Author's notes: This is a little oneshot from my previous game of Traitor Game at HTVF. I played as Seth Nightroad from Trinity Blood. And this little fic is in dedication for her awesomeness.
Enjoy! Read and review please.
oooOOOooo
"You should pray that my brother, Abel won't find you. Oh wait…" she paused, smiling ever so broadly. "You should pray for Abel to find you and save you, for the Eldest of the Crusniks, the Demon among all vampires, the First among Murderers will once again rise and wreak havoc. And when he senses that this Seth," she paused and placed her hand on her chest, "…is gone, and the balance has been broken. He will be interested to find out what has happened and he will be displeased."
"Cain," She narrowed her eyes at Mayuri and said, "…has returned."
-Seth Nightroad
The warriors have always been with us; they're the ones who were willing to die to protect the ones they loved, the ones who were honored to live another life afterward, and who had the courage to stand watch even from the other side, ready and willing to once more step into danger if they were needed. Once the warriors who live beyond this world were accepted, even revered. Then, for a long time, they weren't needed and they became myth, their stories passed from father to son, from mother to daughter. Now they are forgotten.
Each warrior once walked this earth. They lived, loved, and went to war. Now they fight forever, sacrificing their eternity in order to preserve the human race.
But only if they're called. Only if we learn to hear.
And sadly, it remained all the same up until now – if only.
She couldn't understand why she has these thoughts. The last thing she remembers was that she was gathering up borrowed energy and used it to shatter her heart and body, but not her soul.
Her soul.
Her soul didn't rest for more a thousand years at a stretch. How could she, when the dreams were so vivid and came so quickly, one after the other, startling her awake every time her name was called? Some of the details were murky, but two things she always remembered very clearly: the man, and the way he called to her.
Wake up, my little one.
She felt light and airy, like drifting smoke, yet heavy and sluggish like liquid at the same time, which doesn't make sense. But now, she knew she have a body, formed and solid, afloat in endless deep waters as it caressed her skin. She felt a steady beat of her heart, the gentle stream of life blood in her veins.
Blood.
She remembered blood. So many spilled blood everywhere, both tainted and innocent. So many tears that were shed. So many lives lost to a senseless battle.
Open your eyes, my young Crusnik
No, she refused. Squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she could, she tried to push away the forming images of her past life.
She wasn't able to rest. So instead her soul lingered.
It really bothered her that her memory was messing up. And, what's worse, even though she'd think if her memory was jacked, she wouldn't know it because she, well, wouldn't remember it—she was wrong. She knew she was missing hunks of stuff in her mind—some of it new stuff, like that she just now remembered the scary thing of her death.
Some of it was old stuff, though.
She couldn't remember where she came from.
She couldn't remember the color of her own eyes.
She couldn't remember why she was searching for her brother.
Darkness writhed in a sick black pool that clung to the ceiling.
Because they belittled your power, my Jade Empress.
What she could remember was even more upsetting. She remembered every instant of dying. She remembered that her brother disappeared and her goddess refused to grant her power. She remembered that she'd trusted people whom she thought friends, but turned out to be traitors, and that she'd been so, so wrong about them.
Her mind skittered away from that guilt. The thought was too raw, too horrible. She remembered nothing, except her pains and miseries.
The Darkness above her thickened and quivered as if in gleeful anticipation.
Take your revenge, my true blood princess.
Yes, she finally agreed.
She didn't do anything wrong, yet she failed. She sacrificed her body, her soul and blood.
She trusted her goddess to give her strength, yet she deprived her of power. She yearned for her brother for guidance however, she was left alone. She trusted allies and comrades in arms, but they all turned and pushed her. She warned them of danger and gave her truth and prophecies, and they denied her and accused her of lies and deceit.
It was all about choice. And they chose death, rather than the salvation she offered.
The Darkness above her poured down from the ceiling, like it had suddenly found a weak point in a dam. It slicked around her, covering her head and shoulders, swirling around her waist with a sickening familiarity that reminded her of razor-edged snakes. But Darkness didn't cut her. Instead, she seemed oblivious to the glistening blackness that now coated her.
That's it, my sweet butterfly, my death dealing ballerina, my beautiful Empress, sister mine. Wake up and find me. Avenge yourself from the merciless atrocities they have done to you and your beloved ones. Make them pay for their insolence and fear your immortal blood and invincible Crusnik powers.
Awaken, Seth Nightroad.
With a detached sense of understanding, Seth noted that Darkness was no longer present around her body. It had soaked into her—it had claimed her. It augmented whatever strength the vampire empress wielded.
Blood tinged eyes opened against the darkness, feral and glinted with anger and hatred. A promise of vengeance and death to those who defied her.
"Crusnik 03, activate nanomachines at 100%. Engage!"
-END-