Racing horses lifted sand in the air as angry grunts raced alongside. Father and son, both of them. They were horse riding, the former emerging the victor.
“I told you I’d win, Stefan,”
“You know I can beat you anytime, father,” said the lad.
“What is it then?” The long auburn-haired asked.
“My mind just isn’t here…”
The boy turned. “For God’s sake, father, women aren’t my concern. Have you heard of the attack?”
“The attack on the province?”
“Yes, father. That one.”
His father got down from his horse.
There have been so many attacks—ones caused by vampires, and werewolves!
“Come, let me show you something,” his father beckoned—
“You know, the Gilberts have a family journal that has been passed down for many generations…”
Stefan walked with him.
“Won’t call it a journal, though,”
“But you said…”
“What I said doesn’t matter!” Stevan barked.
Stevan was a forty-eight years old man, who was a healer. Healers were considered great at that time—thus powerful and could help mankind. Stevan was a Gilbert witch, though it was uncommon. He was among the first… he was known far and wide.
“The Gilberts journal,” Stevan pursed his lips for a moment and made for the library at the back. His son walked with him; he had no choice. They got to the library and rummaged on every shelf, as the title stood imprinted in bold letters. ‘THE GILBERTS.’
“Is this it?” Stefan snickered. The book looked really old, and was dusty, that he could hardly see the sides.
“Here,” Stevan handed him the book. “Open it.”
His son did as he was told, and a light shone from it. “What the…?”
“You’ve been chosen…”
“Chosen for what?” Stefan quickly broke in.
He understood not a thing. “What’s the five?”
“You mean ‘Who’ rather?” Stevan replied. “They were hunters,” he started, “vampire hunters!”
Stefan followed him. A new generation has risen after the old, this he got to know, no one in the Gilberts family has ever been chosen…
“So you mean to tell me that the book has chosen me?”
“But how come the Gilberts family has never been chosen for?”
“No one knows,”
Heaving, he asked, “Do Vampire hunters get to practice witchery?”
Stevan shook his head.
Stefan was torn to know he’d never practice magic again; he bowed his head and left in sadness.