O Cursed Fate
By Sapadu
Author Note/ A Quick Explanation: What this story, technically is, is a novelization of the game Castlevania: Curse of Darkness… kind of.
Y'see, I usually don't play video games. I don't even own a gaming system, or even a television set. My roommate, however, does have these devices, and does play video games. A lot. I find her incredibly entertaining to watch, but hadn't actually touched the console for myself, until she kind of sat me down with the controls and made me. And, wouldn't ya know it, Curse of Darkness was the first/only game I played. I completed it, beating all the bosses, before she did, despite the fact that I'm not even that good at all the secret moves or timing tricks. I still don't get how that happened. But, as the two of us took turns playing our own games, my roomie and I started having a discussion about the conversion of media – specifically, when people make movies out of games. How do they do it – after all, video games are interactive and the events can vary based on the player's choices, while movies have a pretty set plot that doesn't derail. So, how would someone make an adaptation of Curse of Darkness? Finally, my roommate said 'Why don't you just do it, yourself?'
So… I am. Kind of. Just keep in mind that this is not only the first video game I completed, it's the first I ever played.
But enough explanations – have at you!
Prologue ~Endless Sorrow~
Under the light of the yellow, crescent moon, the Valachian mountain forests could seem to glow. The moss on the stones cast a light as though they were a murky, crystalline blue, and the shadows cast by the leaves on the trees made them seem the cleanest, deepest green. This was most breathtaking when, Hector knew, it had not been so long ago that this ground had been muddied and red with blood, and the trees blackened from rot. The plague that had devastated the peoples had left bodies to choke rivers and poison the ground. Whomever had been left set among their own numbers and burned and ravaged the lands as they did. None who set foot in this land during those dark days would believe anything could ever grow, again.
All because of the monster that Hector had once called his Master. Hector ran past everything, to blot the images from his mind. He wasn't here to admire the land or ponder the future of Valachia.
As he ran, the towering, haunted shadow of the old, abandoned castle crept into the light of the moon. Every stone, every spire, every bolt in the wall was visible in Hector's mind – he knew those halls well. It called to him, as though the moat separating the castle from the common mainland was non-existent, as though it were pulling him in. But how he was going to cross, he didn't know – Dracula had been clever in the construction of his haunts, to ensure that none could ever penetrate their defenses. Only those imbued with his power could undo the locks and seals that kept the castle grounds safe, and he'd even loosed water blessed in the temple on the other side of the mountains into the ravines and moat, to dispel even the holiest of magicks. Under normal circumstances, no mortal man could have possibly crossed onto Dracula's lands. None could have even set foot on the stone terrace that protruded from the steep cliff of the moat and met the drawbridge halfway.
But one man had. Indeed, those had been no normal circumstances that allowed Trevor Belmont a path to victory.
Hector stood still, feeling the vibration of the stones beneath his feet – whether it was the old powers that rumbled through all of Dracula's cursed lands, or simply the rush of his own blood that made him tremble, he did not know – and pondering how he was to open the drawbridge. After all, the normal circumstances that should have kept Belmont out of the castle were now a bane to Hector's progress.
He needn't have worried – as though it could hear his thoughts, the drawbridge over him creaked and groaned, and he heard the chain rattling as it fell open, waiting for him.
That meant someone else had opened it. And there was but one man in all of Valachia whom had that ability – whom still was touched by Dracula's mark.
Hector dashed across the bridge, through the arching, shadowy gates, and across the gated walkway that led to the courtyard before the castle doors. The narrow, gray stone pillars of the castle stood, menacing – it mattered naught that they crumbled and decayed, when the walls seemed to mock the flow of time itself.
"Show yourself, Issac!" Hector shouted into the echo of the courtyard. The wind picked up and blew around him, sending sparks and smoke from the burning lanterns into his eyes. Someone had to have lit them, "I know you're here!"
Overhead, the clouds rustled and the moonlight poured down, gleaming off of the windows and roof and illuminating the doorway atop the courtyard's curving steps. Even the water pouring from the fountain between the two sides of the steps seemed to gleam, as though animated with something other than life.
"Hector!" A voice rang from the arch of the doorway, lilted with a perverse, impish merriment, "Is that you?"
Hector instinctively braced himself for a blow to come out of the darkness. It was a futile gesture when he had only a single blade at his side.
Surely enough, standing at the top of the stairs, leaning casually on the railing over the fountain, were two figures – one, a creature so gray and dull that it looked almost like a stone statue, with a gargoyle's countenance, save for the motion of it's wings as it hovered, and the unearthly glow of the crystal protruding from it's body.
The other was a red-haired man in black leather with tattoos over his chest and back, drawing out the markings of either a spell, or the crest of a servant of the fallen vampire. Hector fixed his gaze on the smirking face of his once comrade turned foe.
"I've finally tracked you down..." Hector said, more to himself than as any grand statement. Issac heard, all the same.
"YOU... tracked ME down?" He asked, chuckling as he righted himself and paced. Hector could hear the clicking of Issac's heels on the cobblestones and the slide of his trousers as he sauntered about, "I was the one who lured you here..." Issac paused and fixed Hector with a cold glance.
Of course he had – looking back on his journey to the castle, Hector realized he should have known it was Issac's intention for Hector to find him. If Issac had truly meant to retreat into hiding, never would he have chosen the old castle they'd lived, fought, and trained in together as boys, nor would he have willingly let Hector in at the drawbridge.
