Deluge

by MirroredShalott

In the aftermath of Dracula's death, Shanoa finds herself locked in a grief-stricken struggle between what she is and who she wants to become. She takes refuge in Wygol, and a blossoming friendship gives way to a journey that will change her life forever. But as they begin to confront the past one truth makes itself evident: some demons can't be buried. [final version]

40. Aurelia - Part Three

Author's Note: Here we are, after months of work and over 45k words of prose I can finally say that this excursion into Aurelia's mind has reached its final installment. I hope you enjoy.

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Chapter Forty

Aurelia – Part Three

They were sitting in a nameless inn – surrounded by strangers, the Chaos corrupted horde – when Aurelia dared to cross the final threshold and reveal all of herself.

"I have an… awkward question," Shanoa said as they waited for their food to arrive.

"You usually do," the albino said in what she hoped was an amused, lighthearted tone.

"Albus asked me about you."

Aurelia froze, her heart pounded inside her chest, but she didn't let any of it display in her external appearance. She kept her mouth shut, waiting as Shanoa continued. Wanting to hear what her overly curious brother had unearthed in his no doubt heretical diggings into the secret archives. She had to know what he'd filled Shanoa's head with.

"He was… concerned, to put it lightly," the young warrior continued. "Said he had to dig deep into the archives to find your name. That even he – the Head Researcher – didn't know the identity of Ecclesia's Shadow. He doesn't know who you are, period. But the thing is, you can't be much older than him. He must have seen you at some point before you were given your role. Before you had to hide from everyone, even the acolytes. You're memorable, you've acknowledged that yourself, but this was the first he'd heard of you." Shanoa tried to catch Aurelia's gaze, but the albino averted her eyes, not wanting to betray any of her thoughts to the warrior across from her. "You've always been in hiding, haven't you?"

Aurelia took a slow, deep breath before exhaling through her nose. She shouldn't answer this question. Should quash the urge within Shanoa before it had the opportunity to germinate, but the words had been spoken, the challenge presented itself. And, Lord help her, Aurelia felt powerless to deny this young woman, this… friend… such an important piece of herself.

"Yes," Aurelia whispered.

"Why?"

"That's a dangerous question." The albino continued to look away; her eyes lingering on the nameless crowd. "But one I can't blame you for asking."

The truth loomed before her. A great chasm of understanding that would change their relationship forever if uttered aloud. Would Shanoa hate her for it, for wanting, or would she overcome it with her usual good heartedness? The young warrior hadn't quavered before the truth of what Aurelia's parents had tried to do, their murderous intent. She'd listened and comforted in her own way, and somehow their relationship had come out stronger.

So, in the face of previous experience, Aurelia took the leap of faith.

"The Elders always knew I was… different. Torey, in particular, saw great virtue in me. Where my parents took my complexion to be a sign of evil, he perceived it as quite the opposite. White is the color of innocence, after all. The mark of virgins; of light; of children untainted by the Chaos of this world. He believed my albinism was a gift from the Lord. That I was the one they'd been searching for. So, they hid me, even from the other acolytes, in the hopes that nothing – not even the slim vices of our Order – would corrupt the child Master Torey was adamant would be our Blade."

Aurelia watched it dawn on Shanoa. The full breadth of what the albino's vigil entailed. The jealousy and yearning which followed her heels, always, even now, as they sat here not as enemies but comrades. She saw Shanoa come to comprehend the full weight of what their relationship entailed. Why Aurelia had been so adamant to deny her, and how poignant her eventual submission was.

But it wasn't everything, and that hurt the most. Because they were still doomed to a bloody end. And Aurelia could do nothing to stop it.

"I… wasn't." Aurelia paused. "But I was given a role that still carried importance. Second only to Ecclesia's Blade. The fact that I was already a hidden member of our Order served as a boon. One that pertains even to this day."

She fell silent, her tongue unwilling to form further words. Still, she knew Shanoa would ask, and waited with bated breath for the young warrior to give it name.

"Did you want it?" the young Blade asked.

Aurelia looked at her, then, and decided this bit of truth couldn't hurt to admit. Wouldn't pose a danger to air out loud. "I wanted to matter," she said, and though the words stung they couldn't break through the internal barricades she'd erected to remain unhurt by her past. "To be something a parent wouldn't try to kill."

"Albus doesn't trust you," Shanoa whispered.

'He's right,' she acknowledged internal.

"I can't blame him. Some days I don't trust myself," Aurelia said instead. The truth but twisted, as she so often spewed.

"It's not fair," the young warrior said with surprising adamance.

Their eyes met once more, and Aurelia tried to offer a small, encouraging smile. "Life is never fair."

The food arrived, bringing a blessed end to this conversation. Aurelia watched Shanoa become enrapt with the meal, then further enrapt by the surprise performance. The young warrior was unsure what to do, at first, but soon fed off the eagerness of the gathered crowd and threw herself into the bards' tale. A story they'd both heard many times before, though a live performance could sometimes outmatch the written word.

Aurelia paid the bards no heed. All her attention was focused on the young woman seated across from her. A mass of varied emotions swarmed inside of her as she studied Shanoa's jovial face. So, she'd revealed the truth of her intent, the desire to be Blade, and – somehow – the younger woman didn't hate her for it. It was… freeing, in a way, to confess it out loud. To break that previously unnamed barrier between them and have the chance to grow closer in the admission. Barlowe had instructed her to become Shanoa's confidant, a person the Blade could confess her inner thoughts to, but somewhere along the way their relationship had shifted. This odd configuration of a girl – who should be corrupted by the Chaos in her blood but emerged untouched – had taken purchase inside Aurelia's heart. Had made her feel safe, welcome, in a way only her uncle and Ephraim managed before her.

And, Lord help her, Aurelia regretted none of it.

The Shadow didn't want this night to end. She wanted to stay in this perfect microcosm of time where they could pretend to be normal friends enjoying each other's company and sharing whispered secrets when no one was around to hear. A guise of normalcy, but precious in its own way. Because companionship wasn't what Aurelia was raised to desire; the work came above all else. But now – having experienced the blessings of friendship – she understood why this was intrinsic to happiness. Why societies formed and families joined. Why the acolytes in the dining hall cajoled and rejoiced with each other, basking in the breaking of bread and shared stories.

Except this would come to an inevitable end. A violent sundering which neither of them could escape. All Aurelia could do was enjoy Shanoa's company while it lasted. Give the young warrior a fulfilling life while they still had time. Perhaps it would make the inevitable betrayal hurt more, but, in the meantime, they could take comfort in the lie. That would be enough, right?

So, Aurelia sipped her wine slowly, vision filled with the sight of her only friend, as she willed the Sun to never rise.

IXI

Her relationship with Ephraim was falling apart. Not in one singular way, but many. A thousand threads fraying at the seams of an ancient tapestry. They didn't speak outside of her mission briefings and details unless she prompted him first; sought her lover out through her own desires. Even when they did talk, the conversation was stilted, at best. As though she were a stranger to him and not a romantic partner going on a decade now. But worst of all, what set vile emotions to brew inside her heart, was the fact Ephraim could no longer achieve orgasm when they were together. Most of the time he couldn't maintain himself, and it ended with her leaving him alone in bed, cold and unsatisfied, to return to her own room in sorrow.

She didn't know how to fix this. She had no one to confide in for advice. Her uncle always disapproved of their relationship and Oriana scoffed at any mention of romance. Her hope of success was limited without guidance, but Lord, Aurelia wanted to try. She loved Ephraim still, despite all.

It took some time for her to garner the courage to voice her concerns out loud. They were standing in his office after a debrief. Ephraim hunched over his desk as he scribbled notes onto a piece of parchment with a fountain pen. Aurelia had been dismissed, but she didn't move, overcome with a sudden, heady need to speak her piece. It was not appropriate here, in their place of work, better suited to their private quarters, but she submitted to the urge. Too afraid bravado would never find her again.

"What did I do?" Aurelia asked in a voice unlike her own. Something filled with pleading, trembling under the weight of its own emotional fervor.

Ephraim paused and looked up at her, an eyebrow quirked in inquiry. "Beg pardon?"

"I must have done something wrong, but I don't know where. Don't know what," she continued, the words spilling forth in a rush, though she did her best to enunciate each syllable. "I've given you all of me, Ephraim. I've loved you as best I can, even if sometimes you found it wanting. We've shared years together, and by the Lord I do still want more, but you… you're drifting away from me. And for as much as I still yearn to be with you it seems like." She paused, the breath catching in her throat, before she forced herself to continue. "Like you don't. So why? What have I done wrong?"

Understanding dawned across his expression and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Can we talk about this later?"

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "I need to know now. You've already avoided me long enough."

A period of tense silence stretched between them. Aurelia held his gaze, trembling yet steady, and it was Ephraim who eventually looked away. He set his pen off to the side and settled back in his chair before running a heavy hand down his face. His brow furrowed, emphasizing the shallow lines of advancing age that'd formed during their time together.

