Raziel was the first to see the approaching Sarafan army. It was the biggest push he had ever seen in his unlife, even since the first day he had laid his yellow eyes on the Holy Order. The first son of Kain twisted his clawed hand around the pommel of his sword, tense and ready to go into the battlefield and experience once again the pleasures of a sword duel.
The rest of the vampires in Ash Village could now see the army, the dust being kicked up by them not hard to miss at all. The sun was sinking now beneath the horizon and night was falling. The Holy Order was chanting some psalm or another, something they felt would protect them from the creatures of the night. How little they actually knew. The vampires, even those of Clan Melchiahim, would be stronger than even the strongest warrior there. Beside Raziel, Dumah gave a deep chuckle.
"They walk to their deaths unknowingly, and tonight the blood will flow freely." The third-born son slapped Melchiah on the back roughly. "Now you'll show them something, won't you?"
"Yes," the youngest said, but Raziel could see the determination in his eyes. Orders were quickly given, and the vampires from Clans Razielim, Dumahim and Melchiahim poured out through the opened gates, not waiting for the enemy to come to them. Raziel was one of the first vampires to leave Ash Village behind, riding on a large black stallion that could smell the coming blood in the air and charged towards the humans without any urging. Dumah followed close behind, whipping his warriors into a frenzy. They did not care for any battle plans; they were stronger and faster and therefore did not need to plan anything when their victory was within sight. Melchiah grouped his Clan around him, and instead of rushing forwards as Raziel and Dumah were, led his vampires to flank the Sarafan from the west. If they decided to retreat, they would find themselves only trapped.
"For Kain and the glory of Clan Razielim!" Raziel's battle cry went up into the night sky as he brought his blade down on the first human victim, a Sarafan standard bearer who had no hope to avoid the shining blade. His head was cleanly severed from the rest of his body and the corpse stood there for a few moments then fell down to the earth. The ordered ranks of the Sarafan began to ripple underneath the assault of the Razielim vampires, who had silently agreed to charge the Order head-on.
Dumah's children attacked from the eastern side, fangs and claws flashed in the dying sunlight, and as night came upon the battlefield completely the human warriors began to have serious doubts about their Holy Crusade. One rank over ten long and fifty deep was quickly cut in half by a pack of Dumahim vampires; tridents that the vampires used skewered the mortals and blood flowed easily to the ground. Screams filled the air, more coming from the holy warriors than those of the vampires. Dumah himself rode into the thickest of fighting, his broadsword butchering any humans that believed themselves to be courageous or strong enough to stand against a Clan Lord. Blood flew through the air and before long Dumah was covered in it; none of it was his own.
Raziel was galloping quickly towards a cluster of officers, stupid people who believed that by grouping themselves together they would be safer from him. Reigning in his horse a good twenty feet away from the humans, they looked at the Clan Lord and he gazed back at them. And it dawned on them, too late, the trouble that was about to befall them. Pointing his sword at the ground, Raziel brought the blade up over his head quickly and shouted a word of power into the air. The ground underneath the Sarafan officers ripped open; the horses screamed and the mortals yelled out as the very earth swallowed them whole.
Nothing was left behind.
Just as Melchiah predicted, some Sarafan sounded the retreat and tried to backtrack, but then found the Clan Lord and his own offspring waiting for them. The Melchiahim vampires were fearsome during the day, but their visages at night were horrible to look upon. Some Sarafan warriors fell to their knees and gibbered in fear; others broke and ran from any semblance of a well ordered line and even more desperate ones fell on their own swords, not wishing to die on the claws of the vampires in front of them.
"Kill and skin them all," Melchiah said coldly. The Melchiahim line sprang forwards like a well-trained hunting dog, and like any well-trained animal, they brought down the prey easily enough. The youngest Clan Lord lopped the heads off of too many human warriors to count but did not care. Melchiah felt a laugh rise in his throat, one that carried across the battlefield.
The Sarafan had been all but beaten. The vampires had won, and with them, all of Nosgoth.
