A/N: Oh my, almost a two-month break! I'm sorry all those who has been waiting for the newest chapters, but IRL had been keeping me busy when that one LoS AU did not dominate my mind. But, no worries, the most recent chapter is here, fresh out of oven. Thank you for the kind words and comments, they made my daaaaay oh so much! ILY dearies! Also, hah, we're approaching the end-game: two or three chapters to go and this story will be finished! :)
Growling rasps rumbled in the beast's throat, fleeing its gullet in a form of stifled coughs. The gargantuan reptile sailed through the silver-embroidered skies, guided by the powerful tugs of the archfiend, currently saddled on his back.
A peculiar numbness chained the Dragon's limbs together a while back, but this... this shouldn't be happening! True, summoning his true form and remaining metamorphosed for more than a couple of minutes had always put a tremendous strain on his power. However, no matter the pain he endured, the lifeblood of others would always quench, muffle the suffering until only an intoxicating euphoria remained, but now...
A billow of sulfuric smog escaped the Dragon's flaring nostrils. Damn the thrice-cursed castle and its demon! Damn it to the deepest, darkest crevices of Inferno from which it had crawled out of! A measly leech, a parasite, a gnat! Dracul's hate incarnate, with an ambition of a hundred... nay, thousand demons! Its blighted domain might have been abandoned, but the vampire felt deep within his gut that the castle would not cede its power that easily.
In spite of the wind whistling its unyielding serenade and droplets of rain bouncing off of his scaly hide with a hollow thud, Dracul could freely decipher the Forgotten One's words.
"We must have covered a significant distance by now," Ikay mouthed, glancing at the foggy horizon. "There's a clearing up ahead suitable for landing. Bring us around it."
I do not take orders from you, demon! Dracul snarled, an indignant grunt parting his jaws. Command someone else!
The archfiend guffawed to himself. "I speak a lot of languages, Gabriel, including ancient Enochian, but infuriated draconic squawks are beyond my range of comprehension."
Squawks?! The transformed vampire let out a guttural hiss.
"Arguing will not get us anywhere, my former nemesis. We both, accompanied by your scion, know you're going to land either way." Ikay's heels prickled the Dragon's sides. "Make haste."
Recompensing the audacious demon with a string of colorful curses, Dracul made land upon the outskirt of the forest, his belly brushing gingerly against the carpeted soil. Pine needles and tawny leaves alike soared into a hurricane forged by the rhythmical beating of his wings. He paused, trying to catch his breath. His long ratlike tail twitching, the elder sprung his feathered head to glance about.
The violent chatter of many spooked corvidae drummed against the vampire's ears, and he could espy an elk beating a hasty escape deeper into the woods. Somewhere, numerous squirrels rattled with their belongings: the soothing noise made Dracul relax.
Aside from the vampires and a sole demon, this grove appeared to be completely in nature's wintery grasp. Untouched by man, nor his instruments, a soft growl escaped the reptile's gullet.
Upon hearing the grumble, The Forgotten One agilely hopped off of the Dragon's back, followed closely by Alucard. Upon ensuring that both were out of range, the vampire let formless shadows entwine his whole body, ruptured wings, scales, and colossal size all melting away like an icicle in the sun. A moment, and Gabriel reverted back into his human guise, swaying just a little.
"An interesting ability that," Ikay stated, watching the vampire with a curious glint in his beady eyes. "Where did you acquire it? I assume you didn't just stumble upon it by accident."
Dracul stirred at being addressed. He wished to snap at the archfiend's overbearing inquisitiveness, but fatigue mellowed his response. "The offspring of the draconic old gods would annunciate the return of the beast. 'Tis an ancient prophecy, or so I am told."
"Oh? The same one, or a new one?"
Gabriel clicked his tongue. "Another, I believe."
"So, you're saying you have been chosen to be the catalyst of not just one prophecy, but two?"