"You did nothing wrong," he said at length. "Neither of us is at fault here. Sometimes, when people have been together for years, they begin to drift apart. It's unfortunate, but natural."

"I don't want there to be distance between us or stand idly by and watch it grow. I still want you, Ephraim, but I don't know what you need from me. So please, tell me how to fix this, and I'll make it so."

He looked at her, then. At the entirety of the young woman standing before him. His eyes made a slow scan of Aurelia's body, starting at her feet and traveling up to her face. An assessment of her – both physically and spiritually – by this man who already knew her worth. And yet, when he did at last meet her gaze again, she could tell he found her lacking.

"This isn't something you can fix," he said with a sigh. "It's the passage of time, Aurelia. This drifting, it was… inevitable."

It was the way he said it, after looking at her body, that did it. Made her willing to see; forced to entertain a realization she'd been fighting for the past few years and denied for even longer. It struck at the core of her, the deepest recesses of her heart, because it was her fault this was happening. Something in her had changed, the culprit her body, but what was different? She'd suffered no obvious disfigurement. Nothing but the addition of a few, easily hidden scars from battle; marks left behind by a violent life. She'd grown into herself since their relationship started. Her age–

Oh Lord, her age.

And something inside Aurelia shattered.

She fled in a haze, not remembering her departure from the office, only coming back to herself when she was crouched inside Inertia, her purchase a shadow overhanging the garden, looking out over the plants illuminated by moonlight. The storm of ugly understanding raged inside of her. Her age was the only viable explanation; the one assured inevitability her body could offer. The claims made by her uncle, that Ephraim was drawn to her youth more than anything else, resounded through her mind. Torey had been right all along, hadn't he? That's why Ephraim couldn't look at her when they made love. He couldn't bear to witness the evidence of her maturity. A face still young but bearing subtle changes after a decade of life. And, eventually, even her touch was something his lusts couldn't abide.

Aurelia sobbed as a void gaped inside of her. If her youth attracted Ephraim, drew him to her, then what was their entire relationship predicated upon? He'd professed love, a deep attraction, but now that she couldn't fulfill his physical needs he was so willing to cast her aside. To not even put up a fight to sustain their romance. If who she was as a person didn't matter – wasn't the bond tethering them together – then what had she pledged her heart to for so long? Was her love a toy to him, a thing to be used? Did he… did he ever love her? All those poetic words and professions, the romantic gestures, the promises he made. Were they empty offerings, a means to an end?

If what they had wasn't love, then did she even know what love was?

A torrent of doubt spilled within her mind as the grief took hold, rendering her heart. Above it all a single, traitorous question boomed. Heretical in its very inclination. And for a moment she let it live; allowed it to breathe, and she…

'No.'

But she couldn't stop it.

Had anyone ever wanted Aurelia for what she was, not the selfish purpose she could serve? Her parents sought to use her death to bring about peace. Her uncle sough to use her gifts to bring about Ecclesia's Blade. Ephraim sought to use her youth to bring about his own satisfaction. Everyone wanted her for an end–

'ENOUGH!'

She buried the realizations, buried the question. Set it far beneath the undertow in her mind; the dark waters of her psyche she dared to never tread for what falsehoods they might bring. She was better than such weakness or ponderings. Stronger than the frail, pathetic humans who would find themselves so used. Aurelia lived to serve her Lord; was born connected to his very Darkness for a reason. She was marked from birth for her strength and abilities. Was honored to bring his salvation to a Chaotic world. Yes, Chaos would have her believe she was less than. Would try to set such a foolish question in her mind. And Aurelia would not be bound by evil.

But she still hurt.

Her chest stuttered with irregular sobs. She gasped for air in an oxygen-devoid domain. Her heart ached, a palpable bleeding at the seams, but she would not break. She still had faith in her Lord above all else. In the greatest pain, in the face of tumult, He would provide. And she never found cause to disbelieve that teaching.

And she still had Shanoa. A blessing against all odds, and now the most real companion in Aurelia's life. But even the comfort the young warrior could provide hurt in its own way, as another cry escaped Aurelia's lips. Because she was doing to Shanoa what Ephraim had done to her. Built an entire relationship upon lies, knowing full well its bloody end, and how much it will hurt the naïve victim when the curtain pulled back. Barlowe had designed this scheme to break Ecclesia's Blade, but it would break her Shadow too.

What a fool she was. How careless with her love. Now there was nothing she could do but cry and await the inevitable.

So, she cried.

IXI

- Age 26 -

She'd lost Ephraim but kept the truth of their destroyed relationship to herself. She didn't dare tell her uncle, for she knew he would gloat and drive the knife of betrayal in deeper. She suspected Barlowe knew, but they never had a personal relationship to begin with, keeping their brief conversations focused on work. Oriana alone could tell what was amiss, but, graciously, kept her comments to herself, only offering an empty platitude that Aurelia was better off without the meddling of men before continuing with their painting lesson.

In the time following, Aurelia poured herself into her relationship with Shanoa. The young warrior was ignorant to her romantic woes, but offered a comforting presence, nonetheless. Didn't question it at all when, in the few weeks immediately following her discovery of Ephraim's motives, Aurelia came to Shanoa's room every night seeking company. Shanoa offered a type of innocent love that was genuine and real. Something given in the equal measure it was received, without anything extraneous asked in return. And Aurelia reveled in it while she could.

They were able to eke out a year of blessed coexistence. Of adventures and missions won and time spent bonding over a shared appreciation of stories. Whenever Shanoa read from the gifted copy of Beowulf a warm, fluttering feeling engulfed Aurelia's heart. It was almost too much, some days, the feelings Shanoa elicited from her, but Aurelia didn't fight them anymore. If their time was limited, doomed, then she would make the most of it; experience the bond in all its untainted glory.

She was, truly, content.

And the resulting lackadaisical approach to maintaining her lies was what damned them both.

The night itself was inconspicuous. Another time she sought to venture into books with Shanoa in tow. Aurelia traveled to the young warrior's bedroom through Inertia, entering the abode through a shadow passing beneath the closed door. Only, when she emerged into a shadow on the other side, she saw Shanoa was not alone. Albus was there with her, already conversing. Such a scenario had happened before, and often she left to give the siblings privacy, waiting outside the room until Albus left before seeking Shanoa out again. But something was different in the way they were speaking; in the concerned, worried looks on both their faces. Overcome with curiosity, Aurelia lingered for a moment, trying to gather the subject of the conversation.

"But that's not an unbiased opinion," Shanoa said. "You've always had suspicions about her."

"If I'm being judgmental then why did you ask me to make these talismans?" Albus asked.

Silence encompassed the siblings in the wake of those words, and Aurelia froze within Inertia, knowing they were speaking of her. She stayed behind, listening with intent as a nameless fear began to blossom inside her mind. What was the origin of this conversation, and what were they planning to do? She knew the right thing would be to intervene before this could escalate, make her presence known – for better or worse – and interrupt the tense moment.

But some part of Aurelia knew it was already too late for that. She'd only be delaying the inevitable, and she needed to know if Shanoa had accidentally been led astray by her brother.

Eventually, Albus let out a long sigh. "Look, I did some more digging. I searched for another mission where Aurelia not only discovered the target but was the sole author on the dossier. There's a fair number of them. More than I was expecting, including the first mission you two ever went on together. The necromancer, right?"

Aurelia felt a chill run down her spine despite temperature being nonexistent within Inertia. Oh Lord, had he somehow pieced it together?

"You…" Shanoa said in a strangled voice.

"His name was Doctor Igor Grahn," Albus continued, each word further damning Aurelia's rapidly shrinking hope. "He lived near a town named Cordova. While you're investigating Golaş I want to go on a trip of my own." Albus reached into his other pocket and withdrew two more red talismans.

"And what do you expect to find there?" Shanoa asked.

He gave her a sympathetic look. "The same as you: nothing."

Aurelia didn't know what to do. Duty insisted she had to stop them, but she knew any intervention would only fuel their suspicions. Make her seem guilty. But it was true, wasn't it? She'd lied to Shanoa and hid the evidence within the dossiers and then all it took, all their careful scheming to keep the Blade in the dark, was a curious brother usurping his authority to dig around in places he shouldn't. For all their planning they never took Albus' own heresy into account, and now they were going to pay for it in blood. Whose blood, Aurelia wasn't quite sure, but she knew her own standing in Ecclesia was now hanging by a thread. Ready to be sliced in twain by the harsh light of truth the moment Shanoa set foot in Golaş and found… what?

That was, perhaps, the one saving grace here. Not even Aurelia knew what lay within that horrid town. What evidence remained to be found, and perhaps there was a chance the Stone Folk had cleared it away and left it abandoned. Nothing more than a ghost village within the mountains, little hint as to what had doomed it, but in that lack of evidence no specific person could be blamed. It would still lead Shanoa to further questions, but at least she wouldn't peg Aurelia or – Lord forbid – the Order as the culprit, right?