****
Zephon was bleeding from a number of wounds inflicted upon him by Lord Malus, his breath shallow. The Clan Lord felt the sting of a wound beginning to close on his lower right leg, just below his knee, but the chest wound he had suffered, similar to the same one given to him over a year ago, bled continuously. It would not close of its own will. The Sarafan commander gave a slight smile from underneath his helm, his sword raised to a guard position in front of his chest. Malus saw his chance as Zephon blinked his eyes; the barest flicker of fatigue passed over the vampire's pale features. With a roar that echoed across the rooftop of the Sarafan headquarters, Malus charged, his blade pointed in front of him.
Zephon brought up his own sword just in time, blocking the first blow but missing the second because of another wound given to him by the commander in his upper left arm. Malus' blade bit down into the unprotected flesh; Zephon hissed in pain and fell. The vampire lord tried to turn the fall into a roll but it was no use; Zephon hit the roof on his back and gasped as a bolt of pain ripped through his chest, followed by a gout of blood. His sword flew away from his hand, landing near the bloody bodies of Mecant and Daurgon. They had been killed when they had taken out three of the Sarafan commander's elite bodyguard, but the Sarafan's numbers were also low.
Of Natarek, Siglar or Zarina, Zephon did not know where they were but he could hear the sound of battle further off. Perhaps they were still alive...if Zarina was dead then he might as well give up right now. Zephon couldn't imagine the rest of his life without her beside him.
"I shall send you to Hell, vampire, and there you may suffer for all of your sins," Malus' blade pointed down at Zephon's throat; the sharp edge was just above his windpipe. One quick slash and it was all over. He closed his eyes and prepared for Final Death.
"Zephon!!" Zarina's cry cut through the air; the Clan Lord did not dare to look in her direction but to hear her voice was more than enough. She was alive. Malus' head quickly snapped to his right where Zarina stood, a small cross bolt in her hands and pointed at the Sarafan commander. "Let him go or you will be the last one to draw breath today."
The whole situation was laughable, Zephon thought with a moment of clarity. There Zarina was, covered in blood with her hair matted together by even more of the red liquid, yet the defiant look was in her eyes as she pointed a simple arrow towards someone that she perhaps once knew, who had a sword's edge pointed at her husband's throat. Malus would quickly kill him and then her; it was that simple. Pain coursed through Zephon's body and he dimly wondered that even if he survived this encounter, would he live only to be killed by his injuries? But the Sarafan commander considered Zarina to be a threat and slowly moved his sword away from Zephon's throat.
With the speed borne of desperation, and coupled with his powers of a vampire, Zephon quickly rolled to his feet and raced towards his sword, screaming silently as the chest wound made itself know once again. Raising his hand towards his sword, Zephon's weapon flew towards him and he turned once more to face Lord Malus, only to find that everything had changed. In the seconds it had taken him to take back his blade, Malus had lunged towards Zarina. Knocking the cross bolt out of her hand with a swipe from his own sword, the commander grabbed the sorceress by her hair and twisted her head back, exposing her neck. His sword's edge was pressed right up against her flesh. Zephon wanted to cry out and charge but it would only get Zarina killed. Terror lit up her eyes, but she did not make a sound or even move.
"It would appear I have the advantage now, Zephon." Malus looked at Zarina. "A traitor to her own kind; I curse your name and spit on you. You have no honour."
"I have more honour than you do, Malus," Zarina countered as she looked down at the blade pressed to her throat. "And so do the vampires."
Malus turned back to Zephon, a malicious grin spread across his face. "What would you do in a situation like this, vampire? Here I am, holding your wife's life in my hands, and there you stand, bleeding and weakened. Even if you were to do anything right now, even if you were in the best physical shape possible, you know that by the time you get here, her throat would of already been slit."
Zephon took a step forwards, his sword raised. "You would not dare. Even a human would not kill another so callously." The Clan Lord fought down the fear and anxiety in his own voice; trying to banish thoughts from his mind that Zarina would soon die.
Malus gave a condescending smile. "Oh, I dare many things."
The Sarafan commander yanked Zarina's head back as far as it would go and in one smooth motion, slit her throat with his sword. Zarina's beautiful eyes widened for a moment, pain, terror and fear flashing across her face but unable to utter a sound. Blood flowed down the front of her armour and Malus released her from his cruel grasp. She stumbled forwards to Zephon awkwardly, hands grasping at her throat, then collapsed silently on the rooftop, blood pooling around her still form.
