En Medias
by Half-Esper Laura
Based on Castlevania: Symphony of the Night (and a little bit on Castlevania III: Dracula's Curse) by Konami
Part 5 of 6
I killed him. I drank him dry and killed him. Maybe I was just defending myself. Maybe I only lost my head because of my injuries but... I just know that somewhere inside I wanted to kill him for marrying Joan. Somewhere deep inside me I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the taste of his blood... I never knew what happened to Joan. Of course she was a widow... And people have gone mad over less. I like to think that William would take care of her, but... Oh, God, I ruined her. The only person I ever loved, ever kissed, and I destroyed her...
This is what I'm trying to tell you. I don't intend any of it, but somehow I corrupt and destroy everything I touch. Just as my father destroyed the one he loved, I suppose... When I speak of the curse of my blood, this is what I mean.
But I never saw her again. I never saw any of them again. Not Joan or William or Robert, or Sypha either. I went back to Trevor like a prodigal son, and I trembled and I fell down and wept in front of him. He picked me up, and his wife made me something to eat, because I hadn't had anything since that meal of blood, but I couldn't eat. What was I to eat, after devouring a man's very life?
I suppose that's why Trevor agreed to it, when I decided to come back here to sleep. Whether he agreed with my wish not to be a danger to others, or merely appreciated my misery and knew that I would be happier in my dreams. I came back here because as I've said, Castlevania is a part of me, however damnable a fact that is. And I may as well give in to it because it kills every other part of me. Joan was the last piece of my life that wasn't tied up with this God-forsaken place, and she was gone. I had nightmares about who or what would be next, especially as I clung to Trevor as my last hope and comfort.
So I came back here. Trevor brought me. I don't think he wanted to let me go alone in the state I was in. We came and I found a place near to the cliff where the castle stands, when it stands. He bought me a casket, and filled it with earth, and when it was all ready I hugged him like a brother and wept on his shoulder and said goodbye to him, and then I lay down to sleep in that soil, let its nebulous blackness swallow me up into the world of dreams...
I could not have said how long I slept, but with what I have learned since, I can deduce that it was well over three hundred years. It would seem that I should know how long it was, because I was dreaming the entire time, that I would know by the bulk of those experiences, but dreams are so surreal in that way. I could think I had been on some dream-adventure for years, when in reality it had just begun and I had only decided that I had been there for years. As someone who has spent so much time dreaming, I can tell you that's the key to them. Things in the dream world are what you decide that they are. But don't take this to mean that you can control them. No, sometimes what you know to be true, even in a dream, can seem entirely out of your control...
For example, I've never dreamed of Mother, except in moments when I was very near to death myself. Perhaps I should say never successfully. Everytime I dream of her, I dream of her death, and even now, fully grown, with the armor and sword she gave me, I can never save her... Oh, God, I don't know how many times I've been through it... So I have to console myself that I'll see her again when I die. I have to think so, at any rate, or else I don't know why I'd go on...
I can hardly even remember all those years now. Centuries of memories, of grief and recovery, horrors and comforts, domestic routines and grand adventures, all like wisps of smoke. You see them, but indistinctly, and when you try to grasp them to understand their shape, they melt away, only to wind their haze back upward a moment later.
But other than the nightmares, I was happy there. I saw old places and old friends. The village from my childhood, Oxford in the days before I'd lived in Castlevania. Things long gone. Those bits of "normal human life" that I cling to so dearly. When I go back to sleep, I'll dream of Trevor and Sypha again, of Joan before I ruined her life... I'm an orphan in this age. Or perhaps more like an old widower. Drifting through the lives of those who have inherited the earth and who have nothing to do with me. The only thing that connected me to this time was Castlevania.
When I woke and saw it, I knew that was the reason I had awakened. I knew what I had to do. And in that place, nothing had changed in all that time.
Yes, that is how I met you.
***
The ticking of the clock echoed through the room like a heartbeat for the sprawling stone beast that was Castlevania. Alucard didn't even bother to read it. What did time matter? He would fight as long as he could, sleep when he was too weary to go on, and go back to his eternal sleep when it was all over. Assuming that he was still alive when it was all over. No one would be there to help him face his father this time...
