Author's Note:
Chapter 50 is here! Never thought I'd make it this far, but here we are. Just a couple of points to hit, then it's off to Eredar. But first, another Horace chapter. Enjoy!
-Tangent
After an interminable amount of time, Horace had concluded two things: First, there were definitely other things besides him in these woods. Secondly, every tree looked the same. He had been wandering through a dead forest for what felt like years, hiding behind dead trees and creeping through the ever-present fog. The only company he had were the onyx rocks, jutting from the ground in random places. Spirits dotted the realm as well, but they were silent to him, and they served no purpose.
Damn it all! This isn't helping. He had tried for hours to open the passage back to the Land of Man, but to no avail. He had shouted, kicked, begged and pleaded, but it seemed that the Goddess could no longer hear his cries.
She has turned away from us all. No. He would not believe it, even if he was stuck in the body of an undead monster. And he had to find his brethren, find them even though they themselves could now be monsters like him.
A sound, like claws scratching wood. Horace whirled, hands raised. He had been unable to create even a simple flame here, but that made sense. He was an interloper in this land of spirits and monsters.
"I-Is someone there?" The vampire spun, crimson eyes scanning the empty mists. A hiss, another scratch, and Horace felt his skin tingle. The creature was near.
Perhaps my magic... The witch's magic... But even as he thought it, Horace felt a distant memory surface in his mind.
"Any use of her powers will allow her to control you again. Be careful." The Goddess's words rang, and the vampire dropped his white, bony hands. As if it had been waiting for this, a massive black shape dropped from the trees above, letting out another, ear-piercing screech. Horace immediately fell to his knees, the sound seeming to drive straight into his core.
You will die.
Death is coming.
Your friends are no more.
As the monstrous black bat fell upon him, claws outstretched, Horace managed to move sluggishly to one side so that the razor-sharp blades merely cut his side, eliciting a hoarse cry of pain. Blood welled, shockingly red in the world of gray and black, and the vampire stumbled away, clutching his wound.
Goddess, preserve me! But there was no deity to save him now, and another cry forced the former man to his knees.
I'm going to die here. The bat closed in for the kill, and Horace looked death in the eyes.
So this is it. Take me, then. I've failed anyways. Time slowed, and he felt a strange, ravenous power well inside of him. It hungered, thirsted for something, but he did not know what. Blindly, Horace thrust his arm out in front of him, and red light flashed brighter than anything he had seen in the Underworld. Energy seemed to flow through his body, and the hunger ceased, blinking out of existence as though it had never been.
Silence fell once more, and Horace managed to rise to one knee. The bat was lying upon the hard ground, but it was not dead. No, he had taken something else from it, for the creature was nothing but a shriveled husk, steaming. The stench was awful, but it jerked Horace back to his senses, and he ran for it, his rejuvenated body flying between trees and leaping over rocks. Nothing mattered except getting away, and the vampire felt a faint sense of revulsion at what he'd done.
I took its life force from it. But already, he felt as though something was missing now. Something he couldn't quite remember...
Another screech sounded through the dead forest, but it was more distant, and he knew he was losing his pursuers. A cacophony of howls ripped through the air, and Horace redoubled his pace. He tripped, hurtled downwards into a crevasse he had not seen earlier, and then there was nothing but darkness.
Pain, his ever-present companion, tore through his body once again, and Horace's eyes opened slightly.
My arm... It's broken... The pale man managed to roll over, and his eyes found the cliff he had fallen from, dozens of feet above him. He was lying in what appeared to be a gulch, with towering rock on either side. He tried to move, but a similar pain in his leg told him the story. He was crippled.
Horace heard another demonic screech, and knew his time had run out.
The energy I took... Maybe it can heal me... But again, the Goddess's reminder sounded in his head, telling him of the eventual loss of control.
"Not as though I have a choice." He muttered. "It's die here, or use my powers again." Reluctantly, Horace let his power surge once more. Immediately, he felt the same sense that something vital had been lost, but what? His leg and forearm knitted, and there was a knife of white-hot pain. Horace keeled over, but the pain passed, and his limbs were whole. He pushed himself up, and his leg held true.
Unfortunately, there was no chance to rest. He started running again, although it was more of a stagger. His shin was clearly not fully healed, and a dull ache began to build rapidly.
No choice but to follow the cliffs. If I can just find a cave... any shelter at all...
Of course, it was at that moment that another monstrous hellbat shot overhead, and its scream echoed through the canyon. Horace tripped, but dragged himself onward and broke into a sprint. He had to run, had to find shelter... And his side was dripping blood again, leaving a trail that led right to him.
