Author's Note: This chapter was an absolute beast of a thing to wrestle with but after a lot of blood and sweat I've finally got it right. Prepare yourselves, readers, gloves are off and we're finally here.
Chapter Forty-Two
Monstrous
The Sun was setting by the time Shanoa began her final approach towards Ecclesia.
Later than she would have liked, but Aurelia had set the deadline with threat of repercussion, and the warrior was loath to put Laura's life in further, needless danger. Shanoa's progress had been impeded when she was forced to dismiss Volaticus early. She'd never attempted to cross such a vast distance using her wings before, and the weight of Eugen's armor sapped the energy required to keep her body aloft. In the end – despite rests to regain lost stamina – it was not a sacrifice she was willing to make before heading into what was perhaps the most important battle of her entire life, rivaling, even, her stand against Dracula himself. Thus, Shanoa had resolved to walk the last kilometer on foot.
The angled rays of the setting Sun cast long shadows on the ground. Silhouettes of the surrounding trees formed pillars of darkness that shrouded the leaf-covered forest floor. The Carpathian wilderness was blanketed by a worrisome silence; the emptiness interrupted on occasion by the low hum of insects, but nothing more substantial. It seemed animals had vacated the woods around Ecclesia. She'd learned of such instinctual behavior in passing; through grim stories of horses and dogs fleeing cities before an earthquake could swallow it up. The wild creatures had sensed the power struggle set to commence inside the fortress' walls, and she was forced to agree with their primal form of judgment.
No worn path or road led to the fortress, but Shanoa knew the way by heart. There was no warning when she encroached upon the front gate; instead, a sudden falling away of the trees and thick underbrush revealing a small, man-made clearing. The massive door was a surreal thing to find amidst the wilderness. Its dark brown wood was crossed by thick squares of iron bars, but aside from this feature it bore no marking. The white stone walls framing the entrance were also bare; at least, what she could see of them. After a few meters they were swallowed up again by the surrounding forest. A clever tactic designed to hide the true size of the fortress, even from Ecclesia's stalwart acolytes. Shanoa leaned her shoulder against the heavy door and pushed. It gave way with a loud groan of its hinges. She didn't expect to meet any resistance. Aurelia wouldn't have extended an open invitation if she intended to lock the door.
The warrior walked inside and let the door fall closed behind her. A wave of nostalgia washed over Shanoa as she looked upon the long entrance hall. She recalled strolling down its length during the quiet hours of her childhood. How the hall had seemed reverent to her, then. It marked the edge of her small world and the beginnings of another universe; one larger than anything she could imagine. A bittersweet feeling blossomed in her heart at the memory. She'd been innocent, then, naïve in the purest sense, before Ecclesia had fully gotten its talons into her. She'd never be able to reclaim that same sense of innocence, but she would ensure no other young child could fall prey to someone like Barlowe – like Aurelia.
To compensate for the lack of windows on the walls of the entrance hall, the roof was replaced by a ceiling of thick, curved glass. Chandeliers adorned with glass prisms hung from sturdy chains crossing below the window, serving to illuminate the hall during the dark hours of night. At present, the hall was bathed in the orange glow of autumnal evening, though stray shadows cast by overhanging trees obscured some sections under a cover of darkness. A carpet patterned with blue and gold geometric shapes beckoned her towards the heart of the fortress. It covered most of the granite tile, but a few meters around the edges were left exposed, revealing gray stone pock marked with white and black flecks. The windowless walls were decorated with ancient frescos depicting the lush Garden of Eden. The paint had dulled with the passage of time, and there were spots where it'd cracked and chipped away.
An empty balcony stood at the far end of the hall, above the doors leading to the rest of the fortress. Five portraits were affixed to the wall behind it: their brilliant tones a sharp contrast to the surrounding frescos. Each depicted one of the Elders who had governed Ecclesia; Omar, Ephraim, Torey, Zev, and Barlowe. In her previous life, Shanoa had always admired the beauty of the paintings, but for the first time they struck her as a vain, egotistical display of self-importance. Barlowe's portrait – of course the largest – was positioned in the middle of the cluster. How often had he greeted her from the elevated perch as she returned from her hard-fought mission to pursue Albus across the Carpathians? An obvious illustration of the fact he lorded over this corner of the Earth; the visual statement accompanied with an appropriate effigy to help reinforce his reign.
And – once again – the warrior wondered how she could have been so deceived.
Shanoa continued her advance before she could get swept away in such thoughts. She followed the carpeted trail, not once did her eyes stray from her course to gaze upon the faces of the men she'd once subverted her allegiance to. What little good her subjugation had done them, in the end. They were all gone now. Obliterated by–
"Welcome home."
Aurelia's voice rang loud in the empty hall; its tune taking Shanoa by surprise. No longer devoid of feeling, for the presence of a soul – rife with both self-assuredness and a dastardly longing – thrummed within those words. The warrior looked up in search of its source and found Ecclesia's Shadow staring down at her from the balcony, the last vestiges of the tar-like substance shedding from her skin and fading into oblivion.
Shanoa's gaze hardened as she inspected her former friend turned foe. At first glance Aurelia did not appear to be wearing any armor, though the warrior suspected some was hidden beneath her deceptively casual clothing. Albus was fond of employing the tactic out in the field as it allowed him to easily blend into a crowd. Good for diverting suspicion as people were less wary of someone in plain clothes as opposed to an armored civilian. Aurelia's outfit of choice was far more extravagant than anything she'd seen the albino wearing previously, and Shanoa suspected she'd chosen it specifically to taunt Shanoa with the idea of visual grandstanding before a presumed victory. It consisted of high, brown leather boots ending in a fold below her knees. Her black pants were sewn from thick, hard cloth; flexible material unlikely to tear under duress. The royal blue jacket covering her arms and torso was fitted around her abdomen by a leather corset. A lighter shade of brown than her boots, but what gave Shanoa pause was how loose it sat against the albino's stomach. It took the warrior a few moments to recognize the corset as a decoy; designed to imply a false sense of restriction and therefore catch opponents off guard.
The jacket's breakpoint began near the center of Aurelia's chest and widened as it reached her shoulders. The collar was held stiff and circled her neck, though no hint of her pale skin showed in the large gap. Instead, the space was filled with ruffled velvet cloth – dyed a shade of deep maroon – sewn into the jacket's interior. The dark tone clashed with Aurelia's pallid flesh and placed a visual emphasis on her jawline as it brushed against the velvet waves. She'd gathered her white hair into a complex, braided bun and pinned it to the back of her head, with a slight curl to the long bangs framing her face. Shanoa begrudgingly noted the choice of hairstyle complimented the albino's regal ensemble.
A storm of emotions burst inside Shanoa's chest as she stared up at the older woman. Anger and regret and a cogent sense of betrayal; the knife in her back as painful now as the night she'd uncovered the truth and confronted Aurelia. Memories flashed within Shanoa's mind, of invalid patients and a dead, boyish monster and the wide eyes of two righteous men as she drove her Glyphs through their chests. They were a weight she shouldn't have needed to carry; stacked upon her shoulders by the very people who purported themselves as family. Aurelia had always known, driving her from their first meeting to this horrid end, and Shanoa knew now – without needing the albino to confirm it out loud – Barlowe had laid this path out for them. Had ordered Aurelia to deceive her towards some purpose which undoubtedly had something to do with the sacrificial offering she was supposed to become. She didn't need to know his reasoning, monsters acted according to their own selfish whims, and Aurelia? She was corrupted beyond saving. If the love Shanoa had shown her in the past wasn't enough to break her bonds to Ecclesia, then nothing could.
"This place isn't my home," Shanoa said in a steady voice, amplified to carry up to the balcony's height. "A home is a place of sanctuary, not looming danger. And I've never been safe inside these walls, have I? The moment I became the Blade the Elders started plotting my downfall, and you were in bed with them all along."
Aurelia stared down at her, a knowing gleam in her purple eyes. "Then you remember."
