Prologue

Dawn was coming to an end, as did his crumbling will.

There was a man kneeling on the cold ground, underneath the symbol of his Lord. Thin, boney hands were intertwined and shaking. Words of the gospel he had been taught since he was a boy leaving him faster than they ever had, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes.

The man knew not how long he had been here, but he did not care. He only prayed. Prayed, for that was all he could do. He knew not what else he could do, no matter how desperately he wished he could force his old bones to stand tall and go out. To hunt down the people—no, the beasts that had taken her from him. His sweet, innocent daughter. Taken from him while he could do nothing but watch because...

Because he had been a coward.

In that moment, last night, but it felt like an eternity ago, when those beasts had shattered the walls of his home, a brick hitting his daughter and knocking her out before she even had the chance to scream, those horrible creatures that looked like they came from the gates of Hell itself stared at him and his daughter with open hunger. He had held his child closely in his shaking arms, and with those beasts and their blood-red eyes towering over them, he was sure they would die. But then, one of the beasts had looked at his daughter, and stopped his fellow animal from devouring them. And with a grin that captured its inhumanity, teeth sharper then spikes clear to the man's horrified eyes, the beast spoke.

"Not her; he will want her."

He.

The master of the beasts.

The monster that had plagued his home, and so many other homes, for what seemed like forever.

The Count.

It was impossible to describe the horror those simple words had caused him. And it had grown even worse when the beasts, faster than any mortal could move, took his daughter from his arms and held her in their bulging, misshapen flesh they called limbs. He had stood up, tried to take back the girl he loved and cared for and would do anything for, but the other beast had simply grabbed him by the collar and lifted him with inhuman strength.

The beast had forced him to look into its cruel, soulless eyes. The hatred, the malice the man saw in them had made his heart stop, blood turning colder than a corpse, and had even made him defecate himself.

That had been enough for the beast to drop him, looking at him with disgust. It had said something about not wanting to soil its appetite with something so repulsive, and the other had agreed. Then, they walked out of ruined home, without even sparing a glance at the man, who did nothing but watch and stutter gibberish as the beasts of the Count took his daughter away. They hadn't even seen fit to try and kill him, for they were so he would do nothing.

The moment his daughter—the last of his family, ever since his wife had died from an ill heart years ago—needed him most, and he had done nothing. His fear had ruled him, made him unable to move, barely let him breathe, and because of that, because he was a coward, his daughter had been taken to the lair of that monster, where her suffering would be endless.

It was only when the sun rose that the fear left the man, that he felt able to move his limbs once again as he ran out of his home. He had gone to town, told others of his story, and, in his soiled and filthy rags, begged them for help, to save his daughter. But they had simply looked at him as if he was saying the sun had turned black, deluding himself from reality.

The reality that his daughter was as good as dead.

He knew that it hadn't been out of cruelty; they simply thought it best to stop trying to trick himself into believing a horrible lie. Some had even experienced similar tragedies as the man did just last night. By now, everyone in the town had suffered at the hands of the Count. Especially these last few months. The monster had grown even crueler, something no one had thought possible. No longer did he seem pleased with the sporadic hunts for the innocent he had done for so long, but instead, he sent his beasts to slaughter more innocents than needed to sate their kinds' hunger, creating more beasts with every soul he consumed. And then there were the women.

The count had ordered his beasts to bring him women of a certain shape and look. Those beasts of his did not give a reason, but one would have to be more innocent than a babe to not realize what was most likely being done to them. Every father and mother in the town had been horrified at the idea of those hellish creatures taking their daughters from their homes and to that, that demon; perhaps even more than the thought of him killing their children. And the man was living that nightmare.

But even though he knew what his daughter's fate was to be, even though he knew the townspeople just wanted to ease him into the fact that he had just lost the last of his family, the idea of his sweet, innocent child being at the hands of that monster all because of his weakness was enough to send him into a blinding rage!

So, he had shouted at the townspeople who wrote his daughter off as dead, who looked at him with such pity and remorse no matter what horrible things he shouted. He begged the hardened men at the bar, who no longer went outside their homes at even the barest hints of darkness, to help him get to the mountains where that monster's castle was to rescue his daughter. He pleaded with the scared patrons of the innkeepers, the lawmen with their broken spirits, the gypsy fortune tellers who were too terrified to even try and look into the future around that monster, the farmers whose crops were ruined as if the land itself had been poisoned by the presence of such evil. The man had asked near everyone in the town to help save his daughter.

None had agreed. Some had been apologetic, some had been angry at the man's insistent begging, some had been guilty as they saw the desperate look in his eyes, but in the end, they all said the same thing.

"We can't help you."

As the sun began to set, as the people around him all but ran to their homes, shutting their doors and using whatever means they had to protect themselves and their families, the man wandered through the streets; his clothing even more ragged, cuts and blood on his face from the fights he had gotten into, exhaustion of the body and mind weighing his every step, and eventually, he came to the last place in town he could ask for help.

The church.

There was no one there save for the priest, for no one else would dare venture out to such a lonely building near the woods so close to nightfall. He caught the priest just as he was about to close his doors. The man had fallen to his knees, asking the priest for guidance in his hour of need. To tell him what he should do when his daughter was taken by a demon straight from Lucifer's court. He had sobbed to the priest, begged him for an answer to how he could save his daughter from that monster and his abominations.

When the man had finished his pleads, the priest had slowly knelt down to him. He had placed a hand on the man's shoulders, made the symbol of the cross, and stared at him. Stared, with a look of sympathy, and heartbreak.

"I'm sorry, my son."

