The birds were chirping carefree upon the branches greeting the day. The vineyards were showered by the warm sunlight and the grapes growing on them, seemed juicy and ready to be cut, eaten or be turned into wine. The small river would keep on its journey lazily through the French countryside. A young girl, around sixteen years of age, was walking down the path to the small river close to her small cottage. She had woken up before dawn, like usually, and she had gathered all the eggs and taken care of the animals in the farm. Now she went down the bushes to gather some fresh berries.
She was dressed in common clothes, a white shirt and a brown skirt, white apron and a white kerchief to her brown hair. Her bright oil-colored eyes were matching the grass around the riverbank. Her basket was already half-full with the fresh flowers that caught her eye on her way down. She was humming an old melody smiling as she was walking down the hill. She finally reached the bank of the river. The day was a nice, summer day and she felt thirsty. She needed some cool water from the river. She walked closer, completely unaware of the dark mass so close to her, however suddenly she let out a loud scream and the basket fell from her hands, shattering all flowers to the grass while her hands flew up to cup her face in terror.
The water was turning red like blood in that spot, and right there, in the shallow waters of the muddy riverbank, there was a man, bleeding like a slaughtered pig, holding his side painfully, in a failed attempt to stop the bleeding. He raised his tri-colored spiky head up weakly with a pleading look written all over his face. The girl came face-to-face with the most unusual, most terrifying but also the most charming, the most unique blood-red eyes she had ever seen.
"H…Help…me…" he croaked out before his strength betrayed him once more and his head collapsed once more.
The girl screamed loudly once more.
"Maman! Maman!" she screamed for her mother
A woman dressed in a red dress and white shirt with long, wavy black hair and scandalously rich breasts appeared at the doorstep of the small cottage.
"Qu'est-ce-que c'est?" she asked once more in French
But when he hawk-like strong black eyes saw the scene she gasped.
"Vite! Al' interieur !"
And the woman ran to the spot to help her daughter raise the man in arms and bring him inside the cottage, completely ignoring the fallen basket, the shattered flowers, the forgotten berries and the drops of blood dripping all the way till the house…
The man was breathing heavily and he was completely soaked but now not in water but in his own sweat. He was struggling between dream and reality. Between sleep and awake. Between consciousness and unconsciousness. He was sighing and moaning like a dying man and his sigh became deeper when the woman along with the help of her daughter laid him on the clean bed. The woman was barking orders to her daughter; to bring water, to bring a lit candle and also a set of knives. When her daughter ran to listen to her she torn the stranger's shirt open to reveal his naked torso. She saw the spot on his ribs' location. It was a bleeding hole. She recognized the wound. It was bullet wound!
She didn't waste a second. She placed the blade of the knife to the candle's fire to clean it and ordered to the daughter to hold the stranger still as she did her job. With effort she managed to remove the small bullet out of the stranger's body. To her great surprise and shock:
"C'est d'or!" she mumbled in shock.
Indeed, the bullet was golden. And to her even greater shock the man seemed to be screaming in terrible pain when she took it out of his body and the spot the bullet was in seconds ago, was now smoking as if burnt by lit coal. Mother and daughter exchanged a surprised glance before the mother starting placing compresses onto the wound to help it heal.
Hours later, in the middle of the night, the stranger was sleeping badly beneath a pile of blankets. He was shivering from cold despite the warm weather or the warm blankets covering him.
"C-Cold…" he was shivering half whispering in English, "S-So cold…"
However he was soaked in sweat despite his words. He was burning in fever. The woman covered him with yet another blanket patiently, giving him with the spoon through the mouth some warm wine to help him get warmer. The cold was sign of the fever and the fever was a good sign. This man had survived a near-death experience, with a bullet wound that nearly touched his lung and still his body had reacted pretty fast. The young girl brought some more coals to put them to the brazier next to him.
