Author's Note: It has been over three months since I updated this story and I apologize for the delay. I hope you didn't think Melancholia was going into the unfinished "graveyard" section! School has kept me extremely busy but I found time to write whenever I could. It takes a long time to write each chapter and I put a lot of effort into my work. Melancholia is almost finished and I'm very grateful for the time people have spent reading and reviewing; you're comments help keep this story going! Sadly though, the story is near it's end but it will have an epilogue, as soon as I can write it!
I received a lot of questions from people wondering when Leon is going to show up and what will happen...well, if you read, you will find out! I kept all of the dialogue from Lament of Innocence (to stay true to canon as much as possible) but added extra dialogue in because I felt what was shown in LoI wasn't descriptive enough. LoI was made during a time when cutscenes in video games were shorter because of technology, etc. Do forgive me for taking "liberties" with the video game's storyline; I hope you think my depictions are believable anyway. Leon is my favorite Belmont so I'm more than pleased to finally incorporate him into Joachim's storyline.
Special Thanks:
LateNiteSlacker - for always supporting my work and being awesome! :D If you find grammar problems in this chapter send me a message and I'll fix them as usual! (^-^)
AzariyaBelmont - For always supporting Walter and being his biggest fan lol! Our red-haired vampire lord doesn't get nearly as much attention as he should! Thank you for reading.
haruharu - I didn't hear from you in a while until you reviewed the chapter before this one (yay!) thank you for continuing to read and support this story! :) P.S. I'm working on a Leon story...still...but it's coming along and I will post it as soon as it's done so stay tuned. Also, Leon is in this chapter and I hope you like it.
yaoi-thundeh - haven't heard from you in a while but thank you for reading and I hope you like this chapter, even though it's kind of long :)
danceofgold - haven't heard from you in a while either but I hope you're still reading and writing awesome fics!
Mysza - Thank you for your feedback. I'm sorry it took so long for me to update this fic and I hope you will enjoy this chapter. I'm working on the next chapter right now so you can expect another update sometime in the near future :)
Chapter XXXIV
The hot sun licked at Leon's face like a devil's tongue, and he beginning to feel faint from hunger and exhaustion. He spent most of the day patrolling the camp's perimeter scanning the thin horizon line for the metallic reflections of drawn swords. A dry wind scratched against his cheeks and rustled the golden layers of his sweat-drenched hair. Grains of sand blew inside his robes, armor, and boots; irritating his skin and reddening his eyes. On several occasions, the sand made his eyes swollen and infected. Illness and disease struck the camp like wildfire; wiping out twenty of his men in a span of two weeks. Remnants of dried blood and dirt caked on his surcoat and armor from the heat. He had just finished helping some of his men bury the bodies of their comrades. The battle over, he awaited the Vatican's orders.
Desperate to find relief from the relentless sun, he stepped inside the shelter of a spacious tent. A fine red rug covered the ground beneath his feet. To his left was a modest bed; to his right a wooden table covered with books, parchment, and several dozen maps. He gave the maps a glance, noting the familiar inky black handwriting scrawled upon the parchment. The maps were littered with markers and notes penned calculatingly and without the slightest misjudgment. Mathias never wrote anything down unless he was certain of his accuracy. His friend spent hours hunched over a table, quill in hand, checking, and re-checking his calculations. Upon their initial meeting years previously, Mathias' intensity and caution initially annoyed the hasty honor-driven knight.
"You spend days planning out a single assault, asking yourself whether the odds are more favorable if the wind blows from the east against us, or whether attacking at midday would be more advantageous than at nightfall! Surely, victory is not dependent on the condition of the weather, but rather, on the bravery of the men?"
During his first encounter with Mathias years past, he was young and reckless and too naïve to understand his friend's taste for battle was seasoned by years studying the failures and assumptions of their enemies. Mathias warned him that the heathens might expect them to attack at nightfall, for Leon had ordered them to do so numerous times previously. Leon remembered the tactician's reply well:
"Attacking at midday could be foolish! They will easily see us approaching, and retaliate immediately. Daytime promises nothing but desert sands drenched in the blood of our own men."
Mathias reassured him of another plan. Thus, three days hence, they instigated a skirmish at midday. The battle lasted hours, with men falling on each side, and ending in his company's deliberate retreat. Anger had surged through his veins when he confronted Lord Cronqvist about his ambiguous intentions. Mathias' dark eyes looked upon him fleetingly, and without the slightest indication of regret, the man instructed him to attack again at nightfall. Leon reluctantly followed the tactician's advice, amidst protests from his men, only to realize that the battle-weary group of heathens camped were not expecting a second assault. Most of the heathen soldiers were drunk and reveling in a premature victory. Under veiling darkness, Leon's company surrounded the encampment and victory was swiftly theirs. From that day onward, he never questioned Mathias' judgment again.
Other hard-fought battle were won over their five-year campaign, due in part to Leon's leadership in battle, and Mathias' strategic planning. Although a knight, Mathias was more skilled with a pen than a sword. When Leon's gaze lifted from the maps, his attention fell upon his friend seated at his desk, clutching a letter. Mathias' opaque eyes stared intensely at the letter. A faint trace of a smile creased the corners of his smooth lips, whilst thick waves of chocolate colored hair slinked across his shoulders and back when his head lifted, and he rose to greet him. The tactician's forest-green robes flowed around his feet. Leon could not understand why Mathias wore heavy garments amidst such terrible heat. Whenever he and Mathias met, the tactician expressed a reserved but candid disposition.
Leon was not familiar with every nuance of Mathias' history, but he knew his friend was extremely well-educated, even more so than himself. Few people were gifted enough to study with the most respected intellects of their time. Born into a privileged and widely admired family, Mathias spent his early years studying at various monasteries across Europe, learning to read, write, and speak English, Latin, and Greek, while studying the works ancient philosophers and Christian scriptures. The church recognized Mathias' brilliant mind and sought to nurture his talents. Mathias eventually studied at universities in Rome and Athens where he quickly became renowned for his expertise in medicine, history, and science. Everything Mathias did was in the name of God. To Leon, Mathis was as devout a Christian as the church's patron saints. Mathias spoke of God often, praising Him for giving him the most precious gift ever known to him: his wife, Elisabetha.
The moment Leon sensed Mathias' joy; he knew the source of the tactician's happiness. "Welcome, Leon." Mathias' voice trembled briefly, until he caught himself, and bowed his head. "I was not expecting you, though the day brings good news, which I am certain you will wish to hear."
Leon stared at his friend, taken aback, but interested. He bowed his head, confessing his returned enthusiasm with a smile, while trying to ignore the faintness he felt even though he was shaded from the sun. "I don't think I have seen you this happy in months, my friend." He replied, chuckling in spite his discomfort from the heat. "What news do you speak of? Believe me, I shall be glad to hear it. The dead are buried, but I can still catch the scent of their blood in the air. Although our men are weary, they are ready, should the Pope require our protection near the battlements further west. I considered asking whether or not you received word from Rome?"
"Indeed, I have." Mathias lifted his left hand, presenting the letter like a prize. "We have fought honorably, and our victory has created new hope for the Church. The Pope is pleased with our efforts; he specifically wishes to speak with you upon our return to Europe. A fortnight from hence we are instructed to depart."
"We will return to Europe?" Leon gave the man a stunned look, and his lucid blue spheres widened. "I thought we were to remain here for another year? This is quite sudden, but perhaps a blessing, nonetheless."
"Our progress has led to insurmountable successes elsewhere. We have been away from our homes for too long, tis' time for our company to fulfill God's will not only through defeating His enemies, but through living and doing His work. I thought the Pope's letter would bring you relief?"
"I assure you, I am glad to hear it, Mathias." Leon could barely believe what was happening. Within six month's time, green fields would replace the cruel desert sands. Without thinking, he hurried toward the other desk and attempted to sort through the stacks of maps, searching for an extra quill and unused parchment with the impatience of a child. All the while, his mood lightened considerably. "I will write to Sara immediately and inform her of my impending return. I promised her I would return again, and I shall make her wait no longer, for she has been patient and faithful during my absence."
"I knew you would be eager to write to your betrothed," Mathias answered, his dark eyes glinting slightly as he withdrew a quill from his robe pocket and offered it to him. "You have done well, Leon. Thanks to your efforts, victory is ours. Out enemies' recent loss indicates they will be unable to regroup their forces for some time. Most of their surviving soldiers have scattered far into the badlands."
"Without your planning, victory could not have been possible. I am in your debt, old friend." A smile spread across Leon's lips and he bowed. Locks of golden hair splayed against his damp cheeks whilst he withdrew a breath and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. His fair skin gleamed with perspiration; which burned rather than tanned in the penetrating sunlight.
Mathias did not smile in return, though Leon could sense his friend was in good spirits. Nevertheless, he could have sworn to have seen the corners of the tactician's fine lips lift, his dark eyes tracing the knight's fervor with silent interest. Waves of dark brown hair cascaded across his shoulders when he turned and ushered to a nearby chair. "Would you care to share a glass of wine with me, Leon? Though your duties bind you to our men, perhaps, you could allow for but a moment's time to revel in our fortune. Alas, such times have been few till now."
"It would be an honour." Leon bowed his head, overtaken by the fact that Sara's graceful smile would once again bless him upon his return. He seated himself in the chair; Mathias sitting down in the chair at his desk across from him. The tactician lifted up a small crate beside the desk and withdrew a bottle of wine and two goblets.
Without a word, Leon watched his friend uncork the bottle and pour claret colored liquid into each glass. "Are you not looking forward to returning home, Mathias?" Leon asked, his blue eyes focusing on the tactician.
"I dream of nothing more." Mathias paused. Initially, it seemed like his dark eyes would reveal nothing of his thoughts to the inquisitive knight. However, he added cheerfully. "I wonder when Lady Trantoul shall become your wife, for she has waited a year since you asked for her hand at the tender age of sixteen. Will you make her wait longer still? Perhaps I shall drag you to the alter myself."
"Ah, yes – the wedding. You know I would never forget, nor would I willingly delay marrying such a beautiful and gentle creature as Lady Trantoul. I regret that she must wait in fear for me; and I believe her brave fidelity makes her far worthier of praise and honor than I."
A smile spread across Mathias' lips as he handed Leon a goblet and raised his in a toast, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Then let us toast not to our victory, but to Lady Trantoul, the unfortunate lady who must endure you for the remainder of her life! I pity the woman awaiting such a reckless knight; guided by his heart rather than sense!"
"Your wit knows no bounds, Mathias!" Leon shot back, chuckling, as they clinked their goblets. "Do not incline me to remind you about that time you found a scorpion in your bed-"
Mathias took an uneasy sip of wine, his smile broadening. "Let us call this a stalemate, shall we?"
Like Leon, Mathias was fair, for he the protection of the tent shielded him from the scorching heat. Mathias seldom left the tent, unless travelling was necessary. Even while traveling, the tactician was extremely sensitive to the heat and the light. Leon used to ride his horse close to Mathias' during their journeys, for on at least three occasions, his comrade succumbed to the heat and fainted. Although Mathias' skills made him essential, the possibility of losing him to the harsh desert climate troubled Leon, and from henceforth, he insisted his friend shelter himself inside one of the canvas-covered supply caravans whenever they moved.
Leon often sought Mathias' council. The tactician was ten years older than the twenty-one year old knight and more experienced. During their brief months away from the east, Mathias invited him to be a guest at his estate for months on end, to which Leon obliged. Together, they often strolled through the gardens of Mathias' estate, discussing politics, the war, domestic affairs, and - during one instance – their beloveds. Mathias' steps were slow and methodical; Leon's light and deliberate. The tactician and knight contrasted and complimented one another simultaneously.
The first time Leon met Mathias' wife, the lady's serene eyes absorbed him completely, and her beautiful, porcelain white skin made her seem almost ethereal. Elisabetha's voice was gentle and soft. The lady had bowed her head the first time they met, her sun-kissed hair tumbling across her shoulders and back, a modest smile pressing across her petal-like lips as she welcomed him into their home. Only when Elisabetha was with Mathias could Leon sense the profoundness of his friend's affection. In Elisabetha's presence, the tactician's careful gaze became animated, and her very presence seemed to breathe new life into his soul. One evening, Leon happened to be returning to his chambers, and caught sight of Mathias and Lady Cronqvist sitting together on a bench in the garden. The lady's long, gold and white colored dress flowed around her like the robes of a seraph, whilst her head rested against her husband's shoulder. Leon could hear Mathias speaking to her, but his friend's voice was barely audible, and he did not wish to intrude upon his host's private affairs. Nevertheless, during his stays at Mathias' estate, Leon never doubted the man's devotion to his wife for an instant. Even when God took their souls, he was certain Lord Cronqvist would find her again in heaven, for nothing seemed able to separate them.
