Chapter 9: Ending and Beginning
"You seem too nice to be a monster nor a witch. I would've thought a person like you hate humans and be more demon-like. With fangs and wings, ugly with rotting flesh or is that perhaps just a legend?" Vlad asked as he fiddled with the straps of his shoes. Seras sipped her tea, humming softly, acknowledging his question.
"Perhaps…perhaps not. I do not know. There are no rules of what we have to look like, it is you humans who assume everything and make your own silly rules and appearances. You humans have the most outrageous imagination, far beyond what you can conceive in your mind actually exists in this world but you will remain naïve to the end. Some of the texts I've read regarding witches are simply hilarious but some are true. But that is only because I told the writer the true facts of witches", she giggled. Vlad raised a brow in question, she was a little random at times.
"Listen carefully Vlad. I relinquished what made me human and yet I have the fondness for humans", she murmured. "I love them, I desire to be them and there are few humans that I hold high esteem to. Because they are not a monster. Because they can control their life. Because they can change their future, create, and freely do as they wish. They have a freedom which we beings of the night do not have. Even for us damned creatures there is a hierarchy, there is no King nor ruler. Only that the strong will rule over the weaker, I just happen to be a being that has that sort of power. I just never saw the use to abuse it, after all I have no purpose. I am dull and bored with nothing better to do. That is what happens when you have too much time to spare, an immortal life is not as delightful or fulfilling as you may believe".
"As they time passes reality becomes distorted and you begin to not realise what is right or wrong anymore. Soon in the end nothing matters. I have a long life ahead of me, and when you have passed on I must find something else to amuse myself. It sounds cynical and selfish doesn't it. But that that is the sort of creature I am". She looked up at the young Vlad, her eyes bored and disinterested.
"Then what is immortality?" Vlad asked his eyes shining in curiosity.
"You won't even understand what I am saying. After all, your physical body is not immortal. But immortality is something normal people cannot fathom, what is it, how does one obtain it, how truly long is immortality? No can define immortality. In my eyes the immortal part of you is your reputation, what you are and what people see you as. Your physical body may rot and decay for all I care, but your immortality lies within your reputation and your legacy. You may age and become derelict and perhaps senile at most, but if your mind remains young and strong you are immortal. No-one can defeat you, because you are true to what you stand for and what you are believe in. Fight for your Lord, your God? Very well, do as you wish, but you will soon realise that God is not as kind and forgiving as you may believe".
"God can be as cruel as the Devil himself", her eyes glowing brightly. Hate rolled off of her dark waves. Her hair billowing out behind her as the waves of dark energy beamed out her, effecting the room as one by one the plants began to die and the curtains started to fade in colour. Vlad merely nodded his furiously, he didn't have anything to say. He was only fourteen, his understanding of this was so little. But he remembered what she said.
She let out a sigh as she reached out to pat him on his head, "I suppose I shouldn't tell you these things", she wrapped her arms around his head encasing him in her scent. "But one day will have to confront your own demons", she murmured into his hair.
"But Seras, you said yourself immortality cannot defined. Then what are you?" Vlad said as he looked up, "Are you are an immortal or not?" It was a strange question, but Seras responded.
"Does it matter? My definition of immortality is only for humans, not for the likes of me. A being who is damned and cursed to never cease its walking across this earth. But that does not mean I cannot become physically hurt or become tired. Because my immortality is different, if you ever become a creature of the dark then your immortality will also differ because you are a different person from me. But that depends the level of damnation you will receive, how you are condemned of the deeds you have done in your life. And then you will become a monster, and your life…un-life begins. Some just becomes scavengers of the dark. Weak and easily killed, even by humans and one of the driving forces which make makes humans so arrogant and prideful. They believe that they are the top dog of this world but in reality they are at the bottom of the rudder", she stood up and dusted her dress.
"But in all honesty, I don't believe immortality even exists. Something that humans have created to beginnen themselves and give them something to strive for, a fantasy at most. Longevity is definitely something but not immortality".
