Zephon's Echo
Asylum
Grand Herald Darük walked down the gilt spiral staircase escorted by his divine hosts. He was told to blindfold himself with a thin golden fleece containing an olive branch woven in the symbol of the infinite. This signified his journey to the almighty, the ultimate goal for any believer.
The humble man was led by four lordly beings, lesser gods. Two of them walked in front while two walked behind him, their magnificent hands resting upon his lowly shoulders. Each of them tied a white rope around their wastes and the opposite end around Darük to guide him. The preparations for this journey were imperative as the acolytes believed they could not look upon their divinity without dire consequence.
As the holy procession came to its end, Grand Herald Darük let slip his stoicism for a faint expression of happiness. Perhaps, because this was his first sin, the gods stayed their course as if they did not take notice. Finally, they came to the towering hall doors. Their radiance knew no equal as the pure white oak and golden elm were carved by the gods themselves. So mighty were the gates of Zephon that all four nobles were needed to inch them open.
Angelic chorus broke out. At the end of the great throne chamber sat Zephon himself. If not for the ropes holding him up Darük would have floundered to be in such glory; home at last with his lord. Surely, he would have burst into flame to witness one of the great beasts, Nosgoth's proud children, sitting before him. Over the song of angels his god bade him, "Come forth and do not speak."
The voice of the Great One rang through the chamber like roaring waves crashing upon the shores. Darük heard his God's voice for the first time and realized that his life was complete. The airs swirling around Zephon's temple served as warning to outsiders and protection for his faithful. It was these sounds the .
0vampire cultists attribute as the call of Zephon. But to know his words as they were spoken was a splendor only dreamt of by the acolytes.
"Look upon your master," the God commanded. A deft hand came behind Darük's head to release his sight from holy sanctuary. Between the two escorts, who gracefully stepped aside, came an immense white light. So blinding was it, Darük's eyes began to water and dry. And yet he did not shelter his eyes from the sight of his almighty master. To blink would be a sin, an insult, and a statement of wavering faith.
The light began to dim and Darük's great master spoke again. "Sooth your eyes little one. In the searing light and in the face of your lord you have proven your devotion. Without the light we cannot see. With light abound we become blind and shall never see again. Let your eyes heal then look again upon me."
Blurs condensed into more familiar shapes as Darük recovered from his painful trial. He saw at last a figure who embodied the very idea of masculinity. There across the chamber sat the perfect vampire specimen. His skin was as pale as moonlight. His body was muscular and imposing. Tall upon his throne sat the king, with his symmetrical features and sense of raw power. He had surpassed even his father Kain.
Yet before he could speak in exaltation of his lord, Zephon bade him, "Hush…" letting Darük be content with a smile instead. "Know now that your God was low-born and had to rise from powerlessness. Not until you learn our history will you be as one with me. Learn through the vision of our journey to heavenly asylum how your place in my home awaits."
"He began so long ago with the conquest of this domain." Zephon spoke slowly to impress upon the human his final lesson. The words slowly faded into a softer narrative in the background of Darük's vision. The world around him began to fade and a new one formed. This vision shifted to a mountain range over looking an enormous structure. The god spoke to him while he laid witness to what was about to transpire.
Humans are as fragile as the insects they regard with disgust. It takes bigger monsters than human conception to realize their own insignificance. Yet where power is concerned size of the body does not matter. The insect can outnumber the human as can the human a vampire. Kain knew this when he sired his army. The clans would not suffer weakness. This ideal is central to the empire and one not so easily seen in my family.
Look upon the horizon young one. A lone warrior walks on towards a border of the empire. His journey to divinity began as a shadow behind other gods. The tyranny of reality is of one such truth: among those you call equal you are not. He fought beside compatriots that did not see his ambition. Respect did not extend to him or any other because of a half-hearted allegiance such as brotherhood. Weakness and treachery were the only sins of the empire. Yet where one is weak he may still be useful.
All humans still recall the great cathedral, The Saints of Holy Song. It was a church not of worshippers but armies. The cathedral was a weapon designed to destroy the vampire race. How foolish the humans must have felt when their weapon was of little more use than an asylum. Carved into the side of a mountain it used the ceaseless winds as the voice to sing a lullaby of death. However a critical detail seemed to have gone unnoticed until the construction was complete. If you cannot move a weapon, no matter how deadly, then what good is it against a surrounding empire? Despite the human's mistake, the cathedral had excelled in as much as repelling its intended foes.
From the steps of their church the humans built a city as refuge in a war they were losing. Soon this haven became the last human city within Kain's empire. If the vampires could not go in and wipe them out they could wait for them to die. Supply lines were watched carefully and destroyed. And for all their toiling with moats and irrigation tunnels they could not make fertile ground of the rocks. The humans were left alone to rot.
Who knows what horrors transpired there when hunger became a lasting companion? The souls still wander there, their wails of agony adding to the ruins' devastating chorus. Should you clear your mind and listen well you may glean a piece of the riddle from those cries. They tell a tale of their last days. Some gave in to an inescapable fate. While others who clung to hope did anything to survive. They started with the recently dead. Then the people splintered into hunters and the hunted.
The Saints of Holy Song and its city decayed. Whether by fear or indifference the vampires stayed away from that region. Then, for a time, it was forgotten. Many long years passed into centuries. Humans were enslaved and domesticated. But the empire could not sustain itself. Civil war broke out between the clans which allowed some humans to slip free of their bondage. The first refugees found the city. Since its discovery, the city stirred with campfires again.
As the war of the clans broke apart the empire, the humans rekindled that lost spark they once held as a formidable enemy. From the Saints' home, their world came back. The city became a hub for supplies in between the old cities and fortresses being restored. Little effort was made to work in the cathedral until curiosity compelled one archeologist to dig deeper. Once he realized the potential within the humans brought their armies back to the maddened embrace of the church.
By the council of an archeologist, new irrigation methods were employed so that the new inhabitants could till the now fertile soil. This generation immediately saw the city's use as a fortress and learned well the lesson their ancestors were blind to.
However, unease was set upon all who stayed there. The howls in the night, the terrible history laden within the hewn stone, everywhere signs told of horror beset on the prior citizens. Even the stoutest hearts did not dare wander alone.
