Chapter 17: Heaven Has Died

Afina stared at Van Helsing with a look of utter betrayal etched across her features. Silent tears of horror were streaming down her face in rapid succession and when he went to touch her, she violently smacked his hand away.

"Afina, I'm so sorry, but it had to be done," he explained. "It was the only way."

"Defend yourself," she snapped, standing suddenly and she picked up her sword.

"Afina, please."

"I said DEFEND YOURSELF!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the high walls. He picked up his blade, albeit unwillingly.

"I don't want to fight you."

"Too late."

She lunged and he barely managed to block her attack. He thrust his blade toward her face and she managed to move her head out of the way just in time before taking another stab at his chest. The two moved with rapid precision, their blades swinging violently before clashing with the other in another successful blocked attack, until Afina managed to kick him back against the wall with an enraged scream. She thrust her blade once more, this time for his head, and he moved out of the way, the blade nicking his ear just as he moved away from the wall.

There were several more powerful swings, one that sent Afina's sword flying out of her hands and skidding loudly across the stone floor. Ducking out of the way of another attack, Afina managed to grab a nearby spear and she smacked him upside the head with it, the spearhead creating a cut along the side of his face, the blow sending him onto his back. He managed to get on his knees before she attacked again, blocking the spear with his sword before she kneed him in the face and he rolled back a couple of times.

She allowed him to get up, giving her time to get to her sword just as he came rushing towards her. As she swung her blade to block him, he moved in close, head-butting her in the face and she fell onto her back. With a roar, he went to stab, but she managed to kick him in the head and then kicked his sword out of his hand, giving her just enough time to get back on her feet, this time with his weapon in her hand.

She studied the blade in her hand as Van Helsing struggled to his feet, blood oozing out of his broken nose. The weapon was beautiful – with a golden hilt and the blade inscribed in a language she recognized but could not read. But there was one thing she did recognize on the blade – Gabriel's name, or more specifically, the name of the archangel Gabriel. She quickly glanced over at her arm that he had managed to cut with the blade and noticed that the wound had not healed.

This was no ordinary blade.

"Is this the weapon?" she asked him, unable to mask the fear she suddenly felt in her heart. "The weapon that killed my father?"

"No. This is," he explained, slightly breathless, revealing a knife that had been holstered on his waist. It was just as beautiful as the blade in her hand, but only seven-inches in length. He held it up for her to see. "It's the tongue of the angels," he continued. "There's no true translation for it in the common tongue, but the gist of it is something along the lines of the wrath of God."

"Did you do it? Were you the on that killed my father?"

"Yes."

He picked up her fallen blade and the two began to fight once again, but this time, Afina had to keep track of not just one blade, but two.

Although Van Helsing was losing decent amounts of blood in his face alone, his blows appeared to be getting stronger, as if his adrenaline had just kicked in or some other force was helping him. He managed to knock his blade out of her hand and in her moment of confusion after taking a strong hit to the head, Van Helsing had his angelic sword in his hands once again. He dropped Afina's blade – which was meager by comparison – onto the ground and pushed it towards her with his foot and she picked it up weakly, defending herself.

After a while, Afina had managed to take several nasty blows by the hunter's angelic blade and the wounds refused to heal. But everything he gave, she gave back at least twice over and it was a miracle Van Helsing was still standing. With a quick maneuver, Van Helsing managed to get behind her and he sliced at her back. She let out a cry of pain and fell forward, desperately trying to clutch at her spine as if doing so would numb the pain.

Van Helsing looked exhausted as he leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees, gasping for air and spitting blood out of his mouth, watching in wonder as Afina struggled to push herself to her feet. Before she could get off her knees, he swung his sword hard and she blocked it just in time before it could strike her and Van Helsing fell to his knees in front of her, clearly as exhausted as she was. He stood again, swinging his sword once again, and she held hers upright as though it were a cross so the point was at the ground and the hilt was by her face.

The force of Van Helsing's blow shattered the blade of her sword.

The hunter, using all that was left of his strength, placed the heavenly dagger on the ground so he could hold his sword with both hands and swing down. At the precise moment, Afina took her broken sword and blocked the attack before reaching for the discarded dagger and thrusting it up into his ribs.

Van Helsing let out a cry of agony as the heavenly blade seared through his flesh, the tip barely missing his heart. Afina could feel his blood all over her hands as the hilt kept the blade from going any further.

The smell overwhelmed her and she pulled her hands back as the hunter fell onto his back, coughing up blood and gasping for air.

He noticed the tears in her eyes as she knelt beside him.

"You gave me no choice," she said, fighting back her sobs. "Why would you do that? You gave me no choice."