"Fortunately, they both have come to pass. The Lords of Shadow are no more, I have their power and position as His Champion, earned my boy's forgiveness," he could feel Alucard's warm smile, "excommunicated Lucifer – twice, – and here I am, outside the castle grounds, conversing with a demon I imagined I vanquished a long time ago." Dracul gave the fiend in question a crooked smirk.
"Just one thing worth of noting, Gabriel. I'm a daemon, not a demon," the Forgotten One returned with a brief chuckle.
"Daemon? Like the Daemon Lord I had been sent to capture?"
"Indeed. Satan is my rival, just as he is yours. While the Devil rules Gehenna, the Sovereign governs Penumbra, the Shadow Plane. We are monarchies. Satan commands demons. I direct daemons. Both embody evil, I won't argue here, but we value a set structure and laws. We despise Lucifer and his hellish anarchy, just as we loathe the Heavenly plane and its paragons. Or, at least, before the Founders abandoned their mortal shells. Much has changed since that eventful day." The archfiend juddered his horned head. "But we've dallied long enough. The last piece of the relic awaits."
Elsewhere...
"Oh no. The affliction... it's blooming. Something must be done."
Her friend clenched and uncurled his singed, stained with embers and coals, fingers. "And what do you propose?" he spoke, voice tinged with unusual steel.
Marie's brow darkened. "I don't know... Something. Don't you understand? If this... this degradation progresses at this rate... you will have to be put down – like a dog, Almighty preserve us, - before you evolve into a threat to our society."
"I have faith. He would never allow that," the warrior replied sullenly, fastening the ornate metal gloves around his forearms. "Despite all, we have to keep our heads leveled. We've been ordered to hold our position here and if this is what needs to be done, we will accomplish it."
"What, loiter around aimlessly and observe as you wane away?" the woman hissed through clenched teeth. "I have witnessed the Decay and the Sundering firsthand. Never again."
The warrior's icy eyes flashed dangerously. "Marie, as your superior, I order you to stay put! This is not your responsibility... but mine. Or did you forget that?"
The Keeper glared back, stoic. "You're not my commander. I serve only the Almighty."
"And I am His vassal," he answered, an affectionate smile quirking his lips. "My love, understand: you are no fighter. You are a guide, a guardian. You decide the fate of the departed. It falls to me to carry through your final judgment."
"But... but I have the power! I can descend to the earth, explain our situation to him-!"
"Beloved, listen." His gauntlet-clad hands carefully cupped the woman's blushing face. "You yourself had urged me to never lose faith. We must believe, rely on His wisdom. This is not the time for doubt."
"I do not waver," the woman whimpered, her slim hands curling around his wrists. "I never did. I am bedeviled. Bedeviled... Even the Devil was an angel once. His favored."
"I will not fall, my love. Your hope and guidance taught me that."
Once the vampires plunged themselves into the seamless convolution of the Maelstrom, the armored fiend resumed his birdwatching vigil, pondering over recent events. So many milestones in just one day! Disentangled from his physical cage by his own jailer, inhabiting a newly revivified body, cooperating with his former arch enemy...
Former. A hollow guffaw escaped the mighty daemon's throat.
Yes, all was going well according to the plan. Well, the daemon did indeed have all the time in the world to plot and perfect his revenge as he whiled away the uncounted centuries in his cocoon. In fact, this single thought... this unfeigned longing, had sustained the Sovereign in his suspended animation. Not allowed for the waters of oblivion... to submerge him.
Not to mention, he had at long last gained Gabriel's begrudging trust. Perhaps, he had finally acknowledged that he depended upon the daemon's assistance. Or perhaps that the Sovereign of Darkness had managed to establish a shaky union with his scion. Either of those galled the elder vampire to no end, and the Forgotten One understood that well. Nevertheless, Gabriel would never attack him now – too much revolved around his knowledge and power.
Ah, such an intriguing concept... to be pardoned for trying to eviscerate the human realm.