No matter how much she asked her mother about the stranger, the older woman spoke no answer. He could be anyone. Where had he come from and where had he received such a wound? He could be a criminal, as far as she knew, and got hit by a police officer but what bothered her was that the bullet was not a common bullet but a golden one. This put her through a lot of thought. What she could hope for was that the man wouldn't die on her and that he would give her some answers when he felt better and in good condition in order to speak…
Everything seemed blurred for a little as he opened his eyes bit by bit. In the beginning the strong sunlight was blinding him. As his eyes got used to it, he managed to see that he was inside a house, a small cottage. Everything around him was made by wood; the table, the chairs, the bed he was lieing on… It was surprisingly comfortable and he could feel the soft pillow under his head. The well-known smells of fresh-baked breakfast along with the pleasant smell of fresh straw and home-like smell, was making his stomach growl hungrily. He couldn't remember when was the last time he ate. Yesterday perhaps, or maybe the day before. To tell the truth, he couldn't remember pretty much of anything. The last thing he remembered was the terrible pain of his wound and also the coldness of water when he fell in the river that cold night they came after him… A scratching-like sound drew his attention and when he turned his head towards it, he saw a girl sweeping the floor. He rubbed his soar and dry throat, he tested his voice, he hadn't used for so long and managed to say hoarsely:
"Who are you…?"
The girl gasped surprised and looked at him with some fear and uncertainty in her eyes. The man recognized her. He remembered that scared face a little before blacking out. He believed she hadn't heard him so he repeated a little bit louder:
"Who are you? Did you bring me here…?"
However the girl shrugged her shoulders and shook her head in an apologetic way.
"Je ne comprends pas…" she said a couple of times. "Je ne comprends pas…"
The man too took that apologetic look, pushing his lips together and shaking his head.
"I'm sorry…" he said, "I don't understand…"
"I see you're awake…" he heard a third voice in the heavy accent of French
He turned around to see a beautiful black-haired woman looking at him. She seemed older than the girl but for sure she looked quite…interesting as a female!
"You speak English…" he said with a bit of hope in his voice
"A little bit…" the woman replied, "I s'pose ze years I wo'ked as a prost'tute did za job!"
She smiled the last one. The spiky-haired male couldn't help but smile at that. The woman seemed indeed dynamic and strong. She was smiling and making fun of the fact that she was a prostitute in the past. Most of women wouldn't be so…alright with the idea… His throat was dry like sand.
"Water…" he pleaded hoarsely, "Please…"
The raven-haired woman brought him a wooden cup to his lips. He drank greedily. When he was done, she placed the empty cup to the night table.
"I'm 'appy to see you're awake. I'm Chantal an' zis 's mon fille, my daughter Marie"
Hearing her name the girl nodded her head at him shyly with a faint blush painting her cheekbones. The man repeated the gesture in return. The woman placed the wooden cup to his lips once more and so he drank again.
"How long was I unconscious?" he asked
"Two days" Chantal answered, "You 'ad awful fever tout la nuit, all night"
"Two…days…" the man repeated as though he couldn't believe it himself.
A moment of silence passed between them in the room, till finally the French beauty cracked a small smile and said to enlighten the atmosphere:
"What's you're name?"
The stranger seemed to be taken aback for a second and that second was a second of silence. He seemed like he was only now thinking of what he should answer.
"John…" he finally said after the pause, "John Smith"
"Zan!" she repeated using the French version of the name, "Beautiful"
Another moment of silence passed and this time the woman broke the silence with a very serious look in her dark eyes.
"I got a bullet out o' you wound" the woman said making his eyes widen in shock or better in realization, "Za bullet was gold'n"
The man tensed. So that was what had happened to him. And he was sure that the woman was anything but foolish. She should have noticed ho fast he healed by now. And the fact that she mentioned the material the bullet was made of could not easily be overlooked or explained.
"Please…" he only said pleadingly, "Do not speak of this to anyone…I swear to you I am not a criminal… And whoever is after me won't bother you…I…just please do not…speak to anyone about this…!"
The woman was watching over him while he was…panicking on his own. When his monologue seemed to be coming to an end, she smirked, almost in amusement, as she said:
"Yeah, yeah, I get it, 'oung man… Ev'ry one 'as 'is reasons fo' wha' they do. 'Oweva…if you put mon fille in danger…I won't 'elp you!"
And to that she smiled promisingly.