'She was my sun, she was my light, my beacon. And yet her light was extinguished so easily, like the breeze of the wind passing a candle flame. Was she not an immortal or was her life already coming to an end even till now I could never understand. Did she leave simply because she was bored, and she needed something else to amuse herself with? Or was it because she had truly died?' He looked ahead, the setting sun hurt his eyes. Seras always preferred the darkness over the light, and yet she was the strange being which shone in the dark despite being a creature of darkness. Was she some sort of enigma which he was never to understand?
His life. His life's conquest. Was it all for nothing? The chains which bore down him chaffed his skin, blood dripping from his wounds and his throat parched. And yet he could feel nothing, all of his pain and suffering which he was to endure in his entire life made this entire situation feel like nothing. But yet he was still in the state of denial. He had fought so hard all of his life, climbing through the blood and the cries of the dead, they continue to haunt him. Dragging him down into the further pits of Hell and he had nought to do.
Everything seemed so meaningless, his conquest, his wife, his country. They had all betrayed him, left him for dead and yet he was still very much alive. He could feel the crashing waves of hate and despise to his own people, to his own enemies, to his wife, to his children and one he didn't think he would be ever to hate. Seras. He hated her, he hated her very being. He also hated himself, he hated his weakness, his inability to move on, his arrogance and his pride. Everything he was he hated, despised, abhorred, loathed and detested. His own cowardice and his thought of revenge, he had not yet completed what he was to do! Utter hate.
These chains which held him in place, these stocks which held his arms high up and secured his head. They were nothing compared to the chains of humanity, to his religion and to his God. These chains which have pulled him down since he was born, restricting him and placing these bars around him. Everything he had done was the sake of his country, his people, for his God, for her. And yet they reject him, they detest him. He, called the Vlad the Tepes, Vlad the Impaler. Son of Dragon. The Devil. The Warrior Kind. All meaningless, if he didn't even have a single supporter. They have all left him and now he had nothing.
All he had now was bitter hate and the longing for revenge, to torture, impale, humiliate and in the end kill those who had wronged him.
He took a side glance at the other men who beheaded before him, the few who had supported him to the end. Their blood dripping from their necks, staining the earth red, leaving puddles of crimson beneath him. The colour so sinful and sinister, and within the reflection of the liquid he could merely himself. This wretched being who couldn't even admit that he had lost and that he had nothing left.
The same blood which she shed so many years ago, how many years ago he had long forgotten. He was now forty-five years of age, and it was a wasted life. 'God spares no salvation to those who would beg for it. Nor is he merciful to those who would beseech his benevolence. These petty requests are no invocation to God. They are your death'. He had said this so many years ago, and yet he found himself that the end of the very words he had said. But would he beg for mercy from God?
No. His pride would never allow him and never would he even regard his Lord. After all these years he could understand Seras, and her despise for God. His Lord had abandoned him at the time of need and left him with nothing but hate and remorse for his pitiably self.
He looked at the mocking sunset, but it was such a beautiful sight. In his entire life he never took the time to appreciate the sight, never understanding why Seras would look at the setting sun so lovingly with a fond expression. It was truly beautiful, but now his life was at the end. He could feel and hear the thudding steps of the executioner walk up to him, holding up the hefty axe. The rattling of chains and the sound of metal scraping against the wood. Darkness began to engulf the landscape and the trees turned dark and gnarled with its branches outstretching towards him. He could see the tiny demons dance in the shadows, singing in their strange language.
He was suddenly dragged down back into reality, the smell of iron and salt. He couldn't differentiate which came from the axe or the blood but he couldn't care less. He felt the man hover the axe right above his neck, and for a moment time stopped. The crimson blood pooled on the plank boards, dripping so slowly onto the grass below. He saw his reflection once more in the puddle of blood, never had he looked so pathetic and sorrowful. Yet his throat itched and craved something to quench its thirst. It gnawed at him and clawed at his mind, he stared back down at the blood.