Barely a week after receiving orders bounding their company homeward, the arrival of another letter destroyed the tactician's sanguinity in an instant. Leon remembered that night all too well. One of his guards awoke him from his slumber and informed him that the tactician had fallen into a sudden bout of hysterics. The very notion of Mathias' calm reserve failing made the knight hasten to his friend's tent with lightning-like speed. Leon tossed aside the flap covering the tent door and his eyes were blinded by the light of a lantern on the desk. Parchment and maps were scattered across the floor of the tent; wooden chests overturned and their contents strewn haphazardly throughout. Mathias was hunched over in front of his writing table. The man's back was turned and one hand rested on top of the desk, his long hair curtaining his face from view. Leon had stood in the entrance of the tent for a moment, too stunned to move, his bright blue eyes widening in concern. He watched Mathias' other hand lift to his brow in dismay.
The tactician did not even hear the knight arrive, or if he did, initially took no notice of Leon's presence until the young man spoke. "Lord Cronqvist, are you all right? What has happened?"
A long time of silence passed and Leon dare not move or pursue an answer quickly, lest he cause his friend further distress. Mathias did not turn around, though Leon noticed that the tactician trembled slightly. Then, as if time was suddenly important, Mathias turned, revealing his ghostly pale visage. Clutched in one of the tactician's hands was a letter, and his grip upon the object was so rigid that his knuckles turned white. Mathias' once dark, calm eyes fell upon the knight, their intensity trapping Leon's voice in his throat. When the tactician spoke, his voice was barely audible. "Elisabetha…is stricken by illness. I-I must go to her, immediately…"
"She is ill?" Leon repeated, feeling the muscles in his arms and shoulders tense. The knight's azure colored eyes widened whilst he studied Mathias, alarmed by his friend's stricken expression. Mathias had always been a composed man; but now, his calm was held by nary a thread. After drawing a breath, he continued. "I understand if you must leave at once, and I shall accompany you. You need not bear this unfortunate circumstance alone, Mathias."
The tactician stared at him, his dark hollow eyes tracing Leon's face. The dim light from the lantern cast a shadow across Mathias' handsome visage, half-shrouding his fine features in light and shadow. Suddenly, and perhaps without realizing it, his fingers clenched, and the note crumpled in his fist. Pain etched across the tactician's face so plainly that Leon felt an ache well inside his heart – for he was helpless to relive his friend's distress.
Mathias' head lowered, and voice fell to a whisper. "I...I should have been there for her, when she needed me most. Every day she grows weaker; I would sacrifice a thousand lifetimes in this world for her to be well again. Tis'…too soon-"
"Speak no more, friend." Leon interrupted, unwilling to allow the man to fall so quickly into despairing thoughts. "I will have our men ready our horses and supplies. We shall return as swiftly as the beasts will carry us, and hope will be our guiding star along the way. There is nothing more you can do, now."
Mathias shook his head. "Nothing more…I will remain by her side until she recovers. I will not leave her again, for too long has duty parted us, and death shall not have its victory. God will spare her, for I have served Him as devoutly as Christ's disciples have, and I ask for nothing more than His mercy."
"I will pray for you and your wife." Leon bowed his head. The journey to Mathias' estate would be a long and difficult one. No matter how exhausting it was, they would press on. If Sara were to fall ill, Mathias would have accompanied him just the same.
The evening they rode onto the grounds of Lord Cronqvist's estate, the dying sun shone behind them, its dim light shadowing them as their horses ground to a half before the manor's entrance. Lord Cronqvist's attendants met them immediately, though their faces were sullen, and a strange tension hung in the air. Without greeting them, Mathias dismounted and swept inside the manor, his long forest green robes trailing behind him as he went. The tactician's steps, once leisurely, were swift and urgent. Leon accompanied the tactician like a loyal dog, his bright blue eyes gleaming anxiously as they passed through the manor's candlelit halls. Long tendrils of chestnut colored hair floated around Mathias' paling face as he went, whist his lips whispered earnest prayers. One of the tactician's hands grasped onto a silver cross necklace strung about his neck. The tactician was weary from months of travelling, and neither man knew how long it had taken them to arrive at the estate, even though time was precious and always against them. Mathias seemed to forget everything except his beloved.
Upon reaching Lady Cronqvist's bedchambers, her servants attempted to prevent them from entering. The women bowed deeply, and their eyes were downcast. Leon halted behind Mathias, immediately sensing the urgency behind their insistence. However, Mathias would yield to no one, and swept passed them, ignoring their pleas for him to desist. The tactician's voice trembled, and his wide eyes shone with fear. His only thoughts were of his wife, and the very air he breathed seemed to be for her alone. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "Elisabetha-"
Leon lifted his hand to his brow and was unable to speak. Nothing he could say would ease the tactician's desperate desire to be with his wife. In that moment, the knight could only look on powerlessly.
The servants' fatal truth shattered all hope. "Milord, Lady Cronqvist…departed this world nary an hour ago. The last word she spoke was your name."
Mathias did not breathe a word in response. Without looking at the servants, he flung the door open and rushed to his wife's bedside. Lady Cronqvist lay in bed, her eyes lightly closed in eternal sleep. Locks of wavy golden hair framed her soft, beautiful face. The lady's delicate hands rested upon her breast. She was so still and pale that even heaven's seraphs might have mourned her passing. Mathias kneeled at her bedside, and pressed her porcelain hand to his lips. Leon barely retained his composure as he watched Mathias; hearing the man's voice whispering her name repeatedly in a desperate plea for her to awaken. All the color drained from the tactician's face as his other hand touched her cheek, feeling her cold, damp flesh beneath his fingertips as affirmation of her passing.
It was difficult for Leon to fathom that barely an hour earlier, life had flowed through Lady Cronqvist's veins, and that she passed away the very evening of her husband's arrival. But as the knight saw her now, she lay unmoving; her soul destined for heaven. Grief washed across Mathias' face as he gently stroked her hair. Tears rolled down the tactician's cheeks until at last, his calm veil disappeared, and he wept.
Leon wanted to remain with Mathias but decided it would be more respectful to allow his friend to mourn in solitude. A gloom shadowed Lord Cronqvist's manor like a dark specter as Leon retreated into the solar room. The knight watched the servants walk about the halls and draw the curtains over the windows in each room, casting the once bright and vibrant estate beneath a dark shroud in obedience to their master's sullen request. Days passed, and Leon scarcely saw sunlight, except when he dared to venture onto the balcony to escape the shadows he reluctantly dwelled within. A priest had given Lady Cronqvist her last rites before her passing, and Leon found some comfort in knowing God would welcome her soul into heaven.
On a cloudy afternoon, the day before Lady Cronqvist was to be buried, Leon remained in darkened solar room; the fireplace alit, and a candle burning on the table beside the chair in which he sat. He tried to read a book but could not concentrate long enough before his thoughts drifted to Mathias. When he could not read, he attempted to draft a letter to Sara explaining the tragedy that had befallen Lord Cronqvist. It pained Leon to have to delay their wedding yet again, but he could not marry while Mathias grieved the loss of his wife. Although the young man did not doubt Sara would understand the circumstances, his hand shook when he tried to write and the letter was illegible. Eventually, he decided to give up the task, and sat staring into the crackling embers of the fireplace, lost within his thoughts.
Sometime later, the sound of familiar footsteps approaching startled Leon. It was difficult to see Mathias within the poorly lit room, but he caught sight of the tactician's pallid face the moment he entered. Mathias' steps were heavy and his hollow eyes focused upon the knight intensely. A haggard and gloomy air accompanied the tactician, so much so that Leon could almost feel it from where he was. Without greeting him, Mathias swept across the room and collapsed by the fire, his hands hanging limply over the arms of his chair. Mathias' eyes gazed listlessly into the flames, his frame statue-like and fragile in appearance. The tactician was so haggard that Leon almost feared, if he dare breathe a word, the man would crumble into dust. There was no doubt in the knight's mind that his friend had not slept in days. The tactician's glossy brown hair rested carelessly against his shoulders and back in untidy waves. Insomnia had made Mathias' eyes sunken and his movements languid. The tactician exchanged his dark green robes for black out of mourning, and his grieving state haunted Leon to the point that the knight felt compelled to look away. Nothing he said could bring Elisabetha back.
However, Leon refused to leave his grieving friend. In an attempt to comfort the tactician, he spoke softly. "I…I am sorry, Mathias. You have my sincerest condolences. If…there is anything I can do, do not hesitate to ask, for I will do whatever I can to assist you through this difficult time…"
Words seemed useless. The knight did not know what more he could say, for Mathias continued to stare endlessly into the fire without even batting an eyelid or daring to acknowledge him with a glance. Leon took a moment to collect his thoughts, his face paling when silence consumed them. Frustration filled the knight whilst he reflected upon his inability to console his friend, but he had no other option except to continue reassuring him.
"There was nothing you could do."
Silence.
Mathias continued to stare into the flames, his mysterious, empty eyes flickering for a moment. Shadows danced across the tactician's face, veiling his thoughts. Leon shook his head while his watery blue eyes surveyed his friend in concern. "You do not look well," he added softly. "Perhaps you should rest and recover your strength. I will continue to pray for you, my friend. May God watch over you and help you find her soul again."
Suddenly, Mathias seemed to become alert to what the knight said, and his eyes diverted from the fire to Leon. For the first time, the tactician looked sharply at his friend, and his lips curled into a deep frown. Then, without warning, Mathias bolted from his chair. Leon startled but did not move , for the intensity of his friend's gaze left him in a stunned silence. Anger filtered through the tactician's eyes when he at last spoke. Mathias' voice was solemn despite the emotions churning beneath his wan exterior. The tactician wrung his hands as he replied bitterly.
"God? What God do you speak of? The God you mention is undeserving of any prayer, for His cruelty and greed knows no bounds. My wife's death…happened because God would not spare her, not even for one of his most devout servants. Damn God to oblivion, or perhaps myself instead. God would not save her life, and thus, He will not save my soul. I shall worship Him no longer, He who stole her into the next world, tearing her from me without the slightest care.
The devil himself should be absolved, for God is the true deceiver, and I lament the innocence He pilfered from me like a thief, the innocence I would cherish till my dying breath, for she was my life, and all that I am and am no more. The love of God is falsehood spread by lying tongues; as dangerous as snakes that lurk within the shadows waiting to trap their prey, like priests luring worshippers within the church. I now understand my fate, for I am but a pawn, a token to be played and cast aside when my use is no longer of value. I, who endured the horror of His corrupt holy land; blood and death tarnish forever the souls of men who murdered and died in His name.
My hands drip with the crimson stain of my sins. I who left love behind for glory, now regret His fallacy and am damned forever to solitude in a world full of hate. The God you speak of lovingly in prayer; whose grasping hands tear the soul from the body, as Eve when she took the forbidden fruit from the tree of life, binds me no longer within his iron grip. I, the stray lamb, will forge my own destiny whether it is by His will or not."
As Mathias spoke, Leon's face turned a shade of white, and his hands gripped the arms of his chair as though he were shackled to it like a prisoner. He stared at his friend, whose anger and pain rose to the surface with the intensity of a storm. The passion in the tactician's voice both repulsed and fascinated Leon, whose heart ached from his friend's anguish and rebuke, which had then believed was insincere. The knight observed Mathias' pale visage and weakened frame sympathetically. When the tactician fell into silence, Leon placed a hand to his brow, and replied gently.
"Alas, you seem to be fraught with hysterics, which is by no fault of your own. Lack of sleep has made you weary and troubled, dear friend. If God is truly a deceiver; why then, would he bless you with Elisabetha and her love? Tis' true, the work of God is incomprehensible to man, and we blame Him for not revealing His secrets even though we are unworthy of knowing them. God has given you precious gifts, which you scorn in the fury of your hate, without realizing grief's power to cloud the mind and distort the heart. Cherish the memory of ones you loved, for one day you shall see them again, for God promises salvation from the darkness of this world.
Tis' men who are corrupt, like Judas who exchanged Christ's life for silver, man bargains with the devil; blood, sin, and revenge is all we will receive in return from the one who rebuked Him. If only you could see that love, compassion, and selflessness are God's gifts to man, and despite the fact our world is wrought with temptation, we can choose not to succumb to despair. Men of doubt say the Bible is nothing more than contradictions written by sinners, but such men are also full of contradictions and sin, so which is truth? The gentle lamb is vulnerable and harmless; whilst the snake slithers on its belly, ready to poison man with its false-speaking tongue and venomous denunciations.
Perhaps I am a pawn, and perhaps I am not; though I believe I do God's work, and should my actions result in sin, may He judge and forgive my indiscretions, for we ultimately choose whether to enter heaven's gates or be cast into the dark abyss. Even if the abyss swallows us, God shall forgive, and the repentant sinner can regain salvation because of His love. Though you may stray, the shepherd watches over His flock, and will guide you back if you seek Him out. I cannot place blame upon you for doubting because I am not invulnerable to sorrow and anger, even though I have faith in Him. Do not despair, Mathias, I will not abandon you in your time of grief. May my strength be yours."
To this, Mathias gave little in reply, except to whisper. "Though you speak with a benevolent and faithful heart, I wonder if your compassion could withstand a loss as great as my own…"
"What do you mean?" Leon answered, attempting to perceive the thoughts veiled beneath the tactician's ambiguous gaze.