"Beowulf was an effective catalyst, I must admit."
The albino studied her for a long, pregnant moment. "No, Beowulf wasn't what did it." The ghost of a smirk touched her lips. "Your jeweler already had a copy on hand. It's because the book was mine." The glint in her eyes turned downright predatory. "Even after Dominus' ravaging touch, you couldn't deny me, Shanoa."
Shanoa's hands balled into tight fists at the pure, unmitigated gall of this woman. No matter how pivotal a role Aurelia played in her past, there was more to the warrior's childhood and memories than her Shadow. To hear her try and make Shanoa's life about her– no, Aurelia's barbed comments were meant to bait; to rile. And Shanoa would not bite the dangling hook.
"Where's Laura?" she asked instead, her voice holding a sharp, demanding edge.
"You certainly look the part of the valiant hero charging in to save her damsel," Aurelia said offhand, in a way connotating she was speaking to herself, yet her words were spoken loud enough to carry through the hall. "Decked in such splendid armor, and a crown too? I wonder who could have made that?" Her mouth twisted into a sneer. "I see you're acclimating well to your new family." The last word was spat, seeping with derision. "How quickly you've cast us aside."
"And why shouldn't I?" Shanoa took a brazen step forward. "I have people in my life now who genuinely love and care for me. What did Ecclesia – my supposed family – ever do besides cause me hurt and strife? True family doesn't purposefully inflict pain on the people they claim to love. A family doesn't do to a person what Ecclesia did to me." The warrior's eyes narrowed. "What you did."
An odd moment passed where something akin to regret flashed across Aurelia's face. Quickly replaced by a bone deep tiredness, tinged with sorrow the likes of which Shanoa knew all too well. For a fleeting moment – against her will – the warrior empathized with this traitorous, wicked woman.
"Where's Laura?" Shanoa asked again, her tone echoing with a regretful hollowness, but no less demanding.
"She's safe, for now," the albino said.
A tense silence followed as the warrior paused to study Aurelia's face. She searched for any hint of dishonesty – the sign of some unconscious habit which betrayed a lie – yet came up empty. The once familiar mask of Ecclesia's Shadow was set firmly in place upon her stoic face. An expression tempered by unvirtuous men to belay as little as possible to the observer. Shanoa pondered the observation for a few moments. She couldn't trust anything Aurelia said, lying came as natural to the woman as breathing, yet something inside her heart told her the albino was being truthful here. If only because, if Laura had come to harm, Aurelia would want to use it to her advantage as soon as possible. Set Shanoa off kilter before their duel even began.
"That doesn't answer my question," Shanoa said at length.
"Your lover's further inside." The weight of Aurelia's knowledge passed between them, acknowledged out loud for the first time. The albino stepped forward and rested her hands against the balcony railing. Shanoa noticed, as her eyes cut to them, her two missing ring fingers. A new development, and she wondered for a moment how and when the albino had lost the appendages, but Aurelia pressed on. "Though we have some business to attend to first."
Shanoa's eyes narrowed, the tattoos on her arms glowing a bright light as the incantations of Glyphs hummed through them. "Then let's get this over with."
The light radiating from her tattoos reflected in the sheen of Aurelia's irises. The older woman drank in the sight of the warrior, battle ready and eager. Tension snapped between them – gas awaiting the explosive spark – yet, to Shanoa's surprise, the albino visibly restrained.
"So eager for my blood these days, but not yet." Aurelia said in a decisive voice. "If engaging you in battle was my sole prerogative, I would have jumped you the moment you entered the hall, not wasted my time on a seemingly pointless conversation. Whether we fight is a decision that, ultimately, lies in your hands."
She met Shanoa's gaze. The Shadow's mask slipped a bit, then, revealing a cold, dead expanse of grief behind the albino's eyes. A piece of her had been lost along the way, whether due to the shattered promise of Dracula's failed ascension or the fallout of some other sinister intent was yet to be seen. However, her soul was missing something that had been there even at the end, as Shanoa cast her aside when she learned the truth. The warrior couldn't name it, yet she had the strange inclination she still knew what it was.
"Is that so?" Shanoa asked with a frown.
"I understand your skepticism, but I brought you here for more pressing reasons than a long-overdue duel." Aurelia's voice softened, much to Shanoa's surprise. "There are a few different ways this night could end, and not all of those paths dictate the need for war."
The warrior frowned at the display of faux pacifism. She knew Aurelia better now, and she would not fall prey to her honeyed words again. No matter what the albino said, whatever apparent choice she presented, Shanoa knew this encounter would turn deadly. They'd crossed the threshold years ago; the moment Aurelia made her burn innocent patients alive.
"Don't toy with me, Aurelia."
"I spent my life playing at subterfuge, but I am not lying here, Shanoa." For a fleeting moment, the vicious sheen in her purple eyes dissipated. "I will only fight you if, at the end of our talk, you still desire it. I won't raise a hand against you otherwise."
"And I'm sure you can understand why I'm hesitant to take you at your word." An anguished tremor ran down Shanoa's arms. "You've never spoken the truth to me."
"How little you know, even now, after tearing Ecclesia asunder." Aurelia's voice thrummed with barely contained emotion, fury and sorrow amongst the most prevalent. A storm inside of the albino matching Shanoa's in turn, though Aurelia had no right. "So quick to judge without asking the relevant questions. I know they raised you to see things in black and white, simplistic and naïve to keep your mind pure, but when it mattered most for you to see beyond the veil into the true nature of things you staunchly refused." The albino's volume rose as she spoke, each word wrenched from her throat with a barely contained violence. "You lost yourself to your own emotional blindness and threw away years of comradery without asking why. And still, you refuse to ask me. You barge in here, all fire and vindication, and hurl accusations based on your own conclusions." Aurelia's fingers gripped the banister so hard her knuckles turned white. "So how dare you accuse me of being the villain in this story when I'm not the one who held a Glyph to your throat without even asking for an explanation."
"And what explanation could possibly suffice?" Shanoa spat back, her anger rising in turn. "What reasoning could make me consider forgiving the atrocities you knowingly committed? You forfeited your claim to leniency when you manipulated me into setting the mansion ablaze. No matter what we had, however real the feelings of friendship were, nothing could withstand that revelation. I've never asked because I already know the answers." The warrior's tattoos continued to glow as she took another, brazen step forwards, her head held high with the strength of her conviction. "Your mind is corrupted, warped beyond repair, and the longer the world suffers your presence the more untimely death you will bring."
Another tense silence passed between them, both women fuming as their gazes remained locked. Their Chests heaved with each inhalation; the sound of their heavy breathing echoed off the frescoed walls.
"Soon you will see the irony in your words," Aurelia said through gritted teeth.
An odd feeling of dread stirred inside Shanoa's stomach at the statement. She couldn't place the origin of the spark. From whence the emotion emerged, but she had a nagging suspicion she'd forgotten something important. A piece of her remembrance still missing from her mind for some unfathomable reason.
"Then say your piece and let's be done with it," Shanoa said in a curt tone.
"I can't simply tell you. It won't have nearly the same effect. The truth." Aurelia paused to inhale. "It needs to be seen."
The warrior took a cursory step forward. "What are you talking about?"
"We both know you came here seeking more than my death." A muddy darkness began to seep from the Shadow's skin as Aurelia leered over her from the edge of the balcony. Not yet thick enough to coalesce into the familiar tar, but Shanoa's jaw clenched as the wisps of magic encased the albino in an aura of ill intent. "Ecclesia's halls are crawling with secrets. A hidden text you never managed to decode, but I know how to read them all. I was privileged enough to be privy to every secret that's passed through our Order, and I think it's time I shared some with you."
A dangerous spark of curiosity flickered to life within Shanoa's heart before she quashed it with the bitter truth. No matter what Aurelia said, despite the veracity of any words she uttered, it couldn't resolve their quarrel. The artery was ruptured and blood would spill until what little remained of Ecclesia's festering body ran dry.
