Chapter Thirty-Seven

Essence

Shanoa came back to herself out of the blackness of a memory's end.

The warrior was no longer kneeling at the foot of the Vessel. Instead, she found herself sprawled on the hardwood floor next to Laura's bed. She lingered there for a while; allowed the throbbing inside her head to subsist without any form of higher thought as the visions receded. Outside it was mostly dark, aside from the faint glow of dimmed sunlight that was either the product of dusk or pre-dawn, though she couldn't say for sure. Shanoa had no idea how long she'd been enrapt by the memories. Reliving them with all the fervor of one experiencing the events for the first time. Her mind ached with the weight of remembrance, a side effect of having this intrinsic part of herself – vacant for far too long – suddenly returned. The emotions elicited by the revelations held within her past stayed their hand for the moment, however. A small blessing while Shanoa found her bearings.

The warrior rose slowly as she pushed herself upright until she was sitting in the middle of Laura's loft. The ancient copy of Beowulf was still clutched in her hands. Shanoa, beside herself with its meaning, held the volume to her chest. She trembled at the significance this tome held. No other books were capable of banishing Dominus' forced amnesia. Not the copy of this same story she'd found on Laura's bookshelf. Not any others existing out in the world. It was this gift, the gesture, the look of absolute joy on Aurelia's face – diluted somewhat through the layers of lies – as Shanoa beheld the present for the first time which broke Dominus' stalwart hold. Because no power on Earth could make the warrior forget such a pivotal moment and all the buildup which came before.

'Aurelia…'

With concerted effort Shanoa was able to climb to her feet. She stood frozen for a few moments, adrift in time and space, unsure of what to do now. Her emotions brewed close to the surface, ready to be released, but she was alone in the house with no one else to help her process what the memories meant. Under normal circumstances she'd rush to Laura's side, but the jeweler was kilometers away and being held at the mercy of a woman Shanoa had once called friend.

Then, without warning, the warrior felt a familiar pull inside of her. The ghost of the same urge that'd driven her to seek Wygol's streets the morning the thunderstorm broke, so soon after her victory over Castlevania. A lifetime ago now. Shanoa was eager to heed its request, knowing now where the urge was leading her. She placed the copy of Beowulf atop the bookshelves with care, unable to treat it with anything other than respect. Shanoa headed downstairs and out of the house, stepping onto the welcoming cobblestone streets of her village.

The Sun was rising in the East, indicating it was early morning. The sky was awash with a beautiful gradient of orange fading into dark purple further away from the horizon. The streets were currently empty, the other villagers still asleep in their beds. Shanoa didn't encounter anyone else as she crossed to the other side of Wygol and climbed up a short incline to the cottage sitting atop a small hill. Elevated enough to show the village laid out below her without leaving an observer with the sense of standing above it all. Shanoa knocked softly on the closed front door and waited for the old woman to answer. A few seconds passed before the handle turned and the door swung inward to reveal Daniela standing in the threshold. She stared up at Shanoa with a loving smile warming her aged face.

"I'm glad you could make it, dear," Daniela said. The old woman pushed the door open a bit more and stepped back. "Come in. I've set a place out for you."

Shanoa entered and closed the door behind her. There was a healthy fire already burning in Daniela's hearth, filling the one room cottage with comfortable warm air. The old woman situated herself in her favorite plush armchair in front of the hearth, but there was a new addition to her décor from Shanoa's last visit, only a couple weeks prior. There was another, matching armchair placed next to the fireplace. An adjacent wood side table held a still steaming cup of what Shanoa knew would be herbal tea. The warrior didn't need to be told twice. She crossed to the vacant armchair and sat down. It creaked a bit under her weight, though it held up well despite its age.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. The memories still swirled inside Shanoa's head. A jumble of thoughts she fought to piece together. Daniela waited with endless patience, the loving smile still on her lips. At length, the old woman hummed and took a sip from her teacup.

"You remember, don't you?" Daniela asked.