"Now you betteur eat something…."
"I'm sorry for the trouble" the man smiled gratefully.
The days passed and the man seemed absolutely fine, and he was getting better every passing day. During his staying at the cottage, he couldn't just stay in bed and do nothing. After a couple of days of recovering, he was helping Chantal and her daughter with any kind of work he could (Usually it included lifting heavy objects or reach high places). The stranger seemed incredibly strong and helpful indeed. During his staying in the small cottage, the stranger that introduced himself as John and the young Marie hadn't exchanged even a single word. Every time they would meet in the garden while he was clearing up the straws and she was coming back with her basket full of eggs or fruits or when she was cooking the day's meal and he would enter the kitchen holding a bucket of water their eyes would simply meet, she would blush sweetly and she would turn her gaze elsewhere. Well…even if he told her anything, he was sure she wouldn't understand him.
"Your daughter doesn't speak English?" he had asked Chantal one day
She had shaken her head negatively.
"No" she answered, "She neva' felt like learnin'"
The stranger knew no French as well so he could do nothing else but not his head gratefully every time she served him his soup while they would sit to the table for supper or smile to her and wave her 'good morning' but even then, the girl would be too shy even to properly return the gesture. However her shy smile was enough reward for the young man. She was so pretty and so innocent. He hadn't met such a girl for so long… He felt her gaze onto him while he wasn't looking to her way. He could tell she liked him and he sure would like her back gladly. However there were so many things that separated them!
First and foremost they didn't speak the same language and secondly their age difference was greater than it looked like. Of course the man was used to seeing female brides that were decades younger than their husband. He had seen girls barely of age for marriage, even at the age of twelve or thirteen getting married to men that could easily be their grandfather and on his personal opinion as long as the emotion existed, he would have no real problem with age difference but in their case…things were getting a little too far…perhaps not just decades of difference!
"After all…she would deserve better than me…" the man would think every time he would feel the girl's eyes staring holes into his back.
Then he would gaze over his shoulder and she would flush like an embarrassed child that was caught red-handed placing their small hand into the plate with the sweets and honey and would turn her gaze elsewhere. The man named John would simply turn his head back to its original place with a small, kind of sad smile.
"A child…" he would think then, "That's what she is… Just a child…"
Nevertheless he found himself staring at her too sometimes. Her body had barely started to form at a shape of a woman and he knew that when she grew up she would become a beautiful young lady. She was an adorable creature indeed and even a blind man could see it. One night he had entered her room without wanting it and found her knelt by the bed, wearing only her white nightgown. He knew what she was doing. She was praying. He had seen many people pray that way, knelt by their beds before sleeping. Many Christians did that. But he himself hadn't truly felt the need to pray for a long time…
His sudden entrance surprised the girl. She gasped and turned around sharply over her shoulder when he got in.
"Oh…sorry" he said, "I didn't mean to disturb you…I'll leave…"
However the scared or surprised look had already left her eyes. She extended an arm to him and then her hand moved in an inviting gesture. She was inviting him to join her, he, who had never prayed to the Christian God before. For some reason, though, he found it impossible to refuse to her. He approached slowly and then joined her, kneeling on the wooden floor beside her. She smiled to him sweetly and then she clasped her white hands together once more and closed her eyes to return to her praying. The man kind of mimicked her but he couldn't bring himself think of anything to say to a God almost foreign to him. However when he thought about it he only closed the never-started prayer with the only word he truly understood in the Christian faith;
"Amen"
Their relationship continued like this many days. Always showed by gestures; They never spoke a word to each other, they never even truly touched. The man sometimes smiled at her. She on the other hand would offer him a sweet glance or a flower or a red fruit from her basket. The man knew what she wanted… But also knew he couldn't give it to her…
Days and weeks passed into the small cottage and life seemed so incredibly simple and so incredibly peaceful that the man almost believed it was okay for him to live that way… Perhaps he could even get married and have children…settle down in a cottage… However he knew this could never be true. There was always a clue that was reminding him who he truly was…WHAT he truly was… The golden bullet... The golden bullet had burnt him like hot metal burns human flesh as it touches it. He knew the truth about his nature. The issue was that THEY could never find out. Not these incredibly kind women who offered him a roof to stay and food to eat when he was alone and wounded and at the brief of death. He somehow felt admiration for them. Very few ladies would choose to live alone in the middle of countryside yet alone to bring a completely unknown man to their house, feed him and trust him (much more a man that didn't even know their language). The man could feel it to his bones; full moon was coming closer and closer. He didn't have much time. He had to say goodbye…
"So…ya leavin'…" Chantal said one evening as the two of them were discussing bout this at the dim candlelight, sat on the table.
