Estrana

In the age of arts and beauty known as the Renaissance, there was a young witch named Estrana, or Estra for short. A child of a prestigious lineage, Estra was pure-blooded witch of noble blood , nurtured within the safe walls of her ancestral mansion. Her childhood was steeped in the arcane, with her early years dedicated to the study of botanical lore. Estra had a natural affinity for the lush greenery of her home's expansive gardens, tending to the herbs with an almost maternal devotion.

As the youngest of three siblings, Estra cherished her freedom, which was more abundant than that of her elder siblings. Her curiosity was as untamed as the woods she frequented, where she would forage for new specimens to transplant into her personal gardens.

Upon reaching her seventeenth year, her education took a 360 turn towards the broader and darker aspects of her heritage—subjects that failed to ignite her passion as the gardens did. This included the dark rites and concoctions lethal to vampires and werewolves, secret family knowledge passed down through generations.

Estra was sheltered, living a life distanced from the age-old feud between vampires and werewolves—a conflict she though distant and never imagining that her destiny was entwined with it. However, as the conflict escalated into an all-out war between vampires and werewolves, the witches, including Estra's family, were forced into choosing a side. Aligning with the vampires, they played a important role in the push back of werewolves from their shared territories.

The vampires, emboldened by victory, betrayed the witches. They slew the Witch-Queen of England, along with the noble families that supported her, aiming to weaken the witches' power and to gain supremacy.

Amidst the bloodshed, Estra, the sole survivor of her house, fled, hiding in the forest she knew well. Yet, her respite was short-lived; she was hunted down, her life seemingly ended by the deadly fangs of the vampire.

Death, however, was not the end for Estra. She awoke in the embrace of the forest, her skin pale as moonlight, her body bare, and her senses overwhelmed by a newfound thirst—an insatiable hunger for blood. Estra had been reborn as the very creature her family had taught her to despise: a vampire.

Beneath the towering canopies of ancient trees, Estra wandered, each step a silent confirmation to her solitude. The forest, once a place of comfort and exploration in her witching days, now stood as a dark path of shadows. She yearned for the familiarity of the hidden witch's village, a place interwoven with memories of her past life—a past that seemed as distant.

The curse of her new existence was heavily on her soul or what she had left of it. The woodland creatures, once subjects of her gentle fascination, had become prey to her predatory urges. The blood they offered was small, unable to quell the deep, craving for the rich and potent lifeblood she so desperately needed.

As the outline of the village shown through the trees, an ember of hope ignited within Estra. Perhaps among these dwellings of her former kin, she might find safety, or even allies. However, the dark reality greeted her like a cold wind. Doors closed and windows shuttered at her presence; the villagers withdrew from her as though she were the harbinger of their demise. The whispered reverence once afforded to her noble lineage now turned to hushed scorn for the vampire they perceived her to be.

In the chilling rejection, a solitary act of mercy flickered through the scorn. A witch, older than the rest, whose eyes held stories of old eras, saw past Estra's cursed facade. This solitary soul offered her shelter and, more crucially, blood— obtained from a willing sacrifice. It was an exchange, a pact of survival for wisdom.

In the sanctuary provided by the old witch, Estra dedicated herself to a rigorous discipline. She imparted every nuance of her knowledge about herbs, their healing properties, and the arcane secrets of their use in powerful potions. Each session was a struggle with her darker nature, a nature that she very slowly learned to master with an iron resolve born from her desire to retain what remained of her humanity.

The old witch, whom Estra came to know as Morwenna, was a gatekeeper of lost lore and ancient wisdom. Morwenna's kindness was not without caution, for she understood the gravity of harboring a creature as potent and unpredictable as a vampire, yet her gaze held no fear.

Together, they delved deeper into the mysteries of herbology than Estra ever had before. Morwenna taught her the forgotten ways, spells that danced on the edge of light and darkness, potions that could heal or harm, sedate or stir. In exchange, Estra offered her own knowledge, secrets of her noble lineage, and her newfound understanding of the vampiric condition. Under Morwenna's guidance, Estra discovered herbs that could somewhat sate her bloodlust, allowing her a semblance of the control she so desperately sought. From Estra, Morwenna learned about the weakness of vampires and what they are capable off, what herbs worked on them and what herbs did not.

As Estra grew more adept at harnessing her urges, she also learned of the village's issues. It was not just fear that caused them to close their doors to her but a deep sorrow that had loomed over the village. The witches had lost many of their own in the war, and their alliance with the vampires had left them isolated, vulnerable to the surrounding threats.