He pushed that thought aside as he noticed another figure in the room; a blonde girl in a short green dress... His intuitions told him that she was human, not an enemy. Perhaps in need of rescue? No. She carried herself with confidence. To have gotten this deep into the castle she must be able to fend for herself. She was looking back at him, no doubt sizing him up as well, and with a short acknowledging nod he crossed slowly toward the opposite door.
"Wait!"
He stopped and turned as she walked up to him. "...Well, you seem human..." she said. "But... What are you doing here?"
He paused a moment before answering. "I've come to destroy this castle."
"Then we seem to be on the same side at least," she said. "I guess I'll trust you. I'm Maria," she offered a hand. "And you are...?"
"...Alucard," he replied, making no move for her hand. Her easy manner was somehow too annoying to use his real name.
"Not quite the sociable type, I see," Maria said with an amused smile. She looked him in the eyes as if wanting to say more, but both were silent for a long moment, the stillness broken only by the expectant look in her open, blue eyes. Alucard could feel himself bristle at this, although he wasn't sure why.
"Well, I suppose we'll see each other again," she said, apparently taking the hint. "Assuming we're both still alive, anyway. Good luck!" With that, she disappeared down the corridor.
Alucard knew already that he was alone now. Obviously, ages had passed since he fell asleep. All this old friends would be dead... The loneliness was oppressive. And yet, somehow, being confronted with someone who wanted to involve herself with him... It seemed almost worse than being alone.
***
Of course telling you the rest of the story would serve no purpose, except to bore you. You were only just there.
No, no, nothing that you need to hear. Certainly not "ordinary," but I'm sure you can imagine how it went. Nothing worth noting.
***
The familiar resonance of Sypha's wards greeted Alucard like a breath of fresh air as he entered the small chamber and shut the door behind him. The place smelled of disuse, and its furniture lay in tatters of decay, since the ward kept the inhabitants of the castle from entering, but nothing could have made the place so aversive that Alucard would leave it; beyond recognizing the protective spell, he was hardly even aware of the room itself. With no one there to see, he fairly collapsed on the floor. Every inch of his body ached with weariness---in fighting his father's minions, he'd begun making foolish mistakes, the sort that he knew would bring death if they continued. Nothing for it but to rest...
Even without cushions or pillows, he could have slept easily from the exhaustion. Seemingly without the effort even of willing it, a thick dark blanket of sleep closed around him, easing him out of his aching body, teaching him the truth, that that body and the stone walls and floors and monsters were not real, that the dark, swirling universe of sleep and dream were the true reality.
He floated weightless in the warm dark for some time, still held back by this physical fatigue. Slowly, invisible as the opening of a flower, that barrier opened up, and the flow of that true dream-reality began to surround him, physical, but mutuable as water. A ground underneath him rippled into being; cobblestones surfaced in it when he looked at them, only to sink out of existence in the corners of his vision. He came to the realization of people around him---a crowd, in fact---but there was little presence to them, only the wisp of recognition. Disturbing recognition.
Not this dream... Not this dream again...
They were people from his childhood, from the village where he was born. Crowding the square of the town, surrounded by ghostly dream-buildings. And in the middle of it all stood the cross, towering over with all the horror of Calvary, but it was his mother, tied to it by her wrists.
I've been here before. I've tried a hundred times and it never works... But there was no choice but to try. He ran toward her, shoving desperately through the nightmare-crowd.
"MOTHER!!!"
He was still running when a phantom grip caught his arm, and his forward momentum sent him crashing to the ground. Even has he fought to free himself, another pair of hands took his other arm.
"LET ME GO!" he screamed, his voice in that moment as commanding and terrible as his father's. "MOTHER, I'LL SAVE YOU!" Something was surging through him, something even more than the fear and the anger. With every beat of his heart, the grip on his arms seemed less inescapable. Every pull against his captors came closer and closer to overpowering them, he could feel it. The strength had to be there. He wouldn't let anyone stop him.
"Alucard, no!" Lisa called from above him.
He stopped fighting and looked up at her. "Mother!" he cried, but this time more sedate, more pleading.
"It's all right, Alucard" she said, her voice as soft and comforting as it had been in a thousand evenings at home. "I'm so glad I can see you again before I die."
"You're not going to die!"