Mathias withdrew to the doorway. Leon was about to rise from his chair in protest until the tactician turned around and replied enigmatically. "I am weary and will retire to my chambers. Think no more this. I must have had a spell; a misjudgment brought about by grief and nothing more. Forgive me, Leon."
"Ask nothing of me, for it is already forgotten, my friend. The profoundness of your sorrow is understandable, and I shall cause you no further distress. Should you need me, I will be at your services."
"I thank you." Mathias' voice was faint, and his face turned a shade paler still, though his eyes remained sharp and watchful.
Leon tried not to be troubled by his friend's change of mood and bowed his head, bidding him good night.
When he looked up, Mathias was gone.
Leon remembered the day when he stood before red-cloaked holy men, beseeching their permission to fight the creatures invading his domain a year after the death of Lady Cronqvist. Monsters he once thought were mere figments of legend set fire to his fields, butchered his livestock, and several servants. Winged hippogriffs soared through the sky; while long-dead skeletons rose from their graves and clubbed his vassal to death. The man had been out on an evening stroll, completely unaware of the creatures' presence until it was too late.
Were it not for Leon's own intervention, his estate would have been burnt to the ground. Though he forced the monsters to retreat from the Belmont's domain, the demons traversed into nearby villages attacking and stalking peasants as they went. Every night, people lived in constant fear or escaped to neighboring regions. The demons only appeared at night, came in droves, and left a path of destruction in their wake. Despite his valiance, Leon was unable to stop the monsters' nightly reappearances in his domain. The situation became critical, and he had no choice except to seek the council of his ill friend, Lord Cronqvist, who clung to life by a thread. Nary a four days after the attacks, Baron Belmont received an urgent letter from Lord Cronqvist. Leon did not want to leave amidst so much chaos and uncertainty, but Mathias insisted it was of utmost importance, and he set off for Lord Cronqvist's estate immediately.
Since Elisabetha's death, the tactician grieved deeply and succumbed to illness. Several doctors visited Lord Cronqvist and concluded that his four humors were out of balance. The doctors insisted that Lord Cronqvist had too much black bile within him, which explained the man's illness and distraught state. However, bloodletting seemed to only make Mathias' condition worse, and eventually, he was almost too weak to walk. Leon feared for his friend every day since the tactician lost his wife. He wrote Mathias often, but rarely received letters back. Sadness welled within Leon whenever he thought about his friend.
Barely a few weeks after Elisabetha's death a year ago, obligation forced Leon to return to the east – without Mathias. During his time in the desert, the dry, barren lands were more lonely and brutal than ever before. Leon fought bravely in the name of his grief-stricken friend, and his company became legendary because of their unblemished victories. Nevertheless, victory was empty without Mathias' presence, and the only thing the knight wanted was to return home. Leon felt he left Mathias when the man needed him most, all the while, Sara waited for him, never knowing if she would see him again.
It was a bitterly cold evening when he arrived at Lord Cronqvist's estate. When he walked through the entranceway, darkness enveloped him, and only candlelight illuminated the manor's stately hallways and rooms. Although exhausted from the journey, he immediately sought out Mathias. "Does Lord Cronqvist still insist that daylight never enter his home?" Leon asked the servant escorting him to Mathias' chambers.
The servant nodded gravely as they walked through the manor's dark, catacomb-like hallways. The only thing lighting their path was the servant's candlestick. The servant was a stout, red-faced woman with a firm but candid nature. His presence was undoubtedly welcome; most likely a much-needed distraction from the gloom surrounding the manor and its occupants.
"Yes, milord. Lord Cronqvist has not seen daylight since the death of his dearest." She replied, huffing and puffing as they walked. For every step Leon took, the woman had to take two extra to stay in front of him, even though the Baron was not in a hurry. As they walked, she continued:
"You might be shocked by Lord Cronqvist's looks now; he's so pale he almost blends in with the bed sheets. Poor soul can't even eat properly anymore, I swear he shan't live too long this way. Why, recently, he refused to let anyone see him at all! No one knew if he was alive or dead; the door was locked from the inside an' he ordered us to let him alone for over a week. Before that, he asked that we leave a heavy stock of food an' water in his chamber. Lord Cronqvist was terribly gloomy an' claimed us servants were disturbing his rest comin' in all the time. No one heard anything – not even a sound; I'm sure a church mouse would have been louder than milord, for the door never opened an' nothin' was requested of us. I feared he was dead, an' sent for a priest from the local monastery, for our Lord only knows what happens to a soul if it doesn't get the last rites before it leaves the body! Beg your pardon, milord, but disease hasn't been too kind to the simple folk around these parts, and we didn't know if Lord Cronqvist's condition was going to take us all with him in death or not. Lord forgive me for sayin' that, but we've got it hard enough already. The lady's death was a terrible blow, that no one disputes, an' I feel sorry for milord, he's like a songbird that's lost its mate. Whenever I see him now, he looks as if death already took him."
"I see." Leon did not know what else to say. His reply seemed feeble, and his head lowered.
"Don't you get like that now, milord!" The woman looked over her shoulder at him, her voice almost stern, though well intentioned. "We've got our hands full with one sick man; I don't think we could handle another. This place is so gloomy you needn't stay inside too long, it'll get to you if you forget there's a world beyond these walls. Beg pardon again, milord, I'm not good at keepin' me thoughts to meself, it's been so long since Lord Cronqvist allowed a visitor."
"Your concerns are understandable, and I take no offence." Leon's voice softened when they neared Mathias' chamber. Although he was in no mood for conversation, Lord Cronqvist's profound depression alarmed him.
When the servant led him before the door, she turned sharply around, her eyes meeting his. It was unusual of a person of lower standing to look nobility in the eye, but her stance was tense, and her voice lowered to a whisper. "Milord, Lord Cronqvist demands that the curtains in his room are to remain permanently closed during the daytime. Lord Cronqvist was insistent, and stated he would be very displeased if his wishes weren't respected."
"Very well," The crusader nodded acquiescently.
"An' one more thing," The woman continued, "Milord asked that only one candle light the room, he doesn't like too much light, for it makes him irritable and unable to sleep. It's very important, you see, that nothing cause milord any distress."
"I understand," Leon replied. A strange feeling of apprehension washed over him. "Do not worry, I will adhere to Lord Cronqvist's orders. Thank you for your services. You may go now."
"As you wish, Baron Belmont."
Leon stood alone in the corridor staring at the closed door in front of him. It had been scarcely more than a year since he last saw Mathias. The reunion would have been joyous, were his friend not in poor health and mourning. The knight drew a breath, feeling his shoulders tense while he slowly, and as quietly as possible, opened the door to Mathias' chambers.
The room was so dark, that if it had not been for a solitary candle on the nightstand, he would not have been able to see. The candle's soft orange light cast a dim glow across the room. Leon's azure colored eyes focused upon a thin shape lying in the bed. It took the crusader a few seconds to discern that the bed's occupant was Mathias.
The tactician was lying on his back, his hands resting lifelessly by his side, whilst thick, locks of his russet colored hair splayed across the feathered pillow on which his head rested. Leon blinked, trying to adjust to the lack of light, whilst he remained in the doorway, gazing sympathetically at the worn, fragile man who once seemed invulnerable. Despite the many battles Lord Cronqvist fought in his lifetime, grief and illness were the only opponents he was unable to defeat.
Leon stepped inside the room and seated himself in an empty chair near the tactician's bedside. The crusader's eyes widened when he caught a closer look at Lord Cronqvist. The man's skin was truly pale and devoid of its former color. For a moment, Leon feared his friend had died, for Mathias was almost statue-like in his sleep. The knight hesitantly reached out, his breath trapped inside his lungs, and lightly touched the surface of the tactician's hand. Upon brushing his fingers across Mathias' skin, a chill flooded through Leon. The pallid flesh was like that of a corpse – cold. When he tried to pull away, a deathly white hand seized his wrist.
A low, quiet voice broke the silence. "Leon…?"
Leon had difficulty associating Mathias' voice with the sickly, wan looking figure lying in the bed. Despite Lord Cronqvist's weakened state, his grip upon the knight's wrist was firm. Mathias' opaque eyes scanned him carefully, their unexpected intensity contrasting his wan exterior. At first, Leon was too stunned to move. He simply gazed upon Mathias, his blue eyes shining in the candlelight whilst distorted shadows flickered across the walls of the room. Although only seconds passed before he responded, it felt like hours, for time seemed to halt in the dimly lit chamber.
After regaining himself, Leon gently acknowledged his friend. "Yes, Lord Cronqvist, it is I. I am here, at last."
The tactician only nodded weakly. After confirming to whom the familiar voice belonged, he whispered faintly. "Then…it is not too late…"
Leon stared blankly at his friend. At first, he wondered if the man was feverish, and considered leaving to find the servant woman tending him. However, the urgency in Mathias' eyes compelled the crusader to remain by his side. Mathias' hand refused to let go of his wrist, and he did not want to distress him further. "I do not understand…" he answered. "It was not my intention to disturb you, though I am greatly worried, Mathias. We have endured so much together, and I have learned more from you than anyone else known to me. It pains me to see you ill, bedridden, and diminished of all hope and strength. Not a day goes by where I do not regret your grief and the passing of Lady Cronqvist. The church obligated me to return to the east, but I shall never journey there again if you cannot accompany me and fight by my side. I wish to stay here until you are well, but a terrible curse has befallen my domain, and I know not why-"
"I know, Leon." Mathias began, his dark eyes glinting in the shadows.
Leon almost froze, but forced his lips to move, his eyes widening. "You know?" He repeated, trying to make sense of the fact that the tactician was well aware of the events plaguing his home. He had not informed Mathias about the attacks prior to his departure but the man seemed to know everything before he could explain. The knight's face paled.
"You must listen to me," Mathias added weakly. "There is still time…precious little time…but enough, perhaps, before it is too late…" The tactician attempted to sit up, his thin frame shifting in a feeble desire to move, but his strength appeared to leave him and he fell back against the pillow. A soft groan escaped the man's lips whilst he released his hold upon the knight's wrist. Mathias' eyes were bright and alert. However, his face was solemn, for his energy was fleeting.
Leon fell silent until his friend's head rested against the pillow once more. He could not bear to see Lord Cronqvist in such a pitiable condition, but he was uncertain of how long Mathias could hold on to what little strength he had left. With a sigh, the knight replied. "I do not understand…"
"A few days before your return," Mathias began, "Lord Trantoul sent an urgent letter informing me that his daughter was abducted-"
"Abducted?" A gasp fled the knight's lips as he bolted from the chair. His heart thumped rapidly against his ribcage and the darkness seemed to enclose around him in that fatal moment. Sara. Abducted – by whom and why? He could not fathom why anyone would wish to harm such a gentle, loving soul as she. The young man's cerulean eyes focused upon the tactician earnestly. When the initial shock faded, anger ripped through his heart, and his voice trembled in disbelief. "How could this happen? Why did Lord Trantoul not write to me-"
"The Trantoul family was unable to contact you during your journey." Mathias shook his head, his chapped, dry lips forming into a frown. The tactician seemed indifferent to the crusader's distress; his voice did not falter in the slightest. "The three couriers sent by the Trantoul family disappeared and no one knows their whereabouts. Lord Trantoul entreated me to inform you as soon as possible."
"Why did you not simply tell me about Sara's abduction in your message?" Leon gave the tactician an incredulous glare. Although he admired Mathias' reserved disposition, he could not withhold his emotions as skillfully.
Lord Cronqvist looked away apologetically. As if sensing his friend's displeasure, he then added.
"There was more I needed to tell you. I promise, what I have to say could not be explained in a mere letter, Leon."
"Why not?" The knight retorted, trying to avoid sounding ungrateful.
Sara was gone – kidnapped by an unknown assailant – and the issue of monsters invading his domain suddenly seemed insignificant. The only thing that mattered was Sara. He feared for her more than he had feared for anything in his life, even more than himself. If there was a ransom, he would pay it without question. Perhaps, her abductor was trying to blackmail the Belmont family? But he could think of no reason why someone would attempt blackmail, since his family's honor had always been flawless in the eyes of the court and church. He wondered if perhaps, the Trantoul family had a long-standing debt, hidden scandal, or transgression that someone wished to blackmail them with. Yet, when he met Lord Trantoul, the man's honest character contradicted any doubt in his mind. However, Lady Trantoul was of an almost completely different disposition than her husband. Lady Trantoul was rarely at her husband's estate, though when she was, her flippantness often created conflict between her and her husband. But the idea that Lady Trantoul would hire someone to kidnap her own daughter made no sense, for he did not believe her to possess the cunning to do so, and Leon found himself at a loss.
"Hold your calm, and I shall explain." In an attempt to reassure him, Mathias lifted his head and tried to move. After much effort, he managed to sit up in bed, though the exertion made him breathless. Locks of long, chestnut colored hair tumbled across his shoulders, partially curtaining his face until he turned his head to look at Leon. "If you wish to find Sara, I beg you, listen to me for I may be able to provide some assistance. You were to marry Lord Trantoul's daughter immediately after your return, were you not?"
