Scarlett

YEAR 2024

"In the end, The Depraved Prince became The Lost King. The Lost King who fell out of love with life and in love with the idea of death. It's a tragic story of revenge and love that hurts. His father warned him time and time again that this would be her ending. She was always supposed to die. He was always supposed to lose her." My aunt closes the book.

"And what happened to Holland?"

"Hayden tortured him until he killed him. It turns out he was the one who leaked Hayden's uncle's relationship with King Davenport. He was the one who turned on the TV so Millie could find out about her father dying, and he was the one who let King Davenport into the Cathedral so he could get to Millie to unlock his powers. It's all written in this journal."

"How?" I quirk a brow, biting my fingernail with a broken heart.

"How? What?" she repeats.

"How did Hayden torture Holland?"

"Those details aren't important, sweetie." She groans out. She removes her reading glasses and stiffens, probably thinking about the answer to my question. I'm sure it's in that journal.

"Milie's death destroyed him, and there are other stories about him. Stories that he turned into something far worse. Some stories are so horrifying I refuse to believe they're true." She widens her eyes and shakes her head. "Or maybe he's gone from this world and into another, haunting Millie until he finds her again…nobody knows."

My tia closes a pink, outdated journal with the title Millie and peonies decorated on it. She places it on her bookshelf, tucked far into the corner. My tia is a vampire enthusiast. She hoards everything she finds like a collection when she travels around the world. She seeks out urban legends and mythical creatures. Millie's journal has been sitting on that shelf for a year or so.

Tia believes vampires exist, but no one believes her. Everyone in our family thinks she's crazy for it. But me? I believe her. I plan to investigate and hunt for the truth of their existence. I want to find an immortal vampire myself.

"I don't want to believe that she's dead."

"Well, she is. Her tombstone rests in that Cathedral." My aunt sighs heavily. "Revenge is an ugly emotion. You can't fight fire with fire and expect to win. You must never act on it, Scarlett."

I shift in my chair and drink my cup of tea.

"What happened to her mother?"

My tia tears up and holds her cross necklace like she's dreading to answer my question. She pulls out her journal again and finds a letter. She gives it to me and wipes away a tear from her cheek.

She hands me the letter, and I take it slowly. I open it.

"The letter was in the journal. Millie's mother…well, she ended up leaving Santiago. She left him the day before Millie and Hayden's wedding. She tried to reach her but instead wrote this letter."

To my daughter,

It turns out I believe in happily ever afters after all. You made me believe in them, Millie. Not the kind that deals with a man but the kind that gives my soul peace. The kind that makes me believe in second chances at life and the kind that gives me hope. The kind that makes me feel like it's never too late to try and be better. The happily ever after I choose is my children and the little girl in me who believed in myself and loved myself when no one else did.

I love you, Millie. I see a lot of myself in you. If you can take anything from my mistakes, it's this: I want you always to love yourself and never depend on anyone else to make you feel worthy—because you are. You always are worthy and deserving of an all-consuming life story. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for the pain I've caused you. Your pain is valid. You are valid. If you allow me the privilege to be a part of your life again, Mom is here, and she is here to stay.

Love, Mom.

Wow …

What a cruel way to end The Depraved Prince. All Millie wanted was to see her parents get their happy ending, and she died before finding out her mother chose hers.

"That gothic-looking Cathedral up in the mountains…the one with the closed-off trail to get there. Is that where King Drago lived with his family?" I ask, tapping my nails on the desk before me. It takes about five miles to get to that place. I've never tried because it's a strenuous hike, and people have died mysteriously trying to get to it.

Walking past me, her face hardens as she grabs her teacup, and I watch the steam flow over the white and baby blue glass swirling right by her mouth. She pushes her gray hair behind her ear, and her light brown eyes turn into slits. She places the teacup down and sits at her coffee table. She looks out the window into the night sky. I already know what she's looking at. You can barely see the beautiful architecture above the tall trees. You can only tell it's there if someone points it out.

"Don't ever try it, Scarlett. No one believes me, and that's fine. I'm known as the crazy lady who believes in vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and demons, but I know deep down, you believe it, too. Promise me you'll never go there?" She turns away from the window and looks at me with scolding eyes of protection.

I swallow nervously.

"Yes, tia ."

This week has been one crazy, wild ride of storytelling. It was raw, tragic, but honest. She skipped over the explicit romantic parts, but I get the point as an eighteen year old.

Before I went to bed that night, I put my newly bought telescope to use. The next day, I went to the store downtown in Bozeman and bought it. My tia told me I couldn't go there , but she said nothing about a telescope or spying. I can't get Millie's and Hayden's story out of my head. I think it'll live with me forever.

It's midnight, the day before Halloween. Instead of trick-or-treating or binge-watching classic horror movies, I'm looking through the scope. Finally, after finding a good angle to set it up, I spot the Gothic black cathedral through the mountains and trees.

There's greenery all around it, and it looks abandoned. Red stained glass is on every single window except one.

It's broken .

I adjust the scope until the blurriness goes away. My retro vintage radio that I left playing shifts to a radio station I've never listened to before. A 1950s song starts to play. I stare at the song title just as "Put Your Head On My Shoulder" by Paul Anka plays statically.

Huh? That's never happened before…

I bite my lip and return to my scope. An electrocuted sensation of horror runs through me when I see something mysterious. There, where the broken stained glass is, is a tall, massive shadow figure in a black suit staring straight at me with glowing red crimson eyes.

A blood-curdling scream slips into the eerie night, and I drop the telescope.

THE END