Fire writhed at the bottom, seething and spitting flames hotter than she’d ever felt before. It was so incandescently bright, so white hot, she couldn’t look at it longer than a fraction of a second. But she couldn’t look away either. She was inexplicably drawn to it. Like the last sunrise she’d witnessed before transitioning into a vampire. Her twenties hadn’t been kind to her as the transition had taken over. Eating habits had changed from salty, sugary foods to devilishly warm blood. Light sensitivity had drawn her indoors during the day. But one morning in particular had singed into her memory. Knowing it was the last time she’d see the sun, Ariana forced herself to stand in her front yard, beside her father’s rusted windmill, in front of her mother’s pristinely planted herb garden. She waited for the sun to rise over the ridge of purple mountains that separated her sleepy valley from the sea.