"I know," he replied, his voice full of regret. He turned his head towards the now open door and noticed Dracula crossing the threshold with Dragoş and Vigdís close behind, the woman carrying what Afina instantly recognized as Reunan's scimitars. Her uncle had Carl's head in his hand and her heart fell as she realized the Selkirk line was no more. When Van Helsing noticed Carl's disembodied head, all sense of charity left him when he and Afina's eyes met once more and she realized too late what he was about to do.

He pulled the holy blade out of his lower chest and whispered, "Consummem eum." ("Finish him.")

"No…" Afina pleaded in a desperate whisper. "Gabriel, please."

"Consummem eum, in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti… per meum sanguinem." ("Finish him, in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy ghost... through my blood.")

Afina felt a heat in the center of her chest and opened the top part of her blouse to reveal something glowing beneath the skin. She stared at it in horror before looking back at Van Helsing.

"No…"

"I'm sorry, Afina," he breathed and she watched in terror as the life left his eyes, sealing his holy command with his blood. She could feel her limbs moving without her command as she picked up the holy blade that had been bathed in the hunter's blood.

"Afina, are you…" she heard Dracula say.

"Get out!" she screamed. "Vlad, run!"

"I'm not going anywhere," he insisted. "What's wrong?"

"Vlad, please," she begged him. When she turned to face him, he noticed the tears streaming down her face – but that wasn't all. There was a strange glowing in the center of her chest and it was spreading slowly throughout her body.

"Afina, what's going on?"

"You were right all along," she cried. "I was a trap. I was sent by the Order to kill you."

"Afina, you won't kill me," Dracula assured her warily, his attempt to laugh off the gravity of the situation quickly failing as she began to make her way over to him with labored steps, as if she were a puppet on a string and she was fighting to keep from moving forward – a fight that was in vain. "If you had wanted to, you would have done it long ago."

"Please! You need to leave!"

"Afina, put the knife down."

"I can't!"

"Yes you can."

"You don't understand! He stole me away from my mother and father when I was a baby – a surviving damphir," she explained, motioning to the lifeless Van Helsing behind her. "The Order placed a holy crystal inside of me that can only be activated by an angel and when it's activated, I am a slave to whatever command that angel gives me. When my father found out, he was killed to keep the secret. That's why Gabriel lost his memories – because even with my tainted blood, in the eyes of God, I was still an innocent. His memory loss came long after he fell from grace – it was his final punishment."

"What?!"

"You have to run, please! He's commanded me to kill you."

"I won't leave you like this. We'll figure something out."

"Vlad, please." He had never seen her cry before, let alone sob, and it broke his heart. Her uncle moved forward to hold her back and with an action that was completely involuntary, she felt her arm tense and thrust forward and she screamed when the blade ran home into his stomach.

Dracula, Vigdís, and Afina watched in horror as Dragoş began to turn to ash and blood before their eyes. Afina's cries were hysterical and deafening, but they were nothing compared to the screams coming the surrounding rooms and corridors. Vigdís peaked outside to see that many of the other vampires were dying for no reason.

"What is going on?!" Dracula demanded of Vigdís, his eyes still holding Afina's gaze. How rapidly everything was falling apart!

"The Order has blood-linked all of the vampires – each to their elders and the elders to you," Afina explained through her tears. "Oh God, someone make this stop! Dragoş… Dragoş!" Her uncle reached up and touched her face sweetly before disappearing completely and she broke out into uncontrollable sobs as she felt her feet move again.

"Vigdís, we have to stop her," Dracula insisted.

"You must leave."

"I can't leave her like this."

"Then you are condemning us all to die!"

"Please… just run," Afina pleaded.

"I will not spend my existence running from you!" he shouted.

"Then kill me! Please!"

"Vladislaus, we need to go," Vigdís implored, but she saw the look in his eyes and she knew that nothing – not heaven nor hell itself could get him out of that room, and although the woman's sense of self-preservation was furious that he would choose the love of a woman over what was left of their species, a small part of her understood. She held her breath when Afina made a stab at the Count, who caught the blade just before it could sink into his chest, and he held it with both hands.

"Vigdís, please… it's over," Dracula said in defeat, desperately struggling against Afina's unnatural strength as she pushed against him. He looked over at her with an apologetic look in his eyes. "Forgive me?"

The woman nodded before running out of the room, leaving the two alone.

Afina was still crying as the heavenly power that was beyond her control continued to push down on the blade as the Count struggled to keep the tip away from his chest.

"I should have made love to you when I had the chance," he teased and she laughed through her tears. "Were you really sent to kill me?"

"Yes."

"Did you know?"

"When I was human, yes, but I did not understand the extent of the situation. I had no idea the Order had put this… this thing in me. You have to believe me."

"I do believe you."

"You must know, I didn't want to kill you," she continued.

"I know."