It was the only shred of hope Aurelia could latch onto, and she clung to it with all her might.

"All right, you can go to Cordova," Shanoa said in a low voice after the silence waned.

Albus nodded and handed her the talismans for her trip to Golaş. Aurelia watched, still frozen by shock and the base wish all of this would go away, that her young charge would just stop, as Shanoa stored the return talisman inside the small satchel strapped to her thigh.

"Do you have anything scheduled for tonight? Training, a meeting with Omar, anything?" the young warrior asked.

Albus raised an eyebrow but shook his head. "No, I-"

"Then let's end this right now," she said.

"Shanoa, wait."

"I won't be long."

Aurelia watched the other woman bring her hands together as her brother reached out to stop her.

"Shano-!"

The last syllable of her name was lost in the warp when she ripped the talisman in half. There was a flash of light and then she was gone. Albus grumbled in her absence, clearly displeased with his sister's reckless behavior, before he ripped his own talisman and he, too, vanished from sight.

Time lost all meaning in their sudden absence. Aurelia didn't know how long she waited within Inertia, trying to control her rapidly spiraling emotional distress. Curse her oversight, curse whatever slip of the tongue or unheard rumors put this foolish idea of returning to Golaş in Shanoa's head. Aurelia should have been more vigilant, not allowed herself to trust in the girl so much. She'd become so lost in her personal relationship with the Blade that she'd set them both up for premature ruin, and now…

Now what? There was nothing she could do but wait and hope to the Lord that Shanoa found nothing to stoke her suspicions. Lord, what Barlowe would do to her if his plans were ruined. Aurelia respected the man but had heard tales of his harsh teachings. Had been told by her uncle in her youth that she was fortunate to be given under his tutelage rather than the iron fist that awaited Barlowe's pupils. She knew whatever punishment awaited her for this transgression – should Shanoa's ignorance become corrupted – would be severe, indeed.

Aurelia wasn't one to pray, but she beseeched the Dark Lord now, begged Him to keep them all safe.

She waited for an eon. In truth, she wasn't sure how much time passed as she took deep, steadying breaths and forced all thoughts from her mind. Only the slow movement of the setting Sun marked the forward progression of minutes into potential hours. At long last a bright flash of light erupted within the bedroom, and Aurelia's eyes turned, drawn to the sudden illumination, and as the shimmering receded, she watched Shanoa emerge.

One look at the young warrior told Aurelia everything she needed to know. Shanoa was distraught, tears running down her face in an endless torrent, fists clenched in fury, her dress splattered with black-hued blood. Aurelia was seized with the sudden urge to leap from within Inertia and run to her friend and try in desperation to explain. She wanted to reveal to Shanoa the truth, that they'd only killed the corrupted, those who deserved the hand of ascension, but knew the gesture would be rejected outright. Shanoa was yet ignorant to the ways of the world, and no consolation could be given here, especially when the truth was working as designed. To break Shanoa's heart.

It was just too soon.

So Aurelia watched as Shanoa took purchase in a corner and tried to collect herself. Not long after, there was another flash of light and Albus emerged, returning from his own journey, and was startled to find his sister so indisposed. Aurelia listened as they spoke, as Shanoa begged him to reveal what he'd learned and Albus – with some hesitation – revealed yet another secret. The intentions of the supposed necromancer and the "patients" they'd burned. Of course they'd see that doctor's deeds as righteous. Of course…

"Oh God." Shanoa shuddered with every labored inhale. "Oh God, Albus. I… we… what have…"

Shanoa began to hyperventilate as her panic set in. Aurelia wanted to intervene – do something, anything – but knew the die was cast. If she showed her face to the Blade now she didn't know what Shanoa would do. The girl wasn't violent without need, she only summoned her Glyphs when the situation necessitated, but in such a distraught state, seeing her world come undone? No one could be trusted to keep a level head when thrust into this scenario. Not even Aurelia, who let out stuttered cries within the empty void of Inertia. Heaves rendered silenced by the lack of sound vibrations within this plane.

Albus made an awkward lunge towards Shanoa, as poignantly struck by the sight of his hysterical sister as Aurelia was.

"Shanoa." He extended a comforting hand towards her.

And Shanoa screamed.

The noise carried all things wretched and unholy. Years of friendship and comradery shattered on the sound of that scream. A betrayal that Aurelia knew she'd never find peace with because she'd done this. She was to blame for these ugly emotions plaguing the only friend she'd ever had. She'd lost Ephraim – did she ever truly have him? – and now, too soon, she was losing Shanoa. And the worst of it was this pain would subsist longer than it should have. If everything had gone as planned then the Blade would suffer the bite of betrayal a scant few minutes before her ascension, but now?

Now she would hurt without end, for who knows how long, and it was all Aurelia's fault.

At length, amidst unending wails, Shanoa rose to her feet and marched for the door. Aurelia leapt within Shanoa's shadow, intent to stay with her as long as possible, whether for her own comfort or some futile attempt to ease the young warrior's heart with her presence she wasn't sure. All she knew was she couldn't let Shanoa out of her sight. Albus followed, calling Shanoa's name, but the Blade paid him no heed. She threw open her bedroom door and strode out into the hall, another sorrowful noise leaving her throat as she marched down the empty hall of the girl's ward.

"AURELIA!" Shanoa screamed at the top of her lungs.

The albino was tempted to appear, desperate to pour water on this fire and explain herself, but now her duty had to come first. And she'd vowed to not give the scheme away. Better Shanoa hate her and her alone. Better their relationship crumble than humanity's salvation.

Such a lofty goal was worth this pain, right?

"AURELIA! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"Shanoa!" Albus cried out as he rushed up behind her, placing a hand on his sister's shoulder.

To Aurelia's surprise the Blade summoned Pneuma. A small gale, not strong enough to cause harm, but it pushed Albus away. He cried out as he fell backwards, landing on the tile floor with a dull thud. Aurelia watched him for a moment, surprised at Shanoa's outburst, and knew it was but a shadow of what awaited her.

"COME OUT!" Shanoa yelled as she rounded a corner. "I KNOW YOU'RE HIDING!"

'I'm not hiding,' Aurelia whispered into the shadowy void, but the words felt hollow and contradictory.

A pair of night patrolmen approached, running towards the sound of Shanoa's carnage. They halted at the side of their Blade – seething with rage – and she glared at them with enough fury reflected in her blue eyes to set Aurelia herself to cower.

"Get out of my way."

They acquiesced and she stormed past the horrified men. Shanoa continued to scream the albino's name as she paraded through the halls, feet carrying her forward on the winds of righteous vengeance. Aurelia was so caught up in watching her sudden transformation – from the innocent young woman to this cataclysmic warrior – she didn't realize they'd reached Oriana's sanctuary until Shanoa cried out for the old woman through a familiar barred wooden door. Oriana was obstinate, as expected, and refused to give her an audience.

Then, with a roar, Shanoa summoned Lapiste and smashed down the door.

And Aurelia knew they were both too far gone for rationale.

Oriana stared at the heaving warrior before she looked around, gawking at the destruction. "Scheiße! What in the hell are you doing?"

"Where is she?" Shanoa asked.

Her voice dripped with venom, but Oriana wasn't swayed. The old woman crossed her arms over her chest and gazed down at her with a disparaging look.

"And why should I be answering any questions, you crazy child?"

"You know where she is."

"Are you trying to threaten me?" Oriana asked. "It will not work."

The threat was real, Aurelia could feel the energy coalescing around Oriana even from within Inertia. Still, Shanoa didn't retreat.

"Where is Aurelia?" the Blade asked.

"And what will you be doing if I don't answer?"

Shanoa made a show of looking around at the paintings adorning the walls and Aurelia's stomach twisted into knots. No, it shouldn't come to this, but neither could she bring herself to emerge for the sake of Oriana's art. There would be too much pain if she made herself known. Aurelia wouldn't be able to bear it.

Oriana scoffed, shaking her head with a frown. "What Chaos you have become, kind."

"She needs to answer for what she's done," Shanoa said in a steadier, more controlled voice. "What we've done."

Oriana's expression changed to one of pity, though she didn't dismiss the magic she'd gathered around her. "All these years and you still haven't seen?"

Aurelia's heart sank; her fists clenched. So, Oriana would throw her to the wolves, then. Not that Ecclesia's Shadow deserved any less for her failure, but the betrayal still hurt.

"She is always with you, kind," the old woman said, every word damning. "It's in her very name."

Shanoa looked down, beneath her feet, at her own shadow. Her eyes locked with Aurelia's, even through the dimensions, and the young warrior seemed to finally sense her presence. Aurelia watched an idea overtake the Blade, and Shanoa leapt backwards, into the hallway, causing her shadow to stretch out before her. Shanoa summoned Luminatio in her right hand and hurled it at the patch of darkness – at Aurelia's face.

