Written for Writing Battle’s Harvest Owl 500-word tournament. The prompts were GOTHIC FANTASY, AUTHOR, and CHESSBOARD.
Results: Final Tournament, Placement TBD
Before I even wrote the first words of Power & Blood, I thought of Lord Dmitriev—of his eyes, dark and dancing, and of the ancient magic that would slither its way beyond the pages and into the minds of my readers.
He would be dangerous. Irresistible. Like any good vampiric love interest ought to be.
And, of course, entirely a figment of my imagination.
I remind myself of this as I find myself in one of the upholstered chairs of his dimly lit office. The scent of old books fills the room.
Dmitriev sits behind his mahogany desk, fingers steepled at his lips, black eyes watching me without apology. It’s an expression I know well; I crafted it with my own pen.
I’m dreaming, I tell myself.
His lips curl in response to the self-assurances I never spoke aloud.
“I assume you’re wondering why I’ve brought you here.” He leans back in his seat, confidence emanating from him like heat from a flame.
“You didn’t bring me anywhere.” I’m surprised to hear the tremble in my voice. It doesn’t quite capture the vaguely annoyed energy I was aiming for. “This is a dream. My own overactive imagination brought me here.”
“Oh?” His voice lilts, like a parent humoring their child’s fanciful ideas.
I jab a finger at the massive map hung on the wall behind him. “That’s Novos. I named that continent after the city my family lives in.” I twist around to gesture towards the small table and chairs in the corner of the room. “And that chess set was a gift from your father. He was a king on the island of Halta before he passed away seven centuries ago. I know because I made it up.”
The vampire lord’s cheeks twitch in amusement. “You remind me of her, you know.”
I frown. “Who?”
“Dasha.”
Dasha. The protagonist of Power & Blood, and Lord Dmitriev’s love interest.
“I suppose that makes sense,” he continues, fingers dancing along his armrest. “Authors often put pieces of themselves into their characters. I can see you gifted her with your obstinance.”
My cheeks flare hot, just as Dasha’s would. “All the more evidence that I’m dreaming.”
Lord Dmitriev stays quiet for a long time—still watching me, still with an expression I struggle to name. Meanwhile, I wait for the telltale signs of waking up.
And wait. And wait. But the edges of my vision don’t blur. The scene doesn’t change. I feel my heartbeat in my chest.
“My father told me life was a bit like chess,” the vampire muses, glancing briefly at the chessboard in the corner of the room. “There is give and take.” When I lift my gaze to meet his, something frightening glimmers behind his coal-black eyes. “And I’m afraid you, my dearest creator, have taken too much.”
I don’t need to clarify his meaning. I wrote the final pages of his story myself.
“What do you want?” I breathe.
His responding grin is positively feral. “Now we’re talking.”