A cry filled the air; Zephon remembered later on that it was his own. He lurched forwards, trying to catch Zarina before she fell, then dropped to his knees beside his wife's corpse. His hands were shaking as Zephon grabbed her by the shoulders and turned Zarina over. His lover's eyes stared up accusingly at him, mocking him and silently screaming at him. Zephon had done nothing to save he; he couldn't of done anything to save her. A broken howl escaped from the Clan Lord's lips and silent shudders racked his bruised body. The vampire gathered his dead wife in his arms and could only look at her with yellow eyes that seemed to be staring right past her.
Zarina was dead.
"And you will follow her to Hell," Malus' voice was filled with self-righteousness and gloating. "And the Holy Order will rise up and claim back what is rightfully it's own!" The Sarafan commander stopped talking as he gazed down at the vampire lord, who was looking back at him with a face that was...unreadable. And for once in his mortal life, Malus felt a twinge of fear inside of him.
Zephon gently lowered Zarina's body back down on the roof, then rose to his feet. He did not feel the pain anymore running through his body. The wounds were forgotten, the blood that trickled down his pale flesh did not bother Zephon. Deep inside of him, in the Clan Lord's soul, something had been ripped away, something that would never be replaced no matter how much time elapsed. Taking off his helm, Zephon cast it aside and coldly raised his sword towards Malus.
"Death," was all he said.
The vampire leapt forwards, his sword striking from the left side. Lord Malus was not ready for the sudden move and could not bring his sword up in time to block the blow. Zephon's blade bit into the mortal's flesh, cutting through the skin, muscle and right down to the bone, the impact jarring Zephon's arms. The sword was lodged in Malus' gut. He gave a wail and dropped his sword, but Zephon did not stop. Releasing the pommel from his death grip, the vampire brought his talons down on the human's face, cutting right through the metal as if it did not exist at all. Grasping Malus' lower jaw in one talon, Zephon viciously yanked the bone and flesh right off as if it did not exist at all. The blood poured down quickly but Malus was not able to see it for Zephon gave a backhand swipe to the human that blinded him in both eyes; the Clan Lord tore the orbs right out of their sockets.
Grabbing the hilt of his sword again Zephon extracted the sword from Malus' body, then raised it above his head and with a wordless cry filled with rage and grief, brought the bloodstained blade down on the human, cutting him cleaning from shoulder to groin. The body flopped down in two bloody pieces on the roof, which was slick with the blood of all who had fallen on this day.
The moon was low in the sky, the only witness to the act of carnage that Lord Zephon had committed. Dropping his sword, Zephon stood numbly over the body of Zarina, then knelt down again beside her and gathered her cold body in his arms. With a tenderness than no one saw, he closed his beloved's eyes and pressed his forehead against her's. His own yellow eyes were closed and a single tear tracked down his bloodstained cheek, falling on Zarina's cold lips.
Zephon did not hear Natarek or Siglar approach, both the worse for wear yet they would survive. They gazed in silence at the dead body of Clan Zephonim's mistress, lowering their heads as grief overtook them as well. Neither approached Zephon; they left their father alone with his own grief. The clanking of armour made Siglar turn; coming up the wide stairs to the rooftop of the fortress was Lord Turel and Lord Rahab, followed by their own vampires.
Turel looked at the destruction and the bodies in silence, but it was Rahab who spoke.
"My god," was all the scholar could utter. The moon passed behind a group of clouds, drawing away the light from the world.
****
In a small shrine in the lowest reaches of the Silent Cathedral, Zephon knelt silently in front of a stone coffin made from the purest white marble. Surrounding the coffin were white and red roses; black candles in thin and elegant holders provided light in the shrine. Carved on the front of the coffin were the words: 'Here lies Lady Zarina of Clan Zephonim, beloved wife and friend to Lord Zephon.' A small etching of a dove rested below the words. The shrine was silent; Zephon had ordered everyone else away, from his highest officers to the lowest of fledglings under pain of death. Zarina would lay here now forever, entombed in a shrine that, Zephon felt, did not do her any justice but was the most beautiful thing he had ever constructed. His clan banner was draped over his right shoulder, his hair combed back and in the vampire's hands he clasped a single rose.
Zephon was dead.
Zephon felt nothing.
Zephon was empty.