The Shadow turned in time to catch the attacking ball of light upon her upper arm instead of taking a direct hit to her head. The collision forced her out of Inertia. An unusual effect of Holy magic dispersing the Darkness of her precious shadowy realm. Aurelia tumbled out, into the mortal world, clutching her arm as the black tar fell away. A reflex action rather than one born out of pain. She didn't feel any effect from the attack; the only pain thrumming through her was the horror at being exposed to Shanoa's vengeful eyes. The young warrior lorded over Aurelia as she crouched on the ground, yet the albino refused to look at her.

"You," Shanoa said in a voice brimming with hurt and betrayal as much as it relayed fury, though Aurelia wondered if the Blade was consciously aware of the nature of her own distress. "How many?"

Aurelia stood, her movements torpid and slow, before she mustered the courage to turn and face her former friend. She couldn't bring herself to meet Shanoa's gaze, though. Too afraid of what she might confess if Shanoa stared into her, if her gaze pleaded for answers.

But Aurelia still had a duty to calm the storm.

"Shanoa–"

Without warning, another vengeful scream tore itself from the young warrior's throat. Shanoa grabbed the front of Aurelia's shirt and spun the albino around, pinning her against the nearby wall. Her forearm pressed against Aurelia's throat. Not enough to hurt but it kept her locked in place. Aurelia tensed, her instincts screamed to fight and lash out, to defend herself, but she knew such actions would only exacerbate the rift between them, and part of her needed Shanoa to understand – if only on a subconscious level – that Aurelia didn't do this of her own volition. They both had roles to play, and Ecclesia's Shadow was simply following the script laid out before her.

"How many, Aurelia?" Shanoa asked, her voice loud enough to carry down the hall. For everyone present to hear. "How many innocent people did we kill?!"

A long silence followed. The sorrow surged in Aurelia's heart at the pain present in Shanoa's voice, in how she'd been reduced to begging, but she couldn't let it play across her face. She had to maintain some level of control, for both of their sakes. Yet the question demanded an answer, and Aurelia could only think of what her uncle had taught her long ago. How Chaos molded the definition of innocence to its will. Used humanity's understanding of the word to seep its taint into the unsuspecting. Shanoa knew this too, but couldn't remember in this moment of upheaval, how a newborn should be innocent but a genetic trait incited hatred in onlookers. How Aurelia's parents had twisted their perception of innocence into a skewed and cruel design. Shanoa, right now, was like them, twisting innocence into her own making. Seeing only what Barlowe wished her to see as the curtain was pulled away. The people they'd killed were guilty, creatures of Chaos, but it was too late to help Shanoa understand. The foundations of her beliefs were cemented, unshakable, and yet – in her love – Aurelia found herself still trying to reach her.

"'W-what is innocence?'" Aurelia asked after a time, reciting one of her uncle's old speeches. The words soft and timid, lacking the required fervor, and she knew it wouldn't be enough. "'The term is malleable, conforming to the whims of the one who–'"

Shanoa screamed again. The young warrior twisted, throwing Aurelia to the floor. The albino caught herself in time, but lay sprawled before her, prostrate upon the altar of her fury. Aurelia dared to look up at Shanoa. She tried – in desperation – to revert to the emotional calm of Ecclesia's Shadow. The blessed mask she wore through various trials but couldn't muster the ability to finish the transformation. Shanoa had broken through that guise long ago, and Aurelia could never go back.

"You weren't supposed to know," the albino said in a soft voice, hoping in vain it would take away some of Shanoa's hurt.

"And that makes it right?" Shanoa's arms trembled at her sides; tattoos aglow as a repertoire of Glyphs churned beneath the surface, begging to be used. "You lied! You lied about everything!"

Tears sprang unbidden to Aurelia's eyes, and she looked away, unable to meet Shanoa's eyes when she uttered her most damning confession. "No," the albino whispered. "Not everything."

And they both knew what she meant.

"How can I trust you?" Shanoa asked, her voice trembling. "Dear God, the entire village is dead. Everyone, three hundred people. How many others? We- we burned the sick alive, we-"

Shanoa turned to the side as she retched. Unable to contain her distress any longer, the young Blade vomited on the tiles, her heaves continuing until there was nothing left in her stomach. Aurelia watched, frozen in place, as tears streamed down Shanoa's face. She wiped away the remaining spittle on her lips before she dared to look at the albino once more.

Then the screaming continued.

Aurelia couldn't stand to listen to the horrid sound. An ugly thing born of pure agony that grated in the ears and made her feel things she never wanted to uncover. Without warning, Shanoa pounced on top of her, pinning her against the floor, knees on either side of Aurelia's torso as she gripped the collar of her shirt in both hands. Fury burned in Shanoa's blue eyes as she stared into her former friend. The promise of comeuppance held within.

"I am the Blade to banish evil!" Shanoa cried; her voice thrumming with all the might and power of her station. "I am the morning sun that will vanquish the horrible night! And if that means I have to kill you." Ecclesia's Blade summoned Melio Secare in her right hand. She poised the tip of the sword against Aurelia's throat, and the albino knew she had the conviction to commit the deed. "Then so be it!"

And Aurelia – staring up into the familiar eyes of death – felt all the fight go out of her.

She couldn't raise a hand against Shanoa even if she wanted to. If Aurelia had to die to preserve Barlowe's secrets, to ensure the fulfilment of humanity's salvation, then she would lay down her life and ascend prematurely into Dracula's arms. And the truly heretical fact of the matter was she held Shanoa in too high a regard to deny her this supposed justice.

A sob left Shanoa's throat as the girl began to break under the weight of revelation. The hand holding the Glyph wavered as the Blade hesitated.

Then Albus' familiar voice broke through the tension. "Shanoa!"

He wrapped his arms around his sister's shoulders and pulled her backwards. Shanoa struggled in Albus' grip as he forced her to release her hold on the albino, but the fight soon similarly drained from Ecclesia's Blade. The young warrior sagged in his arms once the siblings were upright; her face the mirror of utter defeat. A small crowd of night patrolmen stood nearby, watching their Blade come undone, and Aurelia – if she had any fire left within her – would have ordered them to clear away to afford the grieving woman some privacy.

"She's not worth it!" Albus said.

Aurelia forced herself to rise to her feet. Her movements stiff and labored; bogged down by the truth in Albus' words. She was a strange dichotomy in this moment. The culmination of two dueling parts of herself. Ecclesia's Shadow, who was putting on a display of submission for the sake of keeping the blame for this debacle contained, and Aurelia, who felt genuine guilt over the hurt she'd caused her only friend.

"He's right," Aurelia said, keeping her eyes downcast. "I'm not." And there was some measure of truth in her words.

Shanoa took a deep, shuddering breath. "You… you've betrayed all of us. Everyone in Ecclesia. Fed the Elders false intel so you… so we could…" The young warrior fell to her knees, fresh sobs racking her body. "What have I done?" she whispered as she buried her face in her hands. "What have I done?"

Silence fell over the entire scene. Aurelia couldn't think, could hardly breathe. Her entire world was coming undone, and there would be Hell to pay for everyone caught up in this storm.

"Lord, the dramatics," Oriana said, breaking through the tension. "You better be fixing this door once you're done crying."

Anger flashed hot inside Aurelia's chest at the old woman's admonishing remark. Shanoa didn't need to be berated right now. She was already in enough pain.

"Oriana!" Aurelia said in a harsh voice.

The old woman rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated with the whole ordeal. "This is just as much your fault, blasses kind!" She scoffed. "Quite the spectacle, it is. I'm never going to hear the end of this. Do the guards be wanting a look at my heretic paintings? Since we're all airing our skeleton closets."

"Oriana," Aurelia said once again, her voice retaining the same edge as she tried to force Oriana to stop talking. She'd already done enough damage, already revealed Aurelia's whereabouts to a rage-filled Blade. She wouldn't earn the albino's forgiveness without effort.

The old woman pointed a bony finger at her. "Take care of this, or I will." Then, Oriana retreated into the confines of her room, picking her way across the strewn debris towards her armchair. "Wo zum teufel ist der Scotch?"

Aurelia turned, staring across the ocean of tile flooring towards Shanoa, still sobbing and broken.

"I trusted you," the young warrior's voice wavered as she spoke.

The albino took a deep breath. "Shanoa–"

"No," she said, cutting Aurelia off. "Don't you dare speak. If you do, then I might." She paused, gathering herself. "It's not my place to pass judgment, but I can at least ensure justice is done."

As Shanoa forced herself to stand up on unsteady feet, a sudden wave of sorrow and regret passed over Aurelia. To see her friend – this young warrior she had such a love for – reduced to this sorry state was heartbreaking, and not even her training could deny the emotions a rendered Shanoa elicited from her. Realizing the danger the raging emotional storm presented, Aurelia made a rash decision.