"If this is the price I have to pay to save other people's lives, I will give it gladly. I'm only so sorry that I can't be with you and see you grow up."
His legs gave out underneath him, and the men let him fall to his knees, sobbing.
"Please, don't cry just yet. I don't want you to cry the last time you look at me," Lisa said.
He wiped his face and looked up at her. His eyes were sparkling, but he met her gaze steadily, even as he heard the crackle of flames from somewhere nearby.
"Alucard, these will be my last words to you, so always remember them. Will you do that for me?"
He nodded, unable to speak.
"You must hate humans. Never allow yourself to feel sympathy for them, for they are to be your prey."
The entire dream-world---or was it Alucard himself?---reeled from those words. His mind was suddenly thrown into confusion. This was how it happened. It was the truth---it was real! But something had gone terribly wrong. Somehow it was all distorted; it didn't make sense... "Mother, what are you saying?" He pleaded to her for answers, as a sinner to a church crucifix.
"You must never feel sorry for them, or you can never be happy," she said. "Look at them, they lead such miserable lives! Kill them and bring them happiness!"
"Mother, no!"
"For me, Alucard! Start with that one beside you!"
The earth and sky of the dream---and Alucard's mind which it reflected---were by now so twisted, bent back on themselves, stretched and distorted to the breaking point, and himself, the crux of that tension... In another moment it would snap. His mind would snap, and he would die, or worse... Blindly, unthinking, he leapt to his feet. "NO! You're not my mother!!"
The dream began to return to shape... Of course...!
"Alucard!" she cried, "how can you say that to me now!?" Someone was coming toward her with a torch, a contrived element to make him feel guilty. But he hadn't thought of it. Contrived by whom, then...?
"My mother never said such a thing! She would never say that!! YOU ARE NOT MY MOTHER!!"
The dream ground to a halt. The tension and distortion were gone, but the world froze in a manner no less unnatural. He looked around; the spectres of people were frozen, the dream buildings had lost their ethereal shimmer and stood still and cold.
When he turned back to the cross, the figure of Lisa was gone, but it wasn't empty. A woman clung to it, hanging on the crossbar by her knees. She was not restrained at all, but lounging, playful, as if she had climbed it for sport. She anchored a hand and swung around toward him, and he saw that she was completely nude, except for a narrow black belt wrapped several times around her midsection. Horns sprouted from under her slick, dark hair, and a tail and batlike wings flicked out behind her. "You broke my spell," she said, with a lascivious smile. "I love it when mortal men act so strong."
Alucard grimaced with disgust. A Succubus, the most base of demons... Impersonating his mother, that angel on earth! He drew his sword. "Get away from me, Demon!" She only watched him with a mocking, bemused smile. "Get away from me, or I swear I'll kill you! It's less than you deserve for mocking my mother!"
The demon jumped down lightly from the cross, spreading her small, toy-like wings. "So, I've gotten you all excited! This should be fun!"
Alucard waited for her to move, eyes and muscles trained, tense with anticipation, but instead of coming toward him, she dodged into the frozen crowd. For a moment he followed her, but then she was only a movement of shadow, and another appeared somewhere else, but when he turned to see it, it disappeared again. Standing still he was only a target; he chased the flickers of shadow, only to see them resolve into shadows of the statue-crowd before he reached them. She led him on a teasing chase, weaving through the crowd, always just out of reach. He slashed at the figures that seemed to hide her, but the sword only passed through them like ghosts. "If it's a fight you want, come out and fight me!" he shouted.
"Whatever do you mean, darling? I'm right here," came her voice from behind and above him. He whipped around to see her standing on a man's head, just far enough away to be safe from attack. "I must say I expected better. You have the scent of a vampire, and yet you aren't... You're getting winded already!"
It was true that even in his dream he was breathing heavily, but she was mistaken. It was the rage that caused it, not the exertion.
"But I'm tired of playing hide-and-seek, too. It's time we got a bit closer, yes?" she said, crouching.