While all the other Clan celebrated their victory over the humans, who were now broken forever, he silently grieved. Nothing could pierce Zephon anymore. His heart was shredded, gone forever. No one saw him weep, but Zephon had cried so much that now there were no tears left in his body. A noise behind the Clan Lord made him rise and turn quickly, ready to kill the person who dared disturb him. He would not of cared if it was Siglar himself.
Instead standing in the doorway were his brothers, their faces serious. They had, in their own ways and time, dealt with Zarina's death. And now they came to pay their respects. Zephon did not care to hear anything from any one of them.
"Leave me," he snarled, a talon cutting through the air. "Leave me be."
"You are not well, Zephon." Raziel moved forwards slowly. "You haven't come out in a time; your children are beginning to worry-"
"Silence," Zephon cut Raziel off. "What does it matter to you? What have my children been saying to you behind my back? What does it matter to me anymore?!" Raziel tried to meet Zephon's eyes, colder than they had ever been before, then looked at the ground in silence.
"Pull yourself together, Zephon. You have grieved long enough," Dumah thundered. He pushed past Raziel and towered over Zephon, trying to intimidate him by size. "It is time to come back to the real world."
Zephon laughed and crushed the rose in his talon. He looked and Dumah and saw the uncertainty in his brother's eyes. "Grieve? Time? What does it matter to you? You did not know Zarina, you did not love Zarina! What right have you to tell me to stop grieving?" Zephon was now shouting in the small shrine, his voice echoing back to him. He waved an arm in front of his brothers and narrowed his eyes. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone! I am dead, dead to the world! As Zarina has died, so have I and nothing can be done about it!"
"Zephon..." Melchiah began.
"GET OUT!" The Clan Lord shrieked at his brothers. "Get out and leave me be! Leave me!"
The five looked at their brothers; Rahab was the first to turn and leave, his head bowed. Dumah gave one last look at Zephon as if he would have been able to do something, but followed Melchiah and Raziel out. Turel tried to say something, but the look that Zephon gave him stopped any words the mage was about to say. With a rustle from his clan banner, the second eldest left. Zephon watched them leave, then turned back to look at the coffin. He gazed down at the crushed rose in his hand, then opened his palm and the petals scattered on the floor. The vampire lord collapsed on top of the coffin, crying silently.
"Alone...leave me alone," he whispered brokenly. "I am dead to the world."
****
The rest of the vampires in Ash Village could now see the army, the dust being kicked up by them not hard to miss at all. The sun was sinking now beneath the horizon and night was falling. The Holy Order was chanting some psalm or another, something they felt would protect them from the creatures of the night. How little they actually knew. The vampires, even those of Clan Melchiahim, would be stronger than even the strongest warrior there. Beside Raziel, Dumah gave a deep chuckle.
"They walk to their deaths unknowingly, and tonight the blood will flow freely." The third-born son slapped Melchiah on the back roughly. "Now you'll show them something, won't you?"
"Yes," the youngest said, but Raziel could see the determination in his eyes. Orders were quickly given, and the vampires from Clans Razielim, Dumahim and Melchiahim poured out through the opened gates, not waiting for the enemy to come to them. Raziel was one of the first vampires to leave Ash Village behind, riding on a large black stallion that could smell the coming blood in the air and charged towards the humans without any urging. Dumah followed close behind, whipping his warriors into a frenzy. They did not care for any battle plans; they were stronger and faster and therefore did not need to plan anything when their victory was within sight. Melchiah grouped his Clan around him, and instead of rushing forwards as Raziel and Dumah were, led his vampires to flank the Sarafan from the west. If they decided to retreat, they would find themselves only trapped.
"For Kain and the glory of Clan Razielim!" Raziel's battle cry went up into the night sky as he brought his blade down on the first human victim, a Sarafan standard bearer who had no hope to avoid the shining blade. His head was cleanly severed from the rest of his body and the corpse stood there for a few moments then fell down to the earth. The ordered ranks of the Sarafan began to ripple underneath the assault of the Razielim vampires, who had silently agreed to charge the Order head-on.
