I take this time off of my story to tell you the story of a kind, sweet girl I was once close to a long time ago.

There she lay, tangled hopelessly in a web of lies, truth, despair and lonliness.  Four points of chaos lay around her, and she had to choose one route to take.  On one side was the one she loved; the one she could never ever have.  On the other side was the one that loved her, and would give his heart and soul to her.  Above her lay the one who once loved her, but no longer did.  Below her was the one who she was once with, but no longer was.  She wanted to take the route of the one she loved, but he did not love her.  Which path did she take?  She bent her head and took the path of least resistance, and was never happy again.

My mortal friends, your life is short.  Don't waste your time being miserable.  Take the path of your heart, not of your mind.

The gypsy tribe intended to raise me to follow in her footsteps, however I was impossible to take care of.  I wouldn't cry or laugh, but whenever someone tried to pick me up I would hit them, and whenever someone tried to feed me, I bit them.  Eventually they just left food on a plate in front of me, hoping I would eat.  As soon as I learned how to walk proficiently, which was probably about my first year, I ran away often, so eventually they kept me locked up in a room.  Only one person visited me, a young boy named Nicolae who was five years older than me.  He was the only one I tolerated and didn't attack.  He would talk to me and play with me for about an hour a day, and from him I learned to speak well and eventually read and write.  As I grew older, the tribe elders allowed me out of the room with supervision. 

When I was six, I received my first vision.  I remember it vividly: I was standing in the forest with Nicolae, talking about the magic of nature, and I suddenly got dizzy.  I held onto a tree as the world around me dissipated, and a vision took its place.  Our gypsy caravan was moving at night, and members of our tribe walked around it, with torches of burning fire.  A large gust of wind extinguished all the tourches except one, as the caravan was forced to stop because of a large, fallen tree blocking the trail.  The vision seemed to fast forward in time, and I saw a pack of wolves surrounding the caravan, all of them snarling and bearing their teeth.  I saw a glimpse of a dark form in the woods behind the wolves.  The form moved, and the wolves simultaneously leapt upon the caravan, tearing every person and belonging to shreds.  My vision fast-forwarded again, and all that was left of the tribe was bloody bones, shredded fabric, and splintered wood.

When I had "awoken" from the vision, I was on the ground and Nicolae, kneeled by my side, holding on to my little hand.  He was concerned and said I had been I had been screaming.  I immediately told him what I had seen, and because he knew the reputation of my mother, he took me to see the Rom baro, the Romani version of a chief.  Our Rom baro was Pardalien, the man who banished my father from the tribe.  He never forgave my mother for giving her body to him, so naturally he despised my "impure" existance.  Of course, he dismissed my vision, blaming my "hallucination" on my being stuck in a small room most of the day.  As a result of this, however, he decided I no longer had to be locked in there, but it was still to be my room since it was already furnished for me, however scarcely.  So I ended up sitting in my bedroom with Nicolae, hoping my vision really was a hallucination, but knowing it wasn't.

I am Amaresa, perhaps the most unique immortal you will ever encounter.  I don't know what you would categorize me as, for I don't pay much attention to titles.  I'm part vampire, part witch, and part something else that no person thus far has been able to put a name to.  I was born in Romania during the gypsy era.  My mother was a gypsy fortuneteller, one of the genuine ones which could actually predict possible future occurances.  My father was a witch (not a warlock) who was traveling to broaden his spell horizons.  They met in a town one day, when both were shopping for their spell neccessities.  My father asked her to share her knowledge with him.  He traveled with the gypsy tribe for six months, learning all she knew.  Toward the end of that time, my parents grew very close, and I was conceived.  Long before my birth, the other gypsies found out he had "infected" my mother with his seed and he was banished from the tribe.  Little by little my mother grew more and more depressed.  Several weeks before I was born she wandered away from the tribe during the night, and wound up in a small, dark town nearby.  She sat in a dark alleyway, crying for her lost love, when she saw a man standing in front of her.  She knew immediately that he was no human.  His eyes glowed, his breath was putrid, his skin pale and smooth, and his canine teeth were unusually sharp.  He lunged for her, and his strength overtook her.  As she struggled to escape, his teeth pierced her neck and he drank from her sweet blood.  My mother could only think about my well being.  "I am with child, please, let her live," she said to the vampire, tears welling in her eyes.  I was the only tolken she had of her love.  The vampire stopped drinking and let her go.  She immediately ran back to her tribe, who were frightened by the marks on her neck.  Even though the vampire let her go, she would still die, for she was infected through the bite.  She would most likely live long enough to bear me.  Unfortunately, a few days before my birth-time, her body began to fail.  Somehow, by some stroke of luck, as she died, her body birthed me, and as I took my first breath of air, she took her last.  Her tribe buried her with a stake in her heart, and I was born.