Aaron's sword was obviously expensive, finely crafted and inlaid with some semi-precious stones. No doubt he was cruelly disappointed when my blade smashed his sword into pieces. He withdrew from the battle as Miklos entered swinging a Turkish scimitar at me. Father Stefano amateurishly tried to attack me with his own weapon, but he was a priest, trained to tend to his flock, not to battle against experienced soldiers. I slashed his leg and smoothly blocked Miklos's blow in the same movement. Shoving him back, I prepared for the deathblow when Aaron smashed into my side. My sword clattered to the ground as Miklos ran over and held his blade over my head.
"It ends, Vlad Dracula," said Stefano as he limped over to me, "Our country will be at peace when we are rid of you."
"Under slavery," I spat back, "You old son-of-a-whore, I trusted you!!"
"God help us, I shall make our people free with your death."
Turning to Miklos he said, "The sultan wants his head."
Miklos nodded and brought the sword down once. Twice. Thrice…
I floated in darkness, seeing the events of my life go by my eyes over and over.
I don't know how long I floated there. Bruno later said my head sat on a pike in Istanbul for three weeks, but it felt like more.
I awoke to darkness. I held up a hand toward the air above me, and felt a heavy ceiling of some sort. The main emotion I remember was not one of terror; no, it was of anxiety and obsession. Thoughts racing through my mind revolved around one idea: Dig up, dig up, get out, get out, feed, feed, feed, feed!! So, I began. I clawed at the "ceiling", and felt some sort of clumped, dusty material fall in on top of me. But I ignored it and kept digging my way upwards. After some time, my fingernails scratched at a hard surface.
I put my hands against it and pushed, greeted by harsh, new light. I pulled myself out and lay upon the floor, staring up at the ceiling. I looked over to the place where the light came from. My eyes adjusted, and I saw an alter to Christ. A Chapel. I had been buried in a Chapel…
I stood, and looked down at my clothes. They were gold-lined robes, the traditional burial garments of Eastern European royalty. It was then that I received a new feeling…
Revenge. Where are they? Where?
I sniffed the air, catching a scent that was somehow familiar. With a growl rising from my throat, I took off in pursuit. The scent took me down the hallways of what I recognized to be Snagov Monastery. The Priests and Nuns of the Monastery were still walking about. They froze in shock at my sight, and I shoved them aside as I continued the hunt.
Finally, I found the place where the scent came from. A wooden door. Locked tight. I banged on the door heavily, remaining silent the entire time. After a while, I could hear two aged lungs suddenly work harder, and the distinct sound of a wooden cane approaching. The door swung open to reveal the Priest Father Stefano.
"Yes, who…" He saw me and his jaw fell open in shock. Trembling wildly, he drew back in terror. His cane fell, and he collapsed on his back. Using his arms to propel himself backward, he began uttering a Latin prayer. I approached him steadily, and his fear heightened. I heard a strange sound and saw his robes darken somewhat in the region of his waist. Approaching him, his prayers became more frightened and wild, his voice rising and falling constantly. My hand, it's nails grown long and sharp, grasped the neck of his robe and pulled him up. His praying, and my knowledge of his treason, began to anger me and I slapped him on one cheek. "Shut up!" I snarled. "You have no right to call yourself a Christian, much less a Priest!! How dare you stay in a Monastery that I founded! Where is your honor?" He then began to cry. My disgust rose immediately. It was a relief to break his neck…
(If you want to read about my version of Dracula, click onto my bio-page and read "Dracula-The Profile".)