On and on he ran, and now there were more black shapes in the trees. The bats swirled around him, boxing him in. Every few seconds, another cry went up, and more hellbats began to appear on all sides. One caught him in the leg, and he almost fell, but the vampire managed to swing and catch the bat with a white fist, knocking it away.
Ahead of him, the trees thinned, and Horace shot into a clearing that was ringed with the dead wood. Spinning, he felt his knees give out as a veritable horde of the monsters poured out of the trees, an impenetrable black curtain that promised only death. Hundreds, no, thousands of the creatures were there, and they fell upon him with glee in their burning red eyes.
No choice. No choice. No choice. The first claws struck, and Horace surrendered his control completely.
All of you... DIE! A flash of crimson, and the most glorious feeling spread over him. It was energy, pure, unfiltered energy, and Horace felt his pain fade away in moments. What had he been worried about? A flick of his wrist, and the monsters were snuffed out as though they had never been. Corpses hit the ground with hollow crunches, and he reveled in their pain. He was death itself, and he was going to give them a taste of what he could do.
Kill them all. Rip them apart. The storm of energy intensified, rising over the trees in a hellish blast. None of his enemies would escape, not one.
Ah, this glorious feeling... I could enjoy this forever.
Nobody can stop me. I'm a monster! But wait. He knew of monsters, didn't he?
Not like this. Not like us. No, that wasn't right. There was something wrong here. What was he forgetting? Around him, the trees themselves began to shrivel and turn to dust, adding to the vortex of energy swirling around the former man.
Destruction. That is what we were made for.
No, it isn't. There's more, more I can't-
Cast off your useless memories, and embrace the energy. With it, we can fulfill this pointless quest!
Pointless? Why was the mission pointless? He had been searching for something... the amulet. It was the key.
And then the memories returned, and Horace fell to his knees. Edward, Amari, Cigne, Vincent... Erik... He had failed them all, let them be consumed...
The raging inferno began to die down.
Why do you resist? Yield to the power, and anything can be achieved!
No.
"NO!" Horace roared, and there was a ferocious blast of wind that smothered the crimson energy. It calmed, leaving a circle of charred and dead monsters around him. Several trees toppled over, and a silence fell over the Land of the Dead, punctuated by the heavy breathing of the vampire.
He staggered, and fell to one knee. It had been close. He had nearly given control back to the witch, back to the beast inside. And Horace was so viciously tired that all he wanted to do was curl up and rest, but the emptiness inside him had grown even more. It gnawed at him, demanding more, but he knew he could not give in.
All I know is that I must keep moving. There must be shelter ahead.
A light in the fog caught his attention, and the vampire turned. There, between two trees, was a wooden post with a lantern tied to it. A sign had been planted next to it, although he could not read it from his current angle. For a moment, he was tempted to laugh. The sight was so absurd, so utterly normal that he expected it to be a trap. But as his fingers touched the old, weather wood, Horace knew it was real. The sign read:
Casket Hill
Cavern Entrance: Closed Permanently
A path lead away from the sign, winding through the trees, and Horace gazed at it.
"A town of some sort? Perhaps they know a way to escape." The vampire moved forward, following the sign into the depths of the forest.
He walked for what could have been hours or days; Horace did not know. The lanterns served as his only guide, bobbing faintly between the long stretches of dead wood and black rock. As he drew closer to what he presumed was his destination, the hard-packed earth turned to gray cobblestones, forming a road that led ever onwards. Here, he saw the occasional ghostly-white spirit, floating aimlessly in every direction.
They must have lost their way. The lanterns began to appear more regularly, and Horae stopped short as he rounded a bend in the path. There, in front of him, appeared what seemed to be a large, cast-iron fence, tipped with metal spikes. The fence stretched out to the left and right, barring access to the town beyond.
Casket Hill, if that's what it was called, was a dismal looking affair, with run-down houses and aimless, winding streets. Here and there, shadows shambled across the road, vanishing into dark alleys. All in all, it was a seedy, disreputable place. But to Horace, it was the most welcome sight he had ever seen.
A town! With real... Well, I don't know about people, but sentient beings at least.
He stepped through the open iron gates, half-expecting to be attacked, but nothing happened. The town appeared to be set on the side of a mountain, with more houses and shops higher up the cliffside. At the top, he could see the edge of what appeared to be a castle tower.
"A ruler, maybe?" The street was narrow, and the houses barred with iron. Evidently, there were few permanent residents.