The man nodded.
"You were too kind with me and I appreciate it. However people who are after me might come. I do not want you and your adorable daughter get involved into this. You already did so much for me, so much I do not even know how to repay you"
He always was more talkative with Chantal. She was the only one who could understand his language. Chantal nodded.
"I understand…" she said solemnly, "I knew zis day would be comin'…" she smiled to him, "Ya 've been great o' 'elp as well… Merci…for everythin'…"
The man nodded his head with a smile. This part had ended. Now he had to do the hard part. He had to say properly goodbye to the sweet girl as well. The girl who had been smitten in love with him but he knew love between them could never exist. He doubted that the girl could bear to see who he really was… He found her in his room. She was tidying the candles dressed in her white nightgown. When she heard him entering she straightened her body and turned around to see him with a smile. He returned it. He walked to the bed and sat on it and then patted the spot next to him, mentioning for her to sit there. She obeyed. This would be hard and he knew it.
"Em…I…" he couldn't find the words.
He tried to remember the little French he learnt during his days here.
"M…Merci…Merci beaucoup…" he finally stuttered, "Merci beaucoup…for everything…"
Suddenly the girl's eyes grew sad, almost watery. She had realized what was the meaning behind his thanking words. He saw her trying discreetly trying to mop her tears with her tiny finger-knuckles and for the first time he touched her shoulders. In reality his one arm hugged her shoulders and the other touched her arm as he whispered
"Shh…sh sh sh… Don't cry… I…I couldn't do anything…I promise…if there was a way…any kind of way…"
He knew she couldn't understand him. Or at least he guessed she didn't. She looked at him again with watery, moist eyes and her small, white hand touched his cheek. He knew what she wanted. At least this he could offer…with easiness and gladly. He leaned down as she leaned up and their lips met in a soft and chaste touch. As they pulled back the girl stared into his ruby eyes. She gently pushed him down the bed and sat upon him. He let her do it but he didn't know what was on her mind. Perhaps she wanted to say goodnight to him in her way. However she looked down at him and blushed and then let the material slip from her shoulder and then the other shyly, revealing her barely blooming breasts in the moonlight, almost in fear of sinning if she would be his outside marriage. The man now knew what she wanted.
"No…" he said softly touching her arm, stopping her from lowering the material below the area of her waist
She looked at him, almost pleadingly.
"No…" he repeated this time softly shaking his head to make the point clearer, "You deserve someone better…" he whispered pulling the material again up on her right shoulder as if petting his baby daughter, "…you deserve someone better…"
The girl didn't need to understand the words to realize what he wanted to tell her. Almost ashamed and in tears she got off him, completely covering herself again and without another word she left the room. The only thing he could do was sigh…alone…
The next morning the man left even before dawn. The orange-red color had barely started to paint the base of the horizon as the man walked out of the small cottage with a small sack to hanging from his shoulder. He was dressed in simple, brown pants with high boots and simple white shirt. Nothing more. He came to a halt for a second and looked at the friendly countryside. He glanced over his shoulder to look at the house that saved his life one more time and then started walking by the river. On his way, he took the bullet out of his pocket and threw it into the deep brownish-green waters of the river. The small, golden object sank as if it never existed before. After that, the man started to walk with his boots softly sinking and un-sinking at the shallow mud of the riverbank… And the dawn continued to break…
"Yami…Yami…"
The soft, female voice made him raise his head from where it hang almost lifeless on his chest and come back from his lethargic sleep. The horse was rocking him up and down slowly. Yes, he remembered now. They had left the now destroyed Kaiba Estate the night before. All three of them were wet and freezing, with their totally moist clothes plastered against their skins. A fast ride seemed impossible and they had started riding back in a slow pace. On their way back Yami had already emptied his flask's content into his thirsty throat and the hypnotic power of burning absinthe combined with the soft rocking of the horse as it walked probably did the job for him and he most likely fell asleep on the saddle. He couldn't remember when was the last time this happened to him. Not even in the worst moments of drunkenness or when he was at the point of collapsing from fatigue had he fallen asleep on his horse. However no one could blame him. The recent days had him completely beaten down not only physically but also mentally. Yami found it a miracle he hadn't fallen from the saddle.
