Review Responses:
bahamut: I made you smile? Gosh. I also sent you another e-mail. Thanks for keeping up with the story!
NeoSparda: Yup, I'm continuing it for at least 6 more chapters. Thanks for your offer of help, but I still have some good ideas yet. Appreciate your review!
Varyssa: Thay will be reunited: one way or another. (Yes, I like being mysterious.)
Aki: Your name is pretty, and not to look like a copycat, but I finally decided to change mine too. Thank you for your continued support!
Selphiefan 89: Kain and Raziel went to SR2, and I stuck Marina in Defiance, the part where Raziel originally went to and Kain had to catch a portal later to get there. I think this coincides with BO1 too. As always, thanks for reviewing!
A pleasant flowed through me. He was here. I felt it. Kain was here, five hundred years in the past. We still stood together, and even the sands of time couldn't separate us.
My reverie was harshly broken when I really felt someone materialize behind me. "Marina?" a vaguely recognizable voice ground out. "Whatever are you doing here? Did I not send you on your way?"
Mortanius, the Death Guardian, glowered at me, although he appeared entirely different. His robes were scarlet and magenta instead of crimson and black, but with the same blood-tipped rib bones displayed across his chest. No longer wearing a robe to obscure his features, I could see his ebony hair was slicked back from his pallid, skeletal face. His eyes glowed white in their sockets. Staring openly, I noticed he was dressed as richly as any prince. What had changed?
"You did set my feet upon the path, but now that path can go no further," I explained. "I have left my time, and returned here. I assume my coming was foretold."
"You assume too much," Mortanius replied with a hint of a smile. "Yet, I assume that you want my help."
"I'm not sure where to begin," I said nonchalantly, "so, I decided to begin at the very origin of this land. I have met Moebius already."
Mortanius grimaced. "Then, you are in need of some guidance."
"You don't care for Moebius?"
"We have…an unpleasant shared history. Still, I can't offer you much assistance. I sent you back for a reason, yet now, there is no turning back." He sighed and continued. "All I can tell you is that Avernus Cathedral is where you'll find the answers once you know the questions."
"Where is Avernus Cathedral?"
"It lies to the east, through the Termagent forest, in the heart of the city of Avernus." He pointed for emphasis.
"Thank you," I said.
"Don't thank me yet, Marina. How can you be sure I'm not leading you into a trap?"
"Because of your partner," I confessed.
The Death Guardian frowned deeply. "I don't speak with Anarcrothe. I haven't in years. We've gone our own separate routes."
"But I can. Where is he?"
Mortanius pointed again. "Dead north, beyond the Oracle's Caves. He lives with two other Guardians in Dark Eden, and quite frankly, I would rather you didn't see him. You may lose your life in the process. He and Bane and DeJoule, the Nature and Energy Guardians, have taken up residence in a tower there, and hate all vampires. They warp and twist the earth around them, creating unnatural forces and creatures. It's out of your way by many miles, and Anarcrothe himself may not understand. He's not exactly trustworthy."
I tried not to let my disappointment show. "I see. Well, I'll travel east then."
"Good luck, Marina," he said softly, promptly teleporting away. It seemed that beings used the power of teleportation to the extreme. I wished I could transport myself to another place when I desired to dismiss myself.
Again, I was left on my own. I searched the circle of trees in all four directions. I liked to think of the Pillars as a sort of compass of Nosgoth. The mountains to the north would be best avoided, no matter if the Guardian I sought to encounter was there. To the south was the Sarafan Stronghold, and as for the west…
I decided to embark to Avernus. However, I wouldn't go directly. Since Vorador was in the swamps of Termagent forest, I meant to schedule an appointment with him. Surely, the father of all vampires would know something. Yet, my true reasons for meeting him were for far more selfish purposes. I wanted to know where Lucius was. I felt like I had to know. Or had he already left, and took my human self with him? Would my sire recognize me if I happened to confront him on the woodland path?