"Stay away from me!" he shouted again, backing away. He saw her flick her wings, and then a ripple from them seemed to travel through the shadows of the crowd toward him, behind him... He was just beginning to turn when a cascade of thin black shapes exploded around him, seizing his arms, wrenching his wrist until he dropped his sword, snatching him up off the ground, leaving stabbing pains wherever they went. When the motion stopped, he saw them as black, thorned vines that extended from the ribs in her wings. He strained against them, reaching for his sword, knowing he couldn't win without it... But they held him fast; there was no escape...
Wait! This is all wrong! He remembered, it was a nightmare! The more he fought the thorns, the more he acknowledged them, the more he made them real. Pulling against them only made them hold fast. I have to relax. I have to believe---have to know that this isn't happening...
But that was impossible to do without defeating self-consciousness, especially when the Succubus seated herself on his chest, wrapped her legs around him... Fear washed over him, of a fate even worse than death. No! How can I stop her? I can't stop her! No! Must relax...
She bent low over his face as he lay still in her grasp. The thorn-vines brushed at his cheek, a half-painful, tickling caress. Almost gently, one of them wrapped around his throat and began to squeeze. "Come now, darling," she breathed softly, barely touching her face to his lips as they came open, searching for unhindered breath. "It's no fun if you don't fight just a little."
It was more than he could stand. It had become cruel to the point of being absurd, unbelieveable. He would have been lost if in that moment he had thought, "this is my chance," but he knew it, deep inside without thinking, and he took it. This couldn't be happening... So it wasn't happening! He was having the same dream again, so many times he knew it by heart. That was the men holding him back. The fear and rage was because they were keeping him from his mother, and he had to save her, just once out of all these hundreds of times...
Easily, he threw their grip aside, but still they stood like statues. Still the cross was empty. He turned, and the Succubus was still there, cooing over his own relaxed form, not realizing that it was an empty doll. Despite the shock and disgust at seeing his own reflection thus, he laughed inside at her error. He knew with elation that he would kill her, but he held the emotion in check long enough to aproach her quietly, enough to pick up his sword and walk right up behind her without pointing out her mistake.
With the force of all his rage, he slashed across her back. She screamed as her little black wings were torn off, and they and the attached vines vanished like shadows, spilling her onto the ground. She arched her back, which was gushing black blood, and twisted to face him. "What? How did you do that!?"
"I've had worse nightmares than you," he said coldly, looking down at her.
"Wait... not quite a vampire... You're Lord Dracula's son! Please! Please, have mercy!" she cried.
"Not for such a vile creature as you," he said. "I've read that dying in the dreamworld will trap your soul here to wander forever. You should feel lucky I'm not sending you to Hell."
Her face hardened. She knew what was coming. "You remember that," she said.
With one swift thrust, he drove his sword through her heart, and she melted away, leaving only the echo of her death-scream.
But Alucard had forgotten; behind and beneath her, there was still the reflection of himself. With the Succubus gone, he found the point of his sword buried in his own belly. And he felt it. He felt nauseous; he felt the stinging where the black thorns had pierced his skin. I escaped her... Why is this still here?
Then he remembered, and he dropped the sword and cried out in shock. Succubi were not dream-creatures, but somewhere between dreaming and reality, like humans, like himself. Or rather the inverse: they favored dreaming, with only an occasional wisp of physical reality. But it was enough that whatever they did to their victims was real. He was looking at his body. Everything that had happened to it in this dream had actually happened to his body...
He took himself up in his arms and shook himself, knowing he had to wake up. He was mortally wounded, but he'd been through worse. He'd survived being stabbed in the chest with a stake. Somehow he knew he could survive this, too, if only he could wake up... It made the dream world ripple and spin, shake from its foundations. The street seemed to swing around with him. His head was laying on the stones, and there were footsteps all around, close to his ears.
What? What's happening?? Painfully, he lifted his shoulders and looked up. His heart sank as he recognized the people of his childhood village milling around him, shouting. He could see the cross at the head of the crowd, and just barely make out a figure tied to it. Mother! I have to save her... A vague feeling of deja vu told him it wouldn't work, but he wasn't listening. A searing pain in his stomach doubled him up and kept him from standing, and he crawled desperately toward her. The people seemed not to notice him, or the trail of blood he left behind him.
He was almost to the head of the crowd; if he looked up he could see her now... "Mother!" he called, hoarsely from the pricks and bruises around his throat.
She looked down at him, and her eyes widened in shock. "Adrian!?"