Recognizing her unique position, Estra began to wonder if her dual nature might be a bridge between the villagers and the new vampire lords. She thought of revealing her identity, offering herself as a bridge for peace. But such thoughts were sweeped away by the sharp remembrance of betrayal and the burning loss of her family.

Estra's nights were restless, filled with vivid dreams of her past life, her family, and visions of the war. She relived the horrifying moment of her death and rebirth, the pain, and the primal fear. Yet, each morning, she rose with a firmer will to make a new path, one that would honor the memory of her lost kin and protect the remnants of her kind.

Morwenna had seen much in her years, and she recognized the fires of potential burning in Estra's eyes. She began to nurture not just the young vampire's knowledge but also her spirit, preparing her for a role she might have to take.

On a night much like any other, with the silver sickle of the moon hanging low, a knock came upon Morwenna's door. The village was under threat, and the elders had nowhere left to turn. With a heavy heart and a saddened soul, Morwenna knew the time had come to reveal Estra's presence and the double-edged sword of her existence. For the village's survival might well depend on the very vampire they had once shunned.

The elder witch's hands, gnarled with wisdom and age, hesitated on the latch. With a glance back at Estra, whose eyes glimmered with a mix of anticipation and dread, Morwenna opened the door. Standing in the threshold was a group of the village's remaining elders, their faces with the lines of desperate decisions.

The air was thick with the scent of fear and moss as they entered, their eyes moved around the room, avoiding the shadowed corner where Estra stood, just out of the candlelight's reach. They spoke of a threat: a band of hunter, neither vampire nor werewolf, but men whose hearts had turned dark with the lust for power and control over supernatural beings. The village, w1eakened by losses and betrayals, was in their path. They hunted all be it vampire, witch or werewolves.

Estra listened, her heart silent but her spirit stirred. This was her home, these were her people, in blood if not in current form. She stepped forward, emerging into the light. Murmurs of shock and a collective step backward from the group greeted her, but she stood firm, the light catching the pale glow of her skin.

"I am Estra," she declared, her voice carrying the strength of her lineage and her vampiric curse, "once of your kin, now something more. I offer you my protection, for my fate is entwined with yours."

The room fell into a tense silence, the villagers trapped between Estra and the stark reality that approached them. It was Morwenna who broke the silence, her voice carrying the weight of her years, "She has knowledge beyond any we have seen, and power that we need. If we turn her away, we turn away our hope."

The elders whispered amongst themselves in hushed, urgent tones. The situation was dire; the choice seemed to be one of survival, regardless of old prejudices and fears. They turned back to Estra, their decision made more out of necessity than acceptance.

Estra, for her part, felt a surge of purpose she hadn't known since her transformation. This was her chance to protect, to redeem, to bridge the worlds she belonged to—both the light of her witch heritage and the dark of her vampiric curse.

The plans were laid that night. Estra would not only defend the village but also train the witches in the art of combat, both mystical and physical. She helped them to harness the powers that lay dormant within them.

In the weeks that followed, the village transformed. Under Estra's tutelage, barriers were fortified with spells, and traps laid with enchantments. The witches, young and old, practiced incantations and brewed potions that blurred the lines between witchcraft and the darker arts Estra had come to know from her family.

The night the hunters arrived, they found not a village filled with fear but a place of united strength. Estra stood by them in battle.

The battle was fierce, the air alive with the clash of magic and steel. Estra fought with a grace, her spells weaving seamlessly with her strikes, her fangs bared not in thirst but in the need to protect her home.

As dawn approached, the tide turned. The hunters, realizing too late the might they had underestimated, retreated into the waning darkness from whence they came. The village had survived.

In the aftermath, as the villagers nursed their wounds and repaired their homes, a newfound respect for Estra took root. She remained the child of night, walking a path lit by moon and star, but she was also their shoulder to lean on —their bridge between day and night, life and the eternal, witch and vampire. A complex treaty had been created between her and the village.

Estra wanted to warn other about the threat of the hunters. If her village was attacked then others must be facing the same fate.

As she traveled village to village , a powerful yet paranoid witch, recognizing the threat and potential within her, ensnared her in a spell-induced slumber, a sleep spanning centuries.

Estra awoke in the year 2019, to a world alien from the one she knew. The once-whispering forests had fallen silent, replaced by the march of progress and technology. Her journey now cut short in modern age, where the supernatural lurked in the shadows of skyscrapers.