And the eldritch whirlpool... The Forgotten One could simply unmake the artifact, trap his foe in the crimson depths of his own ebbing mind. But... no. The vampire had been pleading for the Reaper, for this Angel of Death, to arrive and claim his unlife for centuries now. Such a merciful release would only please him. No, for the humiliation, for the theft, for the millennium-long duress... the mongrel only deserved a kindred punishment.
Haha, Lucifer's own lapdog, the deceased Azazel, had been quite correct in this regard. Patience is rewarded. Patience and purpose.
"I'm sorry, Lightbearer," the Forgotten One mocked the ever-observant Devil. "Bless me, Father, for tonight I bring you the Dragon."
The faint rustle of the leaves made the daemon jolt and snap his crowned head in the direction of the sound. "Oh," he mouthed. "The Justicar. I didn't... expect you to be here so soon. What is your business here, m'lady?"
A slim feminine figure in an azure dress emerged into the open, posture proud and gait buoyant. "I have come to thank you, Ikay," the woman said. "For everything you have achieved so far. Without your aid, this journey would have been impossible."
"A thousand years in isolation, my lady. The passing of my powers. And before that, three centuries in the Founders' rift." The Forgotten One let of an uncharacteristically bitter laugh. "That was my penance for treason. For blindly believing Lucifer's fabrications." The giant bowed, humbled. "But as long as I receive what was promised to me, I am ready to follow your orders, lady virtue. What does the Creator require of me now?"
Sun.
Its heavenly rays prickled harmlessly against his skin, swelling his being with long-bygone warmth. And the overall sensation... was that hoarfrost prickling his skin?
Gabriel hauled himself on his feet, blinking tiredly – the escape from the castle, and the consequent transformation, had sapped him of the strength. His parched throat ached with thirst. Hunger demanded to be filled. But now, just like many times before... when his heart still pulsed erratically within his chest, the vampire pushed the yearning aside.
The remembrance of a small family massacred because of their precious lifeblood still bloomed within Dracul's mind. The father, so honorably trying to protect his kin. He fell first. The mother, cradling her child before she was wrestled away and devoured till only a wrinkled peel remained... And, finally, the daughter herself, her larynx chewed wide open, oily liquid spilling forth and dyeing her entire canvas scarlet.
Gabriel's hand flew to rub his cheek where Azazel's venomous spittle had found purchase. The elder involuntarily startled as his fingertips brushed against the muscle's powdery surface: his skin had plastered off like dry clay. No matter. A few wounds – no matter their severity, – never fazed the former knight. No reason to allow them now.
"Trevor, I-" The vampire glanced about, fully expecting to spot the white-haired warrior beside him, but... he wasn't there. A wintery meadow, bathing in daylight. A fairly large estate towering over this tiny, yet immaculate garden, but no Trevor.
Dracul bared his teeth in a silent snarl. "Ikay!" he shouted furiously at the governing daemon, but only silence responded his demand. "Damn it!"
Still, he thought, Alucard's skill in combat nearly surpassed his own, and his determination out-rivaled that of his sire's. The boy could stand up for himself, wherever he ended up. Dracul glanced at the cloudless skyscape and the sol suspended high in the heavens. Hmm... Perhaps, it was even fortunate Trevor couldn't accompany him.
Nevertheless, he had to continue on his way. This time, alone. Complete this domain's trial in order to obtain the last piece of the relic.
Carefully treading forward, the former knight bid the time to study his surroundings. He did not recognize neither the two-storied mansion, nor the garden to the side, but, something appeared out of place in this painted with frost utopia. Yet Gabriel could not pinpoint what had bothered him. Surely, 'twasn't the sunlight setting his senses ablaze?
Dracul froze in his tracks: a middle-aged woman in a shawl emerged from the manor gates and toddled deeper into the meadow where a lanky spear-wielding warrior awaited her. Oddly enough, neither seemed to acknowledge the vampire's presence, despite him being a mere hundred feet away. Perplexed, he decided to shadow the pair's trek.