It was a liquid, the essence of the soul in liquid form. In its purest form, this was the striving red which kept a man alive and defined who he was. But who was he now anyways? He leaned down, the chains clanking against the wood and slowly he opened his mouth. His tongue reaching out, there wasn't any sort of hesitance left. He felt the axe being raised, the man grunting as he heaved the axe up. His tongue twitching at the coldness of the wind and finally he took a long lick at the crimson liquid, the flavour spreading across his taste buds. Whose blood he didn't know, but it did not mattered. Suddenly the itching stopped, and the blood no longer tasted salty with the tang of metal but sweet, like as if it was the most delicious ambrosia.
The whistling sound of the axe coming down and suddenly there was darkness.
Darkness. Silence. Nothingness.
Then he heard a sound, within whatever place he was he saw a lone soldier cry out in anguish. An armoured man beating at his head, blood seeping from his mouth and eyes as he cried and wept in whatever anger he had. He recognised this man, he was a man executed just before him. Then he was dead, and certainly in the Hell. He had condemned himself into the fire pits of Hell with no-one with him. But himself for his own company.
But it was not over, he felt a washing wave of fire upon his body scorching his skin. Burning his flesh and corroding away his skin. Leaving blackened char-burned skin and the scent of blood hit his nose. He could hear the wailings of the lost which he had killed so long ago and the cries of the children which he had slaughtered and the battle cries. Everything seemed such a blur but all he knew that all of the damned souls was his doing, their hands reaching out at him from the darkness. Scarlet and crimson streaking cross the darkness, swirling around in bursts of dark power. He could the power tingle along his spine, and finally when the wailing had stopped he felt weightless. Only to be dragged back down but as he reached further down in the abyss he saw a light and finally a clearance of the darkness.
His eyes open shot open, there was darkness but this time it was different. He could smell blood and dirt, the darkness was somehow was not suffocating. Not knowing what to do he reached his hand out and felt the graininess of wood against his fingertips, it felt surreal and strange. But he desired light, he didn't know where he was but he felt the burning sensation in his throat, it had not disappeared. He craved something but he didn't know what, he desired something but he didn't where it was, and he wanted freedom. From this darkness.
He clawed at the wood, wanting to escape from this darkness. He expected for his fingernails to break and bleed, he did not expect for the wood to suddenly give way and break apart so easily, flooding the small space he was in more dirt. It was a blood stained dirt which set his thirst into a frenzy. He began breaking away from the small space, tearing at the wood which felt like nothing against his arms and legs. Giving away as if it was paper with no weight of its own. Scooping away the slick mud and dirt he finally thrust his hand straight through the dirt feeling the soft touch of air against his fingertips.
He finally found his way through the darkness, pulling himself from the dirt and the scraps of wood. He wasn't greeted by complete darkness but the full moon which shone brightly guided his eyes through the forestry and plants. Where was he? He heaved himself up and dusted himself of the dirt and scraps of wood, and despite the moonlight there he realised he suddenly could see everything so clearly. Everything sounded louder as well, and he could taste the air. He ran his fingers through his thick masses of inky hair, ridding of it dried blood and clotted dirt. His body felt light and weightless, as he continued to examine the area. Looking down he realised that this was a burial area. He had crawled out from a grave? That made no utter sense, but then what did nowadays?
He paused for a moment, he could feel the radiating heat of another being in his presence. He could hear a dull throbbing sound of the heart which was slow, he could hear the pulsating of blood which made his own blood boil and his mouth parched. A gust of wind sent the scent of the person past him, his eyes widening as he stood still for a moment. His heightened smell brought the scent alive, he could taste it on his tongue. The smell of fruits, peaches and a citrus tinged with the scent of burnt wood and ash. A smell which he associated with her.
He slowly turned around, his eyes a piercing crimson glowing brightly in contrast to the darkness. Despite it being night everything was startling clear, as if it was day but even better. The rustling of the leaves, the fresh smell of rain, the croaks of frogs and the absurd silence which seemed the envelope the forest at times made him so painfully aware that he was still in his physical form and that this was surely not Hell, or was it? So there was no mistaking what he saw that night, there she stood in her priestess robes, her hair cropped short only reaching her shoulders and flaring out around her. Her eyes a startling blue, even brighter than he last saw her and glowing brightly as well. She looked fair with her skin and complexion full and for the first time in his life he could feel the waves of energy beam off of her.