"Ah, a young man! And living, too!" The voice sent chills through him. It was old, raspy, and so obviously foul that Horace resisted the urge to recoil.
I look like them now. I need to remember that. Turning slowly, he saw an aged woman, hunched over a nearby stall. He had entered a marketplace, but one that was deserted save for the person in front of him. Her shop sported various rotting items that gave off a vile scent.
"Can I help you?" The crone cackled.
"No, no. A vampire, eh? I thought your kind was in hiding. And yet you walk into Casket Hill without a worry."
"In hiding?" Horace echoed, but this elicited another laugh.
"Not aware? Hah! The lord will love this."
"What lord? Who are you, and where is this?" He was hit with a wave of nausea, and the vampire staggered. His power surged, but he reigned it in desperately. An outbreak now would be disastrous.
"You're in Casket Hill, the Underworld's main city. Or it is now, with Ghed'ahre closed for business. The Lord of Souls reigns here, and he doesn't like interlopers. If I were you, then I'd leave before he gets wind that a vampire is in his town."
"Ghed'ahre? What are these places?" Horace was drowning in confusion, but the woman laughed again.
"I'll say no more. But you'd better heed my warning. Or you'll become another soul, lost in these woods." She vanished in a cloud of smoke, and Horace exhaled sharply. That had been close. His power seemed to be straining against its bonds increasingly often, and it took an effort of will to beat it back each time.
There are towns here? Can people truly live here? He passed by several stores, most of which had ghostly green lanterns glowing in the windows. Several... creatures, people, he didn't know what, were lounging around, but none of them stopped him.
The main street of Casket Hill was set so that one would have to wind their way up the mountain before reaching what he presumed was the residence of the Lord of Souls. Further up, Horace saw what looked like a cross between a mausoleum and a hospital, guarded by a set of chained-up double doors. There were no light emanating from inside.
Closed, then. Wonder what for. He rounded the bend and finally laid his eyes on the structure he was seeking. A massive, grim manor towered over him from its place at the very peak of the hill. Oddly, it seemed to be modeled like a castle, with turrets and high, slanting roofs that jutted upwards into the black sky.
"Or at least, I assume it's the sky. Who knows if this land has any ceiling at all?" Horace muttered, striding towards the large front doors. The windows gleamed with light, a most unfamiliar feeling after wandering in the misty forest as long as he had. Outside the front gates, two warriors were standing guard. It was only when Horace approached that he saw the truth.
Skeletons? Indeed, the creatures were made of nothing but bones, weapons, and armor, and yet a cold intelligence inhabited their every movement. The duo snapped to attention, raising their pikes and leveling them at the vampire in one fluid motion.
"Whoa!" He said quickly, stepping back. "I'm not your enemy. I'm here to see the Lord of Souls, I think." The guards did not move, and he swore that their empty eye sockets were tracking his every motion. After a few seconds, the bony warriors stepped aside to allow him through. As Horace passed through the large oaken gate, they fell into step behind him, spears still ready for any violence that might occur.
The interior yard of the manor was filled with a wide variety of dead and rotting plants, all of which combined to give off a truly atrocious smell. They hung limply on every side, flowers, trees, and others he did not know. Horace did not dare stop to investigate, especially since the guards had begun clicking their jaws ominously. He was led across the dying yard to another door, metal this time, which was engraved with carving he did not recognize. It opened slowly, and he was thrust unceremoniously into the building with the butt of a spear. Moments later, the door shut with a clang.
Horace would later recall the room as unlike anything he had ever encountered. For one thing, it was colder inside than out, and that was no mean feat, considering that he was in the land of the dead. Furniture lined the walls: cabinets, sword racks, and other thing that held no familiarity. Every so often, an object would seem to vanish, and be replaced with another just outside his sight. And yet...
Is that... It cannot be. The vampire stopped dead, staring at a clock on one side of the large room. It was his, it had to be. It was exactly as he had remembered it, with scratches and scuff marks along the glass surface. And the time: The exact day that everything had gone so horribly wrong. The day that his village had been destroyed.
And now he recognized other things, scattered amongst the clutter. Cigne's precious vase, an heirloom of her family. Vincent's axe that had always hung over his door, gleaming dully on the wall. Amari's cracked pots and pans, the ones she'd practiced with as a child. They were there, all of them. So close...
Horace snapped backwards, nearly toppling over.
What was that? A spell? He had been walking forward, intent on taking the artifacts from his past lives, but they were already gone, shifting into meaningless things.
