Mullen Institute, Dublin

9 May, 2011

22:30—Dawnavan's Perspective

:-:

The mind is a curious thing: Thoughts, memories, dreams, the process of knowing; it contains so many wonders. Beautiful, mysterious, yet so very strange.

In his dreams, Dawnavan remembers…the field of anemones.

He would always go there when the sun was shining.

At the time, his heart was broken, and was breaking still. He had little hope for the world; thus, he became cynical of everyone, including himself.

I hated myself. And I still do.

I hated everyone…so I chose solitude. I made that decision…because...

—because of… Her, or at least that's what I *want* to believe.

Dawnavan told Stuart everything about his former life. Everyone else, they know only so little about him; a superficial bond… But he wants to tell them.

Dawnavan wants them to know the depth of his pain: How lonely he was back then, how he hoped to find those that could understand him, and how he desperately fought to keep his mother alive.

Above all secrets, he wants to tell them how his father…was killed right in front of him, and what he did to save his own life.

"I…remember now… It's coming back to me.

—I was…born a monster. An eater…of vampires.

It's just as N'Dour said. But why are these memories returning to me now?

So *many* of them…my head…" Image after image, his memories are freed from their existential bounds. The block his uncle Alexei placed on his mind… Its effects have drastically weakened, at an opportune moment no less.

Back then…when I first turned… My blood…

His mind embarks on a trip into the past: 7 November, 1992.

Noah James Crowley took his son, Dawnavan, out on the town for a post-birthday celebration. Noah was a military man, so his family lived on a base on the outskirts of Wellington, New Zealand:

Ft. Vogue, their home at the time.

The Crowley family had grown accustomed to the harbor city. It was all Dawnavan knew, but his father and mother, Sheila Faye, were originally from Senegal… They moved and changed their names for personal reasons.

We were "being chased by bad people," or so my father told me.

It was scary. Any situation like that would scare a child… And so I clung onto my parents as any child would. With them, I felt safe.

But that all ended…on that night.

The "bad people" haunting his memories, vampire locals employed by the church; a gang of newbloods granted power from the Nightlord's existence… After leaving the city fair, the newbloods attacked Noah, and used Dawnavan as a bargaining chip: Sacrifice himself to the Nightlord, or his son…would be killed.

"Father…!" Noah heard his son, and wanted to help him. But he couldn't; the newbloods were too powerful, all thanks to the Nightlord's gift.

To save his son, Noah made the ultimate sacrifice… "...I'm sorry…

…Please…don't hurt my son… I…concede…"

With those words, Noah's spirit was consumed by the Nightlord's existence.

And Dawnavan… "No… No, FATHER…!"

I saw my father die. That image, it…

—it detonated something in my heart.

The heat, rising higher and higher. I felt myself being consumed by rage… And before I knew it…that "other" me…escaped… There was…nowhere for them to run.

Kresnik: Those who have been blessed by witches, humans given shamanistic powers. As such, they are hunters of nightwalkers; more specifically, vampires.

Kresniks shapeshift, via a contract, into the form of their spirit animal, and their existential force is an empty white…

"F-Fa…ther… FATHER…!"

Dawnavan's contract lies with his ancestry: His blood.

And his spirit animal…is a vampire bat.

"—Embrace… Crossroads!" When the child activated his existence, and his territory spread, it was all over for the newbloods...in the blink of an eye.

…My blood...consumed them… My existence ate them alive.

I felt them enter my body.

It was warm, and it made me feel good, but… But I hated it. I hated myself because…I'm a monster… A goddamned monster, I shouldn't exist!

"Uncle Al, Mr. Black… They saved us…" Dawnavan clutches the grass at his side in tears, broken by his memories. "Mother… She got sick because…her blood was too strong for her, and… I blamed myself for it. This *damned lineage*…because of…"

Dawnavan remembers…and he wish he hadn't.

He killed those newbloods to avenge his father, Noah. Alexei, his uncle, placed a memory block on his mind to control the beast inside… Shortly afterwards, his mother, Sheila, went through a serious battle with their lineage. A meeting with the Nightlord was what made her ill. And no matter what was done, Sheila was fated to die… It was payback for Dawnavan's defense of his father.

"She died…because of me...because I…

—I hate myself…so much… I wish…I WISH WAS NEVER BORN!"

The pain, the agony of existence: All nightwalkers feel it. Whether born or turned, nightwalkers wish for death more than anything. Such is the cruelty of their powers, which are ironically named after the one thing they despise the most.

Suddenly, a few cracks in the grass capture Dawnavan's attention.

"—You shouldn't feel that way."

"—!? Th-That…voice…" He looks over his shoulder, to see…himself.

But this "other" Dawnavan, he seems much darker, more sinister.

"Hello, me. Still wallowing in self-pity?"

Dawnavan stands, turns and faces his "other" self. Shock, confusion, outrage, fear, curiosity: He feels so many emotions that he's beyond words.

Expression itself seems so far away…so distant that…

My heart is pounding. Is this for real?

No, wait…this is a dream, nothing more than a dream.

But the memories, everything I remembered… Those were real; there's nothing "dreamy" about what I just saw: The nightmare of my reality…my existence.

"Dawnavan, your power…"

"—!?" The "other" self awakens him from deep thought.

"—you can save everyone. Just as your ancestors saved their people.

And before you ask, I *am* you… Another side of your heart."

That's a very eerie thing to say: The "other" self claims to be "another side" of Dawnavan's heart. But it seems…unsettling, almost frightening.

"Another side, you say? What 'side' are you talking about?"

"—Fight me, Dawnavan. Through battle, you'll learn the answer." With an extending and opening of its left hand, the "other" self is surrounded by a geyser of blood, which endures for a few moments.

Then, the geyser disperses and reveals its true form: An anthropoidal black vampire bat; a total contrast to what Dawnavan saw in his memories.

This monster, a Kresnik, is a thing of nightmares. Dawnavan has never before seen a more frightening creature than this.

This thing…is *me*?

…I see… This creature…is what I try hiding from others.

How ironic. Right before we start training, something like *this* happens… But I have to face it. This monster…*is* me... The antithesis of my heart.