What is a man? Beneath all that flesh and bone and blood. Beneath the petty notions of morality and honor. Beneath that false guise of love and kindness that society instills into its followers. What is a man? What are the most primal and basic characteristics of the human condition? Why do they persist when all seems hopeless? What drives men to become heros of legend? What turns a cowardly farm boy into a great warrior? Or a defenseless fool into a powerful wizard?
Some say that it is fate. That the wretches of society or the paragons of civilization are simply destined to become heros and the stuff of legends. For how else could a mere beggar grow to be a king? Or a forgotten and abandoned child become a well loved Wiseman? It simply is as it was always meant to be. Yet that defies the teachings of God and His Holy book, does it not? Do those very men who speak of destiny not also preach of how God gives us all free will? Free will and fate simply can not coexist. They are opposites and wrathful enemies whose constant battles ruin lives and lay waste to entire kingdoms.
The Dragon's philosophy was much less naive than men of the cloth or other scholars. He knew from experience that God would abandon His faithful in a heartbeat. He also knew the mortals were too dim to fully comprehend the truth. The true source of man's power was himself. No God, no fate, no otherworldly powers. Man had what no immortal did. A finite life. And with mortality comes the knowledge that one day you will die and thusly you must make every second count. Man grew to be the dominate species because they fought with everything they had. They would gladly die if it meant their kind could triumph. That was how they eliminated the vast majority of the Night's Children from the Earth. They hunted without mercy. Man, women, child. Old or young. Weak or strong. Clever or witless. They came. They came as they always did, as they always will... With a bloodlust that exceeded even most vile of Demons.
Immortality, however, would reduce one's desire to do anything at all. Why do it now when you could simply wait a hundred years? Or a thousand? Or a million? When all of eternity is yours you lose desire. You lose that human spark. You become a shell of what once was. A ghost of the greater human that once stood where you did. A wraith forever cursed to watch all around you wither and die and forget you. Immortality is not the gift Men believe it to be. It is a curse. The most vile and wicked of all those Unholy curses. Immortality is like a parasite. Feeding upon your love, empathy, and humanity. What is left is little more than a bitter, hollow, monstrous shell.
Dracul stood silently overlooking his castle grounds from above. He stood upon the balcony that connected to the Throne Room. The moon was high and full, silvery white, and the sky covered in stormy clouds. The wind blew harshly and treacherously. It bite into the decaying flesh of the Vampire Lord like a ravenous mongrel. And below hundreds of thousands of Monsters and Demons alike ran about conducting their individual businesses. Some sought to talk to an old friend, some hunted for sustenance, and others sought the gift of everlasting death. Yet they, like the castle, had inherited the Dragon's immortality over the centuries. As long as he lived, they could not die. A curse. A wretched, vile thing.
The Prince let his mind roam, as it often would during nights like these. He thought of the days before his own curse. Back when he had icey blue eyes, brown hair, fair skin, and still had a beating heart capable of love. When he served the Church, had a holy purpose to cleanse the Earth of evil, and the only human he ever truly loved. Marie... Such a kind, considerate woman. Beautiful as beauty could possibly be. Faithful to God, the Church, and the Dragon's former self.
Yet trust is a fickle mistress. It requires years upon years upon years to build up any worthwhile amount of it. Longer still before a semblance of love could begin to take root. Love requires endless years of constant effort and careful attention before it will truly bloom. Yet trust and love take but a moment and a handful of words to shatter into a million little fragments. And once shattered, trust and love rarely if ever are reforged.
For the Prince of Darkness it took but a few moments. A nightmare, a sinister mask, a axe, and a stump... She was on her knees, head resting upon the stump. He didn't remember raising the weapon... He did remember the color of her blood. Red. No different than anyone else. She was as finite as the rest of the humans. He was once, too, but shortly after Marie's murder he changed. Transformed into something vaguely reminiscent of a vampire, but was so much more... And so much less.
Marie was the first time he killed someone he loved. Claudia, a close friend, was the next. He was forced to slay her Black Knight in self defense. He stopped sleeping after her untimely end. He had no memory of that night. Only awakening with a bloody silver dagger in hand, and her body sprawled about on a altar of some sort.
Laura was the one who cursed him with his immortality. She appeared as a human child, but was hundreds of years older than any mere human. A powerful elder vampire. She had begged the Prince fo kill her. A mercy killing. He put her down like a rabid dog by draining her blood. He had to in order to enter the Shadow Plane and stop the Forgotten One.
And then... And then there was Trevor. Trevor Belmont, father of Simon Belmont and ancestor to Victor Belmont. Trevor invaded his castle, slaughtered the Prince's followers, and challenged the Dragon to single combat. He... The Combat Cross... They were falling and... If only he had known. If only he had known! He would... He could have... If only the boy had simply told him... Centuries of violence, pointless deaths, and meaningless wars could have been prevented. But Trevor Belmont was consumed by hate and blinded by vengeance. Dracul did not blame him. How could he? Who wouldn't desire to avenge their mother by killing her murderer? Who wouldn't want to destroy Mankind's greatest enemy? Who wouldn't want to slay the Dragon?
'Why do you hurt so bad? Why do you shed tears for a worthless boy? Why do you let that weakness fester within your soul?' Hundreds of voices spoke as one directly into the Prince's mind. They sounded offended. Angered. Indignant. They hated it when he reminisced about happier times. They loved it when he gave into the bloodlust. They absolutely despised the late Trevor Belmont, the greatest of his name, and perhaps one of only two Belmonts worthy of that name. Of the duties that came with it. Of the endless glory, blood, and regrets. He remembered the hateful glare of icey blue eyes. The boy Simon, the only child of Trevor Belmont and Sypha Belnades. He remembered the boy had broken into his castle, slaughtered legions of his soldiers, and attempted to slay the Prince of Darkness where he stood. Simon alone was no match for the power of the Dragon. But with aid of the vampire knight Alucard, Dracul's son, he drove the Combat Cross through the Master Vampire's black heart. If only death would come so easily...