It was so evidently obvious, the scent of the dark energy which seemed to entice him, beckon him closer to her. The pulsating rush of the blood sent his mind into a frenzy, the very smell of her flesh sent him into havoc. How he not feel did and see this so long ago was maddening, the smell of her was like the oldest of wines, with a dark pool of power swirling around her. Made her even more enticing, he could barely hold himself from pouncing at her.
But why? Why was she here? Why was she standing before him with this dumbfounded expression with sadness and grief and shock? All the emotions flashing across her delicate features. But more importantly why was she still alive, did she not die all those years ago in the bitter coldness of the snow at the hands of those Hungarian's which he so gleefully and hatefully slaughtered like pigs. And pigs they were.
Was this a dream? Was this a fantasy? Was this his delusional mind trying to soothe his shattered heart and torn head? After what seemed like an eternity of those two creatures staring at each other with surprised eyes until Seras was the first to make any sort of movement.
Her hand clutching at her face as hot red tears spilled from her eyes. The smell of the flooding blood tears ignited a hunger deep from his stomach, he had felt nothing like it before. It was clawing at him the inside out. But he stayed still, using every bit of self-control he had.
"Oh you stupid, stupid fool", she sobbed, more blood tears spilling down across her face. Leaving red streaks of blood across her cheeks, she rubbed her hands against her eyes trying to rid of the tears but it didn't seem to work. Vlad's heart throbbed, it was stabbing in pain, a pain which had left him feeling more hurt than he could ever think of. His eyes softening at the sight of her sobbing form, wanting to only scoop her up in his arms and comfort her.
"You have cast away your humanity, and now you have become one of us", she choked out. A flood of guilt crashing down her, if she had only led him better. If she didn't die, and if she could've foresaw this earlier, her own stupidity and arrogance caused this. She straightened up a little trying retain some of her regal form but she knew she was failing miserably, "You will only have yourself to blame. But…but I suppose I am also to blame as well…" Hot tears bursting heavily from her eyes, as she sniffled. Her form shivering and trembling at the revelation that the child which she had technically brought up and raised has turned to a creature of night. A monster. The undead. Whatever the names there was she had no care for, the fact that he is meant to be dead and now stands before her meant he done something to cast away his humanity. Something heinous and atrocious, and she would rather not know.
But to what extent was his power of, even now she could feel raw power radiate from his entirety, was his sins that great that he has become this great of a monster. His eyes symbolising in power itself, a deep and burgundy crimson. Full of terrible and powerful force which could bring calamity if he so wished. And knowing him she probably guessed he would. And perhaps even she wouldn't be able to stop him.
Vlad completely silent during entire ordeal didn't even comprehend her stuttered words, he couldn't even take in the words which she spoke of. All he could think of was that she was here, in front of him. Alive, not only that but it seemed that he was also alive. Not by the doing of God, but by the work of the Devil. He knew that for sure, he didn't know whether to be thankful or hateful. But none of that mattered right now. What mattered right now was what was in front of him.
His hand outstretching towards her trying to reach her, the woman he had been chasing so long, in his dreams and when she was alive. Always dancing out of his reach though and like a crazed dog he snapped at her heels.
"Seras Victoria…" His voice soft and breathless, his rich baritone voice making Seras tremble. She couldn't even fathom how much pain and love was within his voice. There was hate as well, but he couldn't bring himself to completely hate her, he just couldn't. Seras felt her tears drying up, she had almost forgotten what he was like. This broken man who stood before her, new and reformed by the darkness which he had accepted, like she.
"My Seras Victoria".
I don't have much to say, sorry if there are any spelling mistakes. I am terribly tired, and sometimes my story is so strange that I have to think of some new ideas and add the known and the unknown plus some other things to make the story interesting.
Well I'm going to bed, I'm utterly tired. It is currently 12:14am over in Australia.
Anyways, I hope you all have a lovely Easter, I know I'm celebrating by going out to the city tomorrow. But I hope all of you guys have a blast, and if you don't do Easter well then I still hope you have a great day.
Fave, follow, review.
Peace out.