Melio Secare re-formed in Shanoa's hand, and she pointed it at Aurelia in obvious warning. The Blade glanced at one of the mute patrolmen. "Call the Elders. They need to know of her crimes."

While Shanoa's head was turned, the albino grabbed at the necklace hanging over her chest and yanked hard. The small chain links broke and fell to the floor, freeing the ouroboros ring into the palm of her hand. She slipped the ring onto an awaiting finger, felt barbs inject themselves into her flesh, felt the pulse of odd energy course through her, felt a foreign presence wrap around her heart.

Then she felt nothing.

When Shanoa looked at her Aurelia could tell she noticed the change, but she didn't comment or act upon the observation. She continued to brandish her sword as she tried to steady her breathing, yet it continued to come in short pants. The Blade narrowed her eyes at her former friend; a warning carried in the glare.

"If you try to run–"

"I won't," Aurelia said, and if she had any emotions left in her heart she would have been surprised by the sound of her own voice. A strange, even timber which conveyed nothing beyond the base words. No hint to any personality lying within.

Shanoa pressed forward. "We're taking her to the council chamber," she said in an unsteady voice. The young warrior began to sway slightly from side to side as she spoke. "I… I'm going to end this."

"Shanoa!" Albus cried out as the young warrior tried to take a step forward.

Then her leg gave way.

Aurelia watched her former friend collapsed. Held her gaze as Shanoa stared up at her from the floor, eyes glassy and unfocused, yet still seeing. How pitiful she looked, so distraught, brought down by the force of heartbreak. Ecclesia's Blade, purveyor of Glyphs and herald to their glorious aims, was – in the end – still mortal. Little more than a child in her own right.

And Shanoa deserved more than this.

Aurelia felt the tear slip out of her eye but couldn't determine how it'd formed or when. She supposed it didn't matter.

The gathered onlookers all watched in silence as Shanoa went limp, fainted due to the emotional strain. The albino paid little attention to what happened after that. Simply basked in the unnatural calm which held her in its grip as Albus took charge, barking orders at the patrolmen and cradling his sister's body in his arms. He instructed some men to take her to the infirmary and repeated Shanoa's assertions that Aurelia be detained, the Elders called, and this usurper brought before them. Aurelia allowed a pair of guards to grip her arms and bind her hands behind her back. She allowed them to think she couldn't simply dive into their shadows and be free of their hold. She allowed herself the indignity of arrest because her path was clear. She'd present herself to the Elders for judgment and they would decide her fate. Such was her duty.

Oriana had wandered back to her open doorway to see what all the new yelling was about. The old woman caught Aurelia's eye as she watched the albino be bound. Oriana shook her head, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

"I have warned you of this, kind. What would happen if you be getting too close. Now this is a true mess you've made, and I cannot help you break free."

"I know," Aurelia said in her strange, soul-less voice.

Oriana made another noise of displeasure at the sound of her former student's voice. There was the gleam of understanding in the old woman's eyes, and Aurelia suspected she knew what device she'd slipped onto her finger.

"Foolish child," Oriana said under her breath.

Then the guards led Aurelia away. Steered her into a nearby empty room where they forced her into a corner and stood guard by the open door, awaiting further instructions. Aurelia ignored her surroundings and predicament. The judgment would come in time, and all she could do was wait. The emotionless calm blanketed her, eating any surge of feeling that blossomed inside her chest. Her world had been rent asunder, yet this? This was tolerable.

So let it be.

IXI

Time passed. Aurelia wasn't sure how long, as the procession of minutes into potential hours became harder to distinguish with no emotional cues to help guide her. She simply existed, a formless mass of living flesh, subsisting for the sole purpose of fulfilling a duty and nothing more. At length, another patrolman came and instructed the pair keeping guard over Ecclesia's Shadow to bring her to the council chamber. They grabbed her arms, but she followed without resistance or question. They made a slow procession through the halls of the fortress, thankfully the late hour and enforced curfew guaranteed a distinct lack of a crowd to see such a sorry display. Still, Aurelia felt no shame over her sudden lack of a loftier station. She couldn't feel anything other than the forced, apathetic calm, and she understood with vivid clarity why an artifact such as the ouroboros ring existed in the first place.

They brought her up the winding staircase to the tower which housed the council chamber. When the double doors were thrust open all five of Ecclesia's Elders were revealed within the room, sitting at their assigned seats at the crescent-shaped desk and speaking to each other in furtive yet hushed voices. Masters Zev and Barlowe ceased their private conversation the moment the doors parted and they turned, staring directly at Aurelia, expressions the polar opposites of each other. Barlowe was fuming, the evidence of his rage sculpted into every facet of his aged face, while Master Zev was an ocean of calm much the same as Aurelia. His dark eyes almost completely black in the overhanging light as he stared at the fallen Shadow, and the way the shadows played across his visage Aurelia could note the distinct shape of his skull beneath the thin layers of flesh. The sight of Master Zev was gruesome in a way she couldn't readily identify, though not potent enough to force any measure of horror to birth inside her heart. The ring ate away her brewing unease, and she kept her head held high as she was brought to a stop in the middle of the half-circle.

A silence settled over the room as all gazes fell upon her. The fidgeting of the guards at her sides was Aurelia's only means to note the ensuing quiet was wrought with tension. She waited, stance straight and rigid, for her comeuppance to begin.

Barlowe stared into her for a while before – after an age – his eyes shifted momentarily to the awaiting patrolmen. "Leave us."

The guards let out inaudible sighs of relief as they bowed to their highest master and pivoted, marching out the council chamber. The double doors boomed closed behind them. Aurelia's hands were still tied behind her back, but she made no move to struggle or fidget in their bonds. The tense silence continued once again, but it held no bearing over her. She would wait as long as the Elders needed.

"Now it's all ruined," Barlowe said after a time. His voice was raw and haggard, and Aurelia wondered if he'd been screaming. "We spent years cultivating Shanoa's innocence, preparing her to be the perfect sacrifice for Dominus, and in one fell swoop you've rent our efforts worthless. You seemed to be one of Ecclesia's most ardent acolytes, Aurelia. I trusted in your faith, bestowed upon you a pivotal role in our quest to free mankind, and you destroyed it all." He ran a heavy hand down his face, distending his features for a moment as he pulled on the skin. "What – if anything – do you have to say for yourself?"

Aurelia bowed her head, deferring to his justifiable rage. "Nothing, sir. No defense I could possibly mount will suffice."

Barlowe banged his fist against the table, the loud sound causing Masters Omar and Ephraim to jump a bit in surprise. The head of Ecclesia leaned forward; face contorted in anger as he pointed an accusatory finger at the albino. "Of all the unmitigated gall! I challenge you for an explanation and you have the audacity to lie down like a dog and submit! Is this what you were all along, a coward?"

The ring ate any hurt she might have felt at the admonishment. Still, Aurelia turned her head, seeking her uncle's gaze. Their eyes met for a moment; his face as unreadable a mask as her own. Torey said nothing, then – after a beat of silence – he looked away. So, he would not come to her defense, though they were both the same, in the end. Duty to Ecclesia and their Lord came above all else, even familial commitments.

"I live to serve," Aurelia said, her voice still holding the even keel, "and I failed to uphold my duty. Call it cowardice, if you will, but there is no need for me to argue against the truth."

Master Omar fidgeted in his seat, beads of sweat forming on his wrinkled brow. "So, what do we do now? The Blade is broken, but long before the appointed time. Can we still go through with the ritual? Have her use Dominus in the coming days?"

"No," Barlowe said with an abrupt shake of his head. "We're not ready for Ecclesia to ascend. I still have to prepare…" Barlowe buried his face in his hands, fingers digging into his scalp. "We're not ready!"

Only one man was brave enough to break the resulting silence, and – in the odd sense of clarity that came with being untethered to emotions – Aurelia came to the long overdue conclusion that Master Zev wasn't truly a man.

"Our labors can still be salvaged," the black-eyed Master said in his odd voice. "We will keep Shanoa suspended in this state while we work fast to prepare the others. If we prevent her from overcoming the emotional upheaval, ensure her grief persists, the offering to Dominus will be as potent in a couple months as it would be today. Fear not, my brethren, ascension is nigh."

"Damnable girl," Barlowe said in a muttered tone before he sighed, his shoulders sagging. "You're right, all is not lost, but I will have to keep Shanoa contained and isolated as we set about our preparations. Not everyone in Ecclesia is ready to ascend into our Lord's arms. They will be less powerful offerings than Dracula deserves, but we don't have a choice now, do we?"

Barlowe turned to her, fury burning hot in his eyes, yet she felt nothing. No stirring of fear or submission on account of the ring. She withstood his glare, and she saw confusion join the fray within his expression.

"What have you done to yourself?" Barlowe asked slowly. "So lifeless and unbowed. I know you feel more than you let on. You always have."