Shanoa answered with a slow now. "Yes," she said in a whisper. A small shudder ran unbidden down her spine. "It's… so much. An entire lifetime."

"And one worthy of respect." The old woman let the statement hang in the air for a moment. "I know many things, Shanoa, but the Sight is not omnipotent. I can't enter your mind and see it for myself, though that's for the best, I believe. Why don't you tell me what you remember? The important bits, at least. It'll be good for you to get it out."

It was all the encouragement Shanoa needed. The words spilled from her with ease: unfiltered, raw, and – above all else – honest. Shanoa told her everything. Spoke for hours of all the secrets Ecclesia had forced her to keep. Her early loneliness and longings. The sins she and Aurelia had committed. The fervent love between her and Albus which sent him on a desperate quest to show his sister her own intrinsic value. Daniela listened, intent and with infinite patience. She only interrupted to ask clarifying questions or encourage Shanoa to continue when she reached parts that carried significant pain.

It was well into the afternoon before the young warrior finished her tale. She'd had to get up a few times to place fresh logs on the fire or brew another pot of tea. The exhaustion of years had seeped into Shanoa's bones, yet the old woman was as attentive as ever. Daniela's kind eyes sparkled as she beheld this flawed young thing sitting across from her. As Shanoa reached the end, spoke of the ritual that took her identity from her, the tears at last burst from her eyes. She cried in silence. A few sobs stuttered in her chest, though they produced no sound. And still, Daniela waited.

"I'm sorry," Shanoa said. Her lips wet as they caught her tears.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Daniela said, her voice strong and steady. "Tears are never unjustified, and you have much to cry for. Let yourself mourn, Shanoa. Don't ever bury it. If you do, then it'll fester, become something much uglier than sorrow. Let it out, my child. I will be here."

With a vocal sob Shanoa cried. Tears which spoke of everything; the lost memories she couldn't cry for these past ten months. The grief once out of her reach culminating at last. A lifetime washed away as she cried. Carried on the water falling from her eyes, escaping into the air, though she didn't wipe them away. She let the tears flow unobstructed. Let her body purge as much as it needed.

"Dominus didn't corrupt Barlowe. He was always a liar," Shanoa said with another shudder. Her lips trembled as the tears continued, but she still managed to speak. "Ecclesia's dream was never to save humanity from Darkness, from Dracula. It was salvation through enslavement. Barlowe saw the same thing I did. The worst in humans cries out for a Dark Lord, resurrects him, pledges their allegiance to a creature that will subjugate their will to his own. Barlowe thought it meant mankind was designed to be subservient. The same brand of fealty even the Christian God demands. But, if we could not follow God, find complete salvation in Him, then we would be forced to follow a Dark Lord. And then, only then, would we be freed from Chaos.

"But Barlowe didn't know Chaos, did he? He didn't see all of it; didn't feel what lay inside Dominus until it was too late. Dracula is an agent of Chaos. A herald of the same force Barlowe deigned to eradicate within humanity. Barlowe and his acolytes were deceived, but they were always corrupt. Everyone was guilty. From our Masters to Aurelia."

"You've known for some time, I suspect," Daniela said in a soothing voice.

Shanoa wrapped her arms around herself with a shake of her head. "Yes, some deep, subconscious part of me knew the moment Barlowe betrayed me. I watched him resurrect Dracula. He… it was calculated. He knew what measures to take, the exact means of the sacrifice. It was an act of desperation, but he wasn't a man possessed by anything other than his own conviction. He was Master over Ecclesia; lord of acolytes who served his every whim. Who believed in the same 'Lord' he did. The unveiling of his own corruption left no doubt to the truth. They were all wicked." Her eyes wandered to the flames in the hearth. "I couldn't understand the revelation while my memories were gone, though. I couldn't see how he'd manipulated me through Aurelia for all those years. And now that my memories are back, relived in all their detail, it's given me cause to wonder what my association with Ecclesia says about me. If… I was corrupted too."

"An understandable fear. One no one could blame you for having. But Shanoa, look at me." The young woman obeyed. Met Daniela's brown eyes with her own. "That fear is unfounded."

