Author's Notes: This is taking me awhile to figure out. As the events of things goes, I had to do some heavy research into the game again, rehash old conversations simply because I felt like it. That meant reading over Scripts and things.. I've been looking for a Soul Reaver 1 script.. but alas...
Yet another vampire graces these sweet Digital Pages that I have woven for your reading content. Breathe not a word of this to others, though... something tells me it'll be a surpriiise!
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This has been an interesting walk. But however long it may be, I find myself intrigued by the simple beauty of this wintry forest. Amanda seems capable enough, without falling into drifts of snow every once in awhile. Raziel watched her bound forth, clumsily on her human feet, but trying her hardest to be as graceful as any vampire in the world.
She took her time wisely when she needed to. Finally, when the journey seemed to be wearing his patience thin, they reached an old house on the edge of what appeared to be a driveway. It was unshoveled, but there was a warm light emanating from within the low sitting cottage.
Raziel hesitated. This was his first meeting with a human other than the young girl, Amanda. He folded his arms over his chest, greatly hesitant and was not forthcoming when it came to following her. Amanda paused, almost at the door when she turned. Her eyes glittered slightly as she spoke.
"Are you afraid? She isn't going to steal your soul. That's really more your market, Razzle. C'mon, I know her, her name's Petra and she's really nice. I buy most of my components from her."
After a moment more of deliberate thought, he nodded and silently met her at the door. She raised her hand, knocking in an obvious pattern. The stealth felt right to Raziel - if this woman had any knowledge, then what better way to protect oneself than to live in an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere?
The door opened slightly, barred to a few inches by a sturdy length of chain. She peered from a cloak, which was highly unusual attire for a human of this realm. She narrowed her eyes, sparkling as her gaze came into contact with the dark towering vision of Raziel. Then she looked down at Amanda, who was nervously fiddling with her parka zipper.
"What do you want?" Petra whispered, huddling closer to the door.
"I called you earlier. I told you I would be coming," Amanda said, as if doubting the experience. "But you shouldn't be afraid of this man. He's Raziel. I'm helping him find his way." And after a pause, "I can't do it alone."
"Lost his way, hm? Come in." She rattled the chain and admitted them entrance. Raziel slowly followed his companion, alarmed at the amount of books lining the walls of this hallowed tomb. He brushed dust with his claws from a nearby shelf, exposing old, darkened wood.
There was a fire, he thought privately. And what a sad waste of knowlede it would have been, had it taken the pages of these books into its fiery maw.
"I can see that you've been traveling for a very long time, stranger," Petra interrupted, seating herself at a long, wooden desk covered with candles and objects. There was an arcane symbol etched in the wood in front of her. Upon closer inspecton, Raziel realized it was glowing blue.
"What do you know of me?" Raziel demanded, at once assuming the arrogant, careful role of the pursued.
Amanda stood away and watched, her face turning red as the heat of this place, seemingly coming from nowhere at all, bubbled into her chilled face. She shook the snow off where she stood, and watched it melt away beneath the floorboards.
Petra pushed her hood back slowly. "Nothing, nothing. Just a crazy woman rambling. Now, my child, my lovely Amanda, what can I do for you? Certainly this is no ordinary visit for pricy spell ingredients, yes?"
"I need help figuring out how to get him back to his own...ah, place. He's really not from around here at all," Amanda replied, walking closer and investigating the various pots and things on a wide array of shelves to the left of the desk and Petra. Turning, she faced her. "Don't ask too many questions. I can't speak for Raziel. Only he can tell what you'd need to know."
"Raziel, is it? Very well." The woman stood up. And stepping into more light, Raziel gasped harshly, and something of a horror stole over him. For the woman's face was devestatingly familiar. The stark reality of her features gave Raziel cause for stunned silence.
Ariel...?
Petra - no, Ariel - turned to Raziel and smiled at him softly. There was no cruelty, only the bittersweet despair that a familiar ghost carried. Her aura spoke volumes of the kind of suffering only the dead can know. Could it be that the Guardian of Balance, slain, who had haunted the Pillars for so long, was in some way reborn to another life?
No, it can't be.
"Is there something on your mind?" Petra purred quietly, turning away as though shy.