It took the former knight a couple of minutes to realize that the woman had been cradling a slim scroll against her bosom. An infant babe, carefully wrapped in a blanket, sniffled in its uneasy slumber. The woman planted a gentle kiss on the child's forehead and the babe let out a squeaky giggle.
"How have you been keeping up, my lady?" the guard intoned, walking alongside her. "Are you content?"
"I'm fine, Frederick," the noblewoman replied, eyes affixed on the babe. "The childbirth had enervated me of my youthful vigor, but I'm fine now." She smiled. "But, content is an understatement. I'm positively ecstatic! The child is... he is perfect. Healthy. Strong and handsome. And his eyes... the exact hue of the sea."
"I share your joy, my lady. What about our lord Cronqvist? Has he been faring well?"
Lady Cronqvist nodded. "Certainly better. He's exhausted, though. Yesterday, he stayed with me for the whole night, tending and humming lullabies to our son. In his zeal, he even sent the nursemaid away. Let him rest now."
"By your orders, fair lady." The soldier bowed his head. "Did you decide on the name?"
The noblewoman's eyes sparkled and a wide grin graced her lips. "Yes. Meet Mathias. A true gift of God."
Gabriel's eyes widened. Cronqvists? The local, reasonably well-off landowners? Why would the Maelstrom... Why would the relic warp him into a domain where the knight's...
'A bastard orphan', 'a misbegotten nobleman', 'an illegitimate offspring of the Cronqvists' – some would gossip behind his back. Yet, even as child, Gabriel paid little attention to the rumors and ribaldry, if any. He had discovered his paradise in the arms of his beloved, and no amount of slander or whispering could corrupt it. For eighteen years Marie had become the only light in his life, the only family he truly desired.
The vampire blinked and the Maelstrom's garden before him blurred. What-
"Is that him?" A lowset female voice drummed.
"Yes, that's the boy we seek. Mathias Cronqvist. He would become the Bearer, mistress." Was the melodious answer.
Two women – bleary their silhouettes could be, – appeared before Dracul's eyes, their backs turned to him. The fog quickly ripened into a raw, define image as contours sprouted detail, akin to a tree burgeoning its buds. A woman to the left, with flowing blonde hair till her waist, donned a loose silver-and-yellow tunic. The other one sported thick red curls, and wore a crudely-forged chainmail and harness.
"Are you completely sure, Eliana?" The redhead glanced at her companion. "It's an infant."
"My mistress Helena, I have served the Dracoduh Apostates ever since the last Dragon had spread his enormous wings," the blonde replied, her voice level. "Triglav the Three-Faced influences my premonitions. The Visionary clearly states: the Rite must be performed on this child."
"I do not question the truthfulness of your words, prophetess." Helena tapped her knuckles against her hip. "But it is still a babe. Branded by the lies of their self-proclaimed disciples," she spat the word, "but an infant, nonetheless. If even my closest apostles, my warriors of old, could not endure the Rite, how can a simple newborn achieve something they could not?"
Eliana paused. "Put faith into your father. Alicha, the Echt Dragon. He decides if the Bearer would survive. Triglav, Perun, Veles... they all look down on us favorably today. The Thunderer says that cleansing rain will pour down in rivulets later this evening and the Fieldhand promises a banquet of a hundred worlds to rejuvenate your squandered strength, wardress."
"I understand, but I cannot shake off the nausea of apprehension. The dread. What if the Rite fails? What if the child's body expels the remnants of the soul? That would mean the end of our ancient legacy. Our epoch. The Dracodushi would be reduced to a bare figment like our dying faith."
"My lord urges to act swiftly." The seer folded her arms, her voice steadily becoming hollow, void of any emotion. "You must strike and commence with the Rite before your blood runs thin, mistress. The divine boon must be preserved... for great battles are afoot. Cobblestone and marble will unlock the potential stored within."
The image rippled once more. Ink splashed across the skies, drowning the land below in a familiar soft gloom. Just as the darkness blotted out the sun, and the night usurped the blue skyscape, an intoxicating scent invaded the vampire's nostrils. Spilled ichor. Death and decay. Dracul promptly whirled on his heels.