Two of the men in the crowd grabbed his arms to hold him back. His head spun as they wrenched him up, and the dream shook and spun again. The men dissolved, unnoticed, and he fell on his back, looking up at Lisa. He could barely move, but the street seemed to swell beneath him. "Mother, I'll save you!" he called. With Herculean effort, he lifted a hand toward her. The cross wasn't so far away; it seemed to lean over him, and it was burning now, surrounding her with a corona of flames.
"Adrian, no!" Lisa cried. "You have to wake up!!"
Her fire-lit face was terrified, and it tore at him inside; he could hardly bear to see her like that. But it would all be worth it if he could just reach her... His mind was spinning, losing shape. His body was in a chaos of pain; he felt something hot rising in this throat and his mouth flooded with the blissfully sweet taste of blood. But if he could just focus on that outstretched hand... The dreamworld had begun to collapse in on him, bringing him and his mother ever closer... Just a few more inches and he could reach her; he could save her! "I can almost... reach... you...!"
"No, don't!! Wake up! Adrian, wake up!!" she cried, with a desperation she had never had in life.
But he wouldn't be dissuaded. Did she think this was a dream?? He reached for her, closer, closer...!
Just as he was about to touch her, a fit of racking coughs seized him; each one flooded the world with a burst of white light, and each one brought up blood. He could feel it run down his face, but it didn't matter. If he could just reach...
But as he looked up at his mother to reach for her, he froze. She looked down in abject horror, not at him, but at the blood. By now it was everywhere, on his face, soaking through his clothes.... Her mouth was open.
No! Please not that---
Lisa screamed.
Alucard woke on the floor of the warded chamber, trying to scream and failing, gasping for breath. The realization of his injuries hit him like a punch, and he collapsed, curled up tightly in agony. His heart was pounding, and it eased the pain away, little by little. He felt his belly with his hand, just to be sure. Yes, the wound was closing. He would survive, though now he was lightheaded, exhausted, cold from the drain on his blood. Too tired to think, he wrapped his cape around himself as best he could to keep warm and fell asleep again.
He had the same dream again, just once more so that he could get it right. There was no Succubus this time, and the men weren't able to hold him back, but no matter how much he ran toward his mother, he was never any closer to her, never in reach of her. Finally he fell to his knees and cried like a child, and she told him never to hate humans, and to tell his father that she would always love him. She told Adrian "I will always love you."
***
I'd done it before and I told you about that.
But it was harder. Before I was with Trevor and the others. This time I was alone. They are all long gone...
***
The Roman-esque arena standing so still and empty would have provoked a strange sensation even in its usual orientation. Now, as Alucard paced its ceiling alert for any hidden enemy, the effect was positively surreal.
Satisfied that the room was entirely empty, he walked over beneath the grand viewing box, and looked up at the throne-like seat overlooking---if that word could apply here---the arena floor. Generally he had acclimated to the upside-down Castlevania, but the sight of the high, velvet-padded back of the chair jutting down from the overhead floor still struck him as bizarre.
From the mirror of that seat, Richter Belmont had looked down at him. That had been a surreal experience as well, to hear a Belmont commanding Dracula's minions of evil. But the scent, the presence of Belmont blood was unmistakable. It smelled of sunlight and honest labor. Most humans smelled that way a little, Maria more than most, but none like Trevor, and then Richter, still giving that feeling while the crux of such darkness and intrigue... It was terrible in a way, but strangely impressive. He could feel a leftover trace of it even now...
"Finally! We found you!"
As the familiar voice echoed across the vast empty room, Alucard whipped around to face it. His eyes and ears agreed, but it wasn't possible...
Trevor Belmont turned and called toward the floor-level doorway, now raised above the ceiling on which he and Alucard stood. "He's in here!" Sure enough, a moment later Grant somersaulted down, followed by Sypha, who let herself down gently by some magic.
Alucard stood dumbfounded as they approached him at a familiar gait. As they drew near, it roused him to his senses as if they had crossed some invisible barrier, and he drew his sword and trained it at the three of them. "Who are you!?" he demanded. Surely this was some sort of trick...
Trevor raised his hands. "Whoa! Alucard, don't you recognize me? It's me, Trevor."