"Yes, I sent you several letters regarding our marriage." Leon sank uneasily down into his chair. Memories of Sara flooded through his mind. Just when he returned to marry at last, everything fell apart. With a sorrowful sigh, he focused upon his friend. Countless times Mathias proved his loyalty and dedication as a friend and as a tactician. Now, Leon needed Lord Cronqvist more than ever, and the man's presence somewhat consoled him. Nevertheless, the tactician's ashen skin and brooding disposition made Leon anxious. "You are too ill to travel and I did not want to proceed without your consent. You are still in mourning, and I feared disrespecting you. I was grateful for your blessing even though my heart still wished you could join me that momentous day."
"Alas, you make me regret my illness." Mathias' eyes glinted while he lifted his hand, covering his brow for a moment, until the sight of Leon's sorrowful expression urged him to refrain from delaying. "Despite my weakness, I may yet still be able to help you find Sara." When the knight merely looked at him in desperation, the tactician continued gravely. "The very same night your lady was abducted, relatives of the Trantoul clan were invited to attend the wedding, and had almost reached the estate – though tragedy intervened."
"What happened?" Leon shifted uneasily in the chair while feeling of dread ripped through him when the tactician hesitated.
"The relatives and attendants of Lord Trantoul's wife were butchered and left for dead…no witnesses remain to describe the murderer."
"What?" Leon gasped, his eyes widening into saucers from the unexpected turn of events. Everything he cared about was disintegrating before his very eyes and he felt helpless to stop it. His head lowered as he pressed a hand against his forehead in frustration and grief. "Who could have done such a thing?"
"I may have the answer you seek." Mathias' voice lowered to a whisper. The man's elegant features gleamed in the candlelight.
Upon hearing his friend's words, Leon fell completely still. Questions raced through his mind while Mathias stared at him. The man's pale face was oddly unnerving. Leon remembered sitting and talking with Mathias well into the night, right until the first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon. There was a time when Mathias smiled and laughed out of amusement over the younger knight's keen intellect and naive curiosity. Leon thought of no other man more honorable than Lord Cronqvist, though their innocent days together were long past. The knight felt no need to ask, for Mathias' cold expression revealed more grim conversation was yet to come. With a sigh, the tactician's ghostly hand reached and touched the base of Leon's chin, lifting his head, and beckoning the young man to look him in the eye. The moment Mathias touched him, it took Leon all of his willpower to avoid flinching. The tactician's skin was so cold that a shudder ran through his body, and he felt his own face lose some of its color. Mathias' penetrating opaque eyes clashed against the crusader's azure blue.
When the knight's obedience satisfied the tactician, Mathias breathed a heavy sigh. "Do you trust my judgment, Leon?"
"You have been a good friend to me, and I trust no one more." Leon answered, the confidence in his voice not feigning for an instant.
Mathias' hand slipped from the knight's chin to his neck, his fingers brushing lightly across the flawless skin of Leon's throat. "When I heard you were returning from the east, I knew you fought honorably in my stead. You have learned a great deal from me, since our company remains undefeatable, even during my absence. I believe something far more perilous will test the limits of your skills. Thus, I shall ask you only this: do you believe immortality is possible?"
"I have seen skeletons rise from their graves and walk the earth as if alive. Immortality is something I have been forced to accept as reality."
"The immortality I speak of is similar to the kind you mentioned, though not the same." Mathias almost appeared to be amused by the young man's response. The tactician struggled to lift his back off the pillow and pushed the blankets covering him away. Lord Cronqvist still wore his mourning robes. The black, silky fabric made him blend into the shadows, whilst his eerily white skin exposed his ailing health.
When the tactician shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, Leon rose from his chair and took his friend's arm to assist him. However, Mathias did not remain seated upon the edge of the bed like the knight expected, but struggled to stand. "Mathias, you should not-"
The tactician waved him away, and Leon reluctantly obeyed, though remained near in case his fragile companion collapsed. Although Mathias was thinner than before, he appeared to possess power Leon did not expect from such an ill person. Despite Mathias' surprising strength of will, the young crusader ruminated over the tactician's words whilst scanning the man's pallid complexion. Leon hurried to the wardrobe, fetched Mathias favorite black fur-lined cloak, and wrapped the garment over his friend's right shoulder, fearing he would catch a chill.
Mathias stood facing him, his dark eyes masking his thoughts. "I wish it were so, but I must tell you the truth behind the murders. When the bodies were discovered, a few of the victims, including the sister of Lord Trantoul's wife, were bitten in the neck and drained of their blood. A human did not commit this atrocity. I am almost certain a vampire is responsible."
"A vampire?" Leon froze in place. A sudden chill ran down his spine as he pictured images of undead creatures roaming about, drinking from innocents to sustain their unnatural life. "Are you certain?"
"I know nothing for certain, Leon. It is difficult to prove otherwise, even though many would deny it as truth. Lord Trantoul informed me that a few months previous, a vampire supposedly destroyed the village of Dalwood, which is very near your lady's home. The peasants in Dalwood had neck wounds akin to those of the Trantoul relatives. In addition, a young man recently disappeared when he departed to a nearby forest in search of his fiancé, who was abducted shortly after Sara – but there were no witnesses to confirm a vampire was behind it. However, there have been reports of young women in the area disappearing throughout the centuries. In one instance, a man living outside the forest returned home to his family, only to find all except his daughter slaughtered. The man still lives, and according to Lord Trantoul, claims a vampire was responsible for the deaths of his family. The villagers and Lord Trantoul refuse to believe the man, and to this day, he is wanted to be hanged as a murderer. I do not know if any of these events are connected."
"If this is true," Leon began to pace across the room, trying to collect his thoughts and rationalize a course of action. The knight ran a hand through the layers of his flaxen hair, his face paling the longer he thought of Sara's disappearance and Mathias' observations. "Then I must find the vampire responsible for these crimes and rescue Sara! But I know not her whereabouts, nor the nature of vampires themselves. How can I defeat that which cannot die?"
Mathias' dark eyes flickered. "Everything can die, Leon, including vampires. Even…Elisabetha…" In that moment, Mathias' composed expression crumbled, and his eyes professed the endless suffering in his heart. The tactician lowered his head mournfully before turning away, the curtains of his long, chestnut hair veiling his face. With slow, uneasy steps, Mathias walked toward a small round table beside one of the chamber's windows, the velvet fabric of his cloak slinking across the floor behind him. The man moved so silently Leon thought not even death itself possessed such stealth.
The tactician flipped open a book on the table, and then glanced at Leon, wordlessly inviting him to approach. "There is something I wish to show you alone, Leon." He continued, "Contained in this book is a legend that bears an uncanny resemblance to the events Lord Trantoul described in his letter to me."
Leon hurried toward the table as Mathias stepped aside, allowing him to look at the book. On one page was an etched charcoal drawing of a massive castle looming under the glow of a full moon. A thick forest surrounded the castle and made the pathway toward it almost indistinguishable. The castle's size inclined Leon to believe that, if such a structure existed, it would have taken countless centuries to build. The castle's tallest spire was so high it looked like it could touch the moon itself, and Leon doubted the etching's artist rendered it accurately. Nevertheless, while he gazed at the picture, Mathias' index finger pointed at faded handwriting on the adjacent page.
"According to the legend, a powerful vampire lives within this castle, in a forest cloaked in darkness known as Eternal Night. No one knows how the vampire was able to exile the sun's light from his domain. The vampire was beloved by the night, and all feared his power, lust, and insatiable desire for blood. Every fortnight, the vampire abducted a betrothed woman and invited her lover into his domain to rescue her. None who went into the forest returned…at least… according to this legend. Perhaps, the reason why the truth became legendary was humanity's own dong: war, famine, and plague may have inclined people to believe God's anger was the reason, instead of a vampire whose existence could neither be confirmed nor dismissed. Now, traces of the legend have begun to resurface, and I suspect the vampire of Eternal Night wishes for you to play his game. The appearance of the monsters in your domain was merely an invitation."
"I see." Leon examined the text before returning his attention to Mathias. The tactician stood calmly near the window, peering behind the heavy curtains at the nightscape beyond. Mathias seemed so distant, standing there, his face shadowed by gloomy thoughts. It was as if the tactician's mind lay somewhere else beyond the knight's reach. Even if he asked Mathias what he was thinking, the man would only look at him in silence and profess nothing. Leon sighed, breaking the stillness with his voice. "If you believe the vampire living in that forest is holding Sara captive, then I will go there and seek him out. I will bring my company with me, and we will fight him until Sara is released from his power."
For the first time since their meeting, a small smirk creased the corners of Mathias' lips. The tactician crossed his arms, his eyes tracing the young man's hopeful countenance with resigned empathy. When Mathias spoke, his voice acquired a sharpness Leon was not accustomed to hearing from the tactician.
"Ah, Leon, your impulsiveness shall be your own undoing. Lest you forget, the church controls our company and may not be as dedicated to your lady's safe return as you are. The church cares for nothing except its own preservation. The war in the east may incline the church to refuse your request, for war is costly, and men are prized commodities not to be wasted fighting monsters and vampires. Nay, heathens are apparently more of a concern to the church than the protection of its followers. May the souls of Christian men and women be dragged into hell by the devil's servants, but God forbid heathens, merely humans of this world, opposing the iron will of a godless institution."
Leon's shoulders sank, and he turned away, unwilling to nurture the tactician's cynicism with a response. Mathias would never forgive the death of Elisabetha. Even if Lady Cronqvist were at peace in heaven, Mathias would scorn God for sending her soul there. The knight's face became pensive as he considered the fate of Lord Cronqvist's own soul, which grief and hate consumed.
He did not want to think Mathias could not find Elisabetha in heaven because of his blasphemy.
The only thing Leon could do was hope that, one day, Mathias would regain his faith in God. "I believe the church will agree to my request, now that I have enough evidence to implore them to reconsider their decision. I must have the permission of the church to lead my company into the vampire's domain. If the cardinals refuse…I will have no choice but to do so without their permission…alone." He lifted his head, giving Mathias a sullen look. When the tactician raised his brow, he added firmly. "I have no choice. I will not abandon Sara."
Mathias broke eye contact and returned to gazing at the nightscape. Soft moonlight flooded through the parted curtain, illuminating his ashen skin. "Leon, should you decide to fight without the church's consent, you will lose everything. The church does not take kindly to unauthorized combat during wartimes. Of course, not even you will be spared punishment, despite your recent victories in the east. The cardinals will use you as an example; not even your family name and social position will protect you from their influence."
"Unless, I renounce my title." Leon whispered. Upon hearing the knight's suggestion, Mathias whirled to face him, his eyes shining in the darkness whilst the young man resumed pacing across the room, his head bowed and eyes cast upon the floor. "The church can only sanction or imprison me for disobeying them if I am a baron. If I were to…relinquish my power, I would no longer be under their authority. I would simply be Leon Belmont, equal to the rank of a peasant. No longer a knight, crusader, and baron bound by their will."
"And what will you do then?" Mathias gave him an incredulous look, and his response was more severe than Leon anticipated. "If you renounce your title, your family name will lose all of its political and social influence. Even if you rescue Sara, her father would never permit a penniless former baron who left the church to marry her. You will have nothing. Life as a peasant or a serf is almost worse than death."
"I have made my decision, Mathias." Leon looked up, and his voice was resolute. "I will do anything to save Sara. You should understand how much she means to me."
Mathias bowed his head, the long coils of his hair cascading across his shoulder blades. Though weary, the tactician's intense gaze immobilized Leon. The knight did not know whether the shadows were playing tricks upon him, but he thought to have seen a tiny smile appear across the man's lips when he replied softly.
"I understand very well indeed…"
Leon arrived before the sealed door, his bright blue eyes glistening in the cavernous ambiance. Although his onslaught through the castle's treacherous waterways was formidable, he forced himself onward. After enduring great trials, he at last managed to lower the bridge leading to a mysterious sealed red door. The young knight hastened forward. The hard steel soles of his knee-high boots clinked across the bridge's steel frame, his ears catching the sound of its hollow protest. Parts of the bridge had rusted away from time and neglect; making him wary of the possibility its unstable structure could give way. The thought of tumbling into the dark abyss beneath him haunted his thoughts. The threat of never seeing Sara again seemed grew realer when he reached the castle's deepest chasm. The waterways were a lonely place: strange sounds echoed down its gritty, dimly lit passageways.
After drawing a breath, he paused; feeling condensation and mildew clinging to his skin and clothes like the grasping hands of prisoners. The only thing that concerned him was Sara's fate. He wondered on her often, whilst he sprinted through the castle, the tails of his surcoat fluttering behind him as he bounded from one area to the next. Like a dove searching for a lost mate, his fair features and immaculate white clothing contrasted against the rasping shadows of the night. After adjusting the whip cinched to his waist belt, he touched the heavy stone door with a gleaming silver gauntlet adorning his left hand. The seal securing the door dissipated. The young man's sanguine blue eyes surveyed the door's decorative human skull.