"It doesn't matter," Shanoa said in a hardened voice. "It won't change anything, and I've learned better than to cavort with monsters."
Melio Ascia solidified in the warrior's right hand and she hurled the axe towards Aurelia. A stray shadow passed over the balcony – the product of trees bending before a gust of wind – and in the momentary flitter of darkness the albino vanished. The axe sliced through empty air and the blade cleaved deep into the acrylic recreation of Barlowe's neck.
"On the contrary, this conversation is far from over," Aurelia said, her voice carrying from behind the warrior.
Shanoa spun around and spied Aurelia nestled among the shadows gathered in a far corner; the albino's pose too relaxed and carefree for the moment at hand.
"It's a pointless endeavor," Shanoa said. "Nothing you can say will have the power to sway me."
"Then what is the harm in listening?" Aurelia tilted her head. Her purple eyes gleamed amidst the darkness. "Or are you afraid of being wrong?"
Silence followed the question. Shanoa's expression hardened in defiance, but the stirrings of doubt blossomed inside her chest. The feeling of dread waxed instead of waned; a foreboding implication of hidden personal knowledge only exacerbated by the hollow emptiness of Ecclesia's halls. She kept the uncertainty from her expression, and yet Aurelia had seen it. An observation confirmed by the satisfactory grin on her lips.
"Come, Shanoa." Aurelia's voice carried a musical air as her body melted into the shadows. "Let's discuss what makes a monster."
A soft laugh echoed from the dark patches of the entrance hall. It swept past Shanoa and into the chambers laying beyond. The warrior did not run after her former friend. She would not let eagerness get the best of her, yet she still walked at a brisk pace; each step strong despite the unease plaguing her. Aurelia had utilized trickery to force this submission, and still she felt a streak of unwanted curiosity which craved to be sated. What secrets could the albino know that would force the warrior to reconsider her convictions? The temptation to uncover them would no doubt lead her to the edge of ruin, but Shanoa had faith in her own strength. She could endure the answers.
A set of large double doors marked the end of the hallway and Shanoa burst through them into the fortress proper. The frescoed walls were replaced by ones of smooth stone decorated by evenly spaced carved wooden plates. A juncture split her current path to the left and right, the wall across from her lined with large glass windows. Shanoa glanced through them, into the central courtyard, and – somehow – was not surprised to find it vacant, overgrown, devoid of human life. Shadows cast by the gaps in-between windows spilled across both hallways. Aurelia slid out of a shadow to her right; her bemused smile (tinged with hints of ever-blazing anger) was marred by the strings of residual Dark magic clinging to her skin.
"I'd hurry if I were you," the albino said. "God forbid you lose me within these empty halls."
She dove back into the shadow before Shanoa could offer a retort. The warrior scowled as another soft laugh carried through the hall. Despite Aurelia's self-righteous claims, the bitch was taking far too much pleasure in prolonging this. Shanoa followed the musical notes filtering out of stray shadows. Aurelia began to move at a faster clip and Shanoa was forced to run to keep up with her. The chase did not deviate from the courtyard's perimeter, and as they neared the side opposite the entrance hall Shanoa surmised their destination. She no longer needed Aurelia's guidance as the winding hallway opened into a large room marked by a domed ceiling and arches of stone. The warrior dashed down the short flight of stairs to her right and charged into the massive chamber of Ecclesia's dining hall as Aurelia's continuous, hollow laughter followed at her heels.
Shanoa ground to a sudden halt as she beheld the destruction marking the chamber. Stone columns and statues were broken and shattered; the heavy wooden furniture strewn about the room. Her conscious thoughts ceased for a few moments in shock until she shook her head and broke free of the stupor. What happened here? Her final clash with Barlowe had taken place in the council chamber. They were not to blame for this carnage.
Aurelia was the likely culprit, but was she capable of inflicting such destruction by her lonesome? Circles of a black, ashen substance stained the walls; the signature marks Globus left behind upon contact with a solid surface. Proof enough the albino was involved to some capacity, yet it still begged the question of potential accomplices. Were there other rogue survivors left in the wake of Ecclesia's destruction? Devout acolytes who might be stalking the fortress now, waiting for the opportune moment to launch an ambush?
'No one else is here.' The unbidden thought sent a chill down Shanoa's spine. The truth resonated in the deepest parts of her soul. They were alone, and she dared not name how she knew.
Aurelia stepped out of a shadow cast by the fractured statue of a despondent angel. Shanoa noted she didn't move away from the patch of darkness. The albino made sure one hand always remained steeped in it for an easy escape.
"You already know of this fortress' ties to the Church," Aurelia said. "My uncle taught you that lesson long ago. What he failed to tell you was the more recent history surrounding the military structures. In the past hundred years or so these religious-based compounds have seen little use as the Church attempts to cast off the barbaric principles it's long adhered to. The bastions were destined to rot unless someone found a means to repurpose them. So, when an associated party, funded by the Holy See, requested isolation in their search to destroy an ancient evil, well, Barlowe held enough clout to convince even the most steadfast in the Vatican to hand over one of their neglected fortresses."
"Then Barlowe was a priest in his former life?" Shanoa asked, despite herself. Why was she entertaining this discussion? But if there was ever a time to ask…
"Perhaps, but we never discussed such things. The details of Barlowe's past, before he formed Ecclesia, held no bearing on my duties."
"But you said you knew all the secrets?" the warrior said with a hint of smugness.
Aurelia's eyes narrowed the slightest bit before she submerged herself in shadows once again. Shanoa's gaze darted about the chamber, trying to follow her movement through the room. It was no use, however. While her skin prickled in recognition, her hair standing on end in the way that always clued her in to the albino's presence, she was still never able to determine which shadow Aurelia occupied. There had to be some sort of tell, though. Even Paries betrayed its user's location by the faint glow the Glyph emitted through walls. There was no reason why this magical ability would be the exception to the rule.
The albino reappeared at the head of the chamber, atop the stone dais. The large fireplace had seen recent use; fresh ashes and the charred remains of logs sat in a pile within the hearth. Ecclesia's Elders had eaten their meals at the long table. Barlowe's chair was positioned in the center; a heavy throne of dark mahogany lined with plush velvet cushions. Aurelia walked up to the distinctive piece of furniture. She stared at it for a long moment, lost in thought, before she turned her attention back to the warrior.
"He was a brilliant man," Aurelia said, her voice raised to carry through the dining hall, "despite any supposed character flaws you may have witnessed. This genius earned Barlowe the prestigious honor of studying the Vessel while it was still housed within the Vatican's vaults."
"So that's where the effigy came from," Shanoa said as she wove her way through the destruction, towards her adversary.
Aurelia touched her hand to the shadow cast by the empty chair as the warrior approached. "The Vessel was a magical enigma. An artifact of suspicious nature discovered by the Church during their investigation into the Belmont clan's withdrawal from public life. They sought answers to its origin and what connection – if any – it had to Dracula. It didn't take long for Barlowe to begin decoding its secrets."
Shanoa came to a stop at the foot of the dais' steps. Her arms still pulsed with the steady beat of unformed Glyphs, but she dulled the churning power enough to prevent her tattoos from glowing. She was ready, however. One suspicious move from the albino and she was prepared to react accordingly.
"No doubt he lied to the Vatican about the Vessel's true purpose," the warrior said.
"He didn't outright lie, per se," Aurelia said with a shrug. "He simply told them what they wanted to hear."
"Which was?"
"Snippets of the truth, but not the whole picture. The Vessel's origins are still unclear, though I share Barlowe's theory concerning where it came from." Aurelia paused for a moment, seemingly in anticipation of a comment from the warrior, yet Shanoa remained silent. "Richter Belmont – despite his obvious prowess – was a man of questionable will. His hunger for glory made him susceptible to the enchantment which resulted in the premature resurrection of Dracula near the turn of the century. Since Richter was no longer fit to defeat the Dark Lord, an unlikely successor in the form of Dracula's own spawn was called upon to slay him instead."