"That's impossible. Trevor Belmont is dead."
"Dead...? What do you mean? You just saw me---"
"I've been asleep for hundreds of years," Alucard said, in a cold growl. "How could any of you still be alive?"
"But you were only asleep for a week---"
Sypha stayed him with a hand, and spoke in her low hidden-female voice. "Alucard, what do you think is happening here?"
"I think that you're all impostors trying to deceive me."
"No. What year is it? Why has Castlevania returned?"
"It is the Year of Our Lord 1796.* And some poorly-intentioned soul was using your---" a flick of the sword-point toward Trevor, "---distant descendant to revive my father."
"Some sort of illusion..." Sypha muttered, as Grant spun a finger around his ear.
"Well..." Trevor began, "it's definitely not 1796. After you went to sleep, I stayed in Transylvania for a few days, and then the castle appeared again. When I found you gone from your casket, the three of us came in here after you as soon as we could."
"You're lying!" Alucard realized with panic how easy it was to believe their story. He couldn't let himself be drawn into a trap. But if it were true...
"I think you're the one putting us on!" Grant argued, in typical fashion. "How do we know you weren't just waiting to inherit the place when we'd done with Dracula, hm?"
"That's ridiculous!"
"Not as ridiculous as your fish story. 1796. Please."
"And Alucard," Trevor said, "Do you really think a Belmont would ever be part of reviving Dracula?"
The point of the sword wandered off-target, and Alucard knit his brows, trying to ascertain which of the competing versions of events might have a telling flaw. "Maria... she was real..."
"You must've been drawn into some sort of illusion," Sypha said. "The people and things you encountered here weren't real, but were only invented as a way to keep you here."
"But I saw every detail... Even the scent...! These things were solid to the touch. I've nearly been killed here!"
"The illusion isn't projected outside of you, it's in your mind," Sypha said. "It can read from your thoughts, produce every sensation you expected, even the pain of wounds. Thankfully it seems it was made to add things to your perception and not remove or alter them, or else you may never have even seen us, or we might have been presented to you as monsters to kill."
"It is 1796!" Alucard insisted, painfully aware that his arguments were growing flimsier by the moment. "The Librarian showed me a map, with new continents! New literature and science..."
"It wasn't real," Trevor said soothingly.
"Or if it was, the Librarian here would have every reason to participate in the deception," Sypha added.
Alucard's sword hung at his side by this time. He knew of nothing to say. Logically, he saw no way to choose. But it would be such a gift, to have them all back... Seeing his indecision, Trevor crossed to him and took him in a rough yet gentle embrace. In that moment, he was totally disarmed, and leaned on his old friend. "So, what now?" he asked wearily.
"That depends," Sypha said. "Is Dracula here now? As his son, you must be able to feel if his presence is near."
"He isn't here now," Alucard said. He searched through his cape and produced the bag containing the fragments he had found. "There are pieces of his remains scattered through this castle. I've been trying to find them before..." He trailed off, as his companions' stares showed something amiss.
"Are you... holding something...?" Trevor asked.
With a shrug of resignation, Alucard tossed the apparently-illusionary bag aside.
"This is unfortunate..." Sypha was muttering. "This is what I was afraid of..."
"I could've told you," Grant said, as Trevor took on a sober look.
"What is it?" Alucard asked.
"This castle feeds on Dracula's energy," Sypha explained. "When he lives, it stands, and when he dies it falls. If he isn't here, the only explanation I can find is that it's feeding on you."
"That's impossible. I would never allow such a thing. I'd feel it if that were true."
"Alucard, I don't want to insult you," Trevor said, "but what you do and don't notice doesn't seem to be very reliable right now."
"And it gets worse," Sypha said. "Apparently the difference between Dracula and you created some kind of paradox that produced the second castle. I don't fully understand what's causing it, but it could happen again."
"How many of these damned things are you talking about?" Grant asked.
"Theoretically, it could become an infinite number."
"Fine then, we have to leave this place," Alucard said. "Once I'm gone, the castles will lose their host and fall. This didn't begin until I returned here, so I'll leave this country and never return."
"It's not that simple," Sypha said. "Castlevania is going to extraordinary measures to keep its 'host,' as you put it. The elaborate illusion proves that. If it can do such a thing as that, it won't just let you go."