Hideous monsters lunged and tore at him within the dank confines of the forgotten labyrinth. Strange demonic entities trailed after him, never allowing him to rest, except within the old man's cottage bordering the forested night. He tried to think of where to turn next, but his only goal was to survive and save Sara. One of his hands brushed across his forehead and wiped away the droplets of blood and dirt scarring the glistening whiteness of his fair skin. Wisps of flaxen blonde hair clung to his cheeks. He withdrew a trembling breath, trying to make sense of the death and horror surrounding him. Memories, once joyful, flooded into his mind and filled him with sorrow.
Cold droplets sprayed lightly across his clothes and skin, whilst a thunderous waterfall surged into an abyss below the steel bridge. He had only one final orb to obtain before the magic securing the door to the tower would lift. Undoubtedly, he knew Sara was praying for his safety. Anger surged through his veins when he thought of the castle's master, whose face he had not caught sight of for but a moment since his arrival. The vampire lord had not bothered to show himself; his absence revealing he was in no hurry to rush the 'game' along. Leon's eyes narrowed in irritation, though he was uncertain whether he felt so because of the creature's aloofness or because of the clamminess he felt in the subterranean waterway.
Yet, even when he seemed ever more determined to reach Sara, memories still haunted him. If Mathias were with him, he would know what to do next, instead of blindly destroying whatever obstructed his path. He envied Mathias' intrinsic ability to overcome any opponent, no matter how powerful or cunning. But he was alone; and Mathias, his trusted comrade, was ill and bedridden. When the nightmare ended - if it ever ended – he would return to Mathias and tell him of the horrors and trials he endured, and how the evils of the world made his faith in God stronger. There was no telling what awaited him in the room beyond the door. The fact that the door had been sealed and hidden warned him of another, yet more dangerous, monster ahead…
A rush of fresh cold air whistled through the cracks in the walls. The creature's sensitive ears captured the sound of footsteps shifting across the floor. The sudden blow of the door slamming did not startle the room's lone prisoner. Stillness overwhelmed the dank prison space. Though the pale form sensed the sound of his trespasser's rapid heartbeat, he did not rise to greet whoever it was. For a second, the youth wondered if Walter had returned for him, just as he had thought he would.
Oh, how I've been waiting for you, Walter. Soon, this room will be spattered with your blood! Such a shame; I thought we could be friends, or at least part on good terms. I suppose friendship is impossible. Now I live only to kill you.
His 'guest' took a few hesitant steps forward, and remained near the door, as if trying to discern who was hiding in the shadows.
Stupid fool. Of course it's me, Walter. Forgive the mess, I am a terrible host, and not accustomed to visitors. Do mind the blood spatter on the floor; I had to take care of a nuisance before your arrival. Have you come to apologize at last? Of course not. You never apologize for anything. Then again, neither do I...
It was an innocent curiosity. Leon had not even motioned to draw his weapon even though he was vulnerable. For a moment, the knight remained silent, until his eyes finally observed what appeared to be someone hiding at the back of the room. Concern filtered through his cautious voice, which echoed across the empty, eerie space.
"Is someone there? Are you a prisoner here?"
The human's inquiry shattered the silence; disrupting the prisoner's brooding state.
The creature could almost feel the man's eyes scanning the room, wondering what lay in the shadows, and unable to see through them. He turned his head, glancing over his right shoulder in order to catch a glimpse at a knight peering into the enshrouding blackness. The pale demon's brow furrowed, whilst he licked his lips and swallowed, feeling a scratchy dryness in his mouth. The human's presence irritated him. No longer did a burning curiosity fill him. Rather, he sighed to himself, and clenched his hands. The jagged remains of his fingernails dug into his palms, which still held the faint scent of dried blood. He lifted his head and rose leisurely to his feet, the tails of his robes lifting gracefully off the floor. Despite the carnal thirst aching in throat, his majestic features and clothing protested against the squalor mocking his noble birthright.
The creature half-turned to look at the fool stupid enough to seek him out, replying contemptuously. "Who are you?" A flicker of bitter disappointment appeared within his steely, dagger-like stare upon realizing that his visitor was not the red-haired demon – but another knight who had unknowingly wandered into his own doom.
How many games are you playing now, Walter? It seems, you shall be waiting forever upon your throne for a worthy opponent. This hero is as ill-fated as the last.
Leon stared at the strange being emerging from shadows. The pale youth held an unusual appearance and mannerism – possessing ashen colored hair and a guarded, sneering cynicism that did not correspond with a frightened, grateful prisoner he had anticipated. Something about the mysterious person emanated a subtle and unsettling air. Nothing seemed to make sense about the extraordinary man he encountered; though he wondered if the pale youth possessed an illness, for the whiteness of his hair, skin, and fragile, thin appearance was revealing. The man certainly was of noble birth, for his regal clothing expressed wealth and power, even though his wan complexion contradicted it. The pale being held the embitterment of a prisoner. Though the nobleman's eyes attempted to conceal it, profound hopelessness reflected within his gaze. Leon had never seen anything quite like this person; whose strange appearance filled him with both revolt and pity. The pale youth seemed almost bestial and predatory, for his penetrating eyes never lifted from the knight for a moment.
Satisfaction rippled through the creature when he noticed that his young visitor was taken aback by his rudeness. The shadowy creature showed little interest in conversation. It pleased him when his response enhanced the knight's concern and hesitation to depart.
The white-haired being did not appear to be a monster, despite his brusqueness. The nobleman's smooth, graceful features and placid expression was deceptively human-like. Leon remained vigilant. It was necessary to ease the tension in the most diplomatic way he could think of to in order to avoid the possibility that the person would consider him a threat. Thus, he introduced himself, hoping the strange man before him would do so in return. The white-haired person's higher social status inclined the knight to hope that his civility would ease the stranger's defensiveness.
"My name is Leon…and you are?"
Such courtesy failed to appease the pale youth. The creature paid the knight little regard, as though his visitor was of great inconvenience. The white haired being took slow steps forward, the heels of his boots echoing faintly through the darkness. When the doorway's dim torchlight illuminated him, he returned his guest's words with a cruel smile. The dim torchlight cast a shadow across his face, whilst he stared dismissively at the human, unimpressed by the knight's attempted cordiality. The nobleman noticed that the knight continued to stare at him curiously, intently observing his abnormally ashen skin and ivory hair. The pale demon despised those innocent deep blue eyes; eyes untouched by the ravages of vampirism and coldhearted desires. He was determined to rip those stunning blue eyes out of their sockets. The knight was handsome, far more than the last, and possessed an air of gentility and innocence. A peculiar whip was cinched to his visitor's waist belt like a slumbering python. Droplets of blood speckled the white tails of his surcoat, attesting to previous battles within the castle's walls.
The creature stared back the young man in challenge. Perhaps, he would introduce himself to his guest, after all. "My name…is Joachim Armster."
Leon gave him no immediate response, but his eyes remained transfixed and unblinking, as the pale creature studied the one whom was so naïve to call out for him. The young knight flinched in surprise. The man's voice was sharp, challenging, and far from what he had hoped for. A chill ran down Leon's spine as he stared unblinkingly at the strange being.
The vampire noted his visitor had soft hair of a flaxen hue parted to the left side, layered in various lengths; elongated strands waved gently around his face and annunciated an unusually pale and handsome visage. Worn over the young man's toned frame was a white sleeveless surcoat trimmed with red that split down the back into two fluttering tails. Beneath the surcoat were black skintight pants and a matching black long sleeved shirt, boasting toned muscles capable of agility and strength. Covering his right hand was a thick leather glove reaching almost the entire length of his arm, whilst an elbow length silver gauntlet on his left hand reflected in the dimly lit chamber. Every aspect of the knight was prepared to spring into battle at any given moment, as if the thought of dying did not exist in his mind, replaced instead by greater wills and fragile hopes. The creature reveled in the thought of crushing the young knight's hope in his talon-like grip. Briefly, his thoughts fancied the image of the man's naked body draped in his arms, pale, cold, and lifeless like a porcelain statuette. His skin prickled from the pleasure he would feel when he consumed the human's beautiful innocence; consummating his lust with the luscious taste of blood. He eyed the human's graceful neck peeking temptingly beneath the heavy folds of his black undershirt. The human was truly remarkable in every aspect; his brave naivety and vulnerability enticing the creature's brutal instincts. His penetrating eyes illuminated a brilliant shade of red, piercing the darkness, at last revealing his inhumanity.
Leon stepped back, his mouth agape, while the image of what he was about to face began to build in his mind. The longer the creature stared at him with its glowing red eyes, the more the young knight perceived the fact that deadness consumed them. "This feeling…are you a vampire?" The knight's body abruptly tensed, though he refrained from reaching for his weapon. He did not want to believe that the being standing before him was undead.
The shadowy creature hesitated, until the meaning of the word vampire sent his mind whirling back into reality. He saw how the knight's inquiring gaze remained directed upon him, seeking out the answer and perhaps, dreading the possibility he already knew. Now that the nature of the white-haired nobleman's condition was apparent, there was no reason for him to withhold the truth. He had revealed himself deliberately. A flicker of malicious delight appeared in the creature's eyes, whilst he shot a dagger-like glare at his "guest." The human did not understand. No one understood but him, the brutal power he obtained through vampirism. He would use his powers to defeat Walter and then – at last – he would rule Eternal Night. Though he knew not exactly why, he was proud of what he had become. His former self – the weak, pitiful, sickly, human he once was, died that fateful night when he was turned. The sniveling and remorseful part of him could no longer haunt him with shame and compassion. Though he was delighted by the prospect of obtaining blood, not even the human's attractive appearance could hinder his revulsion. Disgust filled every fiber of his being as he stared hatefully at the mortal before him. Human life was fragile; in an instant he could snatch it away with nary the wave of a hand. The human had no right to be speaking with him, but even vampires needed company, and his desire for a distraction overcame his instincts.
The pale demon's lips curled, and he snapped in disgust. "That's right, lowly human."
The wretched creature's eyes narrowed. How so very different and so very alike they were! The knight was undoubtedly of noble birth, like himself. However, as far as he was concerned, nobility was the only thing he had in common with human ilk. However, the human's next question caught him off guard. He had not expected the young man to return his insult with inquiry.
"Then why is a vampire locked away here?" Leon's voice expressed no condemnation. Though he knew not why, he felt that the creature before him hid vulnerability and fear beneath an insipid, callous mask. It did not seem right to attack such a wretched creature. There was something pitiful about the pale demon, which resembled that of an abused, trapped animal. When the young nobleman spoke, Leon could see the points of his wolf-like fangs gleaming eerily in the shadows, accentuated by finely tipped ears and a loathsome demeanor. The knight suspected that the fiend's ill temperament was unpredictable and dangerous. His patience seemed to incense the white-haired being further.
Without warning, the demon bared its fangs, and snapped."Shut up!" The vampire threw up his hand, the gesture initially appearing like a motion to strike the knight, rather than silence him. Rage filled the young nobleman when he reflected upon his defeat; which throbbed inside him like a raw wound. He could not bear the fact he lost to Walter. The humiliation of his banishment was unforgotten; an eternity could pass and he would still remember his fall from freedom.
How dare he question me! Of course, this useless pest doesn't know who imprisoned me. Walter abandoned me to die in this filthy pit! I am the superior power, more worthy than he of controlling the night, and yet I was condemned! Everything I was - a lord, ruler, heir – gone!
All because of that stupid rock! That wretched little gem Walter keeps close to him like a harlot with a coin purse!
Without thinking, the white-haired youth began to pace across the room, his eyes glaring upon the knight with a wish to drive one of his swords through his throat. In his anger, he almost forgot about Leon. "Damn Walter! I would've won, were it not for his ebony stone!" his enraged voice shouted against the room's echoing walls, and so audibly did he announce his hatred that he barely heard the trespasser's curious question.
"Ebony stone? What's that?"
Leon's eyes widened in childlike wonderment, but the second he attempted to approach, the vampire emitted a feral hiss and recoiled into the shadows. The knight cocked his head, confused by the creature's explosive temperament. Nothing the pale demon said seemed to make any sense. The creature seemed to be talking to itself more than him. The prisoner's erratic pacing and hissing voice made Leon fall into an uneasy silence. He could not understand why the creature told him such strange things. Despair washed across the pale demon's face, which made the knight feel a sudden urgency to understand the secrets concealed beneath such a wan exterior. The vampire somehow knew Walter Bernhard. The hatred in its voice attested to the fact that, whatever past existed between them had ended tragically. But what crime had the white-hated vampire committed to deserve eternal isolation? Leon wondered if the creature was as dangerous and bloodthirsty – if not more so – than Walter. A prison trapped his opponent within the darkest confines of the castle, which seemed to reveal the possibility that a much darker history surrounded the young nobleman of the water prison.
