I know what all of you are thinking right now. It's probably something along the lines of: You've got to be kinding me, another Yugioh vampire fic? Yupe. This is more of a mix between all of the Yugioh vampire fics I've read thus far. Please review and tell me how awful/awesome I may or may not be. This just shouts cliche, but who doesn't love a well written cliche every once in a while? (I hope.)
Review!
Chapter 1
"This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang, but a whimper"
- 'The Hollow Men' by T.S. Elliot
The darkness curled through the forest like a noxious gas. The trees stood so closely together that an arrow could not have flown straight after several feet, but this combined with the shadows only made it even harder to gaze into the depths of the cryptic woods. A cold breeze from an early autumn rippled through the air, brushing aside browning leaves and rustling dead pine needles as it fought it's way through the straight trunks that like a haphazard colonnade supported the sky.
Despite the close proximity of the trees, a road cut through the forest like a sinister scar, steering forever deeper into the gloom of the night. This road, which was more of a path because of its thin, dusty surface riddled with jutting roots, wound like a snake up to the top of the high mountain this forest draped across. Nobody ever used this road often due to rumors (the ridiculous kind where those who went up it never came back down), but the pathway never became overgrown with more trees or weeds. It was as if that spindly swath of earth was cursed never to bear life, and to lead those who followed it to their doom.
Nobody ever went up that road. Nobody.
But there on the road in the middle of the dense woods stood a man.
He's stiff posture announced his pride and confidence ahead of him, but there was something about the way his hand twitched every couple seconds and his bowed head that revealed his concentration. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and his eyes were closed while his twitching hands lay limply by his sides. His spiky hair nearly faded into the night around him, if not for the striking lightening streaks of blond and crimson tips that seemed to glow faintly in the blackness.
His brow furrowed in complete focus as he strained his ears for any noise. All he heard was the whisper of the wind and the shuffling of leaves, but he still did not let down his guard.
Catching a flicker of breath to the right, the man turned his head ever so slowly, panting slightly from effort. A fluttering of movement signaled once more that he was not alone.
He automatically knew it to be a foe. He had no friends anyway (he trusted no one), and also he knew that someone had been on his trail for the past two days. Now that he had stumbled upon another Council, he was sure that his head was accompanied by a large reward.
He heard a twig crack, and his eyes snapped open. If anyone had been there to see them, they would have gasped. His brilliant eyes glimmered a deep crimson as dark as blood and as captivating as a ruby in dim lighting. They were beautiful, but distinctly sharp, intelligent, and deadly.
Taking in a deep breath, the man hesitated for a moment like he was about to jump off a cliff and into a bottomless abyss. It was in this split second, this instant, that the arrow pierced him.
It slammed through his shoulder. Pain erupted through him, his scarlet eyes growing wide in shock and agony. Then they narrowed, and he wasted no time in sprinting down the road.
He was a blur, a flitting of shadows, a rustling of leaves. He was proud to call himself one of the fastest of his kind.
Another arrow flew past him, scratching his cheek. Grunting softly in pain, he ran.
More arrows hissed by, but none struck their mark. Smirking slightly, he continued to flee, even as the arrows ceased to fire. Whoever was hunting him was still hot on his tail.
Normally, he loved running, but the arrow that stuck out of his left shoulder kept him from going full speed with the pain movement caused.
Soon-too soon it seemed- he broke through the tree line and was launched into the wavy sea of field grass. The moonlight gleamed from the star scattered heavens, but he did not mind. He rather liked the moon.
He could no longer sense his pursuer, but that made him no less wary. If anything, it made him more fearful.
Catching sight of an old, ramshackle house ahead, he made for it in hopes of resting underneath a roof for at least one night.
The house practically screamed loneliness. The blue shudders were so faded they now seemed more a sickly green, and the white paint on the walls peeled like damp bark on a rotting log. The small porch sported a deserted rocking chair that made him worry that if he breathed too hard on it, it would crumple into a pile of dust. One of the four windows that looked back out across the fields and towards the mountain was completely shattered, but only two other windows were actually boarded up with bent nails and decaying planks.
When he reached the door, he was mildly surprised it still clung to its hinges. Grabbing the rusted brass door handle, he opened the door. It creaked open, squawking and complaining with age. He was probably the first to open this door in a long time.
Closing the door behind him, the darkness of the house he was in flooded him comfortably. Clutching his wounded shoulder, he took a step forward. Smiling softly, he remembered the last time he had been wounded at the shoulder.
It had been when he was very young. His mother had accidentally run in to him in the kitchen, and he had fallen on the knife she had been carrying.
"It's okay Yami. Everything's fine. Here, I'll bandage it for you." she had said lovingly. Yami had nodded his head, understanding. Flesh wounds didn't hurt that much, not when you were a vampire, especially a born vampire.
Yami grunted and swatted away the memory. Normal flesh wounds didn't hurt this much, so he could only assume that the arrow was poisoned. He had to take it out, but just looking at the way it was positioned he could tell that he would only open the wound more if he attempted pulling it out himself.
Leaning against the wall, Yami slid down until he was sitting on the floor, panting hard. God, that arrow hurt like hell. Yami couldn't remember the last time he was in this much pain. In fact, had he ever been in this much pain? Probably not. He was normally too fast for anybody to hurt him.
So he lay there, exhausted and weak, feeling the life slowly being sapped out of him from the poison in the arrow. If he did not take this arrow out soon…he would…
Yami almost laughed. He was going to die. He should just pull the arrow out, forget about making a bigger hole than their already was. Weakly, he dragged his hand up and over his chest till it grasped the cursed shaft. He yanked on it experimentally and nearly shrieked in anguish. The pain…and he was so, so, so weak…
He blinked, crimson eyes large as an owl's. Only a moment ago he had been running free, and now he was here in this damn house. All because of the Council.
As his thoughts swung to the Council, a low growl rumbled in his throat. He hated the Council. The Council was a group of elderly vampires that made "important decisions." In reality, all they did was make Yami's life a living hell. They punished him for "walking in" on their meetings when they had invited them to their gatherings in the first place. They subjected him to taunting and general torture using their words. Whenever he had made the small steps towards a friendship with someone, they would immediately end it for him.
His mother and father-like all vampires do- abandoned him when he was fifteen. It was vampire custom. At least he knew who they were. He didn't have a problem with it, he only wished that he could have known them a bit better and that they'd stayed to defend him from the Council.
But the Council had taken the final step this time. They wanted him dead. Yami sighed.
He wasn't a very old vampire, only 332, even though he looked like he was 18. So why did the Council want him dead anyway? Did they just hate him that much?
Pain arched from his shoulder, and Yami tensed. That only it made worse, however, and another growl escaped from his throat.
It was than that he smelled the scent of blood. Human blood.
He was immediately on high alert. Humans hated vampires. They tried to kill them all the time. Vampire hunting was a profession in their world. If a human found him now, he would surely die a slow and agonizing death.
But he couldn't help it, he was slipping, slipping into darkness.
"Please…" he whispered before falling into unconsciousness.
...and that's it folks! Please review!