The clash of steel against steel, the loud whinnies of the raiders' warhorses, cries of both the wounded and the unmarred... the chilly January current carried them all across the plains. The pagan plunderers battled against the joined forces of the family's sentinels and the Brotherhood of Light alike. A violent conflict between followers of the One Faith and the remnants of the heathens' customs.
Eliana, accompanied by two strangers, watched the carnage unfold with a grimace of disbelief on her face. The gleam of the crescent moon reflected in her hazel eyes.
"So many of the Children perish. So much blood is shed needlessly," she mouthed. "Let us pray we have done the right thing, my brothers."
"It is His will and our test, sister Eliana," one of the men beside her uttered. "The Promised Land needs to be protected, just as the Dragonsoul demands to be preserved until Lucifer's return."
"There is a refined power in a name," added the second. "But his birth-given title – the Supreme Being's Gift – is insufficient."
"What you both say is true, but-" The oracle sighed. "The end might justify the means, but it doesn't imply that I agree with them. We are pitting the Children against one another. We are tearing him away from his true family. "
"For his losses, he will be generously rewarded. For his deeds, he will be recognized accordingly."
Dracul startled. For the sound words were expressed not by the individuals before him, but rather... 'twas the Forgotten One's echoing baritone! It resembled his voice, yet... the undertone present bore no resemblance to the daemon's normal speech...
However, before the elder could ponder over the implications, the earth beneath his feet shuddered. Venous fissures and cracks webbed the soil and sky alike, revealing a crimson nothingness underneath the crust. Fractures unfurled, a vermilion net bit and tore into the Maelstrom's inhabitants, yet none of them reacted. A second, and crimson cracks snapped their entire forms into chunks with the viciousness of a predator splintering a femur in two.
The vampire lord's breath froze in his throat. Then, without hesitation or second thought, he ran. Leaped from landmark to landmark, sprung across gorges, lunged at any means of aiding his escape. How ironic. He had been lamenting, bedamning his lifeless immortality for several centuries now, and yet, here he was, saving his own hide. Trevor would no doubt smirk at thi-
A searing pain burrowed into his right shin: the empty chinks climbed up his leg. With a gargled yell, Gabriel tumbled forward, inertia and years of groundwork heaving his body upright. Grating breaths escaping his lungs unchallenged, he glanced back. A... a lump of his shin was outright gnawed out! No blood, no frayed bone or muscle; it was straight-out gone. A hoarse wheeze rumbled in the vampire's chest.
Why was the Maelstrom assailing him? Was it really coming apart? Morphing?
The former knight glanced at the creeping inferno. Illusion. This domain was just an illusion. Like Azazel's trickery, it couldn't destroy him. No escape, the very world around was crumbling to ash and dust. A fact, and he had to accept it.
The tissue – this eldritch, red emptiness – slithered up his chest, enkindling every inch of his body.
"Quickly, now! Do not linger! Go! Through the tunnels!"
A scraping shuffle of many feet, gasps, and distorted cries flooded the elder's hearing. A painful spasm jerked Gabriel's body. A stampede? A migration? The sad remainder of his blood hammered in his skull. Too many unanswered questions contorted his thoughts.
If indeed a mass migration... of who, of what? Where... how or why? How did he even survive? The fiendish Maelstrom caved in on him like a stack of cards! And the Forgotten One... what role did the archdaemon fulfill in all of this?! He dismembered the domain, there could be no doubt! But what were his ulterior motives? Revenge, spite... or something else?
Yet, these questions could wait. Firstly, he had to discover where had he been discharged to, and whose voices echoed in his ears.
Blind, mold-draped walls stared back as Dracul slowly got up – his pseudo-injured leg had miraculously healed, – a soft hiss parting his jaws. Sewage water dribbled down them in runnels, pooling at the vampire's feet. The underground. A familiar view... 'twas the modern city, not the castle or the Maelstrom's domain! Had the vortex placed him here- the elder cursed under his breath and mutely swore to question the uppish Sovereign when they'd eventually rendezvous.