"Alucard," Shanoa said, meeting Aurelia's following quizzical expression with a stern gaze. "I've heard the story."
"And you never noticed Dracula's unusual vulnerability when his own power is turned against him?" A few beats of charged silence passed between them following the insult. A shared expectation the other would lash out first. At last, Aurelia shook her head, breaking through the potential violence of the moment. "No, I suppose you wouldn't, being an obedient, unquestioning acolyte."
Shanoa didn't dignify the insult with a response.
"The familial bond is most likely what led to the Vessel's creation," the albino continued. "When a Belmont banishes Dracula, they sever his direct ties to the mortal world. Barlowe concluded his son, however, could not perform such a thorough execution. Some aspect of the Dark Lord's power remained behind; acting as a channel connecting this plane of existence and wherever Dracula resides in the interim. Barlowe proposed to the Vatican that the Vessel was erected as a means to seal this causeway."
"This sounds a bit far-fetched," Shanoa interrupted. "The idol was not a stagnant creation. It possessed a will of its own, and the enchantment was nigh unbreakable. Who could possibly have the skill to cast such a powerful spell and maintain it for so long?"
"Well now, that's the crux of it. The Vessel's enchantment was far more complex and advanced than any human was capable of casting. Even an ancient creature – a dhampir, for example – is not so gifted in the Holy arts considering their darker associations." Aurelia made a show of stroking her chin with her free hand. "Quite the puzzle indeed, though the answer lies in the runes covering the idol's surface." Her eyes glinted as she held Shanoa's gaze. "You remember them, don't you?"
A memory of the terrifying ritual burned inside Shanoa's mind. Her ascension to the title of Ecclesia's Blade. She recalled the brilliant glow of unreadable symbols, and the searing pain they burned into her flesh.
"Vividly," she said, unable to keep the slight tremor out of her voice.
"Have you ever wondered what they said?"
"I… suppose."
The Shadow smirked and dove into the darkness behind Barlowe's throne. Shanoa's skin prickled as she scoured the nearby shadows in another attempt to detect some sign of movement. Aurelia did not reappear, however. Her voice – echoing with the reverb of some dimension lying between – filled the hall.
"Despite all appearances, those runes were not gibberish. Barlowe was a connoisseur of rare knowledge, and he recognized them as a long-abandoned form of an ancient cipher."
The words came from everywhere, filtering out of every shadow. Shanoa moved to an open, well-lit area of the dining hall. So long as she stayed away from the darkness she'd have the opportunity to react should Aurelia decide to drop the pacifist façade.
"The true miracle, however, occurred after he broke the code." Aurelia paused for a moment. "You know the origins of Glyphs, yes?"
Shanoa nodded. "They stem from the power that exists within natural forc–"
"Yes, yes, but that's not what I meant." Aurelia's tone ground with impatience. "Those sigils you absorb contain a vast array of knowledge. They are – in essence – a blueprint for the universe. When harnessed they enable you to bend matter to your will; a staggering amount of power for a mere human to wield, yet an even trickier thing to create. Don't you find it suspect humanity has existed for tens of thousands of years and not once managed to tap into this near-omnipotent art?"
"We've advanced by leaps and bounds within the past few centuries," Shanoa said. "Mankind is now capable of things our ancestors could only imagine in fever dreams. It's no surprise this secret was also uncovered in time."
"Humans are an intelligent species, yes, but not to the degree required to craft Glyphs." Aurelia's voice had shifted and now seeped from a sole shadow. The long band cast by a pillar crossing the floor directly in front of Shanoa. "You host the power of a universe in your flesh. A mere tug of fancy and you can make fire rain from the sky." Envy still thrummed within the albino's tone. The longing for the title of Blade which had yet to diminish even all these years later. "You gleaned that power from the sigils, but who could have unearthed the knowledge needed to write them?"
"Men have constructed spells before," Shanoa said with some defiance.
"But nothing like this." Aurelia's voice hissed with desperate yearning. "A sorcerer can learn countless spells, yet only one Glyph. As Barlowe often said, the human mind is not fit to house its knowledge."
"What are you implying?" the warrior asked.
A ripple of movement thrummed within the pillar's shadow. The darkness deepened, snuffing out the soft hints of light, until it morphed into a black river running across the chamber floor. Its waters rippled once more, and the shape of Aurelia's body slowly rose above its surface. Dark matter clung to her skin, giving her the familiar appearance of being covered in tar, though it dared not touch her eyes. They stood out against her blackened form; ardent conviction burning within their purple hue.
"Ecclesia did not create Glyphs." Aurelia's voice still held the peculiar reverb. "We merely uncovered the sigils divinity left behind, and those runes revealed unto Barlowe how to find them. Despite what you may have heard, the only thing we 'forged' was the means to materialize these sigils at will or see them at play when the more typical magic is invoked. Tap into the power of all things – in particular, the power within your own soul – and even a mortal can glimpse the makeup of eternity." The albino grinned. The change in her expression only apparent due to the white teeth she flashed in the process. "When you consider the evidence, the truth becomes clear. The unparalleled skill in Holy magic; the hidden knowledge pertaining to the foundation of reality itself. There is only one creature who could have erected the Vessel as a barrier, sealed the dimensional causeway, and unveiled the existence of Glyphs."
"Who?" Shanoa asked, her skin prickling in anticipation of the answer.
"God."
A momentary pause passed between them before Shanoa scoffed and shook her head in bewilderment. "You don't seriously believe that?"
"And what, pray tell, is so ridiculous about it?" Aurelia's tone made it clear she'd taken offense to the warrior's outburst. "After everything you've seen is the idea of God interfering with the mortal world so unbelievable?"
"It raises the question of why God would choose to interfere with His own hands on this particular occasion and not others."
"God is Chaos, Shanoa. He's been playing these games since the beginning of time. History is plagued with stories of near-divine avatars both holy and despicable." The albino's voice carried a sneer. "God and His deific forces are not above toying with creation, and this causeway of Dracula's threatened to upset the balance of power in the universe. Perhaps even God grew frightened at the possibility of losing His foothold on mankind and decided it was prudent to act."
Shanoa considered it for a moment before she waved her hand. "This is all conjecture."
"And exactly what the Vatican wanted to hear."
She supposed they would approve of the explanation. Barlowe probably didn't put much stock in the idea, but he'd wear whatever guise was necessary to achieve his ambitions. If a narrative was enticing enough, sold to the intended audience, he would continue to preach its validity. He'd done it to her, when convincing the warrior of Albus' supposed treachery. Shanoa had no doubt Barlowe was well versed in the art of extravagant deception.
"If the Vessel was an artifact created by God, then why would priests – of all people – agree to have it destroyed?" the warrior asked at length.
"The same reason why you killed Albus at Barlowe's command." Aurelia's voice took on a deeper tone. "'To fulfill the world's greatest hope. Ecclesia's wish… the wish of all mankind.' It's a concrete ideology, yet vague enough on the details the listener can interpret it as they see fit."
Her tattoos flashed with a momentary streak of bright, vengeful light. Shanoa clenched her jaw in an effort the quell the simmering rage inside her heart at the grim reminder of Albus' demise. Aurelia had no right to speak of such matters. His death deserved more respect than to be used as a cheap insult. But she would not succumb to such a tactic.
"There has to be more to it," the warrior said in a strained voice.
"It's that simple, though. Blind belief makes even the most intelligent men into puppets." More Dark matter rose from the shadow's surface. It traveled along Aurelia's body and congealed in thick patches over her flesh. "Though there was a final message to be gleaned from the runes. While it spoke of Glyphs, the Vessel warned of their volatile nature. They were not meant to be comprehended by the likes of men, and yet the Vessel would bestow a gift of understanding upon one it deemed worthy. A human steeped in purity who possessed the strength of will to see the effigy's ardent wish fulfilled."
Shanoa frowned. "Is that all it said?"