"I'm a murderer," Shanoa said. Not an argument, but a statement.

"Are you, now?"

"They made me kill innocent people."

"An unfortunate truth, but that doesn't automatically make you a murderer." Daniela drained what was left in her teacup and set it aside. "Murder is not the act of killing itself, as most people seem to believe, but is motive based; defined by intent. In its most basic definition, murder is the unlawful killing of a human being with premeditated malice. Important distinctions you must remember.

"People, however, are much more difficult to define than a word, and you are the other key factor in this equation. And what are you, Shanoa? What have you been? You've witnessed a world far beyond your years, traveled halls only my family dares to challenge, and in acknowledging such experiences it's easy to forget how young you are. Still a child, in many respects, and you were a child in Ecclesia. Something vulnerable and pliable who placed all her love and trust in the people who raised her. Your Elders said they loved you, and what child would believe otherwise? Yet they took this young girl they were tasked with protecting and used her kind heart for their own ends."

Daniela held her gaze. The flames of the hearth danced within her brown eyes, adding additional fervor to the lesson she was imparting.

"You were a child soldier," the old woman continued. "Something only the most despicable monsters would ever dare to create. They taught you the only way you were worthy of receiving their love was by obeying orders, no matter how horrible the task. You had no power to say no or question their will. The Order of Ecclesia was a cult – make no mistake about that – and the children raised within such twisted communities have no way of knowing how the world is supposed to be. What love truly looks like.

"Ecclesia didn't see you as a person, nor treat you as one. You were a weapon; a thing to be used by others. Even if you tried to deny your supposed Masters, I'm sure they would have beaten all rebellion out of you. Whether by physical or mental torture, though their abuse already flowed freely, the poison they made you drink evidence enough. And still, through it all, they filled your head with the distorted idea this was morally right.

"You were their Blade; their sword to stop evils. How could you, a person with a good heart, deny them that? Or fight against what that duty meant for the sake of humanity? You can't be blamed for having been manipulated as a child. For what they forced you to do in Ecclesia's name. So, no, you're not a murderer because you had no ill intent. You've always wanted to save mankind, and thus you did what they told you would achieve that end."

"I… perhaps." Shanoa sighed as she leaned back in her chair. She closed her eyes; took a few deep breathes as she tried to fit the pieces into place. This lesson – the realization – which had been brewing for months now. Ever since she first stepped foot in Wygol. "I may not be a murderer, per the definition of the word, but I still killed innocent people. Me, my Glyphs. I was an extension of Barlowe's hand, yet they died by mine. I… I still hate that. I always will."

"And that's something you'll have to reconcile with in time," Daniela said. Her tone was steeped in empathy, and Shanoa wondered if she'd fought this battle herself.

"I want to atone." Shanoa opened her eyes and stared at an undefined point on the wall across from her. "That's what I've wanted most, ever since I discovered Aurelia's plot. I can't bring them back from the dead, but maybe I can do something to make their deaths less… unjustified."

"A difficult road to tread."

"But I've been walking it."

"So what did you think atonement looked like?" Daniela asked.

"Offering myself to Dominus, of course, but that was Barlowe's insistence. Then my memories were taken, and I couldn't remember needing to atone for anything. Months later, Barlowe released Dracula by copying my power, and suddenly there was a new atrocity to face. I stormed Castlevania on the heels of my ill-fated allegiance to Barlowe, but the death of innocents followed me into its halls. Lurking deep inside the hidden fodder feeding Dominus' flames. I thought I could atone for my foibles – and the resurrection I helped set into motion – by sacrificing my own life." Shanoa closed her eyes again. "A noble suicide, if such a thing was possible."

"And now?" the old woman asked.

"I… I know better."

"Good." There was a loud rustling as Daniela fussed with the thick quilt covering her legs. Still, Shanoa couldn't look at her yet. "That's a common mistake, unfortunately. One I've seen many a repentant soldier make. I almost fell prey to it myself, once, but grandfather was there to set me straight, bless him. He showed me the truth. Even a suicide done with so-called good intentions only perpetuates the cycle of death. It may mark an ending, but it's one where violence wins, and your humanity loses. You can't atone through death; only succumb."