Ephraim cleared his throat, the sound loud enough to echo against the chamber walls. "I may have… gifted her the ouroboros ring a couple years back. I see now the gesture was misguided. I did not expect her to abuse its power, but that was shortsightedness on my part."

Without the ring, Aurelia would have gaped at her former lover. She would have hurled some choice words, fought back against his assessment of her character. She would have cursed him for yet another betrayal; for how she meant so little to Ephraim now that she was no longer warming his bed. She would have damned his appointment as Elder, called him unfit, screamed he gained everything he had in life only by virtue of blood relation to a more powerful man than he could ever be.

But Aurelia remained silent. The ring ate all urges which birthed within her. Gave her the means to withstand the storm without succumbing to base emotional weakness.

Barlowe rose from his throne and walked around the desk, fuming with each step. Aurelia turned her body as he walked, always keeping her front faced towards him, until he reached his former protégé and came to a stop before her. Barlowe reached into the vast folds of his robes and withdrew a knife; its polished blade gleamed when it caught the sunlight.

"A punishment is meaningless if the guilty cannot feel remorse." He made a circular gesture with the knife-wielding hand. "Turn around."

Aurelia obeyed, because she lived to serve without question or hesitation. Once her back was to Barlowe – hands still bound – she felt him grab her ring-bearing finger, pulling it away from the other digits. She didn't wince or tense as he lined up the knife against her awaiting flesh. A few moments passed as he cast some manner of spell on the blade, she felt the magic hum through the metal, before there was a sharp tug and he sliced through the finger, severing it from her hand. Aurelia felt the physical sensation of her finger falling away, ripped from her, the gush of blood from the open wound, but no tangible degree of pain.

Then the emotions burst forth in a torrent.

A wail left her pale lips. The sound unlike anything she'd uttered before. Profound grief carried on the notes of the horrid cry. The loss of Shanoa, of her duty to Ecclesia, of every success that came before rendered meaningless, now, because Aurelia was a failure in totality. The fate of their entire Order rested on her shoulders, and she'd ruined it all. Decades of work gone in less than a day because Aurelia hadn't possessed the foresight to diminish Shanoa's trust in Albus. Hadn't monitored both siblings for signs of heresy and worked to put a stop to the boy's suspicions when Shanoa first confided them to her, that night of the performance.

Barlowe was right. She deserved to suffer.

She felt him seal the bleeding wound with burning magic, yet she still only felt emotional pain. She gasped, taking shuddering breaths, as tears formed in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Wouldn't allow herself to be so debased in front of these men she'd already proven her weakness to.

"Face me," Barlowe said, his tone commanding.

Aurelia turned around, slow and methodical. She held the tears at bay. She had to.

"I chose you to be our herald," Barlowe continued. "The one who would ensure our aims were realized, but you've made it quite clear my trust was misplaced. I've seen many failures in my life. Watched humanity fail to withstand the tides of Chaos. Yet you are my greatest disappointment. You are–"

Words failed Barlowe as he let out a cry of fury. Aurelia watched him pull his arm back and stood, waiting, while he balled his hand into a fist before punching her – hard – in the face. Her head whipped to the side under the force of the blow, setting her off balance, and she fell to her knees upon the tile floor. A throbbing pulsed through her skull, blood pooled in her mouth, but not even this could hurt her. The training rendering physical punishment ineffective. Yet here, kneeling before a vengeful master, was a fitting place for Ecclesia's wayward Shadow.

"Now it falls upon me to fix this," Barlowe said as he lorded over her. "The sacrifice of our Blade has become a detriment to our Lord when such a righteous occasion should be a time of worship and exultation. My dreams for a fully realized ascension of all Ecclesia have been crushed. It's only fitting yours should be too."

Aurelia knew what was coming before he said it, and her heart broke all over again.

"You, Aurelia, will not ascend." A silence passed over the chamber. All within bearing witness to his declaration, and Barlowe's word was final. "You are no longer blessed in the eyes of our Lord. I damn you, girl, to wait and watch as your former family ascends into the glory of his awaiting arms, but you will not join us. This is the most fitting punishment I can give to you, who let Chaos into our home." He paused, then spat in her face, the spittle landing upon her cheek. "You're no better than a Lord-forsaken human."

Then the tears fell.

Aurelia wailed into the open air. Her face drenched as she doubled over, sobbing onto the tile floor, prostrate before this man who had – hours before – been her highest Master. This was as horrible as losing Shanoa. Worse than if Barlowe had chosen to kill her the moment she walked into the chamber to face her Elders. Aurelia knew now, in the depths of her soul, that she was outcast from Ecclesia, and her entire life's work had been for naught. Everything she'd done, all the lies she'd fed Shanoa, the planned betrayal, was all for the sake of being accepted into the Dark Lord's arms. Earning that right through ensuring humanity's salvation.

And now she didn't even have the promise of ascension to comfort her in the wake of all she'd lost.

Her uncle watched her damnation, silent, never uttering a word in her defense. Oriana had given her up to Shanoa's rage. Ephraim discarded all shreds of what they'd once shared. All the pillars in her life had abandoned her.

And Shanoa – her once precious friend – had thrown her away. Saw her as being no better than the Chaotic humans they'd killed for a greater cause. She didn't even question why. Hadn't sought an explanation once she returned from that village. Set immediately to rage and ruin, and Aurelia was the one who paid the price.

Now, as she was in infancy, Aurelia was truly alone, cursed by her own selfish hubris.

And she had only herself to blame.

IXI

They brought her down winding staircases, into the bowels of Ecclesia's fortress. The dungeons so rarely used during this time of enlightenment, now a special cell had been made just for her. They threw her into a room with no windows, the only way in or out a barred steel door with a sliding latch in the bottom half to allow for things to be passed between without unlocking the barricade. The only furnishings a dirty mattress in a corner and a chamber pot against the far wall. What was special about this cell, however, was someone had cast powerful, permanent illumination spells upon every surface in the room. Artificial white light glowed from all sides, upon every wall and crevice, eliminating all shadows, even the one that would normally be cast from Aurelia's own body.

Her hands were freed, and she was tossed inside, the door booming closed behind her. She lay within the damnable brilliant white for a while, reaching in vain for some entrance to Inertia, and finding none within this Lord-forsaken room. No, she'd been severed from that link, her one possible source of comfort in this time of upheaval, and now she was truly alone and powerless. Abandoned in every respect.

How fitting.

Aurelia made no attempt to escape that night or the day after. Soon time lost all meaning within this illuminated room, as she had no way to mark its passage. At intervals, the sliding latch opened and – after the first few silent exchanges – Aurelia fell into the routine of what it meant. The person on the other side would wait for her to act first. Aurelia would pass through her old meal tray and dirty chamber pot, and the nameless individual would provide a new, full meal tray and clean chamber pot. Then the latch would slide closed, lock, and she'd be left alone in silence with nothing but the company of her thoughts.

It didn't take long for her clothes to be rendered filthy. She was provided no substitutes and deduced this was yet another aspect to her punishment. Her body becoming as corrupt at her mind. Sometimes Aurelia would strip naked, trying to rid herself of the gathered grime, but the air in the cell was chilly, and she'd sit there, goosebumps across her flesh, shuddering at length as her body temperature dropped, until she couldn't stand it any longer and threw the awful clothes back on.

Her grief ate away at her, slow and insidious, within the formless hours of her solitary confinement. There was nothing for her to do but ruminate on her failure. Lose herself in the memories of all she'd lost. The once loving touch of Ephraim's hands across her bare flesh. The stern guidance of Oriana's voice as she corrected yet another mistake her protégé had made while attempting to draw an anatomical study. The hours she'd spent sparring with her uncle during the most formulative years of her training. And, above all, the genuine, happy smile on Shanoa's face when Aurelia appeared in her room with a book in hand. All pivotal moments in the making of who Aurelia was, now lost to time and an unforgivable heresy, thrown away like so much dust into the wind.

The only thing she could do was accept it. Take responsibility for what she'd done and submit herself to this punishment. Because she was deserving of it. She'd vowed to put her duty to Ecclesia and her Lord above all else, and yet allowed her foolish heart to lead her astray. So, Aurelia withered. Her soul chipped away at the seams with each passing moment she spent alone in this accursed cell.

But this was what Dracula had decreed.

An eternity passed before she heard it. The deadbolt of the door giving way to a key in the lock. Aurelia looked up, through her dirty lashes, as the rustic screech of moving hinges sounded, and the door swung inward. She didn't know who to expect but was somewhat surprised to find Torey standing in the threshold, the hallway behind him too dark to see, but the cell's interior lighting revealing every facet of his now aging face. He looked tired yet invigorated. A calm determination behind his eyes; the assurance which came from having decided upon the answer to a pressing decision.

And, before he said a single word, Aurelia knew why he'd come.