"So I was told, but evidently it was enough. Once Barlowe relayed this message the entire Vatican was his to command, and they gave him everything to achieve this end. Funds, secrecy, the Vessel itself, and his first acolytes."
"The Church wanted a Blade of its own, then," Shanoa said slowly. Her mind flitted back to the mural depicting the Siege of Jerusalem. The lesson Master Torey imparted about the Church's bloody history as they stared upon the artwork.
"The power of a universe does have a certain appeal to it," Aurelia said with a nod, "even to the most pious of men. That's one of the reasons why the first acolytes were so eager to join. Well, and the prestige which came with the position."
Shanoa folded her arms across her chest and took a brazen step towards the occupied shadow. Aurelia watched her with a wary eye but didn't make any attempt to halt the warrior's advance.
"What sort of glory could isolation buy?" Shanoa asked.
"Barlowe was in search of a human specimen who could appease the lofty expectations of God himself." The tar coating her skin shifted as she spoke, forming swirling patterns within its congealing masses. "The kind of pure-hearted soul religious fanatics fawn over. At first, the Vatican selected a choice crop of its own clergy to join Ecclesia's ranks. Men deemed by Barlowe to be untouched by the Chaos inherent in nearly all of humanity. It's one thing for the Church to carry God's blessing, but to have command over His abilities? If a priest had been chosen to be the Blade, then the Church could have easily conquered the Earth."
"Good riddance none of them were."
Aurelia considered the comment for a moment before she silently discarded the potential talking point, instead continuing as though Shanoa had never spoken. "When the priests failed to appease the Vessel Barlowe devised a different scheme. The runes demanded purity, and what soul was purer than an innocent child's, especially one untouched by Chaos? With the Church's help, he selected untainted breeding couples – often from families with a long history of Catholic loyalism – and conscripted them into the Order's care. Many children were born within the fortress' walls, but you've known about that for some time. There were, however, a few children brought in from outside. All but two were relatives of the aforementioned priests, deemed pure enough for indoctrination by way of shared lineage. No, only you and Albus were the exceptions, and consequently the gravest mistakes Barlowe ever made."
She regarded Shanoa for a long moment, her eyes searching for something in the warrior's countenance, but Aurelia's resulting smirk indicated she'd found the warrior wanting. "You don't know what you are, do you? They kept it from you for all these years, but perhaps it was out of kindness you never learned. A child couldn't understand such things, and when you became the Blade your supposed purity needed to remain intact. A heritage like yours is anything but virtuous, so the Elders withheld the knowledge for fear of it 'tainting' you." The albino's voice dropped to a near whisper. "But Chaos entered your heart nevertheless."
They held each other's gaze for a long, protracted moment. Stern blue boring into turbulent purple. Each dancing around the temptation to cease talking and erupt into the chaos of battle, yet something still held Shanoa back. The desire to see some shred of the person Aurelia had once been, perhaps? Not this vengeance-driven creature she'd become. But, then again, this was the truth of who the albino had always been, she supposed, the beast hidden beneath a guise of pretense and masks. This monster had existed throughout their friendship, hibernating beneath the surface, subsisting on scraps of violence until the betrayal awoke her from a years long slumber. No, this Aurelia lived only to cause Shanoa pain, and yet the warrior still cared enough about the secrets of her own life to hear her out. And then, slowly, the realization dawned upon Shanoa. The identity of what the albino was referring to; the weapon held in her pale lips.
"You know who my parents are," Shanoa said in a voice trembling with years of hopeless, yet fervent desire.
"Or were, as is likely the case." Aurelia stared into her; purple eyes burning with cold intent. "You're a bastard, Shanoa. The decrepit spawn of some back-alley slut and a lustful priest. Both lacking any shred of virtue as shown by their choice of vice. Your father must have been a man of importance, because soon after you were born your whore of a mother tried to blackmail the Vatican over your scandalous existence."
Blood rushed to the warrior's head at the revelation. Her heart pounded in her ears, but not loud enough to drown out the albino's next words.
"The Church dealt with them through whatever punishment they deemed fit for blasphemers of your parents' ilk," Aurelia said. "Though it left the question of what to do about you. Murdering infants is an act the Church is keen to distance itself from. So, they chose an alternative. Send you to a secluded fortress where the public eye would never find you, and Barlowe was duty bound to acquiesce."
Silence followed as Shanoa found herself unable to speak. Here it was, one of her life's greatest mysteries explained in a few short words, but the answer brought even more questions in its wake. What sort of parents had she imagined for herself in her childhood fantasies? She couldn't for the life of her remember. Those daydreams long since discarded once Albus became a Researcher and confirmed, to her remorse, all records of her parents had been expunged from the archives. But she knew – whatever the innocent fantasies had contained – it wasn't this.
And how did the revelation make her feel? Emotions roiled inside her, desire and yearning, yet they were dulled by an even more pressing truth. This newfound knowledge changed nothing of their current predicament, or the life which had led her here. Shanoa was the same person she'd been a few minutes prior, and Aurelia still Hell bound to destroy everything she represented. The albino smirked as she saw the internal dialogue play out across Shanoa's face.
"Funny how such a pressing question, in the end, reveals an inconsequential answer," Aurelia said, a hint of sorrow in her voice. "We are still what we are."
Shanoa's eyes narrowed, her arms trembling at her sides. "This is no longer informative. You're just trying to hurt me, now."
Aurelia's irises glazed over with a wicked sheen. "Is it working?"
"I think we should end this." The warrior's tattoos began to glow again. "Talk is no longer necessary. We're prolonging the inevitable."
The albino's gaze shifted momentarily to the glowing symbols. "I concur, but we have one final thing to discuss." She paused for emphasis. "Dominus."
"What about it?"
Aurelia descended into the shadow, her body sinking into the quagmire of the odd, secondary dimension. The sound of the albino's breathing filled the dining hall, humming with an unusual reverb as it seeped out of the surrounding shadows. "Everything."
"Well, isn't that specific," Shanoa muttered to herself in annoyance.
She followed Aurelia's laughter out of the dining hall, rushing through the fortress at her foe's heels. The sense of foreboding intensified as they encroached upon the Elder's council chamber. A massive sanctuary situated in a tower above the dining hall. Within that room Shanoa had gained a brother, acquired Glyphs, and lost a once-respected Master. It would be empty now, same as the rest of the fortress, which made it a prime location for Aurelia's final attempt to unravel the warrior's restraints.
The chamber's double doors were blown off their hinges and Shanoa stepped around them as she entered the circular room. Not much remained of the chamber's former glory. Its domed ceiling – in the same vein as the entrance hall – was lined with windows separated by thick bands of silver metal, though most of the panes had shattered and large chunks of broken glass piled on the floor beneath. The colorful floor tiles had cracked under duress and were marked by the occasional smear of aged, black blood. The decorative ouroboros was marred by long scars where her ethereal blades had cleaved into its scales. The walls were studded with Globus' signature remains; the ashen substance stained the rich blue paint. Once beautiful muqarnas formed on the arches surrounding the base of the overhead dome. All were broken, now, great chunks severed from the detailed stone carvings and littered the floor with dust and piles of rubble.
What survived of the table where Ecclesia's Elder once held their council stood in the center of the chamber. It formed a half-circle around the edge of the ouroboros' decorative wreath. The table was originally a single piece of ancient wood supported by stone legs. Now ruined beyond repair; its surface split in numerous places, a few of the legs shattered. Five chairs with high backs and lined with velvet cushions surrounded the table, though they fared no better regarding the damage they'd incurred. Barlowe's seat in particular – placed in the center of the half circle – had turned completely black, though Shanoa could not recall whose magic had sullied it. Another set of large double doors across from her separated the council chamber from the smaller room which housed what remained of the Vessel. Shanoa began to walk towards them at a brisk gait. Laura wasn't here, which left the inner sanctum as her most likely location.