The two continued to struggle against the blade and Vlad had managed to point it upward and away from his chest, though he wasn't out of danger yet.

"I have a confession to make," she said.

"Is now really the time for that?"

"Well, we are technically beneath a confessional."

He couldn't help but laugh, even though seeing the tears continuing to stream down her face tore him apart.

"That night you came to my room at Agnar's, when you tried to get me to kiss you, you almost had me."

"What was the fault in my technique?"

"When you told me not to say 'no' to you."

"Defiant till the last," he grinned. "My bellator."

The name of endearment made more tears stream down her face and they both watched as the blade started to move in the direction of his chest again. He was strong, but the power of heaven was proving to be stronger.

"Please run. I'd rather live out eternity knowing you're still alive then being forced to spend it alone and without you in this world. Please Vlad… for my sake."

"I can't leave you… not like this."

"Please… "

"I'm not leaving you."

"Vladislaus…"

"Without you, I have nothing to live for."

"You can still live for me – live and run."

"You know I can't do that."

"Would you stop being so damn selfish for once and think about the others? Two bloodlines are dead now and only Vigdís' is left! If you die, then that's the end of our species. It's genocide, Vlad! I won't let you do this."

"We were never meant to live forever, Afina."

"Vlad, I'm begging you."

"I love you, Afina."

"Vlad, please, don't!" She could feel his hold on the blade slackening and its tip moved ever closer to his chest.

He pressed his forehead against hers, a single tear running down his cheek.

"My bellator."

The words were a faint whisper and Afina was left to watch in dismay as he released his hold on the knife and the blade ran home into his heart. Everything went silent for Afina – she couldn't even hear herself screaming, though she could feel her throat going hoarse from the abuse. The Count turned to ash and bone before falling to the floor in a heap.

Afina was beyond inconsolable.

She grabbed the blade that had been the means of Dracula's destruction, suddenly having control over her limbs again, and she jammed it repeatedly into her chest, desperate to die, but was furious to find that she was healing again – even the wounds that Gabriel had inflicted on her were healing.

She shouted her defiance hysterically, ramming the blade into her chest once more, only this time, shoving it to one side so she could stick her hand inside her chest to find the cursed heavenly crystal that had been placed inside of her. She felt no pain as her fingers searched desperately for something that shouldn't have been there in the first place. She found the stone behind her heart, but it had branched out, taking root in her person – it had become a part of her.

Frustrated, she let out another scream as she tried to rip the thing from her chest, not caring that she was losing substantial amounts of blood in the process.

Soon, she was lying on the ground in a pool of her own blood, the knife – no longer enchanted – and her hand still in the chasm of her chest, though try as she might, she couldn't pull the crystal out. She was too weak from her blood loss, and too without hope to bother trying anymore. She prayed that some surviving member of the Order would show up and put her out of her misery, but no such person came.

Instead, she lied there for hours, staring up at the moon through the glass ceiling, never having felt more hollow in her life than she did in that moment. She felt numb from the pain, from the loss of not just her lover, but her entire family.

As she wallowed in her misery, determined to live out the rest of her days in this room, she noticed a bright light above her, brighter than that of the sun. A figure appeared in that light and she watched as it descended until it fell over her. She recognized the face immediately – it was Gabriel, in his archangel glory. There were a hundred things she wanted to say to him, but was too weak and too depressed to even utter a word of protest when he knelt down beside her and removed her hand and the blade from her chest.

As the gaping wound began to heal, he hovered his hand over her chest and she watched as the crystal soon appeared in his palm. He crushed it in his hand until it was a fine powder before standing and then ascending once more, never uttering a word, though his eyes were full of a sorrow she understood too well.

Although a part of her still preferred death over an eternity alone, her sense of self-preservation was still barely intact and she managed to push herself to her feet as the church bells rang the hour of four in the morning. She walked through the massacred corpses in silence, taking tokens of her deceased loved-ones with her as hooded figures emerged from the shadows, cleaning up the carnage. She didn't know who they were, nor did she care as she walked across the Piazza San Pietro before taking off into the skies, flying back to the only place she knew she would be safe to live out her days in solitude, the place where it had all started – Transylvania.

…

The frigid winds felt heavenly on Afina's face as she hiked through the snowy mountains. It would have been considered foolish for any person to do such a thing during one of the worst snowstorms the Carpathians had seen in several years, but she hardly cared. She had no destination in particular and she preferred walking, especially after flying for nearly two days straight just to get back to Transylvania. What few clothes she had left were soaked. She had given her boots and jacket to a gypsy caravan at the base of the mountain in exchange for a feeding – in which she successfully managed not to kill the victim in question.

The only thing that was really covering her was her pants. Her blouse had been completely destroyed back in Rome and the bodice she was wearing barely covered her, thanks to the nice tear in the front. But the cold couldn't have been more inviting. It distracted her from the dull, numbing pain in the center of her chest.