Now the forest was covered in a half-thick fog and the trees around them seemed dressed in a cloud. The air was moist and chilly, adding even to Yami's veins a slight shiver. He could hear his own teeth at the brief of clattering. Over his left shoulder he could clearly hear Joey's like a couple of castanets. Tea was riding by his side. Her lips were also pale, almost blue in cold. Her hair had been plastered against her forehead in this humidity. Despite the grayness all around them, Yami could clearly see and smell the morning.
"We're here…" Tea whispered again, half-shivering.
Yami could see the village meters below the hill they were on. So they were riding throughout all the night till they reached the Transylvanian village again… The houses still destroyed here and there after the night before when Bakura appeared fully transformed into a werewolf but still it was a comforting sight. Joey beside him looked more like a mass of clothes rather than a human being. He was shivering non-stop, slightly bended forward onto the saddle with his hands under his arms to provide more warmth. Occasionally he would take them out to blow some warm air onto them. Yami couldn't blame him. His clothes of a friar were heavy and when they had fallen into the water, more layers of cloth had been soaked wet. The man was probably frozen by now; Not that Yami himself wasn't. His own hands were frozen and still like stone. He opened and closed his palm once or twice to feel his knuckles once more. Their breath was coming out in white clouds, clouds that appeared to be joining the mist around them. Tea blew some warm air to her gloved fingers.
"We all need a good meal and a warm bath I believe. After we rest a little we check on the new clues we have"
Warmth…yes, Yami definitely needed that; a good fire in the fireplace and perhaps some warm drink, some beer maybe or better, a cup of warm wine with herbs, a few jugs of it, only then he could finally forget everything, forget those dreams, forget his anger, forget his sorrow, everything. This would do the job, it would help him to run away from the darkness of his past…
"Yami?" Tea's voice sounded concerned
He looked up and saw her, ready to start going down the hill but stopped in the midway to look at his spacing-out form.
"I…I'm coming" he said pushing slightly his heels against the stallion's ribs to make it start walking down the narrow path.
No, he couldn't do that. Enough with forgetting, enough with running away from everything that was painful. The beast inside him would wake whether he was drunk to stupor or sober. Besides he should be sober for his friends; for Joey, for Tea, for Kisara, for himself. The final battle was coming closer and closer. He would need all his strength and all his mental power in order to protect them all, when this time would come. The horses finally entered the central square of the village. Some of the villagers already came there to check up on them. The horses came to a halt and Tea jumped off it to the ground.
"Come on. We all need a warm bath" she said rubbing her hands together.
Yami and Joey mimicked her getting down from the horses. Joey, obviously to forget the cold, he had become rather talkative;
"So you won't turn into a beast until the next full moon. That's two days from now. So we have 48 hours to find a solution. But you'll still be able to fight Seto Kaiba's hold over you until the final stroke of midnight"
"Sounds like I have nothing to worry about!" Yami said in bitter sarcasm
"Oh, my God, you should be terrified!"
"Thanks"
"Sorry"
Both of them half-ran to Anna's inn. When they passed the front door and got into they finally felt some warmth getting to their bones. Anna happened to be passing by and gasped shocked seeing them.
"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed, "What happened to you?"
"It doesn't matter!" Yami cut her passing by her hastily, "We need a boiling hot bath and a warm meal and fast. Also my friend might get seriously ill. Bring some hot, red wine to our rooms and fast!"
"R-Right away…!" she stuttered more surprised than anything else.