The warrior ground to a halt as Aurelia stepped out from behind Barlowe's seat. The film coating her skin rendered it the same shade as the blackened wood, but as the albino moved it fell away, leaving behind the translucent flesh that had shaped the course of Aurelia's early life. Despite her earlier eagerness to engage the albino in combat, as she stood in this familiar room Shanoa could not bring herself to initiate a fight. Something rooted her in place as she stood in the center of the ouroboros. A melancholic shift in the air which beckoned a deep-seated distress to crawl forth from the depths of Shanoa's heart.
"I trust you can offer me a more sufficient explanation than 'everything'," the warrior said, though the words sounded distant to her ears.
With her comment the pretense of polite discourse faded. The change in Aurelia's expression made it clear there would be no more teasing or skirting around the most pressing issue. It was time to face the nature of the beast raging inside both their souls.
"The Vessel's enchantment was unmatched in the mortal world, but Dracula's might is just as powerful," Aurelia said. "While the effigy could contain him despite a near constant assault on its fortifications from the Dark Lord's end, an attack upon both fronts – from the mortal world and within the causeway – would be too much for the Vessel to withstand. An easy weakness to exploit given the proper tools, and the runes showed us how to find them." A flicker of amusement crossed the albino's face. "Such was the great quandary concerning the Vessel. It sought to contain Dracula, yet it also offered instructions on how to destroy its own barrier. After all, Glyphs are condensed fragments of the script which dictates reality. You can glean a sigil from any source of magic, including the Dark Lord's own power."
"And where did Barlowe find Dominus?" Shanoa asked, her voice still sounding distant, perhaps a side effect of the sudden rush of blood pounding in her ears.
"Within Dracula's remains." Aurelia picked up a shard of glass that had fallen on top of the ruined table and twirled it between her fingers. "Stray pieces of the Dark Lord's various incarnations always manage to survive a Belmont banishment, and this would not be the first time said body parts have given the clan their fair share of grief. Barlowe was a resourceful one. He was able to procure some remains for himself, and in time found a way to draw out the damnable sigils.
"Such immense power could not be confined to a single Glyph, however. Dracula's remains belayed numerous sigils, and Barlowe selected the most prominent three. They are crude, volatile things. Unstable due to the sheer might they represented. All three were required to break the Vessel's enchantment, and the sacrifice of the host's life was a small price to pay to ensure mankind's final ascension into Dracula's arms." Aurelia gripped the glass shard tight in her hand. A few points of the jagged edges broke through her pale skin and small trails of blood trickled from the incisions on her palm. She paused for a moment, releasing her fingers as she let the glass shard fall from her grip. "You were the only one who could host Dominus in your flesh and command its power, but the Glyphs were far more versatile than you gave them credit for. Laymen could absorb fragments of Dominus with ease, albeit to a different effect than what you experienced. Dracula aspires to shape reality to his whim, and the vision of such grand design was reflected in all who partook in a share of our Lord's glory."
The feeling of dread had steadily grown throughout Aurelia's speech, and by the apex its near violent pulse threatened to consume Shanoa. There was no avoiding it now. The final spate of memories – the truth she'd so long sought to deny herself, even after her massive remembrance – had started to come back. A slow leak, at first, but she knew it would soon become a flood of vile recollection. Shanoa's body remained frozen in rigid defiance of her fate, though a futile effort to brace her soul against the inevitable.
'I won't remember. I won't realize.' She tried to force a stop to the hazy visions sparking to life inside her mind. 'It's worked so far.'
Yet Aurelia had taken on a commanding presence the warrior could not ignore. Ecclesia's Shadow moved to the first chair on Barlowe's left. Her pale hand caressed the massive gash splitting its back in twain, and the chair wobbled on broken legs at the pressure of her touch. Tears formed in the albino's eyes, but they did not fall. Not yet.
"Each Elder had his own place at this table," Aurelia said. "A position that could not be usurped unless forced by a betrayal of principles or an untimely death." The albino's bottom lip quivered as she lingered on the scarred chair. "Do you remember who sat here?"
She did, but Shanoa couldn't bring herself to answer.
"My uncle, Master Torey." The albino inhaled a shuddering breath. "He's not here. None of them are, but you knew this already." Her eyes cut to Shanoa with the first justifiable glare of seething hatred. "Though it begs an important question: what became of our fellow acolytes?"
An image began to solidify within the last dregs of amnesiac fog clouding Shanoa's mind. The shape of a behemoth creature, but she refused to acknowledge.
"They…" The single word somehow made it past the warrior's lips.
"You saw him, didn't you?" Aurelia asked, her voice a low timber which brewed with an emotional intensity to match Shanoa's.
She could not deny the question. Those distinct movements were unmistakable; labored by sheer size, but the raw power behind them made up for lack of speed. The way he swung the massive sword, the way he kicked his hooves, all belayed the distinct prowess of a man who'd tempered her into Ecclesia's Blade. He was the same foe regardless of form. A daunting, merciless creature who towered above her within the ring.
"That wasn't him," Shanoa said, yet her voice broke under the accursed knowledge she was wrong.
"Dominus made a monster of Albus. Such is the fate befalling all who lack the ability to comprehend said Glyphs, but you killed your brother before his flesh could become clay. Dominus can rip through the bonds of reality, open the way for demons to spawn in the mortal realm, and in a sacrifice of mind and body even the weakest of Ecclesia's acolytes could ascend into Dracula's arms and empower our Lord."
The centaur's screech – a hideous sound born of rusted metal – echoed inside Shanoa's mind. Nothing human remained in the sound, yet she could still recognize its source. It held the same mechanical tones that had scolded her at every failure.
"No good, Shanoa."
"That wasn't him!" Shanoa's desperate cry echoed off the walls. Her entire body trembled as she fought to contain the horrid memories but – try as she might – she could not deny the truth. She'd known all along. How could she not recognize the way he fought? The way his blood red eye had looked at her in recognition as she prepared to strike the killing blow.
"You murdered my uncle," Aurelia said at last. Not an accusation, but a mere conveyance of face.
"No." The warrior shook her head. "It was only a monster. It was… Eligor…"
"And yet enough of Torey remained for you to recognize him."
"I had to kill him." Shanoa's voice grew meek. "He made me–"
"You had no right!"
She winced under the guttural force of Aurelia's words. The first tears escaped the albino's eyes as her voice fell, breaking under the weight of her grief.
"He was still your Elder, regardless of form," the albino said. "He was still my flesh and blood."
"Aurelia–"
"I'm not finished yet." Ecclesia's Shadow marched to the next chair in line. "What became of the others? What forms did they take?"
"Please," Shanoa said in a breathless voice.
A cruel, pained smirk touched Aurelia's lips. "I wonder if they begged, the way you are now, but in words you refused to understand." Her hand touched the chair in turn. "Master Omar sat here. A curious little man, I trust you remember what became of him as well?"
Another wave of memories rose to the forefront of her mind. Yes, kindly Master Omar, the most approachable of Ecclesia's Elders. Albus' mentor and the man who'd comforted a young Shanoa in times of strife. She remembered his jovial laugh, a musical sound, and how he tended to appear unannounced in a room. She recalled the hours they spent playing Chess together, in her endless pursuit to defeat her brother at the game and found the strategic ability to best her elder instead. Omar had been kind to her, she thought; tending to the child who would become a Blade with more delicate care than any of the other Elders dared to show her before or after her ascent.
But such kindness was nowhere to be found at the end. His monstrous form had retained Omar's stout, portly appearance. He'd cackled a bastardized version of his signature laugh as he slipped into the walls of Castlevania's library; thrilled to discover his former charge had fallen into his fiery trap. Shanoa waited until he was the most vulnerable before she acted. She ripped all knowledge of Paries from his soul, leaving the creature once called Omar with no magic to shield his body from the stone encasing him. He let out a soft cry of surprise before the walls closed in, and Shanoa could still hear the crunch of his breaking bones. A gruesome death, and one of her own cruel design.