Dumah's children attacked from the eastern side, fangs and claws flashed in the dying sunlight, and as night came upon the battlefield completely the human warriors began to have serious doubts about their Holy Crusade. One rank over ten long and fifty deep was quickly cut in half by a pack of Dumahim vampires; tridents that the vampires used skewered the mortals and blood flowed easily to the ground. Screams filled the air, more coming from the holy warriors than those of the vampires. Dumah himself rode into the thickest of fighting, his broadsword butchering any humans that believed themselves to be courageous or strong enough to stand against a Clan Lord. Blood flew through the air and before long Dumah was covered in it; none of it was his own.
Raziel was galloping quickly towards a cluster of officers, stupid people who believed that by grouping themselves together they would be safer from him. Reigning in his horse a good twenty feet away from the humans, they looked at the Clan Lord and he gazed back at them. And it dawned on them, too late, the trouble that was about to befall them. Pointing his sword at the ground, Raziel brought the blade up over his head quickly and shouted a word of power into the air. The ground underneath the Sarafan officers ripped open; the horses screamed and the mortals yelled out as the very earth swallowed them whole.
Nothing was left behind.
Just as Melchiah predicted, some Sarafan sounded the retreat and tried to backtrack, but then found the Clan Lord and his own offspring waiting for them. The Melchiahim vampires were fearsome during the day, but their visages at night were horrible to look upon. Some Sarafan warriors fell to their knees and gibbered in fear; others broke and ran from any semblance of a well ordered line and even more desperate ones fell on their own swords, not wishing to die on the claws of the vampires in front of them.
"Kill and skin them all," Melchiah said coldly. The Melchiahim line sprang forwards like a well-trained hunting dog, and like any well-trained animal, they brought down the prey easily enough. The youngest Clan Lord lopped the heads off of too many human warriors to count but did not care. Melchiah felt a laugh rise in his throat, one that carried across the battlefield.
The Sarafan had been all but beaten. The vampires had won, and with them, all of Nosgoth.
****
Zephon was bleeding from a number of wounds inflicted upon him by Lord Malus, his breath shallow. The Clan Lord felt the sting of a wound beginning to close on his lower right leg, just below his knee, but the chest wound he had suffered, similar to the same one given to him over a year ago, bled continuously. It would not close of its own will. The Sarafan commander gave a slight smile from underneath his helm, his sword raised to a guard position in front of his chest. Malus saw his chance as Zephon blinked his eyes; the barest flicker of fatigue passed over the vampire's pale features. With a roar that echoed across the rooftop of the Sarafan headquarters, Malus charged, his blade pointed in front of him.
Zephon brought up his own sword just in time, blocking the first blow but missing the second because of another wound given to him by the commander in his upper left arm. Malus' blade bit down into the unprotected flesh; Zephon hissed in pain and fell. The vampire lord tried to turn the fall into a roll but it was no use; Zephon hit the roof on his back and gasped as a bolt of pain ripped through his chest, followed by a gout of blood. His sword flew away from his hand, landing near the bloody bodies of Mecant and Daurgon. They had been killed when they had taken out three of the Sarafan commander's elite bodyguard, but the Sarafan's numbers were also low.
Of Natarek, Siglar or Zarina, Zephon did not know where they were but he could hear the sound of battle further off. Perhaps they were still alive...if Zarina was dead then he might as well give up right now. Zephon couldn't imagine the rest of his life without her beside him.
"I shall send you to Hell, vampire, and there you may suffer for all of your sins," Malus' blade pointed down at Zephon's throat; the sharp edge was just above his windpipe. One quick slash and it was all over. He closed his eyes and prepared for Final Death.
"Zephon!!" Zarina's cry cut through the air; the Clan Lord did not dare to look in her direction but to hear her voice was more than enough. She was alive. Malus' head quickly snapped to his right where Zarina stood, a small cross bolt in her hands and pointed at the Sarafan commander. "Let him go or you will be the last one to draw breath today."
The whole situation was laughable, Zephon thought with a moment of clarity. There Zarina was, covered in blood with her hair matted together by even more of the red liquid, yet the defiant look was in her eyes as she pointed a simple arrow towards someone that she perhaps once knew, who had a sword's edge pointed at her husband's throat. Malus would quickly kill him and then her; it was that simple. Pain coursed through Zephon's body and he dimly wondered that even if he survived this encounter, would he live only to be killed by his injuries? But the Sarafan commander considered Zarina to be a threat and slowly moved his sword away from Zephon's throat.