Confusion, doubt, uncertainty, fear, terror; these are the tools with which the Zephonim play at war. An enemy that does not succumb to fear quickly will break easily by disorientation. And that is how the clan survived the most ferocious encounters of the civil war. From those disparate days in the empire rose a hero, a savior, who could protect his clan from oblivion. The traveler sought after a sanctuary from this outcome long before the war, long before Kain disappeared. But asylum for the Zephonim had to be a place where only they could live. Such a place would need… cultivation.
After many of the skirmishes calmed down the wanderer was free to move. Their new home awaited in the mountains. Climbing to one of the peaks he saw the twinkling lights of The Saints of Holy Song. From that distance, he could see that not many fires were lit. His arrival to the city was planned carefully having known that much of the army had left to gather provisions. Although this may have indicated that the city was unguarded, the humans wished to keep their presence secretive. But there was no hiding from a vampire. Blood had to be shed.
A brown Swift-heart hawk flew by giving the vagabond an opportunity. He latched on to the bird's mind letting his material form dissipate into the mental plane. Guiding the hawk, they flew some three hundred meters from the city. When the hawk was close enough the traveler ejected his mind from his host simultaneously materializing his body. He circled towards the backside of the city. Behind the cathedral was an enclave.
The strangest detail was that the area was intentionally built and not simply a natural part of the mountain. Regardless the generals who used the city kept watch patrols in the enclave. From the rear exit of the cathedral was a small jutting cliff. For whatever reason the rear entrance lay about thirty meters above the ground. Dome-roof buildings, some reaching as high as the cliff, dotted the enclave. Atop these buildings a network of bridges was made for the patrols. A small path wound from the ground to the outer gate wall. Surrounding the gate wall was a massive moat. The moat was large enough to deter vampires with a less than impressive leap. On the other side of the water was a great gap in the mountain. With the moat being impassable already and a gate wall before the enclave there was little effort made to seal it. Any enemy that could make the distance would not avoid the storm of arrows from the guards.
At present only one guard watched the gap this night and barely awake at that. Again, he shot his consciousness into the lone watchman. While still inside the man's mind he called back his body exploding the fleshy blood sack that was a man apart. Taking what blood was left on dry land he strode onward.
With quiet steps he listened to the hallowed whisper ever present throughout the city. Coming to the enclave he walked slower drowning in fascination. The hooded creature pressed a claw on the first dome-top building he came to, moving with a sort of inebriated stupor. Then he stopped, pausing as if remembering a nasty stain in his past.
A single patrolman walked towards this unwelcomed guest on his way to relieve the river guard. He could not see well past the lantern he carried. Slowly a shape in the dark formed as he came closer. A shadow stood next to one of the buildings as if it were admiring the structure. The soldier stopped just out of clear view of the figure should it be a threat. Most of the recent inhabitants of this city had not seen any animal aside from livestock in nearly half a century. The soldier would not have guessed the thing before him was a vampire; a remnant of the last war. Regardless of their ignorance guards were ordered steady vigilance even of their own kind. The old fears of the empire still persisted even if no one had seen monsters in years.
"That you Wip? Ya shouldn't leave early. Ya know tha Cap'n …" His words trailed off as a few steps further revealed who he was talking to might not be a man. Somewhat shaken the man asked, "What are you?" The figure gave no response. With a ready crossbow in hand the man lit a bolt as a warning. "What are you?" he repeated with more anger now. The shadowy figure remained silent. The patrolman replaced his patience with a warning shot. He fired in front of the beast's view. The bolt ricocheted into its shoulder. The shade replied with a sort of gurgle far too preoccupied with its own thoughts. Its face glowed by the small flame now.
Terror had stuck the man at the sight of the visitor's face. He wasn't sure, but the word 'vampire' flashed into his thoughts. He resolved to kill the beast and not know for certain until it was dead. The lone warrior took out the bolt. "I release you," he said stretching a palm towards the guard. A large blade, made of a strange magic, shot out of his palm piercing the man's body, chest to groin. Tilting the blade up the man slid down. The hero siphoned the guard's memories while drinking his fill. Discarding the corpse, he changed his appearance to match that of the man. He could now move without suspicion.
More guards were posted at the rear entrance. It was expected but no less annoying. Two watchmen stood in front of the entrance and several marksmen were hidden. The vampire skimmed their minds as he approached with caution. He caught one guard going through protocol while she watched him walk towards the cliff. 'Ask for password… its Will again… better remember this time…' the guard ran over in her head. Our savior could not discover the password by the time he reached the cliff top now thinking he had to stall for time.
"Password!" shouted the woman before the intruder came closer. "Don't need this right now. Gotta get the rope, yeah, 'fore Wip gives up his ghost to the fish," he replied hurriedly. "Password or a couple arrows in the face! No exceptions!" the woman growled somewhat to his surprise. It was obvious she knew the password, but her mind was a sea of words. He'd have to keep playing the coy human. "The password is let me in before we're down a man and the general has my ass on a wall mount! Look I forgot again. Come on. It's me. Will. Let me in." "Shoot him," the woman ordered.
The sound of bow strings being drawn could be heard. But even the bowmen were confused as one of them asked if they really should shoot. "Of course shoot him! That's what you do when I tell you to shoot!" she roared. "This bastard is supposed to be full of holes by now! Go sound the alarm! The rest of you shoot the leech!" "The what?!" the fake guard interjected milking the role of fool for the last time. "I ain't no bloodsucker lady. Got no fangs, no claws, and no beady yella eyes!" "That might be true, freak, but you didn't get the name right. That face belongs to a man named Pyorus. I'm old enough to remember the tricks of vampires. You had to read my mind to get the name Will. Unlike the rest of my squad I still check the shift logs. There's no Will that works in the 'hole' now or ever." She concluded her slight with a blasting order. "Fall in line men! There's a vampire to kill!"
Cursing himself for the mistake he gave up the act at last. "N-n-n-no… wait wait wait. Alright. The password is … enough," the voice of the human faded as the contorted voice of a vampire took shape. He'd lost his patience for a non-violent admission past this band of impetuous children. As if in spite of his attempt to beguile them the captain stood resolute.