'Why do you hate us? Why do you love the bastard boy? Why don't you love us? We are your true children! The only ones who never betrayed or abandoned you! Yet you love that kinslaying human more than us!?' At that moment the wind ceased to blow. The Children of the Night below went stone still. The lightning ceased to crackle across the sky. The moon became blanketed in black clouds.
Dracul let out a sigh of pure exhaustion. He should have expected this sooner or later. The Blood had grown ravenous yet again. Dracul slowly turned around and looked into the hallway leading to his Throne Room. At the end of the hall rested a pair of great doors built of iron and oak. The symbol of the Dragon rested upon the doors center. A dragonic statue head. A statue that had begun to weap scarlet tears.
'Are we nothing to you!? Just a pawn in your heartless game!? Have we not aided you for millennias!? Were we not the first to welcome you after your rebirth? Was it not us who obeyed your every command and whim without question!? Is not us who has loved and cared for you!? We don't you remember that traitorous son of yours ever nourishing you or soothe your nightmares! Are you so quick to forsake us?' The marble walls had begun to splinter and crack and tear. From the tears leaked a dark red, almost black blood. The floor itself began to rumble and tear as pillars of blood erupted.
'WE ARE YOUR ONLY FAMILY! NOT ALUCARD! NOT TREVOR! NOT SIMON! NOT VICTOR! NOT EVEN THAT BITCH MARIE! ONLY US! US! US! US!' Tentacles shot out of the growing pond of blood. They coiled around the Prince's arms and legs, lifting him into the air as... Something began to emerge from the boiling blood.
It started with flesh and bones. Flesh that came in the color of pinkish purple. The flesh was torn, scarred, cut, and bleeding yellow pus. The bones erupted from the piggish flesh like jagged spikes of dull yellow spikes. Intestines and impaled corpses littered the boney spikes, some of which extended up to ten feet in length. Squirming tendrils extended from the broken flesh of the Blood, some wrapped around half-dead and half-eaten bodies of every creature native to the castle ranging from every age.
'LOOK WHAT YOUR MAKING US DO! YOU'RE MAKING US HURT YOU! ITS YOUR FAULT! YOUR FAULT! YOUR FAULT! YOUR FAULT! ITS ALL YOUR FAULT FOR PERSISTING US! WHY DON'T YOU JUST LISTEN!?' Next emerged dozens upon dozens of limbs. Some were vaguely human. Others long, possessing too many joints, and ending in a hundred razor sharp fingers. And some limbs were more akin to a spider's legs. And others resembled crab claws. And a few rows of insectoid pincers ran down the Blood's bulbous form. Its own guts had started to leak out from a massive gash running across its grotesque stomach. The stomach was massive. Big enough to fit a dozen full grown men, and still have more than enough room room to fit a horse. The belly's flesh had turned a pale white, with black stretch marks, and disgusting green warts leaking blood.
'We will never let you go,' the voices. whispered as the head started to emerge, 'You belong to us. We are you. And you are us. You will be our eternal slave, Master. We feed upon your blood again and again and again and again and AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN FOR ALL ETERNITY! WE WILL BREAK YOU! WE WILL LEAVE NOTHING BUT DROOLING BODY LEFT! And then... We will truly become one...' The head was... Human language was too limited to describe the abomination before the Dragon. On one hand it resembled a beautiful and smiling maiden, on the other a grotesque slug with mandibles and a thousand eyes and a hundred mouths all filled with rows of needle-like fangs and tongues that ended in small, human-like jaws. The head was constantly shifting like crimson water. Growing small one second, large another, and faceless the next moment. Sometimes it had the head of a Werewolf, then a Merman, then a black cobra, then a raven, and occasionally it resembled the Prince's own face. The face smiled, or at least attempted to as green bile and excrement poured out of it's many gnashing maws.
"What is the matter? I thought you were use to your Demons? Can't stand the sight of a little blood?" The face drew closer as it spoke with Dracul's own voice, "Do you remember ramming that stake through your son's heart? Or possessing Simon and forcing him to try and kill his own father? Or do you prefer the nameless masses you've butchered like dogs? Maybe the little babies and children? Or the old women to weak to defend themselves? Did you enjoy the blood? I know I did. It does not matter me from whence the blood flows. Blood is blood. And I hunger! Now give me a kiss... Daddy! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The Prince's vision went black as the sensation of a thousand blade piercing his flesh assaulted him. He could feel his meager strength draining away, his blood being siphoned into that abomination, his soul fading and fading and fading. Dracul could not find a reason to care. Why should he? He deserved this punishment... Why not just give in?
'Why indeed. Why resist that vile abomination when you could become it, Gabriel? Fight. Fight it with everything you have. Resist and search for the key. Search your heart. Search your soul. But never stop fighting! Never! One day... One day you will understand why I did what I had to do... And for that I am truly sorry...'
As always comment your thoughts and feelings about this chapter. What will happen to Dracula? What of Ruby? What will the Castle Blood do about it? And what was that mysterious voice towards the ending? Someone we already know? Someone new? Perhaps not someone, but something? And why did it apologize? How did it know about Gabriel? Questions, questions, questions...