The vampire bared his fangs. He clenched his hands into fists, feeling his lips quiver as he contemplated his unfortunate situation. His imprisonment in the waterways was merely a setback; nothing would stop him, not even the wrath of hell itself – and certainly not a pathetic human. But he wondered on the human's uncanny thirst for knowledge. Something about his unexpected visitor was different from the last, and every other human he had encountered. The young knight did not shout insults or religious scripture at him; nor did he draw his weapon and rush in to attack. The human knew he was a vampire but abstained from combat. He could not fathom why the human did not rebuke him instantly. Why was this particular human so different from the rest? Who was that knight? The night dweller desperately fought to remember. The name, Leon…he had heard it from somewhere…or perhaps…from someone…
Leon watched the figure lift his head with broken dignity. Such a display inclined the knight to inquire further, in spite of the vampire's growing aggression. "Tell me, how long have you been here? Did Walter…turn you?" Leon was determined not to leave until he received an answer. Whatever information he could obtain from the rebellious nobleman might help him find Sara before it was too late.
"I have been here long enough. The only way you could possibly help me…" The creature's voice faded into low audible chuckles, his lips parting back to reveal his gleaming incisors flashing like knives in the darkness. "…is if you die." He withdrew a deep breath, feeling his entire body bristle under the knight's sympathetic gaze. "Enough questions! You have come here to slay me. I can tell by your attire you are one of the many misguided crusaders, one who searches for salvation but finds a vampire instead."
"I have come in search of an emerald orb connected to this place. I need the orb to open the sealed door to the tower. If it is your desire to be let alone, I pray you, will I find it here? If not, I will leave you as you were." Leon's gaze remained fixed upon the vampire. The creature abruptly tensed upon hearing his request. "Who imprisoned you in this place?" The knight asked, daring the strange being to respond. The vampire was like the piece of a puzzle that refused to fit into place.
The creature gave the human a sardonic grin, his eyes flickering in the shadows whilst he continued to observe the knight, like a wolf sizing up a rival. Some part of him admired and detested the human's unwavering willpower. He suspected that, in the mind of his unfortunate visitor, the presence of a vampire in the waterways was surprising. Nevertheless, amidst the haze of his rage, his thoughts pieced together vague remnants of the past. The carnal, bestial urges controlling him relented; allowing him to discern that Walter had anticipated the crusader's arrival. The name: Leon Belmont was more familiar than he initially realized. However, the thirst inside him was growing stronger, and he felt it urge him to ravage the supple flesh of the young man's throat. Desperate, he attempted to restrain himself without the human noticing his waning self-control. He repeated the human's name in his mind, trying to understand why it was recognizable.
Suddenly, her beautiful face entered his vision. Soft blue eyes and wavelets of long, chestnut colored hair framed the delicate, fair face of a young woman. A gentle smile pressed across her lips, and a familiar warmth overcame his emptiness. Briefly, so very briefly, he knew her. She was beautiful – and the sound of her voice once made him forget his woes. Yet, his remembrance of her sent tremors of pain, anger, and grief through his soul. He longed for her; for he could feel her presence growing fainter every moment. He was trapped within the prison, unable to reach her and unable to save her. The knight was none other than her betrothed…Leon Belmont. The proud and noble heir to the Belmont clan cast into the foray between life and death; mortal and immortal, deliverance and damnation.
Despair awaited Baron Belmont the moment he arrived at Eternal Night, for he was unaware of his lady's fate. Painful memories plagued the vampire to the point of madness; he could not ignore the futility of the knight's quest. "You are Lady Trantoul's betrothed…" he whispered, abstaining from answering the young man's questions deliberately. "You must love Sara dearly to risk your life." His words threatened to reveal her fate, and he refrained from continuing. The thought of her becoming like him was too much to bear.
"How do you know Sara?" Leon cried out, his bright blue eyes widening in both surprise and urgency. The knight stepped forward, hoping that the vampire would reveal more. Like many of Walter's previous victims, both his weakness and strength unknowingly lay in love. "Is Sara all right? Does she know I am here, and that I am trying to save her?"
The vampire slowly shook his head, his eyes curtained by the soft strands of his snow-white hair falling against dead flesh. "Foolish human, your incessant questions are wasting my time!"
The young nobleman stepped forward, only to discover that the human did not recoil in fear, but merely stood, looking at him inquisitively. The creature huffed, his lower lip curling as he gazed into the human's widening eyes, while feeling his own threaten to well with tears. It seemed like an eternity since he heard her name. The sound, the beautiful implication of the woman's very name, impaled his wounded heart like a thousand knives. The human was trying remind him of his loss and prevent him from seeking out his master's life! And, most unforgivably of all, would be the human's discovery of his betrothed. The beautiful creature, whose angelical face still existed within his memory – turned into a monstrous demon, devoid of all love and unable to remember her human self. Corrupted by the vampire lord's bite; her innocence would be washed away from the world, whilst he remained trapped in the waterways, eternally mourning her suffering. However, he wondered also, whether the knight would strike her down for being what she was – a vampire, even though her fate was by no fault or will of her own. If the knight defeated him, he could not protect her from the cruelty of humans. Yet, within himself, he knew she would not want to live forever hunting and taking the lives of human beings. Memory was a precious gift that deteriorated when the curse took hold. But the thought of the knight harming her – killing her – enraged him. Unwilling to tolerate the threat of defeat, the pale youth gnashed his incisors, his eyes flashing with a will to tear the knight to shreds with the savagery of a beast.
"To think, I thought you would want to spend the last moments of your life in prayer, rather than talking to a vampire! " The creature flicked his hand, his eyes burning like hellish chasms through the darkness.
Leon realized he had unintentionally trapped himself inside a room with a vampire, whose rage and hatred made him beyond reason or control. He could almost feel the night dweller's anger rising each passing moment. The knight's lips pursed whilst he countered thoughtfully. "Time? What is there to do in a place like this, an empty room filled with nothing but shadows?"
"Considering you have joined me, what do you think?" The vampire chuckled with delight, the sound rising into wild, uncontrollable laugher. The knight's predicament amused him; how he would enjoy tearing him apart limb from limb! "I shall not be slain by a human's filthy hand! Your arrival here has sealed your fate, Baron Belmont."
Leon stepped forward, his face a mask of horror and surprise. "How do you know my surname?"
The creature's flickering scarlet eyes intensified as he smirked. The young nobleman padded forward, closing the gap between him and his prey. He watched the knight's frame tense, noting that his victim's breath hitched when he snapped. "You have no right to question me, human! Your lady awaits, though tragically, you shall not see her. If you intend to challenge the master of this castle, you are sorely mistaken. The privilege of slaying Walter is mine!"
Intensity appeared within Leon's eyes as he looked at the pale specter, his curiosity slowly transforming into apprehension. The knight pressed a hand across his brow, his eyes focusing upon the vampire as he fought to restrain his growing impatience. "Tell me if Sara is all right! I swear, should you have caused her harm-"
The pale demon began to pace about the room, his penetrating eyes never leaving the human for an instant. Hunger began to gnaw like an incessant parasite draining his willpower. Human conversation seemed utterly pointless. "If you want to know…" With a swift glance at his swords, he threw his head back and lifted his hands, clenching his fingers as his mind attempted to regain enough psychic power to make them move.
A thin sound of slicing of metal cut through the air, from the force his mind exerted upon all five of the rusting swords in unison to wrench them out of the ground. "BEAT ME!" He shouted the exact moment his mind connected with the blades. The weapons shot out of the ground, eager to obey their master's summon. The swords twirled in the air, and moved around him with their blood-stained metal blades angled downward. The dim greenish glow surrounding the deadly instruments cast an eerie light across the dark prison. The swords whirled rapidly around him, increasing their velocity with each encirclement. The sight of the blades rotating in their clockwise pattern and the smell of dried blood caked upon their tips, sent ripples of delight through the young nobleman's veins. After he exterminated the human vermin, he would seek a way out of his prison, and kill anything that attempted to impede him from taking his rightful place on the throne of Eternal Night. So greatly did he anticipate victory, that for a second, he assumed the battle between he and the knight was already won.
Sooner than the vampire lord expected, vengeance would be his and the suffering he endured would end. He was not like Walter; content with ruling Eternal Night, biding time playing cat-and-mouse games with mortals. Humans were beneath him, and he reviled them as though they were cockroaches to be crushed beneath the sole of his boot. There would be no more games. With the Ebony Stone, he would envelop the whole land in darkness and allow the creatures of the night to roam as they pleased, and whatever befell humankind would be of no consequence. Walter believed he was the ruler of the night, for his iron-fist and clever ploys had won him many battles and rewards. However, centuries spent bored and devoid of the thrill of power had made the red-haired demon careless.
Walter did not realize that his brutality created an even greater monster, one so wicked and merciless that even its former master could not contain it. Although Walter once nurtured and protected the pale youth, the imprisoned nobleman was haunted by memories of suffering, torture, and degradation. A soul, once full of life and promise, had been tainted and ruined. He looked forward to tearing his fangs into his master's neck and puncturing the jugular, whilst blood rushed down his throat. The sound of his wild, unabated laughter would resonate through the room until the former lord of the night fell in a crumpled heap at his feet. He would tear away the demon's armored plating as the vampire lord writhed on the floor. Then, finally, he would impale one of his swords through the heart of the one he loathed more than the devil himself. Blood would pool on the floor; a sacrifice the pale nobleman would greedily accept in exchange for his stolen humanity.
The prisoner tilted his head, looking at the dark ceiling above, his lips pressed into a cruel smirk as if Walter himself could hear him. "It'll be a nice prelude to defeating Walter…" Although his mind was set, his gaze lingered uncertainly upon the stunned knight, who still seemed reluctant to spring into battle. His vicious yearning for combat and blood overcame his desire to spare the man who risked his life for the woman he, too, longed to save.
Leon blinked several times in the dark room, his mouth opened as if to speak but no words fled his lips. He watched the vampire's erratic behavior, knowing it was impossible for him to leave without becoming involved in a sortie with the undead. Nevertheless, his true goal was rescuing Sara, not risking unnecessary injuries that could prevent him from confronting Walter. "What purpose is there in fighting?" He asked. "My enemy is no different than your own – Walter. It seems you wish to defeat him as I do. Though I did not think the master of this castle would spare the life of anyone who challenged him."
The knight withdrew a breath and waited, however his hopeful face fell when the white-haired youth lifted his arm and pointed his index finger in challenge. "Walter and I have unfinished business, and I don't want anyone to interfere. You are a knight, and you exist for battle! If you refuse, it will make the pleasure of killing you far easier than I expected. You're just a human, after all."
"I don't want to fight you!"
Leon's hand touched the whip at his waist belt. The crusader's eyes widened as unavoidable conflict sought to again entrap him. For too long, he had fought for one cause or another until he no longer knew the true purpose of his efforts. War - and its heartbreak and devastation - destroyed everything except his love for Sara. Sara was all he knew, and all that remained of his hope for something more than bloodshed and violence. More than anything, he desired to see her once again, to tell her that he had not abandoned her. Even Mathias was not immune to the devastation of war and death. Leon understood the horror of the vampire's curse when he stared at the young nobleman of the water prison, feeling the former human's hatred prickling through his mind. Though Leon knew not the circumstances behind the pale demon's fallen state, he refused to believe that the vampire was completely devoid of humanity. It was not in the crusader's nature to enjoy killing. Whenever he killed, a part of him died also.
"You were human." Leon whispered as he gazed into the demon's furious eyes. "I can tell by your clothing you descended from nobility. So, this what becomes of those who are turned..."
For a moment, the vampire hesitated. Amidst the incomprehensible rage flowing through him, the remaining threads of his conscience urged him to reconsider. But he would not, for luscious blood flowed through the human's veins, which he needed to become strong again. "And you will soon know what becomes of those who lose to me." He sneered.
"No, I will not." Leon retorted, ignoring the vampire's attempt to berate and distract him.
"It's difficult to look upon you, now that I see the truth of your depravity. I pity you, one scorned and forgotten by the world. I cannot hate you."
The red glow faded, and when his glinting pale irises clashed against Leon's deep blue, his voice rose to a scream of outrage. "I'll beat you…to a PULP!" Adrenaline ran through his withered veins as he prepared for battle. However, Leon's reference to his own humanity startled him. Although the human's death was inevitable, he paused but a moment, his voice lowering. "If you knew the horrors I committed, you would despise me. Walter is partly to blame; he turned me into a fiend…a vampire. Nevertheless, like him, I will enjoy killing the pathetic humans who trespass within my realm once the Ebony Stone is in my grasp."
The creature summoned his powers and allowed himself to levitate above the floor. Despite his repugnance, his powers were sorely lacking in his weakened state. His unquenched thirst for blood made his energies low and undisciplined. Yet when his piercing gaze drove deep beneath Leon's flesh, his eyes caught sight of numerous blood veins and arteries, allowing him to have a glimpse of the red essence flowing through the human's circulatory system. He had no other option – he would have to use every ounce of his powers to defeat his opponent, no matter what the personal cost. Unwilling to concede, he closed his eyes and focused his mind, summoning his inner strength and dividing it. The vampire channeled the energy around the room, and in unison to his focused thoughts, three blue orbs developed in front of each sword-wielding statue. Although the fragile orbs were his central source of power, all would be under his command and kept in three separate corners of the room. Even if the knight tried breaking all of the orbs, the room's lack of space would enable the creature to take down his opponent almost effortlessly, even though he would be considerably more vulnerable. Like a mouse trapped in a box, the crusader was doomed before the battle began.
