Dèjá vu

Disclaimer: Legacy of Kain belongs to Edios and Crystal dynamics, they are not me. I am making £0.00 out of this fic, it is written purely because I have a burning need to create.

Rating: PG-13

Part: One of One

Set: During Blood Omen one, after the events of SR2

Authoress note: Vorador ponders the implications of Time Travel

Chapter One

Vorador wasn't sure why he still visited the Serefan stronghold.

He had only ventured inside once, many years ago. He had torn through the feeble guard and upon finding the circle, huddled inside like bugs under a stone, he had slaughtered them. The most powerful men and women in Nosgoth had fallen easily to him. His grief and anger had destroyed them. It wasn't until he returned home and his anger cooled that he even realised he had not killed them all. He had spared Malek deliberately, defeat was worse than death for the warrior, but he hadn't meant to spare the others, time, death and dimension. He had often thought of hunting them down but time had wearied him and in the end he had not followed through with the thought.

Yet, despite it all he still found himself visiting the stronghold every few years. He knew Mobius dwelt within, but never tried to reach him. The timestreamer worried him, he had never understood time travel. The fact that a person could be born in one year but could be influencing events centuries before their birth and after their death, both confused and worried him. How much damage those individuals could do frightened him. So he kept an eye on the old guardian.

He was watching the stronghold through his ravens on the day that the blue wraith emerged onto the balcony. The creature radiated with purpose and destiny in much the same way that Janos had before his 'death'. Even now that he was 'dead' Janos' still pure body radiated with a kind of energy that had Vorador uneasy. He watched the creature as it stopped on the stone platform and looked out at the world. It was grotesque, little more than a walking skelington with only a few scraps of flesh still clinging to its chest and abdomen. It's legs and arms seemed to have fared better in death, boasting strong muscle and the sharp claws of an evolved vampire.

He watched as the creature leapt from the balcony and vanished beneath the water only to emerge across the lake and release the underwater gate before making its escape. Vorador considered staying at the stronghold but decided quickly against it. This creature was far more interesting, he had never seen it's like before, it clearly wasn't human, and it was more demonic than vampiric. When he saw the path the creature was taking he guided some of his ravens to a bridge and waited. When the creature passed he fled, fearful it would sense him but not before he had caught the its scent. There was an element of vampire but there was something else, something he knew he recognised but couldn't put a name to.

Where had this creature come from?

And why did Vorador feel that he knew him? Or knew of him? Vorador shook his head in confusion, he disliked this. He could practically smell manufactured destiny on this creature, all his instincts warned him to stay away, yet he found himself following. The creature continued on it's path and across the second bridge, this one raised high, again Vorador ventured closer but he could sense nothing further from the creature. He expected it was heading to the pillars and was not surprised when it slaughtered the guards and opened the way to the glade.

Vorador cast his attention to the pillars and flinched. There was someone waiting at the pillars. Vorador focused his attention on the stranger and quickly deduced he was vampiric, and well evolved. Clearly this was no fledgling. But Vorador had never seen him before today and that simply could not be. Vorador knew all the vampires in Nosgoth and he knew that he was the only evolved one left after the witch hunts.

So, where had this one come from?

He watched and listened as the blue demon and the stranger spoke. His ravens wandering closer, not unnoticed but neither of the strangers seemed to care that they were being watched. Vorador understood their conversation but not all the references. His had perked his ears at the vampire's name, he had heard it somewhere before but in his surprise his memory eluded him. Kain's words were so shrouded in enough metaphor that Vorador had a hard time following and he tensed when it became apparent that the events were unfolding as Kain spoke of them.

He watched, bile rising in his throat, as the pillars blackened at the exact moment Kain had said they would. He was unsure exactly what was happening, but after centuries spent with Janos and the ancient vampires he knew what the pillars magic felt like enough to recognise when something was going drastically wrong. Kain continued to speak even as the pillars blackened around him, his voice far too calm, too controlled for someone witnessing the fall of the pillars.

Vorador continued to listen until Kain had disappeared and the blue demon who he learned was called Raziel moved away. He watched, still confused as Raziel held up his arms, started to turn and then vanished from sight and all other senses.

He called more of his Ravens and sent them out, he wanted to find him.

He was unsure why he had continued to follow the creature, it was strange but he felt drawn to these two. There was something achingly familure about the vampire and blue creature, something he could not put his finger on and it concerned him.

When his raven's spotted Raziel in the swamp he focused his energy and moved himself to the ancient temple. He wanted to see Raziel with his own eyes. In his haste he had been spotted and he made his escape. He continued to watch as Raziel entered the temple that had been sealed for centuries and felt his stomach drop.

This was prophecy, it had to be. Janos had spoken passionately and at great length of prophecy. He had failed to mention much in the way of specifics but he had spoken with such intent and reverence of the fabled saviour and his capabilies that Vorador couldn't help but recognise him now. Unsure how to feel Vorador had moved back to the Temples entrance and waited. Years and years of indoctrination prevented him from following Raziel despite his personal distaste for prophecy and religion.

When Raziel emerged he confronted him.

He expected grand speaches, dramatic, possibly even life changing events but instead he was met with posturing and confusion. Within moment's it was clear that Raziel had no idea who he was, and that he was angry and confused. A dangerous combination.

During the conversation Vorador remembered where he had heard the name Kain before. Vampires meddling in the affairs of men, he remembered the tale and how it had sparked Moebius' little genocide. It angered him deeply but confused him even more so, the vampire in the history tale had been named Kain, and he had been depicted in the tale as a fledgling. Was it possible that that Kain and the one talking at the pillars were the same? It was unlikely though, despite the circumstances not enough time had yet passed for the fledgling in the tale to have matured the way the vampire in the glade had clearly been. No doubt that fledgling was dead.

Raziel's anger frightened him, such mistakes could be made by those with power when they were angry. So Vorador offered advice to stay away from humans and retreated.

He retuened to the stronghold, sending his ravens out into the countryside to listen to the human's patrolling the pathways. They mentioned Raziel as he had hoped they would, but they also spoke of something else. His curiosity peaked when he had overheard Moebius' men speak of the Soul Reaver, he had known Moebius had the blade in the Keep, but had never really thought of it, for there had been tales of moving the blade to Avernus, and there had been tales of the blade disappearing entirely. But these men spoke of the broken blade being mended.

He considered this carefully and after only a little hesitation he infiltrated the Keep with ease. It was never hard to steal inside even when the Serefan were in power but now it was child's play. The cathedral was large but not particularly impressive, not to one who had seen the stone work of the ancient vampires. He had moved silently through the empty cathedral and had entered the tomb of William the Just and indeed the blade had been restored. But the tomb was cracked down the centre, it looked as if a god had ripped it in two and the mortals had pushed it back together. The blade rested atop the fractured stone and it was indeed whole once more.

Vorador had paused, his hand lingering over the relic, restored and whole.

Perhaps prophecy might be true.

End Chapter One

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