"Torey," she said in a voice that sounded foreign to her own ears. Weak and timid, lined with an undercurrent of begging. Lord, what had she become?

Aurelia started forward, reaching for him, but Torey pulled away, taking a short step back into the hallway. She froze, another pang of betrayal jolted through her, before she was able to remind herself that she deserved this. He had every right to reject her.

"My time has come," he said in a strong, steady voice. So unlike her own, yet reminiscent of her training years, when he was imparting a grand, powerful lesson. "At last, Barlowe has deemed the Elders ready to ascend. I've… come to say goodbye."

"So, you were able to salvage my mess?"

"Against all odds, yes. By this time tomorrow, Shanoa will have offered up her soul to Dominus and our Lord shall be risen."

Aurelia nodded once before tears sprang to her eyes. She hung her head in a desperate attempt to hide them. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" Her voice failed her as she realized the true depths to which she had fallen. What she was willing to do now to avoid this fate. A few tears managed to escape her eyes, but she wiped them away with an aggressive hand, knowing this was her last chance to make some manner of amends. Aurelia raised her eyes again, meeting her uncle's gaze, pleading. "Please, take me with you. Barlowe doesn't have to know. I'm your own blood; your kin. Marked for purity from the moment you first laid eyes on me. That still means something, uncle, and nothing can sever our bond."

"You threw it all away when you betrayed us," Torey said in a hard tone. He narrowed his eyes as he stared down at her; unwavering. "I still have a path to walk, and I will not abandon it. Not even for blood."

And Aurelia felt the last vestiges of hope leave her.

This declaration hit the hardest. A final dismissal from a man who had been her only relative of virtue. The one kin she would ever lay claim to. Sobs erupted from Aurelia's throat as she curled in on herself, the tears flowing freely and without end in the wake of Torey's words. Her uncle lingered in the doorway for a moment too long, looking down at his pitiful niece, before she heard him step away and close the door behind him. The bolt turned in the latch, locking the door, the sound echoing even within the small cell. And Aurelia knew, within every vast recess of her heart, that she would never see him again.

IXI

More time passed. An eternity marching on in endless directions while Aurelia lay alone, confined in a cell of burning light. Any emotions she'd felt had been scrubbed raw. She was the definition of anhedonia. Too empty to feel anything other than the cold stone of the floor or the raw straw poking out the edges of her mattress. When she ate it was out of mechanical necessity, and when she slept her dreams were filled with visions of the Void, nothing more. Aurelia existed only in the barest sense of the word. She took up space, was comprised of matter, but she was without aim or purpose. Served no end other than breathing one moment to the next. Sometimes, when she stared into the artificial light of her cell too long without blinking, she thought she saw the shapes of people moving off in the distance. Humanoid forms transforming into monstrous shadows, though she knew it was her mind going soft. The isolation playing tricks on her. In her former life she would have been concerned by this development and fought against it, but now? She was unperturbed by the idea of going mad inside this cell. Perhaps in madness she could dream up a life outside these walls.

The sliding latch in the door opened less frequently now. The only clue she had to the growing time between meals were the increasing pangs of bodily hunger during the interim. Aurelia could determine what it meant well enough. Dracula was now risen, His worshippers ascended into His awaiting arms. Whoever was left behind – surprising there were any – cared little for keeping the heretical Shadow alive. Eventually they, too, would finish their ascension, and then perhaps Aurelia would finally be allowed to die. A slow death, but an ending at least. Still, she was too proud to refuse food when it was being offered. Ran exercises in the empty days of her cell to keep up some manner of physical prowess. Her emotions and heart had withered away into this wan nothingness, but some piece of her – the loyal acolyte – couldn't stand to let her body deteriorate too. It would mean she'd abandoned all traces of who she once was, and Aurelia… she couldn't stoop that low.

Thus did the isolation continue, with no cessation in sight.

She was sitting against the back wall, curled in on herself, knees to her chest and head down, when he came. Her ears pricked up at the sound of the deadbolt turning, the door unlocking, and then being pushed inward. Aurelia kept her head bowed, her initial reaction to this intrusion one of apathy. The Elders had already ascended, and whoever remained to speak with her must be the lowest in Ecclesia. Some nameless acolyte of little renown or ability cursed to linger while the rest of their comrades went to a timeless glory. Then, something was tossed towards her, landing with a loud clang at her feet. Aurelia's eyes wandered to it, and discovered the object was a large, metal key. Her curiosity piqued, she bothered to look up, and her breath caught in her throat.

Barlowe was standing in the open doorway. The last person she ever expected to see. He should have been first to ascend when Dracula rose, taken moments after Shanoa's sacrifice, but here he was, in the living flesh. Her former Master had aged a decade since she'd last seen him. He looked haggard, eyes sunken, deep shadows in the crevices of his wrinkles, and a weariness etched into his tired face. Barlowe was panting as he stood there in the threshold, hair mussed as though from fitful sleep, and when their eyes – at last – met he looked at Aurelia with the same unbridled hate as when she bowed before him in the council chamber.

"Now, it's finally time," Barlowe said, his voice raw and hoarse. "Despite all this meddling by you goddamn children, leading Shanoa astray twice over, your efforts were for naught. Tonight, my Lord will finally be free. Your Chaos is contained, and when Shanoa arrives I will have confirmation of Albus' death. I've seen The Blade on the horizon, returning into my hands, ready to give of herself, and there's no one left to stop the ritual. No chance at further delay."

A silence passed over them. Aurelia heard his words but couldn't understand what they meant. How much time has passed since her uncle's final visit? What further treachery had unfolded? But it wasn't Aurelia's place to ask, she'd rescinded that right the moment she befriended Shanoa. So, she sat there without commenting, never turning her gaze from Barlowe's.

He gestured to the floor in front of her. "The key to your cell is a gift you don't deserve, but I am feeling generous in my exaltation. At the end of the day, when night falls, I will allow you to free yourself, emerge from this cage and witness the newly risen Dracula, but alone. With no brothers and sisters beside you. Even if you died now, you would never go to His arms, Aurelia. Let this freedom be a final rumination on what you threw away." He allowed a pregnant pause to pass between them. A few moments later, his upper lip curled back and Barlowe scoffed. "I suppose I do pity children more than I should."

Then he left.

The door closed behind him, the bolt latched, but Aurelia had the key. She could leave now, escape the confines of this cell, but she didn't. The old loyalty still burned hot within her. She didn't deserve to behold Dracula's resurrection. Not after her betrayal, but there was now an end to this stage of her punishment, at least. There were still other horrors to face, the truth that she was now – truly – alone in a world set to be cleansed by a Lord who didn't want her. Who saw her as the enemy.

But she could face reality in time.

Aurelia crawled to her mat and lay down, a long, weary sigh escaping her. She had no thoughts or hope for the future because she was devoid of one. Besides, soon this world would be consumed, and then all would be made right. The void pulsed inside of Aurelia, beckoning, as her eyes fell closed and she drifted into a restless slumber.

IXI

She didn't know how long she'd been asleep when she awoke. The ever-present weariness remained settled into her bones, yet she rose despite the protest of her body, knowing her time had finally come to leave this cell. Dracula had risen, and the long overdue realization of Ecclesia's aims was nigh. Nothing could stop the procession of fate, now. Not even her heretical aims. So, Aurelia forced herself to her feet, retrieved the key from its place on the floor, and fit it into the lock. The deadbolt gave way with a turn, and then the door swung towards her, sounding its usual rustic screech. Aurelia stepped out, into the dank hallways of the dungeon.

And she was free.

The albino headed towards her destination without conscious thought. Out of the cells and to the winding staircases leading her up, to the highest point in Ecclesia. Aurelia knew where Shanoa's body would be, lying at the foot of the Vessel, that is if Barlowe hadn't bothered to move her once the sacrifice was complete. Even so, the albino felt some need to pay her respects to her now deceased former friend. Yes, Shanoa was just as much to blame for Aurelia's imprisonment as the albino herself. The girl had made her weak, made her heretical, and then threw her to the wolves when the game was revealed. But they'd had something once, and Aurelia needed the closure that Shanoa's lifeless body would provide. The guarantee they couldn't hurt each other again.

The Sun was low in the horizon when Aurelia emerged at the top of the stairs leading to the Elder's council chamber. Long, slanted rays of orange sunlight gleamed through the windows, casting the wood and bronze reliefs on the wall in a golden hue. The double doors were closed, and – with a deep, steady inhale – Aurelia placed her hands upon their solid surface and pushed inward. They gave way, revealing the room beyond.

And Aurelia froze.

The council chamber had been torn asunder. Every surface was adorned with the residual black marks of Globus. The muqarnas overhead were shattered and their remains littered the cracked tile floor in piles of debris. The half-moon council chamber was split in twain, large splinters and gashes of wood chopped away from its lacquered surface. All the Elders chairs were burned or ripped apart, Barlowe's throne, in particular, turned to deep, gray-black-red shades of smoldering ash.