Mathias' psychic barrier technique had proved useful, and the pale nobleman had no other option except to reign victorious and find a way out of the prison. The only thing standing between he and the door was his untimely competitor, none other than a weak human whose kind he had killed numerous times before. There was something oddly unnerving about Leon, however, for the knight appeared unfazed by his challenge, and ready to confront the possibility of death. The pale demon despised his opponent's strength, which he lacked when he was human. By dividing his powers, he could enhance his telekinetic abilities enough to shield himself behind a psychic barrier. There was nothing left for him to lose except his life, which he did not intend to give up easily.
Leon's gloved hand trailed to the cobalt colored whip secured at his side. His fingers enclosed around its coils before he yanked the object free and broke the stagnant air with a loud crack. The the tails of his whip struck the solid stone floor. His lips curved into a frown, and his eyes focused upon the levitating vampire, who snarled when the whip narrowly missed his face.
With an exasperated sigh, Leon's hand tightened around the handle of the whip. "You leave me no choice, then. I do not wish to harm you, but I will not die without a fight, either. Sara needs me and I cannot fail her. You have been reduced to a demon…and I pity you." Leon raised his head and stared the vampire in the eyes, while his feet stepped boldly forward, and the shadows swallowed him."Your fate is no fault of your own. If Walter is cruel enough to imprison you in this place, I shall remember your suffering, and punish him for the crimes he committed upon your soul. I ask you again to reconsider!"
An infuriated glare met the knight's valiant approach, as the creature's terse expression deepened. The vampire glided forward and bared his fangs. He saw the young man raise his hand containing the whip back and flick it forward, attempting to strike the vampire, but only to be blocked by the telekinetic shield surrounding him. "Stupid human!" The pale demon dismissed the attack with a broad smirk, his eyes delighting in the wave of surprise washing across Leon's face when he staggered back. The vampire used the knight's surprise his advantage, and with a proud chuckle, concentrated his returned attack on the ground itself, so that five enormous glowing golden blades projected upward from the earth. Leon back flipped to avoid one of the giant blades so near it might have struck him through the leg.
The nobleman swooped around Leon like a vulture, his eyes following the knight's movements with razor-sharp accuracy. With another shout, the vampire summoned his powers, and formed two red and blue symbols. He moved one of the symbols over the ground beneath the knight's feet, while the other symbol remained on the ground beneath his floating form. Within his mind, his telekinetic powers summoned a portal, drawing the swords surrounding him into the vortex.
Leon's gaze immediately fell upon the ground, where he caught sight of the strange moving circular symbol glowing around his feet. His eyes shot upward, and he noticed the vampire's swords suddenly disappear. Not a moment later, a glint of metal caught his eye, and he
doubled back when the strange symbol sent each of the five blades flying upward in unison through the vortex. He felt the swords breeze by his face, and leapt backward toward the wall, narrowly avoiding the weapons impaling him.
The five swords flew away and resumed encircling their master once again until the pale demon's thoughts commanded them to fall still. A frustrated growl vibrated through his throat when he failed to injure his intended target. The human was proving more difficult to exterminate than he anticipated. Perhaps, he had underestimated his opponent, but the idea seemed ludicrous. No human had ever challenged him and won, and none ever would.
"Apparently, killing you is going to be more fun than I thought," The pale youth sneered, chuckling to himself, even though the human's persistence failed to amuse him. A shadow appeared across his face as he stared at his opponent in the eye, his gaze steely and vindictive. Though he smirked, his expression was bitter, for his anger raged inside him like a caged beast. He held his head high. The nobleman's damp white skin gleamed eerily in the darkness, giving him a specter-like appearance. "I would admire your bravery, if you were not going to die in spite of it. Imagine! You think you can defeat me, one superior to you in every way? Foolish human, I should have expected no less."
With a bitter shout, the prisoner raised the swords around him higher, so that their blades pointed directly outward, until he forced them to spin around him like a saw blade to slice the young man apart limb from limb. He flew directly toward Leon and gathered his power to strike. The second Leon saw the vampire approaching, he raised his gauntlet just in time to feel the force of the swords strike against it and send him skidding backward into the wall. For a brief moment, he watched the vampire circle at a distance, the blades still whirling rapidly around his body, before charging once again in a second attempt to attack. Leon ducked and rolled along the wall, avoiding the blade's deadly points by mere inches. When he jumped to his feet, he realized he had rolled straight into one of the room's corners where a wall blocked him on either angle - cornering him.
With nowhere else to turn, a bright bluish light hovering above attracted his attention and he looked up, sighting a strange glowing orb suspended in the air. As the vampire lunged upon him, Leon noticed two other orbs hovering in the opposite corners of the room. With god-like agility, the knight lifted his arm back and blocked the onslaught of swords with an ear-splitting crack of the whip. The force of the blow staggered his undead opponent. "I will do anything for Sara," he breathed, his voice firming when he thought of her praying for his safety despite her own peril. "I came here to rescue her from vampires like you. You leave me no choice except to fight, and I will, for her alone and for others who may fall victim to Lord Bernhard's whims – and yours. You, too, suffered under this castle's master, and should above all understand. Yet, hated blinds you to your own follies, which in the end, will grant you nothing but despair."
The pale demon's eyes blazed when the crusader's whip forced him backward, though under his barrier's protection, he did not sustain any injuries. Proud, maniacal laughter sounded from the white-haired youth's throat, his voice echoing through the enclosed space. "Vampires like me?" He hissed through gritted teeth, barely able to contain the rage and impatience in his voice, which trembled from the knight's suggestion. "Don't even think about comparing me to Walter, vermin! For that, I will make sure your death is a slow and painful one."
"Why do you want to fight me?" Leon replied while lifting his arm back, readying his whip defensively. Though his expression was firm, his voice held its calm.
The vampire tossed his head, his ashen hair splaying across his shoulders and cheeks. With a huff, he bared his fangs, his voice rising to a shout. "Because I want you to die. The only useful human, is a dead one. Indeed, you will be of great use to me Baron Belmont, when I drive my fangs into your wretched throat and consume your blood. I am certain, you will have no pity for me when I drain the life from you and leave your corpse to rot in this filthy pit." With a sardonic grin, the creature waved his hands, and forced the ground to split around the crusader's feet.
Jagged glowing cracks appeared in the earth. Leon dashed out of the way as a blazing array of flames erupted from the crevices in the floor. However, the knight could not ignore the conspicuous, glowing orb floating in the corner. The glowing orb was so near, so markedly close, that Leon could not overlook the fact that the white-haired being was attempting to coerce him away from it. With no other options left, the knight's eyes narrowed. Leon lunged toward the orb, whip in hand, and struck the orb relentlessly until it shattered.
The pale demon felt a jolt flood through his body, and every part of him shuddered as one of the orbs vanished into oblivion. The barrier around him remained intact. A deafening scream erupted from the vampire's throat, for the knight knew his only vulnerability, and if he did not protect the remaining two orbs, he would be defenseless against Leon's attacks. The white-haired youth whirled, following his opponent's movements. The knight ran along the back wall of the room toward an orb in the adjacent corner. Desperately, the vampire followed suit, and summoned his swords. The human was more of a threat than he appeared, and for the first time, uncertainty eroded his confidence. The tails of the creature's long, bloodstained robes unfurled behind him as he swept after his prey, unwilling to allow the knight another opportunity to best him. He shouted curses at the crusader, clenching his hands into firsts, before commanding his swords to project from the earth. Five, massive glowing blades shot upward from the ground, their razor-sharp edges capable of severing a man's limbs instantly.
Leon remained undeterred by the massive glowing projections. With as much agility as he could muster, the knight rolled, and managed to get around them by nary a thread. The orb was almost within reach, if only he could get to it before one of the vampire's swords cut him down. Leon skidded to a halt when blazing flames erupted around the orb he sought, and glanced over his shoulder to see the levitating creature smirking at him warningly, while readying his swords to attack. The demon's central sword rose up, its former greenish light turning ominous red, with its tip pointed directly at the crusader's head. Leon plunged his hand into the pocket of his robe, grasping the furry shape of the wolf's foot, and summoned its power.
A spiral of whirling wind surrounded the knight and his feet felt so light that nothing seemed able to match his speed. With the agility of a rabbit, the knight dashed toward the glowing object and back flipped in time to avoid the vampire's sword. The weapon's sharp blade hit the wall behind him next to the orb, wedging itself into the stone. With little time to get to the orb before the creature summoned another sword, Leon raised his arm back, readying the whip to strike the glowing sphere just above him.
"No!" The pale nobleman shouted and waved his hands, prying the sword out of the wall with his mind just as the knight leapt into the air. The human's graceful ascent reflected the very image of an angel, with shimmering flaxen locks and clothes of pure white. Leon's appearance momentarily stunned the prisoner until he saw the human's icy whip lash the glowing orb. The spherical source of energy sparked under the horrendous strain inflicted upon it, and with only a few blows from the knight's whip, it shattered to pieces.
"This can't be!" The pale nobleman's enraged shouting echoed off the room's narrow walls, whilst he reeled backward with a feral snarl. "Impossible! I look forward to reducing you to a bloodless corpse!"
Leon paid the threats no heed and landed nimbly into a kneeling position, his cerulean eyes locking upon the infuriated creature warily. He still had enough energy left in the wolf's foot to make it to the orb in the corner across the room. Without hesitating, he jumped to his feet and bolted toward the remaining sphere. He would have to run almost directly past the vampire, and the risk of losing his life to the demon's merciless swords was a strong possibility. But he had no choice, for the vampire levitated in the middle of the room to attack him no matter which direction he went. The tails of his surcoat flagged behind him, and while he ran, his body became a mere blur, aided by the god-like swiftness of the wolf's foot.
The vampire's mouth gaped as he hurtled toward the human, catching sight of the whip's long tails flying through the air in a blue blur. He rushed after the mortal as swiftly as his levitation would allow, whilst his eyes radiated a shade of brilliant scarlet. If he did not kill the knight he would be defenseless. The psychic barrier surrounding him would shatter under the force of Leon's whip. The sudden loss of his telekinetic connection to the orbs could render him unconscious if his concentration became too weak. Anger festered within him as he drifted toward the vulnerable orb, his head lowering, whilst he summoned one of his swords. With the flick of a hand, he sent the weapon careening toward his opponent, just before the knight was about to jump to hit the orb with his whip. A low chuckle vibrated within the pale demon's throat when a cry of pain echoed through the room.
Leon caught sight of the weapon as it flew toward him, and managed to spin around to block it with his enchanted gauntlet. However, his attempt to shield himself was a few seconds too late, and the weapon's blade nicked the side of his shoulder as it flew past him. Even though the knight avoided being fatally wounded, the sword's razor-sharp edge still injured him greatly. A gasp fled the crusader's lips as his other hand, still grasping the coiled whip, clamped over the wound in his shoulder. Blood seeped between his gloved fingers and tricked down his arm, staining the silver gauntlet crimson. Fortunately, the attack did not injure the arm he used to control the whip.
The young nobleman raised his head high, invigorated by the scent of human blood. It would only be a matter of moments before he would impale his swords through the knight like needles in a pincushion. He smirked in delight; his eyes hungrily focused on the crusader's bloody shoulder. The sight of Leon's pain aroused him, and he longed to feast upon the human's gorgeous neck while pillaging him of his innocence. The ruinous ecstasy he would receive from his prey would be worth the effort it took to kill him. The creature giggled when the human's azure eyes locked against his, challenging the vampire to do his worst, and knowing that he would.
Leon could feel the creature devouring his agony but remained calm. If he did not do something drastic soon, the demon's swords would be upon him yet again. He had to destroy the vampire's barrier, but the orb seemed so far away, even though the attack stopped him within meters of it. He had no power left to use the wolf's foot. However, when he defeated the undead parasite, a succubus and medusa, they left strange orbs behind that gave him additional abilities, especially if he combined their orbs with holy weapons. Leon summoned the power of the blue orb with his mind as he reached for his waist belt, removing a small jar filled with luminous blue water. He felt the power of the blue orb surround the object. When the vampire swept toward him, commanding one of his swords to rise up to attack, Leon threw the jar in front of him. The glass jar hit the ground and shattered, causing a line of white-blue fire to explode at the approaching demon.
The creature recoiled, hissing and gnashing his teeth, effortlessly floating out of the blue fire's path. Leon withdrew another jar of holy water and threw it directly at the white-haired nobleman. The jar ricochet off the barrier and broke upon hitting the ground, though the force of the fire it created sent the creature hurtling across the room. The white-haired demon's back hit the wall, knocking him to the ground. Not even the barrier could fully protect him from holy water. The room began to spin, whilst he tried to get up, wheezing and gasping. His skin seared in agony, and he could barely breathe. Waves of silky white hair fell around his face and shoulders as he struggled to rise. His power was weakening, and it was difficult for him to recover quickly.
