Disclaimer: I do not own Castlevania, or anything that doesn't belong to me (wow, really redundant, huh?). Anything else does belong to me. Thank you.

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Author's Note: For those of you who have sampled this story, then you'll be getting an all-new experience. If you haven't, well, you get a good story out of it. I felt as if I wasn't giving my best, and the story was just getting stale IMO, so I'm scrapping it and writing it all over. Yes, most of the characters will return (I can't help it if I love Alucard; he's such an angsty bad-ass), but the story will be retooled so that it's hopefully better. The story is still going to keep its trilogy role, as this will be retitled to be Book One. Not only will the story be retooled, though, it will also feature some slight links to the games, so be on the lookout. Okay, well, I guess I've kept you long enough. Please R&R, and happy reading!

To Victoria

For those to whom power is given, much is required.

The Ring of the Wolf

Aleksander's Story

Prologue

July 8, 1723

Somewhere in Bretagne, France

Slowly, quietly, he slinked across the courtyard, thieves' tools in hand. A grin crept across his face as he thought about his situation. "Yeah, this should be easy enough," he thought. "There isn't anyone here, no guards, no nothin'. Should be easy for me to get it."

The man's black clothes kept him from being seen in the darkness, but he still held a dagger, just in case. He spied from a bush the darkened opening which was the entrance to this fortress-like estate. "Good," he told himself, "No one here. Perfect." Silent as a cat, he padded from his hiding place to the entrance, always wary of someone seeing him. The door was already open. "This is just my night." Quietly, he entered.

Looking around produced the results of quite the lengthy examination: no one was there, and it looked like no one had been there for a long time. It had the eerie feeling of being abandoned, and the ghosts of those who had lived there long ago were looking down. The thief made his way down one of the estates massive hallways, not sure where he was going. He grabbed a candle off of a table and lit it with some flint. Off he went down the hall, light in hand, mind on the sole purpose of his presence here.

Meanwhile, something was following him. A cloak, seemingly hanging in thin air, silently maneuvered out of eyesight when the thief turned to look behind him. As soon as the thief turned back down the hall, the figure resumed its shadowing status. It was obvious why the thief couldn't see him; he was as black as shadow.

The thief made his way down the hall until he came to a set of doors, which looked rather odd in this place. They seemed to be made of stone, with many runes and carvings in it, but they were made entirely out of wood, the same as the rest of the house. "Bingo. This has to be it!" He made his way inside, closing the door behind him.

Inside, the thief surveyed the room. Nothing looked like it had been touched in ages, a thick coat of dust covering everything in this room. There were plenty of books lining the walls, with a fireplace in one side and a chair, with its back to the door, close to it. In the opposite side, there was a display case made from the simplest carpentry, as if the maker had intended to build it as quickly as possible. But on second glance, its seemingly hasty figure turned out to be a very complex pattern, with runes covering every inch of the wood. There was a large balcony opposite from the door, looking out over the moors in which this estate had been built.

The thief turned around after going to the window, and froze. In the chair was what appeared to be a person with a book in his hands making like he was reading. In reality, it was a corpse, probably a few decades old, its gnarled fingers grasped tight around the cover of the book. After his inspection, the thief went back to look over the display case again.

Approaching the case, he noticed a mist starting to make its way into the room under the door. Thinking nothing of it, he cracked open the case. "Seems like all those runes were just superstitious brew-ha-ha," the thief told himself. Peering in, he saw his worst nightmare: nothing. His heart sunk; all his dreams had been shattered.

All his life, he had been told about a treasure worth more than any in the world: a simple ring. It was simple, and yet it wasn't so simple. He had heard that the ring would grant its user incredibly good stealing skills; his reason for stealing it was quite simple: he wanted to be the world's best thief. He had been doing his best, and finally (or so he thought) found the place that entombed the ring. Unfortunately, no one had told him its other properties…

He thought back to where else the ring could be in this room, when a strange thought hit him. He crept back to the chair with the corpse, and looked at its fingers. There it was, waiting for him. The markings matched perfectly to what he had been told; this must be it. He noticed, though, that the corpse's fingernails were unusually long and sharp, as was its teeth. He gave it no thought, and grabbed for the ring.

And then he materialized.

"NO!" The figure screamed, as the thief got the ring. He threw the finger back at the corpse, and glanced nonchalantly at him. He was a noble, from the appearance of his clothes, which were a solid black except for gold buttons, chains, and buckles, white tunic, and the underside of his cape was an intricate pattern of red velvet and silk. At his belt was a wicked-looking sword, whose name was Crissaegrim, and his eyes shone with a hellish fire in the night, as well as his white skin.

"And who the hell are you?" the thief asked. He tossed the ring back and forth.

"My name is not of any importance. You are not allowed to have that ring. Give it to me NOW!" The man held out his hand, hoping that he wouldn't have to resort to violence. His opponent wasn't going to back down though.

"Why should I? I should have this ring; I stole it, fair and square. And I won't even let you see it if you don't tell me who you are."

Breathing a sigh of annoyance, he answered, "My name is Alucard, if you're happy. Now, give me the ring. It isn't yours; you have no idea what it can do." He grabbed the hilt of his sword, ready for a fight.

"Well, Alucard… Wait, you said you were Alucard?" He nodded. The thief started to get somewhat alarmed, which was evident in his actions. "Well, even so, I won't let you have this ring. It's mine, and I won't have someone taking it from me, even you!" With that, he slid the ring onto his finger, and all at once a massive transformation took place. He started growing in size, hair appearing all over his body. His mouth turned into a snout, many sharp teeth poking from it, and his hands grew sharp claws. His legs began to resemble a wolf's. By the time the process was finished, he was twice the size of Alucard, and he could have easily sliced him in two. As long as he was human. But Alucard wasn't human; he was vampire.

Immediately Crissaegrim leapt from its sheath as if possessed, connecting with the wolf's flesh. It howled in agony, then bent down to knock Alucard out of the way. He flipped over the wolf's paw, and sliced at its arm. Unfortunately for the vampire, the werewolf could heal itself.

"Damn it! Why didn't I just kill him in the first place? It would have been much easier!" He sidestepped the razor sharp claws that came down at him, and rolled under its massive paw, his sword at the ready. The wolf was becoming furious, its swipes and bites becoming more accurate. Alucard had to work hard to try to stay out of the way of getting hit by the werewolf. Finally, the wolf connected, sending Alucard through three rooms before his fall was broken by a sofa. Alucard changed into a wolf, and proceeded to try to teach the upstart a lesson.

Alucard rushed straight at him, faster than lightning, and bit into the soft flesh under his throat. The werewolf grabbed him and slung him out the window as he started to heal. Then he jumped down to take on the vampire, wanting that thing out of the way.

Alucard started to get up, but he knew he was too weak for something that the ring had created. He needed help, but where could he get it from? The Guardians were the closest, but he had a feeling that someone more capable would appear. A certain man by the name Belmont…

As the werewolf neared, Alucard turned into a swarm of bats that flew past the werewolf, out of his claws. The werewolf looked up; it was new moon. And yet he was still a wolf. He howled at the darkened moon, and started his death march across Europe.