Hooked chains, made from the same strange energies as the blade, shot out from his palms plunging into the bowmen above. Twisting about he pulled the chains immediately wrenching the humans from their hiding and flung them at the guard and captain. Converging the chains from his right claw into a blade he swung into the pile of flesh killing the survivors. The other guard had run off to raise an alarm. Reforming the magic from his claws into his torso he shot forth a large hook after the run away. Just before it snared the man the captain jostled out of the bodies, a thin, red line crossed her stomach. She threw her sword into the vampire's still wounded shoulder. From the other end of the chain the man was pulling tight to reach the alarm bell despite his lack of small intestine. The savior, with all his might, pulled back on the caught watchman. The captain now had an arrow drawn and loosed it upon her enemy. Just before it struck its target the hooked man flew backward catching the arrow with his chest. Lurching forward with the remainder of his strength the vampire threw the corpse at the captain pinning her down. He pulled the sword out of his shoulder with a grunt of pain. With a few slow, lazy steps he drove the blade into its master's head.
Suckling most of the blood he later went to work hacking and sewing the dead into twisted simulacra of their living selves. With a partial infusion of his soul, the dollmaker tailored ghoulish dummies. These horrid creatures were to be the first wave in his assault on the cathedral. Together he bade them walk in the chamber. Letting them get further ahead he rang the alarm bell. He felt a sort of joy beginning his reclamation at last. Now that he was here, their armies could come. They would come and add to the screams of his new home.
The dummies began luring their first victims as the humming of the bell still wafted around the interior. Using the ethereal chains, the soldier climbed up to a rafter high in the shadows. From there he could safely control the now-heightened scenario to his advantage. His dolls sprawled out in as many directions as they could manage.
Crowds of soldiers formed circles around the strange beings. The saboteur was impressed with their quick response but relishing in the nature of his next move. Special bombs were planted inside the reanimated guards. Within lie a newly designed sickness that focused on the extreme disorientation of the senses. It lasted much longer than its predecessor used for combat purposes. As an added measure for this endeavor the disease could awaken its victims to the mental plane allowing them to hear the howls of their ancestors. A complete delirium was the intent of the contagion.
After the explosions and subsequent infection of the surrounding soldiers, the raider gathered the remnants of his soul. Reinvigorated, he called forth three chains from each palm and began slashing through the crowd. The poor souls were thrown in every direction, being ripped apart flesh from bone. It wasn't long before the commotion caught the eyes and ears of more inhabitants. His actions up to now were sufficient here. The predator faded into an invisible state. As the virus took hold, a little telepathic push would convince these wretches that a fierce monster still fought amongst them.
Slipping out of the fray, he made haste down the halls to a watch post hosting an alarm the whole city could hear. All who remained in the city would come to the aid of the cathedral as ordered at the sounding of the bell. Influencing a mind is hard but was all he needed to ring the alarm. The infiltrator snuck back into the quiet of the shadows. He let small bands pass him before unleashing one last terrible weapon. His arm outstretched, the skin began bubbling underneath. Small holes formed, and insects crawled out. In droves, a great swarm buzzed around outside his body. They were a new invention that required incubation to hatch. Their sole purpose was to infect, spawn, and die within their host's body as a new generation fed from a living corpse. Then the cycle started over again. Because of their nature, the host had complete control over every insect. Everything the little beasties sensed so too did their father. Within hours, nearly all the inhabitants of the city were infected by one disease or another. One obstacle remained. Some humans managed to protect themselves in the heart of the cathedral.
The control mechanism made the main chamber the largest room in the cathedral by necessity. Pipes wound and twisted throughout the entire structure. So entwined was the organ with the infrastructure of the building that they were nearly one in the same.
A small group of witches, prophet-seers from bygone Avernus stood protecting a few others. An emanating pale, blue light pierced through cracks in the cloud of bugs trying in vain to reach their homes. The enchanted veil of the prophets kept them well at bay. With a small, quick gesture the hero stopped the swarm; insects fell like sand upon the ground. Old enemies locked gazes for the first time since the end of the last war. These were no ordinary dregs from the last bits of the human army. They were women of the cloth, true warriors who fought against the vampires. While most of the soldiers attacked the vampires with forged iron, the prophets fought with the dark magicks of Nosgoth. They used spells to cripple, rend, and burn through their enemies. Their tactics and methods were more vampiric than human but with the intent of decimating the immortal hordes. Up until now the noble did not to take many risks having been able to control the chaos of his invasion. Though he would not have thought some of the prophets may have survived. In the last great war, they were his clan's most vicious enemy. Here, now, the witch scourge could end and the Zephonim be avenged.
"Play your songs historian," growled the foremost witch. Immediately a man behind the group ran to the organ's keyboard while struggling to open a book of songs. "Your evil ends tonight vampire," the same prophet proclaimed.
"You are too late defiler," he began, "The enchantments carved into the rock have been awakened. No longer do the sacred winds of Nosgoth feed the organ pipes. Only the maddened cries of your ancestors and the soldiers outside supply the organ with song."
"Protect your minds sisters!" the apparent leader shouted in response. "This one speaks with mind-craft. If he wants to talk force him to use his horrid mouth. Then shoot it off if he bothers."
"Well done human," the hero said recognizing her ingenuity. "You're unlike the other wretches, who've scarcely seen battle, having fought your masters before. What more my attacks have been superbly countered…" "Wodahs eht tuo tsac! Nomed eht tuo tsac!" chanting from the prophets cut him off. "Interesting," he spoke over the women again, "your incantations are nearly stopping my charms. However, your language is inaccurate. I am not a demon. Moreover, getting rid of me will not purge the evil in your heart." He'd managed a small crack of doubt within one of them but he needed to open it further. They were still too strong.
"Come children. Serve me. Be once more in my thrall. I shan't forgive your transgressions again." "Play something! Anything at all! Just start making noise!" howled the old witch feeling the heaviness of the spells on her mind.
A mangled chord burst from the organ as the shaken man jumped at the shouting of an equally frightening prophet. In theory, the songs he learned would make a vampire have various reactions. Although simply making continuous noise should stun any vampire. Having little capacity for thought beyond fear, he fell back to playing a lullaby his mother used to sing.
The small band of hopefuls waited for the music to take effect. What should have happened immediately did not happen at all. Where there should have been a vampire on the floor writhing in fits of pain stood a resolute creature. "Damnable man! Play the songs of malady!" shrieked a prophet impatiently. "Nay sister. No sound will stagger this foe. It spoke of enchantments. They must protect it somehow. Together now. Sever the connection twixt spell and creator."