With the speed borne of desperation, and coupled with his powers of a vampire, Zephon quickly rolled to his feet and raced towards his sword, screaming silently as the chest wound made itself know once again. Raising his hand towards his sword, Zephon's weapon flew towards him and he turned once more to face Lord Malus, only to find that everything had changed. In the seconds it had taken him to take back his blade, Malus had lunged towards Zarina. Knocking the cross bolt out of her hand with a swipe from his own sword, the commander grabbed the sorceress by her hair and twisted her head back, exposing her neck. His sword's edge was pressed right up against her flesh. Zephon wanted to cry out and charge but it would only get Zarina killed. Terror lit up her eyes, but she did not make a sound or even move.
"It would appear I have the advantage now, Zephon." Malus looked at Zarina. "A traitor to her own kind; I curse your name and spit on you. You have no honour."
"I have more honour than you do, Malus," Zarina countered as she looked down at the blade pressed to her throat. "And so do the vampires."
Malus turned back to Zephon, a malicious grin spread across his face. "What would you do in a situation like this, vampire? Here I am, holding your wife's life in my hands, and there you stand, bleeding and weakened. Even if you were to do anything right now, even if you were in the best physical shape possible, you know that by the time you get here, her throat would of already been slit."
Zephon took a step forwards, his sword raised. "You would not dare. Even a human would not kill another so callously." The Clan Lord fought down the fear and anxiety in his own voice; trying to banish thoughts from his mind that Zarina would soon die.
Malus gave a condescending smile. "Oh, I dare many things."
The Sarafan commander yanked Zarina's head back as far as it would go and in one smooth motion, slit her throat with his sword. Zarina's beautiful eyes widened for a moment, pain, terror and fear flashing across her face but unable to utter a sound. Blood flowed down the front of her armour and Malus released her from his cruel grasp. She stumbled forwards to Zephon awkwardly, hands grasping at her throat, then collapsed silently on the rooftop, blood pooling around her still form.
A cry filled the air; Zephon remembered later on that it was his own. He lurched forwards, trying to catch Zarina before she fell, then dropped to his knees beside his wife's corpse. His hands were shaking as Zephon grabbed her by the shoulders and turned Zarina over. His lover's eyes stared up accusingly at him, mocking him and silently screaming at him. Zephon had done nothing to save he; he couldn't of done anything to save her. A broken howl escaped from the Clan Lord's lips and silent shudders racked his bruised body. The vampire gathered his dead wife in his arms and could only look at her with yellow eyes that seemed to be staring right past her.
Zarina was dead.
"And you will follow her to Hell," Malus' voice was filled with self-righteousness and gloating. "And the Holy Order will rise up and claim back what is rightfully it's own!" The Sarafan commander stopped talking as he gazed down at the vampire lord, who was looking back at him with a face that was...unreadable. And for once in his mortal life, Malus felt a twinge of fear inside of him.
Zephon gently lowered Zarina's body back down on the roof, then rose to his feet. He did not feel the pain anymore running through his body. The wounds were forgotten, the blood that trickled down his pale flesh did not bother Zephon. Deep inside of him, in the Clan Lord's soul, something had been ripped away, something that would never be replaced no matter how much time elapsed. Taking off his helm, Zephon cast it aside and coldly raised his sword towards Malus.
"Death," was all he said.
The vampire leapt forwards, his sword striking from the left side. Lord Malus was not ready for the sudden move and could not bring his sword up in time to block the blow. Zephon's blade bit into the mortal's flesh, cutting through the skin, muscle and right down to the bone, the impact jarring Zephon's arms. The sword was lodged in Malus' gut. He gave a wail and dropped his sword, but Zephon did not stop. Releasing the pommel from his death grip, the vampire brought his talons down on the human's face, cutting right through the metal as if it did not exist at all. Grasping Malus' lower jaw in one talon, Zephon viciously yanked the bone and flesh right off as if it did not exist at all. The blood poured down quickly but Malus was not able to see it for Zephon gave a backhand swipe to the human that blinded him in both eyes; the Clan Lord tore the orbs right out of their sockets.
Grabbing the hilt of his sword again Zephon extracted the sword from Malus' body, then raised it above his head and with a wordless cry filled with rage and grief, brought the bloodstained blade down on the human, cutting him cleaning from shoulder to groin. The body flopped down in two bloody pieces on the roof, which was slick with the blood of all who had fallen on this day.