Raziel forced his tongue to work. "Nothing. Nothing at all. But, please, tell me. How is it that I can return to my homeland? It is vastly important I return."
The witch-woman was all too glad to point him in the right direction. "See those books there? No, one shelf higher. Yes... You may find some answers there. I see in your face you've got a number of questions."
With that information, Raziel was left to look as he pleased. He removed the first text, which nearly fell apart in dust but somehow managed to stay intact long enough for Raziel to find a flat surface, and thumb carefully through the withered pages.
He was loathe to read the language written here. He only understood the modern tongue, for as old as Amanda's written language was, it was more difficult to read an even younger version of it. So instead he moved slowly through the book, until he came to a depiction. Recognition bit with an iron grasp in his soul as the blazing image penetrated his vision.
The Reaver lay, portrayed so familiarly in its reverent state, upheld in a circle of light that brought painful memories of hidden, crumbling murals scattered across Nosgoth, hinting at secrets only the deceiving manipulators could tell him but were as yet not forthcoming.
More pages revealed the Reaver. Finally, he attempted to read some of the text which only described something called the Excalibur. But the resemblance of its image was far too much of a coincidence. Certainly no sword on this earth was curved as the Reaver.
He chose another book. This time it was fully illustrated, and huge, with large artistic drawings of angels descending from the heavens. There was a full-color image of what may have been a much larger painting, depicting Heaven and Hell in the same sequence, with naked mortals either writhing in agony or joyous in blissful ecstacy. He flipped the page again.
Janos Audron. Raziel felt his heart burn with sadness at the fate he had suffered at the hands of himself. He fought bitterly with his own self-loathing. But he had satisfied that bloody revenge by slaughtering that Sarafan Raziel, that... bastard for what he had done. He knew that one of the many things on his list of things to accomplish was return Janos's heart, which lie hidden somewhere in the Sarafan Stronghold.
Oddly, he found his fingers caressing the depiction. Michael, he thought as he read the word. How interesting.
Petra was handing Amanda some things. Last of all were a pair of airline tickets. Amanda blinked at them, and seeing the destination, her eyes widened. "Where the hell did you get these?"
Petra raised a finger. "Ah... the quickest way to end a miracle is to ask what it is... or where it came from."
"Tell me, woman," Raziel said softly. "Do you know of the sword... In my world, they call it the Reaver."
Petra raised her eyes to him. Her focus seemed to intensify as she regarded him with chilling recognition. Finally she walked closer and she took his arm - the arm that was the conduit for the Reaver's power. She stroked his palm softly, speaking as she did, ignoring his sudden urge to recoil. "I know of it. Its stories are older than all of us... I, too, have come a long way from home... why do you suppose such knowledge of the Egyptian teleporter belongs to me?"
"You reek of wisdom beyond any mortal reckoning... but I suppose that comes with being a witch. You must have many stories to tell..."
"But there's no time to spin any yarns now, is there? You have to go home, stranger. There are entities in this world that are called to your existence that would see you destroyed... at the very least, they would cause you great aggravation."
She released his arm. She pulled her hood forward again and turned away, facing Amanda, who was watching intensely, strangely jealous of the contact Petra casually made with the soul-devourer.
"Those tickets can be used at Plattsburgh airport. You will take a twin-engine plane to Boston, where a larger craft will bear you across to Egypt. Take the books and components I've given to you. Practice your spells carefully on your trip and you may yet find a way to bear your friend home again."
Raziel walked to Amanda, who tucked her tickets safely away. He took her hand and she squeezed back, unafraid, and obviously not bothered by his sharp talons. She thanked Petra, who nodded in turn and sat at the desk again, poring over her symbols. This time, she didn't look up again.
On the way out, the snow crunched anew and somehow clouds had wandered across the sky, and deposited lazy white light, spiraling into the white masses below. Standing ahead of us, silhouetted against the dark gnarled pine trees, heavy with white snow, a vampire waited for us. With a familiar flick of his wrist, he motioned for us to follow.
"I only overheard that you're to go to Plattsburgh. I've got a truck waiting just down this road." The vampire Darius turned without further adieu while the pair followed, not at all surprised that he had the gall to somehow follow them here.