"It has never been simple at all, and this castle has never 'just let me go,'" Alucard said. "And yet, somehow, we achieved the goal before us."
"Yeah, and that worked like a charm here, didn't it?" Grant said. "Maybe if we win this time we get a sideways castle."
"There's only one way to destroy the castles' source," Sypha said. Even without the words, there was no question of what she meant.
"How can you say that!?" he demanded. "How can you refuse to even try!?"
"Alucard, I'm sorry," Trevor said. "But this is all we can do."
Alucard half-stumbled back from them. "How can you do this to me!?" he cried. "I thought you all were dead. I thought you were hundreds of years gone. Sypha..." It was unbelievable to him that this was the same Sypha Belmades who had nursed his wounds after the battle with Dracula, now coldly condemning him to death. "Trevor, you called me your friend. You carried me out of Castlevania when it was falling down around your ears! How can you do this? How can you come back from the dead only to betray me!?"
Trevor approached him carefully, and took him by the shoulders. "I remember that time. I remember that you were willing to die then. To die and take all this evil with you. It would have been a noble sacrifice.
"It was what you wanted. And I never should have stopped you."
Alucard pushed him away with sudden strength, and stepped back from them deliberately. It was impossible. Trevor would never have said such a thing. But what could he do? He could never forgive himself if they were telling the truth and he raised a hand against them...
In a moment, it came to him, and he decided what to do. It was a gamble, yes, but the best option he could divine. He looked at Trevor, Sypha, and Grant with the same stone-face he had shown to Maria, and spoke to them in the same cold voice. "If you want to proceed with your plan without my consent, together you can likely succeed. But don't think it will be easy. I am sure I could take at least one of you with me."
"Alucard---" Trevor started.
He held up a hand to stay him. "I will go along with what you say, on one condition. Any one of you can drive the stake through my heart. But only if he says my Christian Name."
Alucard fixed on them a stare so intense as to block from his mind any thought of the answer to his question, lest it was indeed an illusion that could read his thoughts. Grant didn't matter. Truly, he never really had. Sypha's face was unreadable in her cloak, but she was silent. Not right. She knew the power in a name. She would never have forgotten. Trevor only looked confused. He had been an illiterate shepherd, but in everything he knew, he was clever and sure. He had spoken the name many times. Beyond all doubt...
"Alucard," Trevor said, as if it were the obvious truth.
Immediately Adrian-Alucard bore down on him in a fury. "Trevor Belmont would never regret saving me, and he would never forget my name!!!" With that, he seized a handful of the false Trevor's tunic and yanked it savagely.
Caught up in the fabric, "Trevor"s torso was literally pulled loose from him, and a skeleton head and limbs clattered to the floor in pieces a mere second before the cloth tunic gave in to centuries of decay, releasing a hail of sundry bones. Before Alucard could even turn to look, Grant and Sypha were scattered on the floor in a similar state. He jumped back in shock and horror, but after one breath, he turned his back to all of it. He knew there was still something to be done. He had to press on, had to forget this, but with no thought of where to press on to, he only wandered urgently over to a column at the edge of the room.
He rested a hand on it to steady himself and stared down at its capital. They hadn't been real. Sypha had been just the sort of illusion she had accused Maria and Richter of being. He looked and yes, the bag of Dracula's remains was still there. It was real. And Trevor, Trevor was dead, for hundreds of years. They all were.
Dead for hundreds of years...
Adrian gave a long, loud wail of grief, a chilling sound to rival all the unquiet souls of Castlevania. He clung to the column as if it were his mother as he sank to the ceiling-floor, utterly overcome. There he stayed for a very long time, and between his tears there lay helpless fear. It wasn't a warded room, he was vulnerable, and who knew what hellish beast might be roused by his cries?
But no such thing came. In the entire vast space of the arena, there was no sound or movement except the flickering upside-down torches and his anguished voice.
Concluded in Part 6
Footnotes:
*This is debatable, and not just the way they debate it in this scene. Prior to the "Bloodlines" intro, four years before the game proper, Symphony of the Night says "Travel back to... 1792." I take this to refer to the Bloodlines intro, though it may also refer to Alucard's quest.