Blood roared in her ears, the force of recollection setting her off balance. Shanoa's eyes fell to the floor, her vision swam within the curving body of the knotted snake. Through the internalized noise of her pounding heart, she heard a different movement. Shanoa looked up, noting Aurelia had begun to walk towards her. The warrior reaction on instinct. Melio Secare formed in her right hand, and she cut a crude slash through the air in warning.
"Get back!" Shanoa cried.
"Or what?" Aurelia asked, though she paused in her advance. "You'll kill me like all the rest?"
Shanoa stumbled backwards; the ethereal blade held tight in her hand while she pressed the other against her throbbing head. "All…?" The question left the warrior's lips in a whisper.
Oh God…
The final shred of amnesia fell away in a silent heap, laying the horrid truth bare.
Yes, all of them.
She saw them now – a conglomeration of twisted demonic beasts who warred with her lifelong impressions of the humans they'd been before. Shanoa recalled the twins, Gerald and Gabriella, her childhood tormentors who'd never made secret their despise. They moved as one being, spoke in shared voices, their minds linked through a unique bond forged by the womb they'd once shared. The bond hadn't waned even in their monstrous forms. She'd found them in the dark, bone covered depths of the catacombs, now the voracious Man Eater. One of them had become the mass of fanged skulls while the other formed the tentacle-limbed vermin hiding within. Shanoa severed the lashing cords of slimy flesh and crushed the newly exposed skulls with Vol Macir. The force of the impact killing the twins in a single blow.
The warrior felt wet trails chart courses down her face, the tears flowing freely, though she couldn't distinguish when she'd begun to cry.
She recalled Oriana, the spurned elder, who was terrifying in ways only Dracula himself could rival. Dominus had shaped the old woman in accordance with her art and the maelstrom burning forever inside of her. Turned her into an ancient water being who could mold the waves into beatific forms as impressive as the images she created with oil paint upon a still pool. Her face was almost recognizable when Shanoa came across her in the underground lake, despite the erasure of her aged wrinkles and the new coating of turquoise scales which replaced her skin. They fought in water, Oriana's eternal element, her new hands stroking the waves as tools through floating paint.
Near the end of their lengthy fight Oriana sought to drown the warrior. Her gigantic, webbed hands crushed Shanoa's torso while the threaded whips of her hair wrapped around the young woman's throat. A massive wave rushed to meet them; the water's stirred by Oriana's psychic command. Shanoa waited until the shallow water around her feet receded in anticipation of the wave before she summoned a union of Glyphs. Lightning merged with one of her blades and she impaled Oriana/Rusalka/this demon with a spear formed from electric bolts. Oriana's body convulsed and Shanoa could smell her flesh burning where it touched the spear.
An endless cavalcade of these demons marched through her conscious mind. The most powerful acolytes had transmogrified into unique monstrous forms. Their amplified might combined with Dominus to create being of impressive strength. Arthroverta revealed the face of one of her old, childhood teachers when the insect's carapace pulled back to reveal the human head nestled within. Gravedorcus was the result of several Researchers – Albus' former comrades –combining in their knowledge to form an abomination who defied the shape of matter to swim through the earth as water. Goliath was the man who'd headed Ecclesia's night patrols, an acolyte Shanoa recognized but never learned the name of, stalwart and protective in his new form as he'd been as a human. Brachyura was the woman leading the Field Agents, and the Giant Skeleton guarding Minera Prison Island her daughter. And the four generals lying in wait inside Castlevania itself? Well, they had been the most powerful men of all.
But they were far from the only perpetrators. Besides these daunting foes, the other, less powerful acolytes had resided in more common shapes, yet even those monsters remained distinguishable from the creatures born of some hellish dimension. She'd seen them in the way an armored skeleton ambled along at a different gait than the others which came before it. Or in the face of a red, horned demon which harkened to something lost yet familiar within her vacant soul.
Every acolyte had been transformed by absorbing the Glyphs, save for Master Zev. Dominus never touched his flesh because it never needed to. She'd met him in the Mechanical Tower, shed of the humanoid mask he'd worn for so long. Recognizable by his dark eyes and the odd, unnatural timber of his laughing voice. And Shanoa knew, staring into the face of Death, that Barlowe had cavorted with Darkness for her entire life. Going so far as to offer Dracula's most precious servant his own seat at Ecclesia's right hand as they sought to fulfill a shared aim of humanity's destruction.
This was the true mettle of Ecclesia's ascension. How they sought to serve their Dark Lord in both life and death. This was why Albus had led her on a wild chase about the countryside. He knew the truth, she was certain, a hazy recollection of his emotional memories coming back to her through the grief, the breadcrumbs his spirit still left behind. Albus discovered the effect Dominus had on the human form in the weeks after he stole the Glyphs, analyzing them while Shanoa was doomed to a hasty recover, and endeavored to bring her face to face with these monsters. Then, by having his sister slay the creatures responsible for the dimensional instability – their fellow acolytes – Albus hoped to lessen the extent of Dominus' power. Their defeat, in turn, would serve to bolster her own.
An untimely death was not constrained to Barlowe and Albus. Shanoa had killed everyone in Ecclesia. No wonder she'd never once feared potential retaliation for her actions before Aurelia made her dramatic appearance. She didn't need to question what had become of her former colleagues. She'd always known their fate, but the knowledge was hidden beneath Dominus itself. Locked away by an amnesia she never desired yet saved her from realizing the true horror of it all.
Her blue eyes – wild and unfocused – darted about the chamber before the warrior's attention was drawn to one of the empty chairs on the end. The piece of furniture was scarred, same as the others, but the now-vacant occupant demanded her attention. This had been Master Ephraim's chair, a man made ugly by Dominus. Rendered into a walking corpse with sickly green hair, but the fierceness of his might was held by the shadow-born beast who'd caught Shanoa in its maw.
"Blackmore," Shanoa said in a whisper. She felt the ghost of a painful throb pulse in her abdomen, where the teeth marks had been. "Ephraim… he left…" Her bottom lip quivered violently, making speech difficult. At last, she managed. "What was the brand?"
"A precautionary measure should you manage to slay Dracula. Ephraim's mark would lead me to you, no matter how far you might try to run." Aurelia paused. "Though you didn't run far at all."
The world spun as Shanoa fell to her knees. She leaned over, her left hand braced against the tile floor, and despite the small heaves convulsing within her diaphragm the warrior did not vomit. Her body trembled with repeated, violent shakes. The tears continued unabated. The acolytes were corrupted, wicked creatures – true – but they were also human. For nearly her entire life they'd been something she'd construed as family, and to Aurelia?
The albino crouched on the floor, arms resting atop her knees, though she kept her distance from the distraught warrior. Aurelia's expression was laid bare, devoid of any restraint or the haze of Ecclesia's Shadow. The woman wept with a damning silence. Her features reddened by a combination of overwhelming grief and fury.
Shanoa knew then the full nature of the beast raging between them. Aurelia had manipulated Ecclesia's Blade, forced her to kill innocents, and then Shanoa killed everyone Ecclesia's Shadow ever loved.
And such a fervent, shared hatred – fueled by extreme losses on both sides – could not be reconciled.
"I was cursed by you, Shanoa. Doomed to a fate of inaction," Aurelia said, her voice quavering with emotion. "Denied my rightful ascension because of you. And then, once allowed to emerge from the pit, I was forced to watch it all come to naught. I saw decades of tireless effort obliterated in a scant few weeks. Everything we'd done, all the work to push back the tide of Chaos, rendered inconsequential by a mere naïve child."
Aurelia held Shanoa's gaze with a look to rival the hellscape reflected in Dracula's own gaze. "You see, Shanoa, you have no right to speak of corruption or Chaos. You are the true pestilence upon the Earth. Everything you touch, everyone you chance to love, you kill in the most violent ways." The albino leaned forward. "You think that village is free from your depravity? Or the Belmont girl you share a bed with? One day she, too, will fall before your ethereal blades. You can't seem to help yourself; killing is such an intrinsic part of your nature."
