The Bloodstar: Bellerose After Dark, #1

By C.C Harper

Amelia, was a common girl, who yearned for a life beyond the repetitive routine of a cotton mill. She longed for something more than an arranged marriage constrained by familial expectations. Defying the societal norms that sought to restrict her, she searched for a happiness that went beyond the predetermined paths of her ordinary life. As she approached her twenty-first birthday, she made a fateful choice that would permanently change the trajectory of her existence.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.C. Harper
• Release date: Feb 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224106288

C.C Harper

C. C. Harper is a dedicated writer, blogger, and gamer who constantly seeks magic in every endeavor. With a passion for storytelling and a keen eye for detail, C. C. Harper crafts compelling narratives that captivate readers and transport them to vibrant and imaginative worlds. Her love for gaming fuels her creativity, allowing her to delve into immersive gaming experiences and draw inspiration for her writing. Through her unique perspective and enthusiasm, C. C. Harper continues to create content that sparks the imagination and leaves a lasting impression.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

As a vampire, my existence is intertwined with darkness, immortality, and an insatiable craving for the crimson elixir that sustains me. Though many would view this as a dreaded affliction, I choose to perceive it as a bestowed boon, for within the realm of shadows, I have discovered a revitalized purpose. It offers me a singular perspective through which to behold the world, a way that is wholly my own.

Disguised beneath the facade of humanity, I traverse amongst mortals, concealing my true essence. They are living, breathing beings, leading lives replete with fleeting passions and fleeting dreams, a stark contrast to my perpetual presence. Through their eyes, I bear witness to the splendors and agonies of existence, evoking memories of the transcendent beauty that was once mine to claim.

You may be wondering why I consider myself fortunate. The reason is simple: I have been given the opportunity to live again. I walk this earth with a newfound understanding and gratitude for the precious gift of life. While my path may have its challenges and sacrifices, it also gives me certain privileges that ordinary individuals cannot attain. In truth, there are times when I feel lost and hopeless, burdened by the weight of immortality. I often feel alone, disconnected from the mortal world around me. But even in these moments, I find comfort in knowing that I have been given a second chance at life.

It is amidst the cloak of midnight's enveloping darkness, when the world slumbers soundly, that I wander without restraint. My senses are keen, and my instincts honed to perfection. I am a hunter, forever in search of the throbbing cadence of existence. Yet, I am also a guardian, unwavering in my responsibility to uphold harmony betwixt mortals and denizens of the nocturnal realm.

Under the vigilant gaze of the bloodstar, I find myself entangled in an everlasting paradox. Though cursed to subsist by siphoning the very essence of life from others, I am also bestowed with the gift to marvel at the evanescent splendor of the realm. This dichotomy, my dear friend, shapes the very fabric of my being, and I welcome it warmly, with utmost appreciation. So, my dear reader, I beseech you not to lament the circumstances surrounding my arrival into this world. Rather, let us cherish every breath, every fleeting moment, and every beating heart that crosses our path. Within the vast tapestry of our existence, it is the ephemeral nature of life itself that possesses the utmost significance.

PART I – Amelia

On the thirteenth day of January, in the year 1864, I made my entrance into this world, within the foggy bounds of the illustrious city of London. My dear and loving parents, Cordelia and William Pattison, bestowed upon me the name Amelia Elizabeth Pattison. Soon after my birth, it was determined by my family that we embark upon a voyage to the New World, in hopes of expanding our enterprise in the cotton trade. Once we settled ourselves, it was in the dimly lit, cavernous chambers of the cotton mills, that the legacy of the Pattison family unfurled. Its indomitable roots, intertwined with the ceaseless whirr of machinery and the sweat-drenched toil of generations. From the earliest days of my memory, my parents were unwavering in their dedication to instilling within my siblings and me a resolute sense of industry. Our small fingers, still tender from infancy, were gently but firmly guided to grasp the threads of our family's heritage.

The duty of aiding the family business was entrusted to me, and as a child, my world was confined to the dusky, labyrinthine depths of the cotton factories. These mammoth edifices, monstrous in their mechanical grandeur, housed the cacophonous orchestra of industry. The deafening roar of machines, ceaselessly gnashing at cotton bolls, reverberated within the very core of my existence, as the unending symphony of clattering gears and spinning spindles pervaded my senses. My hands, initially unmarred, bore witness to the relentless toll of arduous labor. Calluses formed like armor on my palms and fingers from the handling of raw cotton, creating a map etched into my skin. The dust of cotton, white as freshly fallen snow, clung to my clothing and skin like an inescapable veil, reminding me of the life I was destined to lead. I was saddened to realize that while my peers were enjoying carefree activities and embracing the joys of childhood, my life felt hidden and isolated. Rare and fleeting, my laughter echoed infrequently, burdened as I was by the weight of responsibilities that surpassed my years. In those imposing times, I was introduced to the uncompromising reality, where the dreams of childhood were sacrificed upon the altar of family duty.

To grow into maturity was no trifling matter, fraught as it was with countless difficulties. However, as I navigated the challenging tribulations of my youth, a flame of unquenchable curiosity and a boundless thirst for knowledge burned within my soul. It was a thirst that, despite my daily demands, refused to be extinguished.

In those rare, stolen moments of respite, when the clamor of machinery receded, I would eagerly retreat to the secluded corners of our modest abode, clutching a tattered book to my chest as if it were a precious gem. With every turn of a weathered page, I ventured on a journey of the mind, my innocent heart swelling with an insatiable yearning for the sagacity contained within the written word. The characters on those pages became my confidants, and the worlds they inhabited became my sanctuaries. I would often lose myself in those verses and prose, escaping the oppressive weight of my days. They were my oasis in the midst of a barren desert, reminding me there existed a realm