Nonetheless, he trudged forward, heavy pants seething within his chest. Every breath raked against his arid, itchy throat – of course, he could wish and cease to draw breath, but his mind rebelled against the motion. Breathing, no matter how choked and pained it could seem to one's ears, had always alleviated his tired psyche.
The shuffle of a hundred footfalls grew louder, and soon the vampire could catch the indistinct conversations. The Wygol survivors! The witnesses of Satan's second return! Where... where were they heading? Dracul inched closer, eyes narrowed.
"Swiftly! This place is rending itself asunder," shouted an unfamiliar figure as the last ragged survivor vanished in the darkness of the passageways. A woman, cloaked in a mantle of brilliant, saturated blues and lime greens. Her entire head, neck and the collarbone area were encased in a layered metallic scute, and multiple colorless ribbons were draped around her waist. A countered sigil – furrows and zigzags surrounded by teardrop shapes – adorned the female's bared right shoulder.
And, above all... Gabriel inhaled sharply, yet a wheeze escaped his aching lungs.
The mysterious woman donned the God Mask. The very same mask, the relic of the Almighty!
"The mask!?" the vampire screeched in utter shock.
The saintlike being started badly and twirled on her heels, the knotted hem of her azure dress trailing after her. "Ahhh!" She recoiled with a squall. "The Evil One!" There, she bolted down the tunnels, her vibrant garb just a smear in the surrounding gloom.
"Wait!" Dracul, devoid of any hesitance, dashed after the woman. "Who are you?! Where-! Where did you find the mask!"
"Stay away!" the celestial cried out, voice an ever-changing amalgam. "Too soon, too soon! We can still ward it off! Ieoroch! Stop him!"
A familiar exclamation... The Forgotten One! A vengeful, vile archfiend and a supernal celestial working together?! Gabriel's pace faltered.
Crimson grooves bulged before the vampire's eyes, steadily clogging his vision. The blue dress faded away, and the murky vortex arose in its place. Heels instinctively digging into the slippery stone, Dracul tried to offset his momentum, but an ethereal force jabbed forcefully at his back. A moment, and he toppled into the whirlpool's liquefied dimension.
The Justicar could not hold back a gasp as the Maelstrom gobbled up her pursuer whole. A grisly view, even to her tempered nerves, but, at least, trapped inside the archfiend's domain, the vampire posed no threat. For now.
"Containing both the mongrel and his scion in different dimensions is... strenuous." The Forgotten One's murmur reverberated around her. "The Wolf is actively rebelling and it causes the Maelstrom to malfunction. Fortunately, everything is in order now."
"Pleasing to hear. Your assistance is well-timed, Ikay," she replied, struggling for every breath still. "Thank you. His abrupt entrance nearly jeopardized everything."
"Now he knows of our alliance and my allegiance, my lady." Despite his choice of words, the giant remained unruffled. In fact, he let out a chuckle. "I'm not bothered by it. The insolent gnat had squandered all of his impressive potential."
The celestial hummed. "Remember our plan, Ikayiel."
"Ha! Uttering my true name? I am honored. I do remember, soldier of Heaven, and I will comply. As long as it doesn't conflict with my own interests," the Forgotten One added. "However, I must warn you, it is only a matter of time before the final fragment of the Horn discovers Gabriel."
"I have noticed." The masked woman hugged herself: the chill of the catacombs waded to the bone.
"How do you know that?"
The Justicar's shell-clad head jerked. "His irises are blue."
A/N #2: Don't worry, I did not put Alucard on a bus. xD Certain someone needed him out of the picture, but he will have a spotlight in the next chapter! Heh.
Also, if you want to see some of the concept art I have sketched out for the story... I will edit the main page with the links to the pictures!Hm, unfortunately, it's quite impossible to add links to the format. Don't worry, I'll come up with other ideas on how to share the artwork. Thank you again!