It seemed so long since the prisoner last tasted blood. Starvation made him desperate; he could not afford to lose or else the thirst would consume his remaining strength. Victory was slipping away from him. He was hungry, so very hungry, and exhausted. What did the knight know of misery and suffering? If he did not fight for his life, he would die trapped in the sordid room; the memory of his existence forgotten by all, perhaps even Walter. The one who damned him to the waterways would never know his pain and torment. The waterways broke his spirit, heart, and mind. Always, others rebuked and condemned him. The thirst tortured him until he no longer knew himself. The knight did not understand he had no choice except to fight. But if he won, the door to his prison would never open, and the world beyond would always be out of reach. Yet, if he lost…death would take his soul, and he would never know the world again. Either way, he was doomed.
Anger surged through his veins, making his eyes flash red, whilst he seethed. "If I die, may you join me in death as well, human!"
Leon raised the whip, and with a firm crack upward, shattered the orb to pieces in a single well-aimed strike. He had finally destroyed the last orb, and the vampire would no longer be able to defend himself against him. He would have to get in close to attack while avoiding the creature's onslaughts. Without thinking, he ran toward the floating creature and lifted his arm back, ready to meet the vampire in death should he not survive. But the possibility of dying was no longer on Leon's mind. He only thought of Sara, the woman he loved, waiting for him. The young nobleman of the water prison somehow knew her, and it pained him to know he might never know the circumstances of their meeting.
The pale youth emitted a shout of rage so loud the room shook, and in dire frenzy he conjured as many golden swords through the floor as he could, frantically trying to prevent the knight from reaching him. However, the knight swung his arm rapidly side to side, increasing the whip's striking distance. The attack was slower but far more powerful. Within moments, the whip's frozen blue tails penetrated his barrier. The swords, once floating protectively around him, scattered across floor. His eyes widened and he bared his fangs, hissing through his gritted teeth until he saw the man's arm fly back, unveiling the whirling blur of the whip, which came down mercilessly upon his unguarded body.
The vampire roared in rage and pain as the weapon struck his chest with such force that he fell back against the wall. He attempted to summon the golden swords from the earth, hoping the knight would be too preoccupied to dodge them. Leon moved with unparalleled speed, his feet barely touching the ground as he swung the whip, evading the deadly glowing swords with lightning speed. As the whip struck the white-haired nobleman, a flurry of ice emanated from the whip, freezing and numbing his senses. The unforgiving ice reminded him of his weaker human years when he was kept locked inside from winter fevers, forced to lay on his bed and watch the snowflakes fall beyond frosted windowpanes. Shudders reaped through his entire bodybut he could not fully block the knight's attacks.
Leon swung his arm again and struck the vampire across the shoulder with the tails of his whip. He raised the weapon and brought it down upon the creature in quick, multiple strikes. "So, I am not a lowly human after all!" he chided amidst the creature's anguished screams. "I see ice is your weakness! Not only that, but your barrier has been compromised. What shall you do now, vampire? I don't want to kill you, for I would receive no pleasure from it." Leon watched the pale being's expression become further entrenched in anger. The creature's bitter glowing red eyes bore unforgiving into his. In a matter of moments, sheets of ice covered the floor, and the temperature in the room dropped. Leon could see his breath puffing into the darkness, though the cold did not hinder him as much as his undead opponent.
The vampire coughed up a spurt of blood when the whip struck him across the side of his face. The whip lashed upon him like the sting of a cobra, immobilizing him so that he could hardly move to counter attack. Although he was weak, his eyes blazed when his lips parted and choked out the hatred in his heart. "I will not let you defeat me!" Furious, he flew away from the knight and summoned his swords, urgently commanding them to aid him. Cover me! The swords obediently sprang up from the ground and returned to him, orbiting slowly around him until his mind sent each blade into the wall behind him. The embedded swords ascended upward toward the ceiling. With a cry, he leapt upon the lowest sword, balancing the soles of his boots on its metal blade before leaping to the one above it, and then the next, until he balanced himself upon the blade closest to the ceiling. As he expected, Leon ran toward him, ready to strike with the whip. As the knight crossed the room, the white-haired demon leapt off his sword and flew to meet him, his indigo robes flying around him like a bird of prey unfolding its wings.
The demon succeeded in knocking Leon to the ground. Pain filled every fiber of his body as he lay there, unable to move, whilst the creature loomed above him. Adrenaline rushed through the knight when instinctively sprang to his feet, only to feel the sting of the creature's hand across his face. The demon's broken nails raked his cheek and the side of his neck, cutting the fair flesh with horrifying accuracy. Leon immediately countered with the whip and swung his arm back, bringing the tails of the weapon across the creature's face.
The whip of ice stung the vampire's flesh and froze every part of his body. Despite the agony he felt, he was so cold he did not realize his lips trembled when he cried out. "I am not the same as the many monsters you have faced! I was not a demon! I was…" At that moment, his voice failed him when the whip struck him again across the face, sending a spray of blood spattering into the air. With no will left to fight, he staggered back, clutching a hand to his breastplate.
His pale blue eyes locked with Leon's, and his voice was overwhelmed by pain. "I was..."
The young nobleman's hands trembled, and he resigned himself to his fate when the tails of the whip coiled around his neck, nearly suffocating him. From the corner of his eye, he saw the knight pull back, tightening the whip until he dragged the thrashing creature down to his knees like an animal. Amidst his agony, the pale nobleman grasped the freezing coils of the whip, attempting to wrench it away. A lightheadedness he began to feel overcame his efforts. His hands felt numb and he could barely move. Desperate, he forced himself to speak, choking out the words. "I was…a human being. I am…Joachim Armster."
After a moment of silence, the whip's strain around his neck released, and his heaving body collapsed onto the floor. Silence enveloped the room, and while his mind fought against unconsciousness, he sensed that the human was standing over him. His eyes opened weakly, and he looked up at Leon's pitying expression.
Suddenly, he remembered a time long ago, when weakness plagued his body to the point that even getting out of bed was an impossible feat. A dark-haired figure sat near him, stroking his cheek while pressing a damp cloth upon his forehead. Vaguely, he remembered trying to sit up, a sharp pain in his chest, and then falling back. A soft voice comforted him; he was feverish, and as helpless as a newborn child. The dark-haired figure held him until he drifted to sleep. But he could not recall anything else, for memory eluded and tortured him. Now, laying upon the floor, there was no dark-haired figure to hold him.
He was alone. He was dying.
A soft whimper escaped him as hot tears blurred his vision. Joachim tried to move his broken body across the floor, digging his fingernails into the stone to drag himself forward, only to have pain immobilize him. "What's the matter?" he hissed, glaring up at the knight, his eyes stabbing daggers of hate upon him. "I would rather die than be taken as your prisoner, human! Do what you came here to do, and kill me. For if you let me live, I shall only live to hunt you down and slaughter you. Humans have hunted and rebuked me until I no longer saw myself as a man. I have become exactly what Walter wanted me to be – a monster."
Leon grimaced. What had he done? He realized then, that the creature he fought was not simply a vampire imprisoned in the waterways. A story, untold, existed within the nobleman's piercing blue eyes. The person lying before him on the ground had been tainted and then cruelly abandoned. During his journey though the castle, he fought countless demons and monsters, but none affected him as much as the white-haired vampire. Sorrow filled the knight as he looked upon Joachim, feeling his pain. "I don't think you are a monster." Leon whispered, whilst sadness enveloped him. "I cannot kill you. I fear my own soul would be forever stained by your blood if I did." But it seemed the nobleman had already surrendered his life. When the crusader extended his hand to aid him, the fallen youth slapped it weakly away.
"I don't want your pity." Joachim's voice gurgled the words. Blood clotted in his throat and slid from the corners of his lips and down his chest in thin, crimson lines. He wanted to believe he was not done fighting, that he could somehow overcome his injuries, and escape the terrifying loneliness of the water prison. Anger flashed through his eyes as he rasped. "I am not finished this battle yet!" The red liquid pooled out of his mouth, and the last of his strength, he slowly staggered to his feet. He stumbled, nearly falling, but was desperate to speak before his voice failed him. "My swords…cover me!" He searched for his swords – only to find that the weapons did not respond to his command. Like his body, his mind was too tired to continue fighting. He was so cold, so dreadfully cold. A sob wracked through his chest while his accusing eyes fell upon Leon. "To think…I lost…to a human."
The young man's ruthless hatred made a scowl cross the knight's lips, before he pointed his index finger at the vampire, unwilling to listen to the being's attempts to degrade him. "You promised! Now tell me, what is the Ebony Stone?"
Joachim's lips quivered, and the young vampire struggled to find the words. He had not imagined he would lose, and the sudden confrontation reminded him of what he offered if the battle ended with the human victorious. Between gasps, he struggled to stay conscious, his eyes burning from the agony coursing through every part of his trembling frame. "A stone…made with alchemy. It creates the never ending darkness….in this forest."
Even though Joachim tried to hide it, pain filled his voice. It was hopeless – he could not regain his strength before the ice from the whip and starvation took his life. The only thing he could do was fulfill his last promise before he died. What was death like? He had not thought about it for a long time, not since he was human. Death seemed so distant as a vampire. He did not know what would happen to his soul. He could not blame all of his crimes on Walter; many were his own doing. He tried to find some comfort in death, but knowing his soul was damned brought him only sadness.
"Hence eternal night…" he barely heard the knight muse. "But the night should help you as well, since you're a vampire!"
Joachim's mind slowly began to gather thoughts he nearly forgot in the state of his rage, and when he pieced them together, a shuddering gasp fled his lips. Every fiber inside him crumbled apart in that moment, for he realized the knight he hated and desired to kill was none other than Sara's betrothed – the one whom she hailed as being courageous and selfless. All along he had been fighting against her savior, for he was powerless to protect her in his watery prison, a thought that brought clouds of tears in his eyes. He nearly killed the only person who could save Sara and destroy Walter in his stead. The defeat he faced was much different than the others; his body felt so cold he was too weak to recover from the ravages of the ice-cold whip. Every part of him was fading away, doomed to disappear into the darkness from whence he came.
He inhaled a low hiss and staggered in place. In his agony he almost forgot the knight's demand. His eyes narrowed when his once proud visage shattered into bitter sobs. "Everyone I have ever known and loved is dead…and soon I shall join them. My life as a human was miserable, and only when I became a vampire did she bring me but a brief time of happiness…and for that…" His energy was disappearing rapidly, and he winced when sharp jolts of pain shot through his chest. If only he had more time…he would have told the knight everything…
"What do you mean?" Leon asked. The knight's anger dissipated into concern. More than anything, he wanted to help the injured nobleman but he kept his distance. The vampire did not want to be helped, and it pained him to only stand there, powerless to prevent the young man's suffering. He had witnessed so much death and sorrow during his campaigns in the east that, upon realizing the former human was truly dying, his heart ached with regret.
Joachim staggered again, and was barely able to remain standing. Pain etched across his face as he lamented. "I…would have betrayed…her if I took your life. I tried to destroy Walter and obtain control over Eternal Night…but I failed…"
Another jolt of agony warned him the grasping hands of death were approaching, preparing to steal his tainted soul into hell. Joachim gritted his teeth in pain before forcing himself to continue. "That stone chooses its master…my powers pale beside his…" Although his blood was cold, the ice was freezing his respiratory system, and breathing became increasingly difficult. With tortured steps, he staggered back, his eyes widening in fear as a cold chill ran through him. Ice was slowly encasing his silent heart. Tears freed themselves from his eyes and crystallized upon his cheeks from the cold. Life was slowly slipping away from him. If he had the crimson stone, he would have had the power to stop Walter.
But his powers were insignificant –and he was simply just another pawn in Walter's game, whose usefulness had reached its end.
The pale youth stared upward at the ceiling, his eyes gazing to the heavens, whilst he spoke, his dying breath professing his grief and regret.
"I only wish…that in my misery…I could find hope in seeing her again. Walter…if it were not for him…I would still be human. Oh…if only I had the crimson stone…!"
Pain resonated through his body, and a wail of anguish broke from his throat, consuming the lonely room's former silence. Ice crystallized completely around his heart, and the pain was so immense it felt like someone had plunged their hand through his chest and ripped it out. Joachim cringed inside himself while his eyes blurred out of focus. It was strange how once he was so determined to die, but the fact he would pass on with Walter still alive shattered his hope completely. His soul could never rest in peace as long as Walter lived to rule the night. Whether he was a vampire or a human, his existence always hinged on the will of others.
The only thing that comforted Joachim was Catherine. He saw her exquisite face smiling at him, the deep chestnut locks of her hair coiling around her neck, and the sound of her sweet voice calling his name…
Perhaps if he had more time he might have told Leon the terrible fate Walter inflicted upon Sara, the woman he too loved, but his body was beginning to dissolve. A bright light flashed in his eyes, and he screamed…
Gradually, his vision faded into blackness.