-Black Melody of Twilight-
By
Allen 'Barricade' Seholm
Prologue: Scarlet Threads Bound By Fate – May, 1723
Clearing another tree branch away from his eyes, and a young man's eyes finally spotted the landscape appearing through the trees. The immense field stretched out before him was covered with debris from a fallen castle squatting like a blot upon the land along the edges of a grand lake. Normally such decay would have taken years, even decades or more, but the man knew that all had occurred within a matter of minutes as his Grandfather and his bride-to-be escaped from the collapsing walls. Kicking aside a loose stone that had rolled as far as the edge of the forest, he once again, as in all previous times, marveled at the desolation and destruction left in the wake of the final climatic battle against the so-called "King of Vampires", Dracula himself. Yet he hesitated to enter, as the castle grounds were considered cursed by all within the surrounding countryside who knew of its former lord and master, and all of his inhuman acts. The youth himself was not immune to the feelings of foreboding here, even as the forest was overgrowing the remains as the years passed. Some twenty-five years had passed since the final rise of Castlevania, and now the next generation of Belmonts stood poised to enter its gates.
Phillip Belmont, youngest son of Simon Belmont, gripped down hard on the whip coiled loosely at his side. While not the famous Vampire Killer, still in possession of his father, it was a comfort knowing it was there. In the years following the castle's fall, the reports of horrors and evils in its area had dwindled rapidly until with great joy on the fifth anniversary of the castle's fall, not a single incident was reported. Since then the ruins lay quiet and left mostly undisturbed. Even now as Phillip stepped up to its very edge, it was not the call to strike down the evil lord of the castle, but of simple curiosity. He'd heard of how it was that only every one hundred years would the castle, and its master, re-appear upon this spot, and only from outside assistance could it rise sooner.
Phillip knew all of this since from almost the time he could understand the spoken word, and now just a few months after being confirmed as a man, was wandered along the edges of the crumbling walls, acting as a watchful guardian of these accursed grounds. And so he paused to rest against a fallen statue nary a stone's throw from the shattered portcullis that once formed the drawbridge into the castle proper. Switching on and off with his father and brothers at guarding, Phillip had long since decided this was the most comfortable spots to rest upon for a few minutes before continuing onwards. While being a dutiful son, he never liked to tarry long inside the wreckage of the castle. And so when he did rise to make his way through his rounds, it was with a fair amount of haste in his steps.
Had he been carrying his father's whip he might have sensed it, or had he been slightly more alert in his gaze, he might have spotted a long flowing mane of red s, followed by black wings, slip into the shadows of one of the less damaged sections where the so-called 'Living Quarters' once stood. But a small stone, dislodged by whatever had hidden itself, slipped from a surviving second floor area. With its fall, clattering like a cathedral's bells chiming for Mass, Phillip turned on his heel and hand flashing to the belt at his waist, at the ready for anything, and just as ready to run if needed. His eyes peered into the half-formed shadows of the pillars and broken tiles, but nothing emerged.
After almost a minute standing half-turned, adrenaline pumping through his veins, Phillip stood erect. Willing himself to calm down, his hand loosened over the handle of his weapons at his side. Shaking his head, he let himself imagine it was just the wind slipping fragments loose from the walls, and not some ghosts haunting amongst the remains. Still, he quickened his steps to finish his appointed patrol, making his way quickly back to the statue he had just minutes ago rested upon, for he knew that was the edge of the castle's 'influence' and he could let himself rest past that point once more.
Reaching the edge of the outlying forest, he turned to look back at the castle under the noontime sun. Phillip had hiked through the forest instead of taking the gravel path which still led from the village to the main gates, but after his little incident inside, decided that being out in the open was a far better option. That and it ran parallel around the lake in places, which was one of his favorite places to spend his free time. As the distance stretched out from the castle ruins, his steps slowed bit by bit, until he was at a mere strolling pace just as the calm lake waters burst into view from the trees.
"Twas such a shame, that a place, as cursed as that, was to appear next to such a stunningly beautiful lake."
Looking beyond the lake to its far side well to the right of him, he could spot tell-tell signs of his village just poking out from the trees. Only a few minutes walking distance away, and with such a wonderful day out, he decided to let himself relax for the moment and slumped into the grass with a happy sigh. After all he thought, he had gone through his walk far faster then his father would be comfortable with, had he planned to tell him, so he might as well rest for a time here to make up the difference, lest he return too soon and be found out.
Right about the time he was beginning to think of the clouds in shapes reminding him of breads and meats, as his stomach was beginning to let itself be known, he heard a slight rustling of the grass and the soft crunching of gravel off to his left. Far enough from the castle that he did not expect any trouble, and yet far enough from the village to be wary, he sat up as he turned to look in the direction of the sounds, and his breath caught in his throat as he did.
A young girl, not more then 16 years, was approaching him along the shoreline. Dressed in a plain, almost dull colored, flowing skirt, she was still a beauty that was stunning to the eyes. Phillip, while months past his manhood ceremony, knew he wasn't like his brothers Michael or Patrick, able to woo and flirt with any of the ladies in town, and was at quite a lack of words as she approached. She seemed to have yet to spot him, and was drawing close enough to him that he should have spoken out in greeting to her, yet his tongue held silent. Her tresses of scarlet hued hair streamed out behind her in the soft breeze coming off the lake, and he could not take his eyes from her. Had he been a painter he would have regaled her on the spot so captivated was he.
In the end, it must have been a sound he made, or a rush of cool wind that turned her eyes to face him. Twin emeralds soft in a face that was rosy and flush with youth looked over him, and with a blush turned down towards the grass between them. Silence stretched out between the two of them until it was stretched to the breaking point. It was within this demure poise that struck the first crack in Phillip's silence and at last gave him air in which to speak.
"P-pardon my lady, I did not mean to give notice I was resting here. I did not mean to trouble you by disturbing your walk with my presence."
Coming up to stand, as it was impolite to just rest there on the ground before her, Phillip belatedly realized he'd yet to state his given name to her as courtesy demanded, yet she spoke first, in a soft, shy, tone that was as sonorous as she was beautiful. It seemed to hide an inner amusement at their shared situation, yet unable to give voice to it.
"It is I who should be given pardon to you for disturbing your rest. And yet, pray tell, what be your name, as you have yet to speak it."
Phillip's cheeks heated slightly which drew her eyes up briefly to meet his. She re-adjusted her lips, partially hiding the smile that had to be hovering behind them. Bending his head towards her, acknowledging the point, he gave his best attempt at a formal bow to her, slipping slightly on the damp grass as he gave his introductions.
"My pardon again, lady. I am Phillip Belmont of the town of Veros. And if you are willing, may I ask of your name?"
Looking up at him, the young woman bit her lip lightly for a second, as if to pause for time to think before continuing. She was not one of the girls he recognized from the area and so must be from the surrounding towns, but still the Belmont name had traveled far due to the efforts of his father in lifting the curse that had been leveled against him years past. The name 'Belmont' alone was to make some people nervous, while others were put in awe. Phillip could not tell which way she would turn, considering the demure nature she had so far portrayed to him. Yet in the end she let slip a shy, but lustrous smile.
"My name is Arissa, Lord Belmont. Arissa Malfeius."