The maid dragged her away as quickly as she could, but Esma wanted to stay and make sure he was dead and half wanted to watch the reaction his skin would have to the rising sun in the east. Suddenly she was wrenched forward, her stomach pinching her continously until she was violently sick; throwing up close to the stable door but never letting go of her sword, always watching him.
"Esma." The old woman came over, worried there had been a reaction within her soul, but she knew that this was what she had been trained to do; the first kill was always the hardest. Esma waved her away, making sure she stayed back just in case he rose. But the amount of darkened blood and pierced skin was too much to bear for her eyes and also her nostrils. Instead she was compelled to leave in fear that he might awake, gripping her sword by her side throughout the night while she tried to sleep for the couple of hours she had left.
Yet when the sun rose the next morning, no one would have known of the events last night. The stable wall was no longer covered in blood with the morning showers while the remains of the blooded vampire had been swept away with the northern winds. The only sign was the slightly smell of blood and death, the smell of something out of the ordinary that caught the wind and was carried to the werewolves. In their normal form, though their senses slightly dimmed, vampire blood was still a fresh and distinguished smell. They raced towards the stables, knowing the stench and tracing it to the exact spot; but all they could do was stand there when they got to the scene. A small girl was standing near the spot, leant slightly against the wall and staring confused at the small puddle that was lying in the street.
"You." All of their eyes glittered with a new hope that this might be the person they are after. After all this time, 6 years of waiting and hoping that she might arise; but they have never imagined someone so young. She nodded slightly towards them until the maid rushed out and placed her slightly behind her rounded frame,
"You, you leave her alone. She is only a child." The group, although a pack of 5 known werewolves, were afraid of the protection a woman can give to a child; and were well known for their respect of the human population. They bowed their heads gracefully and left without another word, but always watching little Esma as she watched them. When she was sure they had gone, the maid quickly turned around, knelt down and wiped a tear from her eye,
"There is something that i need to tell you. Teach you." Esma, so confused, simply took the hand that was in front of her and followed her protector into the back of the stables and beyond the hay stacks to a little shed that had possessed the furtherest corner of the land but had never been used. They entered together, but Esma stopped abruptly at the entrance almost as if she was caught on something near the door.
Around her were all manner of weapons and archives full of information, drawings and other such thing linked to vampires. Esma touched her neck,she knew this was her father's, the place he belonged to, this was why he was such a great warrior; he studied his enemy, he knew what his enemy were thinking.
"Your father, was not only a great warrior, but a great and powerful man." Esma walked around slowly, taking in every packed in object and piece of paper and she saw, occasionally touching an artefact that she thought she had seen before. "All of this is yours now." She turned suddenly and stared into the maid's eyes, she was being serious.
"How?" The maid pointed at the pendant that was wrapped around her neck, although medium in size it was crammed with detailed imprints and designs that linked together; but their power was obvious when the vampire had touched it but also when she felt it with her fingers. She looked down and realised that she was telling the truth, this was the final link that she had had with her father.
"Your father knew your destiny, long before it happened. The same as he knew his own." The maid walked over to a small box, situated in the middle of the room but slightly hidden on the table with all the other objects that surrounded it. She slowly slid of the lid and picked up a small, well rounded, ball that lay inside. It was no bigger than the palm of her hand, nestling itself enough that she was able to quickly lower her hand for Esma to see. Esma held out her hand, touching the smooth service and watching as the colours changed underneath her fingesr.
"This is foresight." She heard herself say, though it was something the little children had only said in fairytales that their parents told them at night. A power only owned by the humans that was passed down from the first generation of human by the vampire, as a sign of peace in the early years. Something that the vampires gaves up to complete a truce, and something they wanted back now that the humans had turned against the treaty and were fighting on the 'wrong side'. A power so rare, however, that only a few people have learnt to control it in their life times, though it is in everyone's blood; yet someone from a direct line of descent has a stronger well.
"Your father, was a great foresight. He knew what was happening decades before it did. He knew of your mother's death, your birth, your desting, long before you were born." Esma felt lost, everything she had possessed in her mind of her father made her think that he was only a great warrior, someone who had provided for his family and loved his daughter enough to go to battle to save her.
"This is your destiny Esma. Your the next foresight." An eleven year old child, too small for her age and too naive to carry such a burden, now had her destiny physically lying in the palm of her hand; and around her neck.