Rather amused by their speculation the terror let them discover their mistake. While the historian continued playing different melodies, the prophet-sisters stretched out their minds. In their meditative state, their own spells became more powerful. Rumor suggested that long ago, one such group was so unmovable, their barrier so indestructible, Kain could not touch them until he summoned the wrath of the Soul Reaver. It did not take long for them to sense some of the magicks. Yet any maintenance between spell and castor could not be felt. The prophets continued their search more eagarly until the organ player began cackling suddenly.
One of the sisterhood broke from her meditation to check on the historian's unsettling outburst of laughter. She immediately noticed the other survivors praying. The man at the organ kept piping out notes despite his unnerving outpour of laughter. Then the others started laughing hysterically as well. Some of them joined the historian not in playing notes but pounding noise into the air. The others just sat whirling their torsos around in no particular pattern. She spotted one sprinting towards her sisters in a furious roar of laughter and violent intention. The girl was shot before reaching the other witches. Then the prophetess realized the enchantments did not shield the vampire. The foul beast somehow corrupted the music itself. 'Leech', she thought to herself almost forgetting it stood there. Wheeling around to face her enemy she saw nothing. "Sisters!" she called, "The shadow breeder is gone!"
In the same moment, the other witches stood up and executed the survivors. The leader learned of their mistake too late. The survivors did not have a mind of their own anymore. "Back to back sisters! The leech is not vanished. It is only hidden from the eye. Listen to the floor and walls."
Distant echoes could be heard of lunatic ravings. It seemed to them that they may be the last humans untouched. Soon they heard the padding of steps but more than just one pair of feet. "This one can make something more tangible than illusions methinks," one whispered a word of warning. "How do we find the original?" another asked succumbing to the fear. "The origin of this treachery will have controlled actions. Whether it runs or fights, it will move with purpose. Stand together sisters. Let us end this blight in the name of our saints and humankind. Thus far it has not attacked because it cannot move past our defenses. We will hunt this wretch down and take back what life it stole from Nosgoth to remain in its cursed existence."
Try as they might to rally themselves their resolve was shaken. This monstrosity was not like other undead. It did not seem strong and yet the inhabitants of the Saints' city fell. There seemed a looming, heavy darkness surrounding the warriors of a once holy place. The last shred of hope died when one of their sisters broke the silence with a small chuckle.
As if by cue, four clones, showed themselves on the offensive. The laughing prophet was hit first with an especially potent disease. Two of the sisters were being slashed at while their foes moved wildly, the clones shrouded in a strange and putrid mist. The matriarch witch had quickly deduced that the original monster was coming for her. Having enchanted her bullets already, she shot the master several times. The hex placed on the vampire immobilized it. So strong was the curse of its wounds the witch could live another lifetime before the monster could blink. Turning she stood to shield her yet untainted sisters from the rot approaching from the infected prophet. Still cackling frantically, she was hooked by a clone's chains, whipped around and thrown at the others. Their leader shot flashes and bolts at her lost sister stopping her momentum completely.
The clone that threw the bullet riddled corpse disappeared. Having prevented the rest of them from contracting whatever plague their comrade had, the elder helped fend off the other clones. When the last clone had dissipated, their creator unable to hold them manifest, the three witches turned towards the hexed originator and shot him. They were baffled by his endurance. The sisters concluded that the enchanted thing may not have been a clone but an illusion. Whatever powers granted to the original by the twisted organ must have allowed this spell to endure even as its master had died.
"Awfully cruel to kill your sister and all those innocent lives," came a phantasmal voice that seemed to surround them. Alerted by their foe, frustration could be heard as they hissed behind their masks. "No human would suffer another to live as play things of the damned!" spat one of the women. "My dear you sting me. I am not of the damned. I am your savior. Hush now childish creatures."
"Elder. The illusion is… something is coming out of its hand." She turned to examine it. A small protrusion inched out of the illusion's palm. 'Whatever it was up to must have been extraordinarily quick to keep such a pace. Regardless this speck of imagination was hardly a threat,' the elder dismissed the spectacle. "Speck of imagination? You wound me child," the horrid voice echoed jokingly.
"So you can read minds," the elder prophet said with agitation. "And much more my dear," the enveloping voice said. The organ started to bellow its tune unlike the garbled mess it was before. It sounded as if an evil entity was playing a song of malevolence for its own amusement. "Enough games beast!" the prophet roared. "Face us and let us be rid of you!" "Us?" the hero asked as if confused. "Who else do you think stands with you child? You've been alone for a while now." At the edge of her perception she noticed a familiar rune. The symbol of Zephon's clan was etched into the rock face. More runes appeared now as though weaved into the very structure. How could she have not noticed them before? Then her gaze slowly tilted down with the burden of sorrow. She'd realized all who lived there were under the spell placed there since it's construction.
"Yes. You understand now," he observed with satisfaction. "Everyone was dead already," the witch realized with a growing weariness of life. "Then why bother vampire? Why toy with your catch?" "You said as much yourself," he answered eagerly. "I was playing a game with my toy and then you told me to stop and face you." Then her sisters or illusions or whatever they were turned her to face the hexed sorcerer; the strange blade had now spanned the considerable distance between them. "Your spells mean nothing to me, but what fun is it to disengage them? I want you to see the extent of the power you chose to forsake. No matter how much you pretend at standing as a warrior, as an equal, you are little more than a nuisance to me…" the words blurred for a moment. Some strange image appeared in front of the witch. A man with light gray hair spoke, as if to her directly, 'Don't give up.' and disappeared just as fast. Then the vampire's words came back into focus, "But even you deserve a chance to be useful, no? Does sentience wrapped in soft, fragile sacks of disappointment deserve mercy?"
At that remark, the last prophet broke out in a malicious sounding laughter. She knew that man. Somehow within the swirling dark magicks the monster used, a vision of Caskin, the man who led the human race to salvation, came to her. She understood the message. "You know as much about mercy as I do vampire!" She spat with a fiery cackle, "What does a leech care for compassion save what little there is in not killing a slave? You do not care for the bugs under your foot. Only so they are not wiped out would a bloodsucker spare the life of its food. Do not dare, after centuries of empire and hunting, compare your sensibilities with any other animal that actually has them. You are a monster, a blight suckling upon Nosgoth's breast. Scourge upon the eyes of Malus, end me now or I will relieve myself of your miserable sight!"