The bath, the food and wine sure did the job in combination with a few hours of sleep. Joey had left earlier than Yami to go to Mai's house. Yami got up by nightfall, got dressed and left in the dead of night as well to go and meet them there.
"Seto Kaiba must have taken Kisara back to his lair" said Tea as they were marching down the stone hall of Mai's house till the great living room where Mai and Joey were waiting.
Mai was on the sofa, still wrapped in bandages below her clothes while Joey was reading from a book.
"We must save her!" Yami answered her
"People have been trying for 450 years already! And you have only two days till you become a Demon and lose control of yourself! You cannot deal with two problems at once!"
Yami growled in frustration and punched a stonewall hard in his anger. It slightly cracked.
"Oi!" Mai said from her sitting position, "Careful with my house, will ya?"
"Well…" Joey said with a playful smirk, "I wasn't around for those 450 years, now, was I?"
Yami and Tea looked at each other and then along with Mai rushed by Joey's side.
"Did you manage to translate the book?" Tea said bending over
"Okay, Joey, what have you learnt?" Yami also asked
"Seto Valerious Kaiba was actually the son of Valerious Kaiba the eldest. He became Count after his death at his teens. According to this rubbing it all started with the death of his wife, who was found brutally murdered by Seto Kaiba's hands. Seto Kaiba was caught by his entire village and was buried alive"
"And it was my ancestor the one leading the operation" Tea said
"Yes" Joey said taking out some maps and old drawings, "Velkan Gardner was a gardener to Seto Kaiba's castle and was taking care of the roses and perhaps saw the crime be happening and so he ran to the village and probably turned everyone against Seto Kaiba, at least that's what he mentions to his diary" he said raising up a book made of almost ancient and eaten by time yellow scrolls.
"So Seto Kaiba made a convenient with the Devil" Mai said
"Yes. And he was given a new life" Joey confirmed by showing the mystery book having a sketch with Seto Kaiba and the Devil
"But the only way he could sustain that life was by drinking human blood" Tea said leaning over the drawing
"Excuse me, are you going to let me tell the story?" Joey said pretending being insulted
"Sorry" she apologized.
Joey rolled his eyes once (but always smirking inside at his joke) and continued.
"Well, as our dear Tea said, interrupting me so kindly, Seto Kaiba was given a new life but he was doomed to keep it by drinking the blood of humans. Also there was another catch to the contact. According to the book, Seto Kaiba is not allowed to leave his castle or at least a certain area around it"
Yami looked at the sketches of the book in a very interested manner.
"That's why he never left his lair for 450 years. That explains why he never abandoned this village for a place with better pray!"
"Exactly" Joey confirmed once more, "It is almost like a ghost that is doomed to remain to the same place it was killed. The other detail is that he is no longer allowed to walk under sunlight, he cannot bear it any longer, neither enter in a Holy ground nor touch anything Holy like crucifixes or Holy Water. However in return for those weaknesses he gained other powers; First and foremost physical powers. They say he has strength to his one arm equal to the strength of twenty men combined. He can perfectly see in the dark and hear and smell from even kilometers away if he wants to. Plus all the other…well…spectacular things we saw him doing some weeks ago… Mentally he can control creatures of the night; wolves, bats, craws, wild dogs and many others. Mostly creatures that feed themselves on meat and blood"
"Who would have thought?" Mai said sarcastically
Joey gave her a playful glare and said
"We know that Seto Kaiba also turned three people to his own kind as a test for his powers, or for other purposes we do not know. Also this book mentions his castle was used once for a great experiment for the good of Humanity"
This caught the attention of his three listeners.
"Experiment?" Yami asked, "What kind of experiment?"
"I dunno man. I haven't translated it all yet. I need a couple of hours more"
And when he saw the disappointment written all over Yami's face he added
"However…this symbol should look familiar. I think I know WHO did this experiment…"
Yami bended over the book and his eyes widened in shock. He saw the particular silver badge with the sword in the center.
"It's the Silver Order!"