I would have to cross every bridge when I came to it, I supposed. Before I left the raised platform that would become the dais of Kain's throne, I waited for a sign, but it was no use. Whatever bond across time I had felt a few minutes past was broken. Perhaps Kain had left the surrounding area. I didn't dare speculate further on why I could no longer sense his presence.
I moved through the clearing and entered the thicket of wildlife again. The forest here was darker, denser, and as far as I could tell, no path had been cut. I would have to make my own here on out. Meanwhile, I marveled at the deep greens of the pine trees around me, and the brightly colored birds chirping overhead. A brook coursed past me; flowing over the rocks. The sound soothed my fraying nerves and set them right again. I could do this.
One foot in front of the other, I trudged through the wilderness. Luckily, there weren't as many soldiers or hunters. The human settlements were established in the opposite direction. The east had always been less populated. Few would dare walk further so through Termogent forest unless they were really desperate or had good reason to.
Though Moebius' army had reduced in number, they had by no means completely left the area. On the outskirts, they had built camps and were polishing swords, chatting, or cooking; doing these mundane activities out of habit while waiting for a fiend to appear. I did not have to worry, for I kept to the shadows created by the wide leaves. It must have been late spring for it was not yet hot enough for summer. There was a certain warmness in the air though, and this slight balminess made it possible for the daisies under my boots to bloom.
Vorador's mansion would be a risky venture. However, if he thought to make me a bride in his harem, he was sadly mistaken. I could get away if I had to, yet I doubted I could fight him and live. Hopefully, it would not come that.
Above, the sun slowly completed its journey across the azure skies. The ground beneath me began to get muddier as the air became more humid. Vines could be seen snaking their way along tree limbs. The swamps I remembered from before were nearly in view. There would be no danger of a confrontation here. A mist lay atop of the greenery of grass, and both the weather and the odor were quickly becoming unpleasant. Whatever had possessed Vordaor to build his abode in the middle of a swamp? The fetid water beneath the rafts of ivy and marshes would surely scald a normal vampire's skin. Did he do it for protection? Some other purpose?
Quite suddenly, a branch snapped behind me, halting my train of thought. My sword was drawn in seconds; the sapphires on the hilt glittering in the sparse light coming in through the thick canopy of willow trees overhead. Moebius was still sending his soldiers after me, but I was ready.
Even so,I was unprepared at what I beheld. It was a huge beast. A hairy beast that stood at least seven feet tall with long, lethally sharp claws and teeth. This creature was obviously a sort of werewolf, yet there was no full moon to be seen. The beast growled low in its throat; its yellow eyes glowing hatefully, prepared to kill and maim human or vampire. I had never encountered a creature akin to this, yet I suspected it shared something in common with any other being: it could be destroyed.
The demon snarled and flew at me, talons outstretched. I sent a telekinetic blast and diverted its path of imminent destruction. It gave a horrible howl and tried to swipe at me with its sweeping arms. Jumping up on a nearby ruin, I glowered at the creature. On the ground, it was going berserk, desperately trying to rip me to the shreds. I was out of my league here. In the Nosgoth I knew, no such beings existed.
From my perch, I tried to strike at it. After three hits, I succeeded. The demon roared a blood gushed down its face. For good measure, I scratched it with my own claws, blinding the creature. With a howl of defeat, it finally retreated into the brush.
Carefully, I climbed back down and sheathed my weapon. I was not frightened by my experience, yet it left me overwhelmed. It was either kill or be killed in these woods. Strangely, I was empowered by it. I could be a warrior in my own way.
I embarked again to the mansion I sought and was faced with more problems. It was bad enough there were wolves in this swamp whose main purpose for existing was ripping someone's throat out, but now the very vegetation was attacking me! A bizarre, spiky plant with snaking stems and blood-red thorns was spitting energy bolts at me. The huge viridian bud at the top was like a watchtower; attacking all who wandered into its vision from afar. I dodged the stream of white-hot bolts and rolled beneath them, ending up facedown in the marsh.