She was held unable to move or turn away as the blade threatened a hole in her eye. With strength not even seen in vampires, the prophet broke an arm free lifting a pistol to her temple. One last bang deprived the vampire of his overly theatrical kill. Zephon snapped from the hex with a scowl of disappointment. She'd managed to ruin the thoroughly calculated and staged murder he was after. Nevertheless, the work was done.
My enemies lay dead. Our home secured, I walked in his halls rebuilding order in the chaos. A soldier ran past me crying a river of tears. He spoke to the distraught man, "Stop child. No more pain. Stand with me. Stand in the light." The soldier heard a silken voice that seemed mirrored by a dirty reflection of itself. He stopped crying as if he had never known sorrow. The man smiled next to one he perceived as beautiful and resplendent. He was happy walking at last with his majesty.
One by one the king undid the damage he had wrought. A touch on the shoulder of a man happily ramming his head in a wall, an outstretched hand to a woman dancing with a corpse; we unwound with ease the threads he knotted with the same simplicity. All their sins were forgiven, all their wounds were healed, and they walked with their new master.
The new lord of that city led his people to a public square. I stood over the gathered crowd and spoke with the airs of the mountain carrying my decree. "I have on this day begun a new era. No more will blood spill needlessly. The city is my home. The cathedral is my house. So too is this city your home and this temple is your house. We are strong together. Here, all may ascend towards me. Your darkest hour is past. "The sun rose making the spectacle of the new lord all the more glorious. "We are one mind. One body. Here we shall stand against the tyrants of Nosgoth. And they will know the nectar of our mercy. Our unity will be our sword but our spirit wields compassion. Be reborn in my light! Rise and rejoice my children! Stand against the tides and rejoice!"
Behind those words rose a clangor of cheers, "Hail, Zephon! Glorious, beautiful, awesome is our lord!" At first the cheers drowned out any thought. They began to fade gradually. The crowd, the hero, everything faded to echoes of shadow. Darük had realized this was a vision of Zephon's efforts to claim the sainted church and city for himself and his clan.
Darük's sight slowly came back as if he were in a long sleep. He had thought it strange that the bright, atmospheric room he'd entered seemed to vanish. Was he moved perhaps? "You've been asleep for a long while," a scaly and broken voice said. The room was dimly lit and that horrid voice was frightening. "Who… wh-", Darük tried to ask the monstrosity but was cut off by its voice, "Speak not, little one. Walk forward, child, and step lightly. See me better dear one." As terrifying as the mysterious voice was, Darük heard almost benevolent intention behind the rough exterior of the words. He did as instructed. The bindings around his waist became loose as his escort let them go. The ropes fell with a weight not their own and a metallic clangor upon the floor.
"Lift the veil," came the broken and disturbing voice of hunger again. Darük was unsure of the command, but yes, the veil was still there. 'How strange' he thought. 'Was it not removed before?' and with hesitation gently pressed the veil with his fingers. With one swift motion, he ripped the veil off his head and froze instantly, a horror was before him altogether too terrifying a sight to allow things like screaming and running.
The creature looked as if it were part of the surrounding room, so large it was. Or perhaps the room was part of it. It was an insectile-looing thing. Its form was slender save for what he could only imagine to be the abdomen if this were indeed some bug. There was a dark complexion upon the beast that encased two bright, yellow eyes. T'was strange those eyes should seem familiar.
That icy fear gave way to a moment of observation when Darük noticed the monstrosity was attached to the wall behind it. There seemed to be enough distance between this thing, made of equal parts misery and disturbance, and himself to feel some relief.
"Tell me creature", he managed some words at last, "if you can speak, what is this place and how did I come to be here?" Darük remembered the story of Turel, his lord's brother, and how he mysteriously vanished. Perhaps those same magicks were imposed upon himself.
The malevolent, statuesque figure let out a sort of cracking gurgle before speaking. "You were not stolen. At least not in that manner." Darük, now much more concerned with his thinking, realized the entity could hear his thoughts. "You were always in this place. What has changed is your perception of this world you live in. Where before you lived in a waking dream you now see your environment as it always was." To this admission from the erudite voice, Darük became irritated. "What sort of fool do you mistake me for beast!?"
It sputtered again like before but this noise seemed more like a gentile laughter. "In truth, little one, it is quite the other way around. By virtue of your intellect I awarded you an invitation into my chamber." "And by what road did your invitation pursue, monster?", Darük spat in anger while still aware of the strange animal's spindly claws. "I was in attendance in my lord's court as his holy guest. Only by some curse did I receive visions of my lord's palace while being wrested by heathens! Yet you would have me believe that this wretched cave and the holy chamber of my god Zephon are one in the same!?" "And it so remains," the creature spoke as if oblivious to its guest's rage.
"I have released you from your slumber, your living illusion. You needed time for the spell to wear off. The vision you saw was of my own memory. It was an actual account of my assault and seizure of this castle and its citizens. My clan and I have lived with you, cultivated you, molding you and yours into the perfect servants. I have made a more acceptable version of your world wherein you gave me your complete obedience.
"Yet," Darük fumed in total disbelief of the creature "you are not my lord nor is this filthy hole his chamber-hall! What more…". His words cut off as he looked at the statue's eyes again. He saw those same eyes in effigies of his lord Zephon. "But how…," he drowned the words in silence again. 'This thing, crowned by its own skin, a miserable depiction of a skeleton could not be Zephon. Even if I considered a vampire's evolution, not even the low-born lord Melchiah would appear to have lost all traits in common either by human or vampire composition. What insanity produced such reason?' The thoughts in him yearned for explanation where none was offered.
Darük pondered little more upon this discovery before the room was lit up, the sconces blazing revealing the room in full light. Against the rear wall a more horrific being than he could tell in the dark was seemingly attached. He was sure the creature, if it was indeed living and not the mad, leering sculpture of a lunatic, did not move. Even were the thing not alive, Darük felt a terror growing inside. Whatever ilk this beast claimed part in it did not look like a true son of the high god Kain. To his dismay and fear alike the horrid person spoke again.