Kisara was lieing on her bed, dressed only in a sleeveless, cotton, white nightgown that was plastered against her naked skin, just like her hair was plastered on her forehead. She was soaked in sweat despite the cold and she was breathing heavily as if she had just run a marathon. Her chest was moving up and down violently at her rasping breathing. She was lieing on her back with her legs slightly parted as her feet were touching the mattress. Her hair was cascading on the pillow all around her head like a pile of silver in the pale moonlight. She was still rasping for breath when she slightly looked on her right to see Seto Kaiba walking up and down next to her bed.
"Soon…" he was saying, "Very soon the last pieces will be completed… The final battle is coming closer!"
Kisara didn't answer. She was only breathing. Her blue eyes were half-lit in fatigue or in illness and her mouth was slightly parted so her rasping breath would come out of it. However her lips were slightly drawn up, as if she was smiling. It was indeed an illusion of a smile… A wicked somehow humorless, almost hysterical smile. She looked like she was hallucinating over something.
"The blood in my veins runs slowly…" Seto Kaiba continued his monologue, "It feels it…the smell of end coming closer and closer! It is the moment of absolute death and of absolute triumph at the same time! Oh how I wish my heart would move once more! How I wish it still had a pulse!" he said as he got close to the large window and he opened his arms wide as if he wanted to embrace to his bosom the entire Existence of the World
Kisara was still breathing…always and only breathing. She was following his moves with her eyes but she barely made any move to motion her head. She was only breathing heavily again and again… Seto Kaiba turned around towards her direction and smiled a sweet, yet cold and fearful smile. He sat at the edge of the bed right next to her.
"Soon my dear…" he whispered, "Soon it ends…"
His dead-cold hand caressed her soaked in sweat head and forehead, stroking her like a caring father would do to his daughter.
"However…in order for the final part to be played…there is something else needed to be done… One final thing…"
The wind was blowing softly yet chillily inside the room, making the almost transparent curtains move like the torn cape of some ghost (the thick ones were secured well with their ropes to the sides of the window).
"Now my dear…I need to call upon my blood that resides within your veins…" he cooed at her, "To make you mine…body and soul for a little bit, till the task is done…"
He leaned down and his lips hovered over her ear. His burning hot breath against it, tickling deeply inside it.
"Now…be mine my dear bride…be mine till the end of Great Night…" he chanted in a haunting whisper.
Suddenly Kisara's rasping breathing was cut off as if cut with a knife. Her eyes widened but they were dull with no life, at least not the one they used to have. Everything seemed to be slowing down; her heartbeat, her breathing, her pulse… Seto Kaiba stood up slowly.
"Now stand…my bride…" he cooed the order.
Kisara slowly, very slowly, sat up on the bed, hanging her white, bare legs from one side of it (the side towards him) and slowly stood up. She remained there with her arms hanging from her sides as if waiting for the order.
"Yes!" Seto Kaiba hissed in a whisper, "Let the Final Countdown begin!"
Kisara was still standing there…while five shadows were gathering around her…
The Great Night had come…
FINALLY! I made this chapter! It took me a while I know but I sincirely hope you will enjoy it the same!
Another part of Yami's past we see here. Yami ends up in France. I still am not sure if this takes place historically before or after the age where he was in England with Serenity. In any case here we see a different adventure of Yami that involves a little bit of peaceful life and not exactly the love relationships we see before.
My French are kinda rusty so if I made a mistake to the French dialogues forgive me. I haven't spoken French for years...
The girl mentioned here is inspired by the girl appearing in Yu-Gi-Oh Capsule Monsters, the one that was supposed to be sacrificed to Blue Eyes White Dragon. Chantal is purely my character.
Well you asked for it and it came! The Final Countdown! Yami and the guys finally find the way to translate part of the book and find some interesting details about who Seto Kaiba is and how things came to it...up to one point of course! Soon you'll see the rest!
What's wrong with Kisara? Is she sick? What's going to happen really? Will Yami find the way to stop Seto Kaiba before the full moon rises and before he gets crazy? Who knows? Wait and find out!
I cannot resist imagining something like this playing for "ending theme song" for this "episode" if it was episode in an anime
(Game of Thrones Ost: Rains of Castamere Instrumental Long Version)
Please review me :)