"Hector..." Issac rolled his name as though simultaneously savoring it and biting with disgust, "The fool who betrayed our Lord, Dracula." All gleeful disdain was gone from his face now, replaced with icy contempt.
"That matters naught! I've come to exact my revenge upon you..." Hector pointed to Issac, his arms shaking with fury, "...For the death of Rosalee!"
The mention of her name sparked a wicked grin across Issac's face. It was the same one that Hector remembered seeing through the flames on that day...
"Oh... and HOW will you have this 'REVENGE'?" Issac's whole body shook as though with suppressed laughter as he mocked Hector and sneered at his anger, "When you are utterly at my mercy... you RELINQUISHED your powers! You couldn't even protect your own woman."
Indeed, Hector hadn't – from Issac. Issac and his lies and manipulations had been the end of Rosalee – and of her village, all starved and devastated by the famine and the plague after they had brutally seen her burned at the stake. All of it was because Hector had been too weak to protect her from Issac.
How dare he mock her? Hector unsheathed his blade and leapt up the ledges of the fountain and at Issac, intent on slashing his throat. He never even had the chance – the creature by Issac's side was so quick that Hector never even saw it bolt at him. The next moment, he was flying through the air, his sword spinning beside him until they both landed on the hard ground. For an instant, Hector saw bursts of light in the sky, before they died away and his vision cleared, yet again.
Issac was still snickering, not having even moved from his spot on the steps.
"And NOW, you think to defeat ME?" Issac asked. Hector looked away, ashamed at his own folly. If he were to be honest, he also should have realized that Issac had changed from last Hector had seen him – no longer the brash and fiery young man who would shout and swear and curse every time he lost to Hector's cool calculations, either in their personal training matches, or when Dracula favored Hector's strategies on his campaigns over Issac's brute force.
"Lord Dracula is gone, but his powers... are still here in Valachia. Even YOU must realize..."
The implication rang in Hector before he sat up and took a good look at the creature that had just flung him across the courtyard. Indeed, he recognized it, now.
"...Devil forging..." He whispered. The devil made no reply, but to continue hovering and staring at him.
"Indeed – with this, the most... forbidden... of arts..." Issac turned and surveyed his creation with the greatest of pride, "A whisp of conjured matter can be transformed... into a HELLISH DEVIL!" The demonic joy in Issac's voice was the closest to his old, daring self, "There are but two humans... who possess this power... You... and I."
Hector scowled at the ground, not wanting to see the delight in Issac's face, nor to be compared with him in any way.
"Yes." He admitted, "To our lasting shame." He remembered, all too well, traversing through Valachia and seeing the hell unleashed upon the humans – on Dracula's orders, perhaps, but of his own doing, his own work... the men butchered, the children orphaned, the women left for dead as beasts of the wild and the night descended to rend their bodies and feast on their rotting flesh. It might just as well have been his own hands that had spilt their blood, "But I shed that evil power. Never again will I use it!"
Issac had been rolling his head, as though so enrobed in tedium that he'd had nothing better to do as Hector recalled his sordid past. Now, he straightened and a hideous glare marred his features.
"Ah, but you WILL Hector, and soon – you have no choice." The venom in Issac's voice took Hector aback, enough that he saw the fury in Issac's pale eyes as they bored into his, "Without it, I could crush you in an instant." Issac's fist clenched and Hector could hear the leather of his glove creak and groan under the strain, "But that wouldn't be very... satisfying... now would it?"
Issac had changed – perhaps he had always been fierce and impulsive, but Hector didn't recall once seeing Issac do anything out of spite.
Then again, Hector had borne no illusions of Issac being chivalrous or forgiving since Rosalee's death.
"You deserve a most gruesome fate for the humiliation you brought upon me three years ago." Issac snarled as the wind picked up and swirled dust about them, "Bereft of the gift of Devil Forging... you cannot hope to pursue me. THAT is why you will reclaim your powers, and thence... follow where I lead you. But..."
Hector started to his feet as Issac turned and began to amble through the doors. His body felt heavy and slow, and even as Issac moved slowly and turned to watch, Hector found himself struggling to even move.
"...In the end, the glorious vengeance you seek will not be yours." Hector's eyes met Issac's once more and he saw the murderous glee in them, "'Twill be mine!"
And Issac disappeared into the darkness of the abandoned castle, his maniacal laugh echoing back and haunting Hector's ears.
"Wait – Issac!" By the time Hector was standing, Issac was gone, with only the flickering glow of the lanterns proof that he'd ever been present, at all, "Damn him..."
So this was his game, was it? Rosalee had died just so Issac could play at this miserable hunt with him? The thought burned Hector, like a flaming blade sunk into his flesh. He would not let Issac escape – he owed Rosalee's memory at least that much.
"So be it..." He must descend into darkness, and reclaim that cursed power once more, "Heed my words – I will hunt you down like the BEAST you are!"
He glared up at the arches and pillars of the abandoned castle, cursing Dracula for his cruelty and his curse and all it had brought – Hector had slaved for him, years upon years of wicked deeds, and for that, he would not begrudge any hardship fate wished to bestow on him. But Rosalee... she had been innocent. And Issac had once been, if not good, at least with a veneer of nobility and honor. If not for Dracula, none of this would ever have come to pass.
Hector clenched his fists – on his right hand, a glove just like Issac's groaned as he squeezed.
"I will have my revenge."
A/N: ~Head hits keyboard~ Argh! Don't I have ENOUGH that I'm working on? Nope, guess not – I'm only putting in a note on this chapter, but, I do hope everyone enjoys this. My god, what have I done?