The man's sobs had begun anew at those words. The priest comforted him as best he could, but as the sun's light faded more and more, he grew anxious. The priest told the man he had to leave, but he would leave the church open, so the man could perhaps seek answers from the Lord himself. Hollowly, the man had agreed, and had entered the rapidly darkening church. As the priest gave the man one last goodbye and a regretful expression, the man closed the doors behind him, passed the pews until he was at the altar and its burnt candles, and stared at the image of the Savior hanging on a cross, high above him on the wall behind the altar. Then, he got on his knees, and prayed.

God, he thought, speaking not with his tongue, but his very soul. I know no man knows your plan. I know that the faithful shall be rewarded in Paradise." His grip on his hands tightened, knuckles almost white. But I am angry. So, so angry. Why should the living suffer at the hands of a monster that should be burning in Hell? Why must we, the innocent, have to live in fear of every shadow, of the cruelty of such demons? Why must my daughter be in such peril, because of my cowardice?

The lights of the church faded quicker with every choked breath, the shadows moving and rising, consuming the man's vision.

God, he thought, praying with ferocity he never had before. When my beloved died, I did not question your will. When the Count first came to my town and killed my fellow man, I still had faith. But now..." The man grit his teeth, almost stopping himself for even having the thought, but he pressed on. Now, I found myself with doubts. I find my faith breaking. Everything around me continues to grow worse with each day, each second. And now, with my daughter in the care of a monster, I find myself on the edge of the living and the dead. If she dies, then I am sure I will find myself plunging into the abyss after her.

He was sobbing again.

God, he thought, despair filling his heart, what was left of his strength rapidly leaving him. Save my daughter; I beg of you. Do what I should I have done, were I not such a pathetic man. Send down your Messengers to rescue her, for such an innocent girl does not deserve to be at the mercies of that monster! Of that demon, Count Dracula!

The air seemed to turn ice cold, and for a moment, the man could see the darkness take shape. The Count's shape, his inhuman face in a grin, eyes hidden by his mangled hair, the smell of death and blood all but entwined with his very essence. And in his hands, was the man's daughter, her body dyed with the same shadows that made up the Count's very being, face wet with tears, begging for help.

Please, God. Please.

The man, Gabriel, prayed with every bit of his fading strength.

There was no answer. The sun was close to setting, the darkness of the church consuming all, shadows dancing freely, and Gabriel sobbed. Every bit of his strength was gone now, and all he could do was cry in his soiled clothing. Because he was a weak man. Because he was a horrible man. So horrible, that his daughter was suffering in an unimaginable agony from his cowardice, and there was no one who could help him—

There was a creaking sound coming from behind him, the sound of wooden doors being gently pushed open. Gabriel turned.

What he saw took his breath away.

There was a man who stood at the door. A man who was framed perfectly by the setting sun behind him, the lights giving his body an otherworldly, almost heavenly, glow. There were shadows on his body, but they were not the frightening, inhuman ones Gabriel had grown accustomed to; these were ones that highlighted his frame, made him look dynamic, conveying strength, and a certainty that seemed to resonate throughout his very presence. As if he knew exactly what was needed of him from the moment he entered the church.

The man began to walk towards Gabriel, the doors still open behind him, letting in the light of the sun and dispelling the shadows that had surrounded Gabriel, who watched the man come in in silent shock. The man moved with grace, footsteps so quiet and peaceful, and once he arrived at the altar, he knelt down until he was all but touching the floor. With the sun's light behind the man, Gabriel could see something underneath his clothes, near his shoulder. At first, he thought it might be a tattoo, or perhaps a scar, but looking closer, he realized it was neither of those things. No, on the man's shoulder, was a birthmark.

A birthmark, in the shape of a star.

The man stared at Gabriel with the kindest, most gentle eyes he had ever seen. "Good sir," he said, and his voice was like that of an angel's. "I've been told your daughter is in danger, and I wish to help."

In that moment, Gabriel knew God had answered his prayer. Strength returned to his limbs, and Gabriel felt something he hadn't felt in so long.

Hope.

To Be Continued~

AN: Hello there. Black Mage of Phantasm here, coming at you with a snippet collection.

For those of you not already in the know, Threads of Convergence is where I will post a series of crossover ideas that may one day be turned into full-length stories. Some of you already know what stories I'm crossing over in this snippet, but for those that don't, you'll have to wait for more chapters to find out.

Now, some of you who follow my other stories might be wondering where I've been. Well, to answer that question, I must first give a quick summary of my current life. TLDR:

After years of working hard in college, pushing through blood, sweat and tears, of asshole classmates telling me I wasn't a writer, I was finally about to get a degree I worked years to get, only to be screwed over by the coronavirus pandemic along with hundreds of other students at my college, and barely graduating as a result; now unable to get a decent paying job no matter where I apply too, save for part time/one-off gigs that pay nothing, college debt and bills piling up in addition to medical bills due to my father's health, as not only have his kidneys failed, he also had a seizure last Christmas and I am terrified that I might lose him due to his weakened immune system if I so as touch him after going outside to get groceries while the world just gets more awful every day, I have made what may very well be my last gambit: using my writing to support myself and my family by opening a pa tr eon account and writing whenever I get the chance as I continue to take as many gigs as I can to try and pay the bills.

I go into a more in-depth explanation regarding my absence on my f f . net profile page if you want to know more, but that's the gist of it. I've opened a pa tr eon account to try and help myself and my family out. And this is in no way shape or form a paywall; every chapter will be released to everyone once they're completed.

With all that said, don't hesitate to leave a review; tell me what you liked didn't like, where you think this going, etc., just don't be afraid to share your thoughts on this snippet.