Chapter One
"I wont ask again, Mika. Open this door!"
Mika Ver Leth spat blood upon the stone floor before the Hall of Princes, the dome seeming to no longer hum and buzz as it used to. Perhaps it was the presence of the vampaneze which had made the pulsing chamber loses its natural life filled throb. Vampaneze in Vampire Mountain…
Mika couldn't believe Kurda had done this, had brought such evil into the Vampire strong hold. His heart flitted with rage, sadness and grief all at once. His investiture had been but days away and he had betrayed them. Now, here he was, outside the Hall of Princes, on his knees before two of the biggest purple bastards he had ever seen, ordered to open the Hall and allow them to access the Stone of Blood.
His sharp eyes caught the decapitated head of his fellow Prince, Arrow. Tears welled in Mika's eyes at the death of his friend. He refused so strongly and proudly, cursing these fiends for breaking the truce as the axe swung to his neck.
"No," Mika growled, "I will never let you into these Halls. You will never get the Stone. You will never get to Paris. You will never take the Vampire Spirit. We will always resist. We will always fight. We will never surrender." Mika felt a cruel grin creep across his sombre face at the frustration in the vampaneze' eyes.
"Then you are a very foolish vampire," the vampaneze whom had slain Arrow grunted, swinging his axe down towards the youngest Prince in history as he roared at the top of his voice;
"Even in Death may we Vampires be Triumphant!"
17 years later…
Darren woke with a start, fear flooding through him for a brief second before simmering when he saw that the four coffins within his small chamber had closed lids; Mr Crepsley, Seba Nile, Gavner Purl and Arra Sails had returned from yet another day labouring. A soft smile spread across the grubby boy's face as he climbed from the coffin in which he had slept, his greasy hair flopping over his eyes.
Seventeen years had passed since Mika and Arrow's valiant deaths, since Kurda had led the vampaneze into the mountain, since the Vampaneze took command of the whole clan. Darren still shuddered as he recalled his trial being interrupted by a bloody scream from the guards and the hundreds of purple skinned beasts which had swarmed into the arena through every crack and crevasse they could find.
Since that day, many changes had occurred for the Clan, none of them good. The Mountain was never built to house over seven hundred vampires let alone the entire vampaneze clan on top of that. As a result, The vampires were forced to quintuple the rooms and were literally living on top of each other giving a new name to the hall of Residence; The Ghetto Halls. Vampires whom were still outside of the mountain were considered lucky, isolated by their kin and with no form of governing. As loyal vampires did, however, many had returned to serve the vampaneze with their friends.
Darren rummaged in the cupboards in search of room's rations, pulling out a few slices of bread and a small block of cheese he and Arra had smuggled whilst working in the kitchen. Lighting a fire in the stove beside Gavner's coffin, he began making cheese toasties, giggling to himself at how human and childish that meal was.
Darren was far from a child now though; he was older, broader, the situation and environmental factors having contributed to his sudden growth spout. The makings of a young man were evident in him as he looked to be perhaps fifteen now, sixteen when he dressed in his workers kitchen uniform.
"Darren?" a weak but familiar voice called from within the coffin beside Darren's. Wincing, Darren left his toast and slowly lifted the pal of Seba's coffin. The elderly vampire looked terrible, emaciated and frail; his bald scalp and shaven beard made him unrecognizable to the vampire Darren had met when he first arrived. What was worse was that he had contracted some form of disease from the blood the Vampaneze handed out; his immune system had long since abandoned him and it was now just a matter of days, weeks or months will the old vampire copped it from exhaustion or even a minor flu. "Darren…I think I…am going to die," he croaked, taking the lad's hand in his shaking and cold hand.
Darren never argued but nodded, seeing that vacant look in his eyes which Gavner and Larten spoke of when they returned from labourer work. "Would you like me to wake Larten?" Darren whispered softly, lifting the old man slightly to sort his pillow so that he would be comfortable for the final voyage.
"No," Seba coughed violently, spitting bloody mucus from his longs upon his blanket, "I want…no …fuss. I…want you…to…lay me…back…give me…my cloak… and…close the ….coffin."
Darren nodded sombrely and did as asked, handing Seba his beloved red cloak and slowly closing the old man's coffin. "Goodbye, Seba,"
"Good luck…Master Shan," Seba croaked from under the wooden box, "Tell…Larten…. I…love… him….."
Tearlessly, so used to death, Darren returned to the toast for his comrades before they bid farewell for the day for yet more heavy manual labour.
So R&R please (: This is my first fanfiction so I'd really like a few reviews just to see if I should give up or not xD
Seriously though, Reviews would be appreciated. If I get a few then I'll post the next chapter later on –it's almost finished! :D- but if you didn't like it then no worries (:
Preston (:
