A blade shall slit through her wrists, almost as if she to were in pain. That was the way of it. The sacred maiden would then be lay to rest upon a frozen floor in a dark coffin. All for the order of the earth itself. Crimson hair would spill out from an unkempt mane and so shall the blood of the innocent follow it into the earth.
However, the blood wasn't going to be spilled into the earth as it was needed for the revival of a vampire who was going to be needed for the fight against the up and coming war that was going to consume each of the two races – vampire and mortal until they were nothing more but slavering dogs or a martyr that struck the chords of time. The Commander was going to lead the war but for what side, no one really knew. Not even the vampire who sat upon the floor, knees kept well apart from each other, concentrating on the feather that was standing strangely on end…his only real way to tell whether the ritual had worked was if the feather started to move. If it did not, then the feather would fall down as if it were just a speck of dust against the mahogany of wood.
Sweat poured freely from his forehead, the ritual itself was consuming his energy, he knew that but it was important that he successfully completed what was given as a task to him now. The revival of the other vampire that had tumbled to his death alongside him was the key but now he had made sure that the vampire was kept under constant guard so that if he did have an episode of pure psychotic malice, then at least he would be restrained. For some strange reason, he hated Satoshi for bringing him back, saying that the vampire wasn't worth his love now in blood. When they were alive, they had been brothers, taking care of each other and their family but now that relationship had shattered only to be replaced by a bond that spoke pure hatred to each vampire. What Satoshi was doing now was going to make his big brother, Krad hate him even more.
This was the only way to do it now. A small sample of Krad's blood was held within a small vial, being ready to smash itself upon the top of the feather once more. Both of them were joined. Without Dark, Krad wouldn't survive much longer, especially in his current state. He kept his eyes on the feather, going over the chant repeatedly in his head, the one that he had come up with on the cliffs, the face of Dark's death. He was calling his soul from the void to take on its old form once more. It wasn't just the entire human and vampire race that needed him however, other people did to and in this way, he looked at this as if it were a gift to them, one that they wouldn't know what to say and nor would they be able to reject him for what he did.
Contrunum meslace emoinose anglofar Dark…The chant continued on through his head, his own psychic energy beginning to blend with the feather. Soon enough the feather was going to move, whether it would be for good or for bad. That was when the feather fell from its own graceful position. He sighed, wondering what was wrong with the ritual when the feather twitched become to writhe strangely, almost as if it were a living being and it was in pain. He could hear a scream come from the room where they were keeping his brother but he chose to ignore it, his concentration to great to be ruined right now. And then all the lights went out, causing Krad to scream louder, almost as if he were in pain. Then, by just guessing from the smell of fire, the feather had set itself alight. Everything was going according to plan.
Or perhaps not. The sound of gunfire from downstairs alerted him, yet who would want to invade his own private quarters? Without much consent to the matter, he sent the soul to be revived somewhere else just as the feather become dosed within the blood of Krad, fuelling the flames rage. Footsteps were echoing along the walls. There was no real time to think. He took the burnt feather, placing it within a glass container, hiding it inside the bookshelf that swung open before running towards the room where his brother was being kept. Even if this cost him his life, he was going to have to let the vampire go. After all, three vampires were needed…Dark Mousy, Krad Hikari and the third was a mystery, a possible new-comer to step up to the position. The first two positions were tied in blood as it always had been.
The door to his own room had burst open under the heavy footfalls of what smelled like…humans? He thought as he opened the door to Krad's own prison, getting ready to restrain his brother so that he could at least get him out into the open. If he wanted to kill him then though, that was completely fine by Satoshi.
They're not even hunters. Oh dear, what is the poor little child to do? He ignored the voice. It was the voice of a made vampire, trying to play tricks with his mind as he opened the door…only to see the cage in which his brother was kept empty. Run, run away little child, he will catch you soon. Yes he will.
By just looking up at the ceiling, he could definitely judge by the hole in the roof that Krad had escaped through here. Without much thought this time, he unfurled his mighty blue feathered wings and took off into the sky, following a scent he recognised immediately as he heard people reloading their weapons behind him. Ready to take aim? He thought before immediately diving low as a volley of bullets was scent his way. He was losing the scent fast which was something that he didn't actually want since Krad was needed for the process of survival but what did really bother him now was that those infernal humans had found where he kept Dark's feather, now only a relic in its loss for power. However, that relic meant something to him…even if it cost him most of his energy.
Unlike humans, vampires regained their energy pretty fast, depending upon the situation and often or not adrenaline was the key to revival. His wings beat hard against the air almost as if it any moment, something was going to dive out at him. There was no contact between him and Krad but he did feel something. Krad had fallen from the sky almost as if it were a common thing for him but this was strange, mainly because he could tell that his brother was still alive and that he had blacked out possibly from a rather nasty collision between him and the ground itself. He came into an almost perfect land, aware of the helicopters behind him now. His senses told him Krad was around here somewhere, yet by the sound of groaning that came from the nearest alley, Satoshi knew that it was a waste of time and energy to try and sense his brother. So why did he do it?
Everything flickered in and out of place, almost as if the rolling fires of what must have been hell was still torturing him for what he was. Yet it wasn't his fault he had become like that over the years, learning to kill to stay alive. All that mattered now though was that when he had opened his eyes for the first time, everything was dark, almost as if he was in the ground but by the sense of hardly any gravity told him that he wasn't underground. He was underwater. Vampires could survive in water for as long as they wanted to. After all, they didn't require the need to breathe and so swimming in something so deadly to mortals if pushed to its limit became a natural ability…yet until now, he didn't really need to relay on his ability to swim.
Pushing against the water as if he had lost his ability, a few bubbles exploded from his mouth before he could actually see what was holding him back. A few weeds had wrapped around his legs, causing the water to keep him in place unless he could manage to snap it himself. The growling of his stomach alerted him. He was so unbelievably hungry for the blood that flowed ever so sweetly from an open wound belonging to an evildoer – a person who had committed an act so evil; it gave a sweet, vibrant taste to their blood. Swinging his arms momentarily, more bubbles escaped his lips as he managed to push himself into a position that would allow him to get a clear image of the weeds wrapped around his feet.
Pulling upon them with his hands as he finally managed to wrap them around his feet, which were continually pulling him backwards. When he was finally free, he managed to move his hands and feet almost in the form of the way a frog would swim if it needed to, surfacing just to look at a place that seemed so familiar and yet now distant to him. The place where he died.