"How, then?" Shanoa, at last, looked at Daniela. The entreaty burned in her blue eyes. "How do I atone for the innocent lives I've taken?"

A warm smile blossomed on the old woman's face.

"You already know, Shanoa. That's what I've been trying to tell you." The old woman stood up and walked to the fire. She held her hands out to the flames, warming them. Her dark eyes turned to the young warrior, the loving smile still on her lips. "This is not the beginning of your journey, but the end of it. You've not only seen the righteous path; you've walked it. All I need to offer you is the confirmation you've been right all along.

"You've broken free of Ecclesia's influence. Taken this immense power they used to kill innocent people and, instead, you used it to save lives. On a smaller scale, at first. You saved the people of this village, myself included. Nothing forced you to help us, and yet you did. You took those Glyphs, employed your strong sense of conviction, and pulled us back from the brink of despair. And then your efforts grew into something nigh immeasurable. You saved humanity from destruction, Shanoa. You stormed Castlevania, decimated its armies, and slew Dracula. Again, there was nothing which forced you inside the castle. Your ancestors didn't make an oath. Your blood isn't bound to slay the night, and yet you still persevered. You conquered. You saved.

"But even those deeds pale in comparison to what you did after. You fought a battle far more difficult than any Dracula could offer. You faced yourself, the darkness within, the violence you were forced to perpetuate, and you challenged it. Fought against the lies Ecclesia told you. The twisted version of love they forced you to believe in. You were scared, lost, and alone, and dared to be more. Dared to find true love, and in doing so you overcame the greatest battle of all. The one most people spend their entire lives without conquering."

Daniela had turned to face her. There was so much love in her gaze. More than it seemed her small body could handle. Tears brimmed in the old woman's eyes, and Shanoa melted under the pure warmth radiating from her.

"You saved yourself."

Shanoa's own tears came as the knot undid in her chest.

"That's how you atoned, Shanoa," Daniela continued. "Not by suicide or suffering even more sacrifice. You don't atone for the lives you've taken by destroying your own. You atone by saving others. But, more than anything else, you atone by saving yourself." Her smile was brilliant. Enough to illuminate the darkest night. "These are the words you need to hear, my child. Now, in this moment, and they will be said again. In another time and place. Another world, maybe, at the conclusion of another saga. There will always be someone who needs to hear them."

"Daniela…"

The old woman rushed to her. Shanoa moved in tandem, her arms outstretched, as they wrapped each other in an embrace. Daniela held her as she cried the last of her tears. The final deluge as Shanoa broke off the chains and let it go. At this angle – her still sitting, Daniela standing upright – Shanoa's face was pressed against the old woman's stomach. Her tears stained Daniela's frock in patches of water, but they both were beyond caring. At length, Daniela bent down and kissed the top of her head.

"I'm not a monster," Shanoa said, affirming the fact by voicing it aloud.

"You never were."

"Albus was trying to tell me this all along. Even before the ritual he was on a quest to show me the truth, ever since my last birthday. I already realized that's why he came to Wygol, to show me the way, but I… I didn't realize how deep it went, how fervent his wish." She gripped Daniela tighter. "He knew how much I was hurting and dedicated the end of his life to me and my salvation."

"You were his world," Daniela said. "He loved you more than words can say."

"Laura saw it too, what was plaguing me, even though I couldn't feel or express emotions."

"And she wouldn't love you if you were a monster." Daniela said it without qualm or reprimand. A statement of fact and nothing more. If Shanoa had any worries the old woman would see their love as something sinful the fear was banished now. "None of us would."

"I'm sorry it took so long for me to see it," the warrior said, but Daniela gave her shoulder a reassuring pat.

"These realizations can be hard to come by, and we all grow at our own pace. Never apologize for making the journey, what matters is getting there in the end."