Angrily, I wiped the mud from my cheeks. Though it was unpleasant, it would be far worse if I hadn't the immunity to water. My skin would've been completely burned. The wild swamp around me was wiser than I and knew how to protect itself from an intruding vampiress from the future.
I labored along until the sun made its descent into the hills, turning the sky from crisp blue to golden-orange. Misty lavender and pink clouds swam in the air like fish. A cool evening wind blew from the east, promising the velvet blackness to come. Shadows surrounded me in the growing gloom, but my night vision was clear. I could walk all night to Vorador's mansion, in the hopes that the gracious "host" inside would welcome me. I knew little about Vorador; the history texts were vague and contradictory, and no one spoke of him, yet it seemed that Kain grimaced whenever the occasion arose. Kain and Vorador had not been friends, even though they hadn't known each other personally for long. The Father of the Vampires had been killed a few precious days later. I prayed that he was indeed alive and not executed by Moebius' fanatics.
I couldn't help noticing that the ground appeared to be getting steeper and less muddy as I ascended, much like the crescent moon that was rising ever higher; bathing everything pure luminous quicksilver from its changeable perch in the rose tinged atmosphere. I was growing tired. I knew it had been more than six hours I had set out, but even before, I had been racing to the Time-Streaming Chamber. I hadn't had a whit of sleep for two whole nights. Vampires needed regular bed rest due to their advanced powers, especially when such as I had been heavily relying on them for survival. If only I could find an adequate blood source by midnight…
The overgrown grass and sucking swamp were flattened by my suddenly angry footsteps. Mortanius had better not have sent me on a suicide mission or a fool's errand. Vorador's mansion had to be near.
And as it turned out, it was. A curious sight emerged from the darkening twilight mists. It was a skull. A skull fixed to the top of a post. Presumably, it was from a human being who found out how hostile Vorador really was. An extravagant being such as he wanted to make a statement. He alone had claimed this territory, and anyone who thought otherwise paid the price.
I followed this "road of bones," observing the mysterious eerie green orbs of light floating above me. There was a name for this phenomenon, but I confess I forgot it, though I remembered something about a "path to hell." Not very encouraging in this aspect. I followed these landmarks in the starlight, wondering what I was thinking coming to Vorador for any advice. I followed the carefully placed rows of death placed on either side of the trail to warn each and every human and invite the occasional brave, daring vampire. Or an incredibly desperate stupid one.
This path wound like the loops of a snake until at last I was faced with a semi-welcoming sight. Two ornate iron gates depicting dragons—Vorador's historical symbol—decorated the gold, burnished structures. My destination was at hand. I pushed open the boundary, which squeaked under my hesitant claws and stepped into a fantastical walled courtyard of stone spread out before the most magnificent abode ever built. It was easily more impressive than the Sanctuary of the Clans and was five times bigger than my former home; the mansion I lived with my sire nearly eight centuries ago. Any delusions that Vorador's mansion could be that particular building I was "raised" in as a fledgling evaporated.
The courtyard itself was dreamy weathered stone with thick columns piercing the air, mimicking a sort of pillars. Four rectangular ponds of sparkling water each surrounded a marble warrior angel: each one in a different pose, all painstakingly carved to perfection. Against the front of the house were shrubbery and perfectly manicured landscaping. The mansion itself was an overwhelming sight and demanded immediate attention. It was constructed of pink and cream sandstone with more gleaming white columns framing the massive wooden front door that simultaneously supported the four levels that converged into three individual towers that were painted olive, red, and sable. Vorador could occupy any of the topmost structures and could be peering down at me. There were certainly enough windows to do so. The stained glass set into every story glistened in the light of the moon, and the colors seemed to take on a life of their own. Vorador clearly appreciated his art and luxury.
As I took in this stupendous architecture, I felt a sort of peace emanate from within. I had reached my goal. Inside was a being that could help. Could, not would. Regardless of this uncertainty, the quiet serenity spreading throughout my body only intensified. Had the worst been braved? Or was this simply the quiet before the storm?