But what set Aurelia's heart to stutter inside her chest – what made her blood run cold – was what lay beyond the blown-wide doors beyond, leading into the hidden sanctum. She could see the Vessel inside, rent and crumbled, its chains no longer binding Lord Dracula to its accursed stone. Yet, lying at the foot of the effigy, was not Shanoa's body, but Barlowe's.

She saw it all in that moment. Knew what this turn of events meant. Shanoa had discovered the truth, somehow, and fought Barlowe for her life, forcing the old man to take the burden of Dominus upon himself. Somehow finding the means to offer his own body and soul as a sacrifice in lieu of Ecclesia's Blade. He'd been the one to break the Vessel, not Shanoa, and now…

Aurelia dove into a nearby shadow, into Inertia, and used them to travel through the overhead windows and out onto the roof of the fortress' highest tower. She emerged, standing on smooth, curved stone, as she turned in all directions, scanning the horizon. Then, she saw it to the North, rising above the Carpathian wilderness. A bastion of impossible architecture which heralded a new dawn for humanity.

Castlevania.

A laugh bubbled up inside Aurelia's stomach before it burst forth, leaving her lips in cruel, gasping heaves. Shanoa was no longer here, in Ecclesia. She'd gone to challenge Castlevania's halls. Left to walk the same path as all the Belmont champions who'd gone before her. And it was a foolish endeavor. Doomed to failure if it was anyone else, but this was the greatest irony, wasn't it? They'd trained Shanoa her whole life for this moment. Sent her to face endless hordes of monsters, had her stand against the deepest fonts of Darkness and come out victorious. She knew demon anatomy and weaknesses. She had the strength of spirit and body to endure pain and torment. And – most importantly – she still hosted Dominus in her flesh. Not the Vampire Killer, but a worthy substitute.

And, thanks to Ecclesia, Shanoa could endure.

Now there was nothing left to do but wait. Shanoa still had trials set before her. Armies and generals of the ascended to get through. Success was not guaranteed, but Lord, Aurelia could never envision her life leading her here. To be the last in Ecclesia, alone and denied glory, forced to stand aside as the greatest challenge between righteousness and Chaos unfolded. How far she'd fallen. How little her struggles meant in the end. And now she'd have to bury Barlowe, in solitude and without the fanfare a man of his renown deserved.

All because of Shanoa.

IXI

She felt the brand first.

Aurelia was eating a simple meal, scrounged from what remained in the kitchens, when it happened. She paused mid-bite, as the tether forged inside her mind, a Dark link between her soul and the flesh of Ecclesia's Blade. It took her a moment to recognize what it was. She'd only been exposed to one other Dark brand in her life – on a trial mission with Ephraim where they tested the theory of her link to Inertia being transferred into this manner of physical spell. It worked, to their delight, but hadn't proved practical since.

Until now.

The call came next. A silent pulse from within the surrounding shadows. Aurelia touched her hand to one, dipped a finger into Inertia, and felt it there; a chain linking them together. She gripped the invisible chain, closed her eyes, and traveled along it. Through dimensions of varying degrees of stability and reality. Through the bowels of an impossible castle, until there – she saw the vision of it – a familiar black-haired woman standing over the fresh corpse of a now unrecognizable man. The room around Shanoa marked in residual Darkness left upon the walls by massive claws and teeth. Aurelia let the vision fade, focused on the feel of the chain itself, and while she couldn't pinpoint Shanoa's exact location due to her inhabiting a different plane of existence, she knew which route the Blade had taken to Castlevania. Could walk the same road if she so wanted. Shanoa was now bound to her, in body and soul, and there was no means for the Blade to escape.

Exaltation burst within Aurelia's heart. Tears of joy formed in her eyes as she realized what this meant. The brand was meant for her alone. Whether formed out of desperation or a preemptive measure didn't matter to Aurelia. What mattered was he wouldn't have done it unless she was worthy of being given this task. Unless they still had faith in her.

She quickly brushed the tears from her eyes, this moment deserved more than inappropriate emotional outpouring. Because she may not be worthy of ascension, but she had not been forgotten. If Shanoa – against all odds – emerged from Castlevania then Aurelia would have another role to play. One she was determined to be deserving of.

And Ecclesia's Shadow would do her Lord's work.

IXI

She felt the universe shudder through the brand. Heard the booming death cry of a cosmic entity echo in her ears, the sound so powerful she didn't need to be consciously connected to the tether for it to reach her. The sound wrenched her from an already fitful sleep. Her purple eyes opened wide in the still pervading darkness of the room. Aurelia leapt out of bed, understanding what was happening before she saw visual evidence. She'd chosen this bedroom to waste her days because its window looked out over Castlevania. Affording an unobstructed view of the monolithic construct. The albino rushed to the glass, staring out the expanse of wilderness, and her breath caught in her chest at the sight. Dracula's Castle crumbled before her eyes in the pre-dawn light. Shuddered upon its very foundations as it collapsed in on itself, imploding into dust and rubble, pulled back into the dimensional vortex from which it had first emerged. Aurelia tried to deny the truth as she watched. Tried to will Castlevania to remain standing; tried to recognize the sound of Dracula's dying knell as anything other than what it was.

But no, the impossible had happened.

Shanoa – Ecclesia's wayward Blade, the champion of Chaos – was triumphant.

Aurelia's limbs began to tremble as the final, towering spires of Castlevania were obliterated from the mortal realm. She took deep, shuddering pants through her open mouth; her lower lip quavered. After all these years of preparation, of fighting towards a common goal, it was over. Ecclesia had failed in its mission, and now everyone was dead.

Reality descended in a harsh, unmerciful blow. All of this was for naught. The newly freed Lord Dracula was now slain, and he would not rise again. Not within her lifetime. The clock was reset. A hundred years for another chance at glory, and there was no more Ecclesia to maintain the fight against Chaos. By then the accursed Church or the Belmont sympathizers would have found another champion to fight for them. They already had the means to slay the Dark Lord even without the Vampire Killer, Shanoa herself was living proof of that fact. She could pass on the knowledge. Impart Dominus upon yet another in a potentially long line of ignorant "heroes" who sought the glory of the legendary Belmonts. No, the cycle would continue, as it had for nigh a millennium, and Aurelia could do nothing to stop it.

The rage boiled within her blood. An anger which had begun to fester within the eternity of confinement now fed upon the fodder of this realization. She buried her face in her hands, fingers digging deep grooves into her scalp and forehead. Aurelia had lost everything and everyone, but to what end? Humanity was doomed now, their fate assured, so what was the point of her training and trials? The missions she'd performed in Ecclesia's name. The relationships thrown away all in the pursuit of this great purpose. Her life was meaningless, her life was–

'No.'

Her head snapped up; eyes on the distant horizon, where Castlevania had stood mere minutes ago. Her mind whirred as she slotted the pieces in place; saw beyond herself into the machinations of a deity's meticulous designs. No, she was wrong, because Aurelia knew – in her heart, in her soul – that the Dark Lord provided. Paved the way for all things, including the makeup of her own destiny. She been outcast from Ecclesia, left behind, for a reason. The brand tethering her to Shanoa was formed in accordance with a plan she could only see just now, in this feverish moment.

The Blade would birth a new age of Chaotic heroes. Would usher humanity towards a forsaken future, allow discord to seep deeper into the bones of this world, and Shanoa needed to be brought to an end before this could happen. She needed to suffer a fate as horrible as what she'd doomed humanity to for the next century, at least. It was true, Aurelia's entire life had led her to this moment, because she knew Shanoa. Knew how she fought, how her mind worked, what shape her Glyphs took. Aurelia had spent years by the damned girl's side, seeping into her mind, and who better to carry out the vengeance of Lord Dracula and his most loyal acolytes? She was Shanoa's Shadow. She was the foil to Ecclesia's Blade. And Aurelia could still play an integral part in saving humanity from itself.

Conviction burned through her as hot as the rage. Untamed anguish and fury transmogrifying into an untenable force. She would kill Shanoa, her former friend, who had thrown Aurelia to the wolves without hesitation or asking for an explanation. Who'd condemned the albino based on a twisted truth. She would kill Shanoa, who had destroyed the Order of Ecclesia and everyone in it. She would kill Shanoa, and in doing so make the Chaotic God himself shudder before the blood-soaked sight of her.

And then Aurelia – bowing before the emotional storm – allowed herself to be consumed.

---

Ending Note: And with that we're finally back to present-day events and ready for the climax to begin in earnest. Good news for readers is I'm back in rewrite territory, with old drafts of the next four chapters already written, they just need to be revised. So this means updates should be more frequent for a bit going forward.

Once again, a massive thank you to everyone who's left a review or engaged in this story in some way. These last three chapters were some of the most difficult scenes I've ever written, and it's been a boon to know that my efforts are appreciated.