"Let your eye wander child. And know then this chamber is not a room but my body." The escorts seemed vanished as Darük looked around noting the distinct fleshy quality of his surroundings. "The sconces were placed, at my bidding, upon my flesh. They burn with no small amount of pain for the benefit of your eyes. Let the mire of reality engulf your reason child. You're still groggy from your dream. Continue to awaken; continue your journey to the truth."
No sooner did those words fade than Darük screamed as images flooded his mind. As far back as he could remember everything began to change. The sun-bathed mornings turned into dark walls overgrown with webs. Daily rituals and prayer faded out and into people huddled together kneeling and drooling. Meals with the four main families in the great hall became a large room of over-fat people fed by spidery creatures, the floors slaked with excrement and rotten food spilled out of engorged mouths. And the paintings and statues of Zephon as a perfect being, a great vampire lord more beautiful than any human shifted into twisted images of what a living thing could be, given the imagination of a mad man. Those eyes somehow unchanged. The putrid voice was Zephon.
On his knees, Darük stared blankly at the monster that was his god. All the response he could muster were drips of tears and mucus following into tiny gurgles. His entire life was a trick to serve a menacing brood that did not require sacrifice but gorged upon his people in that lie. They were not a religious sect for vampires. They were an assemblage of snacks for a putrid race to survive long after the world of men fell out of their reach.
After a short time, contemplating impossibility-turned-fact the skeletal monstrosity stirred. It lowered itself slowly toward Darük. His only reaction was the shrinking of his pupils in sheer horror. Just on the edge of the man's notice, large stalactite-like legs came down from overhead. The same spidery creatures, from his apparent memory, appeared around the leg spikes as if from the air itself. With some effort two of them broke the chain wrapped around themselves. It was the same chain around the herald's feet.
Now with Zephon's face next to Darük, his spindly arms enveloping the steward's air, spoke in a slow, granular tone. "It is time little one. Time for you to go." A moment passed as both stood fast where they were. Lifetimes could be lived in moments like these. When prey and predator are locked in each other's eyes; both of them knowing what happens next. That terrible second before the lashing of claws and the flash of teeth. The prey knows its life is to end and the predator knows its belly will be full. Zephon's face contorted and twisted around itself unfolding the stalks holding his eyes. As if that display were not disgusting enough the face separated even more showing the vicious reality of his hulking maw. Long, sharp teeth broke apart letting out a scream that could frighten the very wind.
Finally shaken of his stupor, Darük, dumb with fear, screamed and ran away from the god-monster. Memory did not aid his flight. Two versions of the cathedral flooded his mind simultaneously, not that he could think beyond moving himself away in haste. This feeling was like he'd always been afraid of them but never knew until now. It was as if the world was melting away as he passed more spider-like monsters until there were only the monsters, the path, and himself left in all existence.
Desperately searching for a way out, his escape was suddenly cut short when he slammed into a wall. What felt strange to him was that the wall seemed to have materialized right before him. Somewhat groggy from his fall Darük lazily tilted his head upward. The fuzzy, darkened image came into focus quickly. Seeing what the wall really was stifled his breath.
Kain stood gazing in a minor confusion at the little, stupid man looking at him from the floor. In all his years, he'd not yet seen a living being that simply gawked at him. This was an entirely new experience for him. The awkward silence was broken at last by the sniveling creature on the floor. "Lord Kain?", he asked in half disbelief. With hesitation Kain answered a slow and still partially bewildered, "Aye". In excitement, Darük scrambled to his knees, "Please, my great lord, my truly beautiful, my only god! Please end my life!", pleading with tears of joy and sorrow running in rivulets of confused emotion down his face. "Please holy spirit. Father of gods. Master of the world, kill me. Destroy me."
He never needed prompting to kill anything. Murder was the gift Kain was happy to share with the world. Any other time, any other miserable oaf would have been dead before it blinked again if it crossed paths with him such as this man did. Still the timing of it all and that look caught him off guard. The sensation being new to him, he was actually curious for once. Like before in slow, hesitant, elongated tone he asked, "Why?" In the back of his head he couldn't escape the thought he was reduced to some foolish actor whose attempt at comedy collided with stage fright.
With a sort of smile slumping immediately into a frown, Darük sobbed a reply. "Look around. I don't know where I am but I've lived here all my life." He turned his head to see his people and cried even more. "That is worship. Or was. I don't know. I used to see them kneeling and giving praise to almighty gods. To that thing called Zephon. All this time they were really just drooling." His words trailed into heavier sobs. "I actually believed I felt the sun when I was locked away from it. Please. Just end it. Just kil-" his plea was cut off as his throat was slit open. No more begging. Kain understood. A wave of his hand began to lift the blood to his mouth but he stopped. Kain peered at the levitating orb of dark red second guessing its origin. With another wave, the orb splashed away from him. Even the mighty Kain could be superstitious in rare times. The sheer insanity of that soul was enough to dissuade a vampire king.
One of Zephon's skulking brood watched the phenomenon unwind between Kain and Darük. Becoming visible again, its arm was outstretched in the direction of his master's chamber. Kain looked at the miserable personage in disgust and continued on. He had never seen these walls before. Each lain brick was a new sight as he followed the directions of wretchedly grotesque and silent beasts. He had almost regretted not seeing this building in its glory. As decayed as it was, he could imagine its magnificence. Kain wondered how their great weapon would have measured up, if it could. A strange feeling of pride from a long-forgotten time came over him. No one in his empire could have ever understood that Kain might be proud of the humans for building such a thing. Only he could remember life as a human. Only he could appreciate the acumen of mankind despite being their enemy. Then again no one ever knew he was only playing at emperor. The memories of a mortal man were a playful reminder to enjoy the world with a broader view. 'The dead are just that. No point wasting moments on reminiscence,' he thought hastening his stride.
Going up a spiral flight of stairs he reached the final corridor. With exception to special sacrifices, only the vampire scuttled here. Floor, walls, and ceiling all were caked with webs. Following the winding path to its conclusion, he noticed a flickering light. A man, neither food nor resident, lay on the floor in two parts. A hunter and his flame thrower still active. This unnatural scene was left by a silent ally moments ago. He left the corpse alone. It was for someone else to find. Stepping into the chamber he found the grotesque, twitching remainder of what should have been a great vampire lord. It looked as if the body left without its skeleton and the abandoned soul poorly assembled the pieces.