A horrid sob escaped Shanoa's throat. God, it was true in a way, wasn't it? Every pivotal moment in her life, every accomplishment she'd made, was associated in some part with death dealt by her own hands. For all she'd done to break free of the cycle of violence, all the love she'd found in the wake of casting off the yoke of Ecclesia's Blade, Shanoa had never truly escaped what it meant. The consequences her mission would bring. Everything she'd gained – the progress made by tireless effort – fell away as she beheld the true carnage of what her Glyphs had wrought. A truth the warrior had never anticipated as she sought solace in Laura's arms and Daniela's kind words. And in this moment, weighed down by the weight of revelation, she could not formulate a defense. A shift came over Aurelia as she beheld the warrior's submission, and her voice took on a gentler tone.
"I'm giving you the opportunity to change," Aurelia said. "A gift you don't deserve, but I am a kinder soul than you think me to be. You can at last make the choice to save lives rather than destroy them. You can become the noble creature you've long aspired to be."
Ecclesia's Shadow rose to her feet and Shanoa – entranced by a power beyond her current ability to comprehend – stood up in turn. The will to fight drained from her heart in the face of the true extent of the Order's bloodshed. Of what their hubris had cost all of them. She was too weak in spirit to object as Aurelia turned and beckoned for her to follow. They crossed the room in silence, and when they reached the heavy double doors (askew on their hinges, yet still forced closed) Aurelia threw them open with surprising strength.
The inner sanctum lay beyond; a room devoid of windows to maintain its secrecy. Instead, the natural darkness was beaten back by an eternally lit magical chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The council chamber's aesthetic design carried into this smaller offshoot, but Shanoa's eyes were drawn to the center of the room, where the shattered remains of what was once the Vessel now lay. Great slabs of obsidian stone littered the floor around the base, their formerly rune-inscribed surfaces now smooth and absent of carvings.
And there, chained to the broken effigy, was Laura.
The jeweler's robe was gone. In its place she wore a silk dress dyed a brilliant shade of violent. A golden sash held the bodice tight about her waist and strands of white pearls were threaded into her hair's natural curls. Aurelia had tied a band of white cloth over Laura's mouth to gag her, though this was not the main reason for the warrior's alarm. The jeweler's eyes were covered with the same black film that'd obscured them in Baia, when Shanoa had last seen her, but the unnatural coating dissolved as the forlorn pair walked further into the sanctum.
Laura's eyes swam for a few moments before they steadied, and she was able to meet Shanoa's distraught gaze. As they stared into each other the warrior had a sudden understanding of the nature of the spell Aurelia dismissed. Laura – to some extent – was present in the entrance hall and throughout the conversation thereafter. Having seen the entire exchange, somehow, through the albino's eyes. She knew what fate had befallen Ecclesia's acolytes, what Shanoa had done, yet her bright green eyes belayed no sign of judgment or disgust. Instead, they burned with conviction, love, and a fierce brand of relief. A heady combination which stirred something deep inside Shanoa's heart.
"You heard a story, once, of Andromeda and the sea serpent," Aurelia said in a kinder tone. "How she was chained to the rock as a sacrifice to appease Poseidon's wrath. I present you now with the same choice." The albino came up beside Shanoa, speaking the words into her ear. "You can fight me and perpetuate the cycle of death and despair, or you can take the path of noble action and put an end to all of this. Cease the spread of Chaos, obliterate humanity's struggle." Aurelia inclined her head towards Laura. "You can save the woman you love from suffering the same fate as poor Albus. You can save her from yourself."
A heady silence passed between them, thrumming with the veins of promise, before the truth dawned on Shanoa. She realized what Aurelia was trying to do.
'She means to goad me into committing suicide.'
The warrior's lax body snapped to attention, and she whirled on her former friend, staring at her wide-eyed as a torrent flowed through her. Was this what they'd come to? Such twisted words and grim machinations? Yes, Shanoa had killed everyone in Ecclesia, the guilt pounded once more, but then Daniela's familiar words cut through the haze of emotion. The lesson she'd carved a path through Hell learning and found in the gifts of love.
"This is not the beginning of your journey, but the end of it. You've not only seen the righteous path; you've walked it. All I need to offer you is the confirmation you've been right all along.
"You've broken free of Ecclesia's influence. Taken this immense power they used to kill innocent people and, instead, you used it to save lives. On a smaller scale, at first. You saved the people of this village, myself included. Nothing forced you to help us, and yet you did. You took those Glyphs, employed your strong sense of conviction, and pulled us back from the brink of despair. And then your efforts grew into something nigh immeasurable. You saved humanity from destruction, Shanoa. You stormed Castlevania, decimated its armies, and slew Dracula. Again, there was nothing which forced you inside the castle. Your ancestors didn't make an oath. Your blood isn't bound to slay the night, and yet you still persevered. You conquered. You saved.
"But even those deeds pale in comparison to what you did after. You fought a battle far more difficult than any Dracula could offer. You faced yourself, the darkness within, the violence you were forced to perpetuate, and you challenged it. Fought against the lies Ecclesia told you. The twisted version of love they forced you to believe in. You were scared, lost, and alone, and dared to be more. Dared to find true love, and in doing so you overcame the greatest battle of all. The one most people spend their entire lives without conquering."
"You saved yourself. That's how you atoned, Shanoa," Daniela continued. "Not by suicide or suffering even more sacrifice. You don't atone for the lives you've taken by destroying your own. You atone by saving others. But, more than anything else, you atone by saving yourself."
And – once more – she knew.
"No," Shanoa said into the quiet of the room. "I was right all along."
Aurelia stepped back at the sudden change in Shanoa's demeanor and placed herself between the warrior and her captive. Ecclesia's Blade gripped Melio Secare as she beheld the Shadow in all her wickedness.
"About what, pray tell?" the albino asked in a strained voice.
Shanoa raised her chin, head held high. "I'm not a murderer."
"You know what you did," Aurelia snapped. "Not just to Ecclesia, but to the people who came before. Those invalid patients you grieve, the doctor, the priest in the mountains. You killed them all."
"With a guided hand, not by my own making," the warrior said, her tone hard with resolution and conviction. "But every choice I've made since I woke up after the ritual, every demon I felled, was justified. I didn't start the cycle of death. I didn't choose to take up the mantle of Blade and walk this path. It was chosen for me, by the Vessel, by the Elders, by you. I was used to sow death and despair, manipulated to be a weapon without conscious thought, and thrust into a war outside of my control. Ecclesia perpetuated the cycle by taking in Dominus, by becoming monstrosities and wreaking havoc upon the land. They chose their own fates, and I was the only one strong enough to stop them. So I did, I broke free. I became a warrior of my own making and choosing. I killed true monsters and saved countless lives. The cycle of death will end, Aurelia, but not with my death. It will end when Ecclesia is buried and forgotten." Shanoa raised Melio Secare and pointed it at her former friend. "I am not the serpent here."
Aurelia regarded her with cold disappointment, but at last her expression morphed into reluctant acceptance. "Then it appears we are at an impasse. At least the truth remains spoken, breathed into the very air. No matter what happens next, we are both monsters, Shanoa."
Ecclesia's Shadow sighed as a familiar light sprouted in her hand. Shanoa watched as a mirror shape of Melio Secare formed out of elements in the air. The steel blade of her copy was a duller shade of blue, yet that was the only difference between their ethereal weapons.
Another heavy silence settled over the chamber before Aurelia broke it with a simple phrase.
"So be it."
End Notes: This was one of the hardest hitting chapters in the previous version and I hope I was able to preserve its original gut-punching glory this time around too. Feel free to yell at me in the comments either way.
Also, my god but this story has officially surpassed 400k words in length. I'm flabbergasted and overwhelmed and can honestly say I never expected to produce a single work of this length in my life and yet this is still only my first novel. A massive thank you to all who've managed to make it thus far, and I hope I've made the ride worthwhile.