They held onto each other as the last of the tears fell from Shanoa's eyes. This was a comfort the young warrior had never experienced before. She'd yearned for a motherly figure her entire life, though she'd never spoken of it to anyone, not even Albus. Because she knew it was a thing she couldn't have within Ecclesia, yet her heart had still desired. That was why she'd sought out Oriana when faced with one of her darkest moments, craving the same intimacy Daniela was showing her now. Only Oriana was a fiend unto herself, unable to give Shanoa the love and guidance she needed, but the girl she'd been hadn't had a choice otherwise.

Daniela could give her this love, though. She was trustworthy, world-wise in ways beyond anyone in Ecclesia. Shanoa felt safe in her arms, and she realized this was a woman she could reveal her soul to – in all its flawed ways – and not be judged or scrutinized. Here was the mother she'd been searching for, and it didn't come at the cost of anything.

"I always wanted this," Shanoa said after a time. "A family to call my own. It might be selfish of me, since I already had a brother, but I'd still get lonely sometimes."

"It's not selfish at all. A single person can't fill all the roles in your life, no matter how much Albus tried to." Daniela gave her another comforting squeeze. "God brought the people of this village together, and I will gladly call you my kin."

"Thank you for listening to my story," Shanoa said against the old woman's stomach.

"It's a tale I can relate to. I spent years alone myself, and I'm glad for the opportunity to pass on what I know."

With a final sniff, Shanoa let go of her new grandmother. She sat back as Daniela returned to her chair and settled in, wrapping the quilt around her legs. They sat in companionable silence for a time. Shanoa took deep, steady breaths and similar long exhales, releasing her tension as she expelled the air. The calming action helped further settle her tumultuous heart. An organ broken thrice over yet was stronger for it.

"I think Aurelia wanted the memories to break me," Shanoa said, breaking the silence. "If she knew I'd find any semblance of closure I doubt she would have left the book for me. It's not wise to empower your opponent before a battle, after all."

"You believe she hates you?" Daniela asked; something akin to apprehension in her voice.

"I don't know her." The warrior's voice sounded harder than she'd meant, and she tried to ease her tone somewhat. "We spent all those years together, but our relationship was built upon a foundation of lies. I still don't know what to make of the things she told me. The supposed secrets she revealed when we were alone. The emotions I'd see in her eyes felt real, and yet…" Shanoa closed her eyes with a sigh. "It doesn't make sense."

"The heart is a complicated place," Daniela said. "Something tells me she had about as much power as you did within the Order. No doubt Aurelia was manipulated in her own way, another child soldier raised by wicked men, but the difference here is she's not fighting against it. You are."

"A part of me wishes she'd fight, but…"

"But what?" the old woman asked.

"Whether she was acting under orders or of her own volition doesn't change the way I feel." Shanoa slowly opened her eyes, gaze upon the burning hearth. "I hate her for what she did, to me and to the innocent people we killed. She knew it was wrong, she knew it would hurt me beyond measure if I found out, but she did it anyway."

"It's difficult to say if she does know right from wrong. Cults have a way of skewing a person's moral compass." Daniela allowed a pregnant pause to pass between them. "I doubt she had a choice, Shanoa."

The warrior shook her head. "She still believes in Ecclesia's mission."

"Maybe she has to," Daniela said with some insistence. "If she didn't believe in her life's purpose she'd lose it all. You have a rare strength, my dear. Discovering your life is predicated on lies is a revelation most people couldn't come to terms with. The fact that you've come so far in such a short amount of time is a testament to your own resolve. Aurelia may not have the fortitude to endure the same realization."

"You may be right, but it doesn't excuse what she's doing; the threats she's made towards people I love."

"I agree, but you should start letting go of your hatred for her."

"That's easier said than done," Shanoa said with a sigh.

"I know." A soft chuckle rose in Daniela's throat. "Exacerbated by the fact that you're young and still somewhat bullheaded."

"I don't feel young." The warrior ran a heavy hand down her face. "I feel ancient, as though I'm already on my eighth century."