She had been walking for nearly two weeks now, starving and not really aware of where her feet were taking her until she noticed an unmarked trail off of the Borgo pass. Recalling the words of the Count and knowing that the trail would eventually lead to his castle, she began to head up the dangerously narrow and winding path, nearly falling on several occasions due to the heavy snow covering up the already unstable footing.

The higher up she climbed, the more the wind in the trees sounded like whispers, and there were several occasions when she could have sworn she heard someone say her name.

After at least three hours, the path appeared to level out and it led to the edge of a cliff which looked out over several miles of unmapped peaks and in the center of those peaks was Castle Dracula. It was just as he had described it – a fortress of black stone and ice. The scale of the castle was enormous, with spires and battlements that dwarfed anything she had ever seen before in her life. The foundations of the fortress appeared to be rooted in the living mountain, the castle's three main towers sprouting from the black rock as if the entire structure had been formed from the stone rather than built. The two bridges that connected the towers high up were the only clear signs that this monstrosity was the work of man and not spewed up by the dark forces of nature. The edifice was both impressive and forbidding, radiating ominous power.

She recognized that power and found solace in it as the monument seemed to call out to her – as if Dracula was calling out to her. She willingly succumbed to the pull of the fortress and felt herself shift into her hell-beast form so she could fly across the gorge below, landing in the dark and empty foyer of the castle. The massive foyer was made up of high walls, pillars, and ceilings – as though it had been designed for a creature not bound by gravity. The interior appeared to resemble that of the exterior – very ominous and black, but the deeper she found herself in the fortress, the more familiar it seemed to become. She notice some similar touches to some of the rooms that Vilkova had had, though this place seemed much more dark and fantastical than his "summer" palace had been.

She wandered the halls aimlessly for some time until she stumbled upon what appeared to be a crypt. Upon her entrance, the torches lit of their own volition, as the rest of the fortress had done. There was a large mirror on the far side of the room and in the center was an empty tomb made entirely of stone and ice. The ice melted away at the touch and she noted Dracula's name carved into the rock.

So this is where he had slept, she thought idly to herself.

The tomb was almost big enough for two persons and she climbed inside, imagining what it would be like to have him lying beside her. As she closed her eyes, she could feel the ice growing over her, encasing her in the tomb and she let it, strangely comforted by its hold.

For the first time in days, Afina allowed herself to rest and she swore that she would stay in this place, in this icy prison, until judgment day. She had nothing else to live for and possessed no desire to do anything else – at least for the present. Perhaps someday, when she had allowed herself to heal would she venture forth from those snow covered peaks.

But not this day.

The gypsies of the mountains would tell stories for years to come of the ice queen who would venture down from her dark fortress to drink the blood of the living – usually the blood of lovers, as if mourning what she had lost - what she had never had, and what she would never have in all of her days to come.

Musical Influences:

Undying Love, by Two Steps From Hell, "Invincible"

Chapter 16:
[1] The Crawl, by Marco Beltrami, "Underworld: Evolution" score *
[2] Redemption, by Zack Hemsey, "The Way"
[3] Light and Shadow, Vangelis, "1492 – Conquest of Paradise"
[4] Bernini's Angels, by Kerry Muzzey, "Trailer Music 2"

Chapter 17:
[1] The Queen is Dead, by Richard Gibbs, "Queen of the Damned" score
[2] The Archangel, by City of the Fallen, "Divinus"
[3] Darkest Hour, by City of the Fallen, "Divinus"
[4] Fire and Ice, by Within Temptation, "The Unforgiving"
[5] Forgiven, by City of the Fallen, "Divinus"
[6] Stairway To The Skies, by Within Temptation, "The Unforgiving"

[ * ] not included in YouTube playlist

...

And so concludes la douleur exquise.

I never could have imagined how difficult it would be to write this! I had no idea how truly rusty I was, but I'm glad I was at least able to complete a story - even if it isn't my best work. I feel accomplished, nonetheless. I've always wanted to write a tragedy, but I think with this one, especially with these last two chapters, I kind of jumped the shark. Oh well. It's done and I can FINALLY move on to my new story that I've been dying to write for over a month now.

So many glorious ideas spinning around in my head.

My secret board on Pinterest for my new story has so many pins! But I'll share more about that after the Epilogue (yes, there's an epilogue to this story - I'm not THAT cruel to just leave the story as is. Unless you prefer this ending, then by all means, ignore the epilogue). I'll be posting it some time next week (or maybe at the end of this week, depending on the responses I get?).

But for now, a HUGE thanks to those who have stuck with this story from it's beginning. Especially to those that favorited, followed, and reviewed!

Until next week!