"Forgive me this listless approach to our next encounter father. Time moves so slowly for me and my remaining brothers. I trust you did not wait too long?
"How…" Kain trailed off in the shock of this wicked display. Before it seemed he was vulnerable, he continued haphazardly, "fare you child?"
The gangly creature gurgled a distinct sort of laughter. "I see everything in my castle Kain. Having been more observer than warrior, nuance does not escape me. It is surprising, and not in the least amusing, to see you so… off-put. I wonder. Have you never looked into the darkness? Did you not see its true extent?"
"To be a vampire in this age is to live in darkness. However, our natures have changed, we did not pervert the balance into a twisted illusion of reality. With all my might, I sought a control for the empire but in that act enemies still had choice; fight or die. Not much of a choice, I'll grant you, yet their minds stayed their own."
"Am I not your creation, Kain? We have, all of us, followed the paths laid out for us. There is no choice. Our personalities simply align with fate's design. We poor souls perceive an illusion."
The words seemed to hang in the air. They seemed to have been aimed at Kain's own experience with fate, as if Zephon was there with him from the beginning. "Fate is a guide with a steady iron fist," he said as if he were becoming exhausted. Yet Kain did not feel so. "Although, if one can see how fate moves, one can refuse to follow," he countered with more energy.
"Hah!" it gurgled another sharp laugh. "Perhaps this remains true for you still. Your destiny fooled you into thinking that as a guardian there was an option. No matter what choice occurred to you your nature was set in stone. Despite our progenitor, our natures have changed. Maybe the great Kain could have ascended with us. We are new guardians. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Nothing new exists here. Nosgoth has continued her decay along with her inhabitants. The madness has merely evolved rather than emerged."
Somewhat amused by the remarks the creature replied "Hmmhmmhmm… Yes. We are rotting away. It is as true today as when you abdicated the throne. But I, and my brothers here, continued to grow. Without the burden of duty and allegiance, the empire was split into our domains each. Our union did not allow personal growth. In the years of my sanctuary from those fools, I've found new purpose and learned many truths. There are secrets one can only understand with the passage of time."
"The passage of time…" he was amused but paused instead of letting go of a faint chuckle. 'Why?' Rather than insisting on distraction he continued, "is an act of children who do not understand time. Knowing how the story plays out, one would rather skip to the end." 'Wait… that wasn't right'… he thought further confusing himself.
"Is there not a certain joy in reading each page as it comes?" Zephon replied. He spoke his words as if reading a script he wrote. This was strange to his guest but he could not seem to grasp the game at hand.
"When the ending has been spoiled, the best course of action is to finish the end and go on to the next story. Instead of watching the empire fall, I can see what it became. Wait…damn," For the first time Kain had relinquished a point. He, less angry and more bemused, wondered how it happened. For that matter, what strange growing sense of unease plagued him since his arrival?
"There it is," Zephon pointed out with what the imagination could only guess was a smirk. "The first point ever won against the masterful Kain," he continued in a redundant jeer. A passerby might mistake those words with enthusiasm. Kain saw past the intellectual stab responding to Zephon's taunts with stoicism.
Suddenly, Kain steeled his mind at the thought that the hazy disturbance he felt upon his arrival was an attack. The faintest motion from the disfigured beast confirmed that he learned something he should not have. Poised and aware, Kain now understood he was fighting for control of his own mind. Could his former lieutenant have become so formidable? Or was he struggling with the past as insanity lingered here as the spirits almost visible in their ferocity? Whatever the case he had to take the offensive.
"And here then," pausing to gather what thoughts he could, "why do you insist on this part of the story?" Kain's acuity for debate had clearly diminished. He was teetering along on reaction now. Zephon responded in turn much to his chagrin. But perhaps his father could give validity to his reason instead of simply ignoring him.
"Kindness, father," Zephon said to the other's complete surprise. "Consider all our actions up until now. We acted to control, to subjugate. After your disappearance, we acted in the same manner but we fought each other. The humans, alongside a few surviving traitors, slipped through the cracks of civil war. All for control and subject. Even now as you've seen in my former herald Darük, I acted to control the last remnants of humankind. However, what I do now differs from my life before this castle became my home. Serving you had no real purpose beyond your own inclinations. To what end did we demand from an empire? When you consider the day Raziel was executed, more questions about King and country arise. Not that I had time for any slight-handed sedition. There was a clan I had to get my brothers to destroy, a division of that same power to employ, another war against the vampires to plan and I had to take my home back from the filth that dwelt here. After the blood farms were destroyed, I secured my own little deposit with a sect of religious zealots. It was only then that I had time to consider the adverse actions of my lord."
Either Zephon slipped up enough to have lost the game to Kain, or, much more likely, the game wasn't on any more. "What of this Darük? You let him go. Why?" It was obvious now that Kain was in danger but he had to admit some fascination in Zephon's argument.
"I felt you suddenly appear. I was going to let him go anyway. The illusory spells were wearing off and he began to open his eyes in this reality. As you entered, the timing was too perfect not to send a welcoming committee to send you in."
"No child. That was not why you released him. I know your lies well. Did you forget I taught you deceit?"
"Deception, disguising the truth, was my only real strength. Until I learned of a greater power. Genuine kindness. The word strikes you with irreverence and disgust, no? To what end did we maintain empire father? I've deduced only that you did not intend to keep at it. The only goal of the empire was doom into ruin and the like to your sons. Then it struck me. The opposite of your actions might by some degree bear fruit midst the rot. My contemplation concluded that kindness was the key. But how to be kind? How does one give where all he knows is to take? Eventually I came to an understanding with a court of my human guests. Through their memories, I tweaked their false reality to mimic their ideal lives. Adding to their paradise was an ideal of vampiric godhood. The result was the religion of the empire. Modeled after my former human cultist host of course. I even raised the image of you and my brothers as gods to be revered alongside me. Naturally though I was the ruling deity. For this deceitfully better life, I was given their love and loyalty."
"To what end?" Kain scornfully jabbed without showing it. As if his lieutenant's endeavors bore greater purpose.
"To the only end," Zephon calmly replied. "Nosgoth still dies. With her everything follows. That my little zealots lead a life of contentment before they perished is enough."