The moon was low in the sky, the only witness to the act of carnage that Lord Zephon had committed. Dropping his sword, Zephon stood numbly over the body of Zarina, then knelt down again beside her and gathered her cold body in his arms. With a tenderness than no one saw, he closed his beloved's eyes and pressed his forehead against her's. His own yellow eyes were closed and a single tear tracked down his bloodstained cheek, falling on Zarina's cold lips.
Zephon did not hear Natarek or Siglar approach, both the worse for wear yet they would survive. They gazed in silence at the dead body of Clan Zephonim's mistress, lowering their heads as grief overtook them as well. Neither approached Zephon; they left their father alone with his own grief. The clanking of armour made Siglar turn; coming up the wide stairs to the rooftop of the fortress was Lord Turel and Lord Rahab, followed by their own vampires.
Turel looked at the destruction and the bodies in silence, but it was Rahab who spoke.
"My god," was all the scholar could utter. The moon passed behind a group of clouds, drawing away the light from the world.
****
In a small shrine in the lowest reaches of the Silent Cathedral, Zephon knelt silently in front of a stone coffin made from the purest white marble. Surrounding the coffin were white and red roses; black candles in thin and elegant holders provided light in the shrine. Carved on the front of the coffin were the words: 'Here lies Lady Zarina of Clan Zephonim, beloved wife and friend to Lord Zephon.' A small etching of a dove rested below the words. The shrine was silent; Zephon had ordered everyone else away, from his highest officers to the lowest of fledglings under pain of death. Zarina would lay here now forever, entombed in a shrine that, Zephon felt, did not do her any justice but was the most beautiful thing he had ever constructed. His clan banner was draped over his right shoulder, his hair combed back and in the vampire's hands he clasped a single rose.
Zephon was dead.
Zephon felt nothing.
Zephon was empty.
While all the other Clan celebrated their victory over the humans, who were now broken forever, he silently grieved. Nothing could pierce Zephon anymore. His heart was shredded, gone forever. No one saw him weep, but Zephon had cried so much that now there were no tears left in his body. A noise behind the Clan Lord made him rise and turn quickly, ready to kill the person who dared disturb him. He would not of cared if it was Siglar himself.
Instead standing in the doorway were his brothers, their faces serious. They had, in their own ways and time, dealt with Zarina's death. And now they came to pay their respects. Zephon did not care to hear anything from any one of them.
"Leave me," he snarled, a talon cutting through the air. "Leave me be."
"You are not well, Zephon." Raziel moved forwards slowly. "You haven't come out in a time; your children are beginning to worry-"
"Silence," Zephon cut Raziel off. "What does it matter to you? What have my children been saying to you behind my back? What does it matter to me anymore?!" Raziel tried to meet Zephon's eyes, colder than they had ever been before, then looked at the ground in silence.
"Pull yourself together, Zephon. You have grieved long enough," Dumah thundered. He pushed past Raziel and towered over Zephon, trying to intimidate him by size. "It is time to come back to the real world."
Zephon laughed and crushed the rose in his talon. He looked and Dumah and saw the uncertainty in his brother's eyes. "Grieve? Time? What does it matter to you? You did not know Zarina, you did not love Zarina! What right have you to tell me to stop grieving?" Zephon was now shouting in the small shrine, his voice echoing back to him. He waved an arm in front of his brothers and narrowed his eyes. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone! I am dead, dead to the world! As Zarina has died, so have I and nothing can be done about it!"
"Zephon..." Melchiah began.
"GET OUT!" The Clan Lord shrieked at his brothers. "Get out and leave me be! Leave me!"
The five looked at their brothers; Rahab was the first to turn and leave, his head bowed. Dumah gave one last look at Zephon as if he would have been able to do something, but followed Melchiah and Raziel out. Turel tried to say something, but the look that Zephon gave him stopped any words the mage was about to say. With a rustle from his clan banner, the second eldest left. Zephon watched them leave, then turned back to look at the coffin. He gazed down at the crushed rose in his hand, then opened his palm and the petals scattered on the floor. The vampire lord collapsed on top of the coffin, crying silently.
"Alone...leave me alone," he whispered brokenly. "I am dead to the world."
****