"You might as well be. You've been through more in your two decades than most people endure in a lifetime." The old woman gave her a warm smile. "But still, you've got plenty of time to grow."

"The growth will have to wait. For now, time's running out." Shanoa met Daniela's gaze. "I have to face Aurelia soon."

"Yes, and it'll be important to keep your wits about you. This woman is used to manipulation tactics, and so far, she's been trying to use your emotions against you. First by taking Laura hostage, then the threat against our lives, and now returning the book." The old woman's expression turned solemn. "I don't want you losing yourself when you see her again."

"I don't know what I'll do, to be honest," the warrior said.

"Then it's even more imperative you prepare for it."

"What do you suggest?"

"Meditation is a good tactic," Daniela said as she smoothed out the blanket wrinkles in her lap. "Clear your mind of the negativity, don't dwell on the past, and maintain a singular focus. This is for Laura, after all. Your only goal is to ensure you both come back safe. The rest will take care of itself."

"Is this advice from one warrior to another?" Shanoa asked with a small smile.

The old woman chuckled again. "I'm retired from the profession, dear. Long past my prime, but I mean to ensure your survival. The world still needs people like you, who fight for those who can't."

"A warrior is not a murderer," Shanoa said to herself.

A brief silence passed between the two women.

"Would you have gone with me?" Shanoa asked in a soft voice.

"No," Daniela said, though her voice was warm, not admonishing. "A righteous warrior knows when to stay her hand. This is your battle to fight. You must overcome the trial yourself."

"And I will," the young warrior said with a nod.

Daniela smiled at her; the sight set Shanoa's heart to rest. The old woman's comforting presence was enough to keep the lingering demons at bay. A wave of tiredness settled over Shanoa as she burrowed further into her plush chair. She hadn't slept the previous night, absorbed in reliving her past, and spent all day relaying the memories to Daniela. Her throat was sore, eyes heavy, the weight of sleep now undeniable.

"You're drifting off," the old woman said with a lightness in her tone.

Shanoa shook herself further awake, unaware of what she'd been doing. "Sorry," the warrior mumbled.

"Don't apologize. You're safe here, dear. You're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"Are you sure?" Shanoa asked regardless, not wanting to strain her surrogate grandmother's hospitality.

"I wouldn't offer otherwise," Daniela said with a slight wave of her hand and the smile still on her lips.

Shanoa let another wave of tension go on her next exhale. A deep release even more profound than the others that came before it. The weight of years was lifting off her shoulders, dissolving into the ether, as her eyes slowly fell closed. It would take time to fully let it go, to not carry any lingering doubt to her humanity, but she knew, and that was enough.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" Shanoa asked, her words already mumbling.

"Yes, I'll be here as long as you need me," Daniela said, sounding both far away and everywhere at once.

"I'll learn to accept I deserve this."

"Good, now rest, my child."

Even though she was sitting upright the chair was comfortable. Truth be told, Shanoa had been forced to sleep in far worse conditions, out on the road with nothing but a thin blanket and a makeshift bed. Compared to that, this was paradise, made even better by the knowledge she was being watched over by a loving eye. After a few moments Shanoa felt a quilt being pulled around her as Daniela tucked her in. A first in Shanoa's entire life. A soft smile touched the warrior's lips at the reassurance of the old woman's presence. She was safe here, warm, cared for. Here, it was all right to let it all go.

And there, in the hazy moments before sleep took her, everything was as it should be.

End Note: And thus we conclude the biggest story update of my life.

Now, as returning readers may have noticed we're leaving off a bit before the climactic battle I ended the last version on. That's because, as is no doubt obvious by now, that section of this fic needs the biggest overhaul in light of the adjustments I've made to Aurelia's characterization and her relationship with Shanoa. There's also more new material to get through before then, so I felt it best to end the massive update on this positive note, give people time to catch up, while I finish the remaining forty (or so) thousand words left to get us back to where the previous version left off.

Again, thank you all for reading, and I look forward to seeing you again soon.