"Then you thought very little of this man? To banish him from his paradise seems rather unkind." It wasn't wise to anger the monster, but Kain, against all reason it seemed, had to learn the truth.
"I don't want to die," Zephon rebutted again to his father's surprise. "Yet I am doomed. I had hoped in some small measure I could live on through chronicle. Darük had a strong mind. Perhaps, if he had made it to the last human citadel, his madness would have been short lived. He then would have told his tale."
"Do not lie to me!" Kain growled. "Show me what you hide. Out with it." There was some struggle of consciousnesses but the beast was slipping. Pressing him onward might weaken his attack.
The gigantic insectoid paused. He was neither afraid nor angry. In fact, he seemed wounded. "I saw myself in him. He was strong. His mind and heart were strong. Darük was a dedicated man. But for all his cunning he lacked strength. He simply could not grasp at the difference between the success of his brothers and his failure. I gave him a position of respect that he did not win from his peers. I forced them to give Darük value." He paused another moment. It would have seemed that this comparison between himself and this man burdened him. Although saying aloud for the first time made clear how very similar their lives were. "He still suffered. He tortured himself to become better than he could be. As I did with my only brother to suffer more than myself. I ignored Darük's torment thinking it was mercy enough. Every day I had to reinforce the idea of his respect even as his peers fought it. I risked breaking the enchantments just to save him."
"In time, I realized I could no longer ignore the pain. I plotted to drive him away. Over the years I ate his reluctant fellows. Before your appearance, I began a ceremony to undo what I had done to him. After all what do I really understand of kindness? I was a military commander whose idea of such a foreign concept was force. I had been determined then to rid Darük from this place. To make him flea from the world of insanity and horror." Zephon trailed off with a tone of anger.
"Too bad the enchantments couldn't ensnare you," he revealed at last. "I tried but then again I never entered your mind before. I had no idea how best to attack you."
"You should have always known you could not over take me child. There might have been a chance or two moments ago but you missed the mark. Or did you mistake size for confidence and strength?" Kain had to scowl at his son's failure. That last dart at his pride was enough to gain the advantage over his mind. Zephon retreated a small distance realizing the attack on his prey's mind had been blocked. "In a way, I doubt you ever intended to kill me until I were bound head to toe in your trap. Methinks it a mistake to say your efforts were valiant. This engagement was more an attempt to find answers you could not deduce yourself. And thusly you've failed on two accounts. How miserably disappointing. How painfully predictable. Your life as a vampire was not spent a warrior but as a hunter who carefully planned his traps. But for all your calculation you did not take risk for reward. You fed upon scraps when a feast might have been hard won. These traits can make a great general to defend but lacks the daring to seize. I surmise you took this castle by your own hand. Could you in truth tell me there was an instant not within your sphere of control? One might be impressed if he did not know you as I do. You had tried and have failed. I shall leave knowing that you are as wretched a being as the day I forged you."
"It is not a matter of trying Kain," Zephon spat out. "You will die here." A large spike came swiftly downward over Kain's head. Fully aware of the misguided attempt at murder Kain leaned back and with one claw stopped the leg from moving farther. He did not gain control over his leg again until Kain let go.
"As I said. Disappointing. I will tell you plainly then and be on my way. Raziel walks again. If he has remembered anything, it is a dire hunger for revenge. He comes for all of us now, ravenous with a deeper desire than blood could indulge. Goodbye child. And may the angel of death come wipe clean this stain from Nosgoth's boot."
With a seething anger Zephon spoke again to Kain's back, "You opened me. You exposed my shame. As you have always done. I had always been afraid of you, but you are still in my web. Surely you've noticed the murmur by now." He did notice a sort of faint buzz. It grew louder, resembling a chorus. It sounded like the ancient, bygone angels singing.
"The enchantments are still at work. Darük heard the angels too, but that's not what they are. They are the screams of the dead. The vengeful spirits shriek with hate. But through their maddened howls, they hadn't realized I still control them. The airs of Nosgoth no long tear through the mountains but the screams can still fuel their own weapon.
"Yes!" he shot out in a horrid glee, "Yes, Kain! The humans weapon against us, that which is my home, still cries for its enemies to die! Though I may collapse this monument upon myself, you will share in this grave!"
In a reactionary lunge, Kain barely escaped the chamber closing around him. The pain was excruciating. All around him the screams came. "Die!" "They're dead! All dead!" "Why?! Kill the meat! Feed the rats! All rats! All dead! All hungry! AHAHAHA!" "Murderer!" All cascading on one another into the pipes and amplifying. He was almost totally disoriented. He couldn't think enough to remember the way out. Everything around him turned into a heavy, pulsating distortion of itself.
He wildly leapt around the cathedral in agony. Every turn became a dead end while fending off more of Zephon's brood. Getting far enough away from his attackers he focused all his energies into the Soul Reaver. With one enormous burst, he blew open a hole in a wall leading into the mountainside. From there he made every effort to dig out of the cathedral proper.
The pain did not fade much having finally reached the city. He tried to focus on turning into the shadows that would carry him away but could not concentrate. The children of Zephon surrounded him. Brought to his knees by the shrieking chords, that he might actually die nibbled at his forethought. The Soul Reaver cut down many of his foes in one last run down the main road. Centering the swirling energies of shadows around the sword and himself he shot from the city, over the moat, and outside the influence of the screaming past.
With the effects fading, only his superstition remained. He still feared the unknown, now with good reason. A grunt of relief and an ounce of resentment he turned onward. Raziel should be seeing Melchiah by now. He could use a less frustrating once-in-a-lifetime encounter. A thought lingered still. 'Why? Why did you hesitate so?' It was clear to Kain in hindsight that Zephon held the advantage. Had he simply not waivered he would have killed his father. 'Was he so afraid on failure? Did this weight stay his hand all these years?'
Much of the cathedral's integrity remained intact. The pipes were all but destroyed but with some creative toying about surely someone could get some use out of them. He felt the question Kain pondered, 'Why did you hesitate…?' His ego was sore as Zephon contemplated his unexpected guest. He was hoping to save that trap for Raziel.
"Oh yes dear brother. I felt your mind coalesce upon the ruins of this world. I await you still. I sought to hide from the doom that still lingers and the cruel dying world. Now Zephon stands. He is ready at last. I stand against the tyranny that has plagued me too long."