I approached the entrance, unsure of what to do. I was awestruck by the sheer magnificence of this blessed place. Polite etiquette dictated that once should knock, but that seemed a little juvenile in this particular situation. Then again, I couldn't just barge in uninvited, demanding an audience. Could I?
I tried the gold latch on the polished oak door that was surrounded by more colorful stained glass, and found it surprisingly unlocked. It opened smoothly without a mere sound. This was perplexing. Shouldn't Vorador himself do his best to protect his home from the marauding bands of vampire hunters? Unless he had completely gave up on living. Or, perhaps, it was a challenge. A contest for the courageous that brandished their swords with zeal, only to discover someone standing behind them ready to rip out their heart. The Father of the Vampires needed his sport in all likelihood.
However, the door snapped shut behind me as soon as I moved in the candlelight of the opulent interior. Turning around, I attempted to open it to prove my theory. Yes. It had locked. I would not be leaving by that exit, yet no one else would be able to enter. Still, I didn't foresee another so desperate for the company of the vampire Vorador.
I switched my gaze to the deep ruby hall around me with its gold moldings. A portrait of Vorador himself hung in front of me on the velvet-flocked wallpaper. On the floor was the symbol of his namesake dragon; meticulously painted. Crystal chandeliers hung above me; quivering in the slight breeze. I recognized the décor of my sire's own abode. Vorador had apparently made quite an impression on him.
The plush cherry carpet muffled my footfalls once I set off down the exquisite jeweled corridor. It appeared that I was the sole inhabitant, but I knew better. The red hall split in two separate directions, but both seemed to convene at the same place. I chose the left branch, and found myself in a vast chamber that rose up around me on all four walls. Tiers of crème marble, rose pink, and darker mauves held numerous burnished doors that led off to separate sections of the house surrounded me. The marble floor below was polished to a glaring shine and was perfectly elegant. If one laughed here, it would echo for a full minute. Directly across from me was another stone angel; terrible and fierce looking. I regarded it nervously, almost expecting it to jump to life.
However, something else completely captured my interest. It was a stained glass motif of a beautiful slender woman with ultramarine skin and gorgeous waving raven hair. Her facial features were captivating with full dark lips. Like Raziel when he evolved, she possessed lovely curved wings. Her tight clothes were of russet leather armor that I myself used to wear. In her long, delicate fingers, she held an odd symbol of a teal hue. Upon closer inspection, I recognized that this symbol was the Nosgothian elemental symbol for water. What did Vorador's mansion have to do with the element of water? I was growing suspicious. Studying the winged woman, a kind of realization dawned. If my own skin were a more distinct blue and not merely tinged with the shade, and I too had been gifted with wings…the woman and I would be identical. Foggy thoughts raced through my tired mind. Would I grow wings someday? What exactly is the woman?
"Intruder!" a haughty voice roared. I instantly turned to find two of Vorador's brides staring at me.
"What business do you have here?" one of the women hissed. Her mane was the color of flame, with her face entirely too painted with rouge. She pulled up the sage green skirts of her provocative, low-cut gown and rushed towards me. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced over at the girl's companion. The dignified brunette with red lips stood demurely. Her dress resembled that of a nightgown and was pure white with flowing veils. She guardedly watched me with her silver, glowing eyes.
"My name is Marina. I wish to have an audience with your sire."
The blonde eyed me jealously. "You can't see him, and you will die for trespassing. I'll see to it."
"Tara, don't. She's strong. I can sense it. You can't fight her alone," the brunette called out.
"Then join me, Bianca." Tara replied simply.
Underestimating the pretty brides would be a bad idea. They were wily, shrewd, and had a strong presence to allure, persuade, or to trick women as well as men. These girls were gifted in certain magics and could do considerable damage should they be developed enough in power. Brandishing my sword once more, I again was prepared to take on both foes before the night was out. No matter how weak I felt.
TBC