"Interesting." The voice rumbled through the manor, and the vampire jerked back, startled. He had been so focused on his surroundings, he had neglected to notice the one thing that did not change within the odd room. Upon the far wall, an old wooden throne rested lazily, its legs worn and chipped. And yet, Horace knew instinctively that he would rather be anywhere than in front of it, and his legs seemed to turn to jelly. "You resist."
"Who..." Before he could finish, a black mist swept past him, swirling around the throne. It solidified a moment later, taking the form of a simple man, complete with fine clothes and a flowing silver cape. Only one thing gave his identity away: the soulless, unfathomably black eyes. At their gaze, Horace felt his courage wane, but he forced himself to gaze directly at the being on the throne.
"Are you the Lord of Souls?" The man seemed to contemplate the question for a moment.
"I have been called that, and many other things. You are in my residence, Horace Hawthorn, and I shall pass judgement."
"Judgement? What do you mean?" Horace sighed. "Look, I'm just trying to find something. You're the only person here who can help me."
"Help you?"
"Yes. I'm trying to find-"
"I never agreed to assist you, vampire." The Lord's eyes flicked around the room before returning to his pale form. Horace's tattered cape stirred feebly, as if blown by the wind, but nothing happened. "Your kind has not died out, I see. Unfortunate."
"My kind? You mean vampires?"
"I do. Although you appear to be different." The man studied him intently. "Remembrance did not affect you."
"Remembrance?" Horace echoed, aware that the creature in front of him knew far more than he did. "You mean the furniture that I saw." A nod.
"It affects spirits differently. Agitates them, you see. But I've never had a vampire here, in my hall. I would never have allowed it."
"What changed?"
"You did." The Lord spoke simply. "I saw your memories. A true vampire, you are not. A perversion, or perhaps a corruption of the Goddess's works." Horace said nothing. Evidently, the man already suspected his origin. "I should have you cast from this town immediately." As he spoke the words, two skeletons appeared next to him, swords raised. "Take him. We're done talking." They leapt forward, and Horace stumbled backwards.
"Wait!" He cried, and saw stars as one of the creatures struck him with a boy fist. His magic snapped outwards, but the creatures did not fall as the other monsters had.
They have no soul to take?
"Stop! You don't know what you're doing!" The pale man thrashed around, but the skeletal grip on his legs and arms was like a vise, pinning him in place. "Please, hear me out. Or you'll all perish!"
The pressure on his limbs vanished, and the soldiers released him. Horace rolled over, panting, and saw the Lord of Souls staring at him in surprise.
"Die? This is the Underworld, vampire."
"You already suspect it, don't you?" Horace smiled grimly, getting to his feet. "That I'm being pursued."
"I assumed as much, what with your unruly entrance into my domain."
"But you don't know why. And if you get rid of me, you will never know." The pair stared at each other for a moment, locked in a silent struggle. The being on the throne looked bored, but Horace knew his interest had been piqued.
"Very well. You may speak before I pass judgement." The skeletons moved past him and stood in front of the door, blocking his escape. "I will know if you lie."
And so, Horace spoke. Of his village, of the things that had befallen them, and his new destiny that had been given to him. As he related his experience in the cursed forest, he felt an alien influence surge inside of him once again. He beat it back desperately, hoping the man had not noticed. When the vampire had finished, the Lord of Souls was silent and unmoving, as were his minions. The air itself did not move, nor did the furniture which had been shifting before.
"So." The words were quiet, unhurried. "You fled here, from the witch's power. And you think that this amulet is here as well."
"Yes. If you help me find it, I can-"
"But you do not know where?" The Lord cut him off, and Horace saw his eyes harden slightly.
"I... Well, no, but-"
"Then you are nothing but a danger to my town." The sentence fell calmly, but the weight of the words was enormous. Behind the vampire, the skeletal guards stirred. "A target, to bring her wrath down upon us all."
"That's not true!" Horace retorted angrily. "She can't get down here, can she?"
"With her powers, anything is possible. If she comes, the entire of balance of life and death will be disrupted!" The man stood suddenly, face contorted with rage. "You would doom all of us."
"But the amulet would protect us!"
"If you had it. You do not." And now the Lord sat down again, eyes weary. "I cannot allow it, Horace Hawthorn. And so you will be cast out."
"Wait a-"
"It is done. I banish you, vampire, in the name of the Lord of Souls!" He clapped his hands, and the skeletons sprang into action, seizing Horace by the arms. "If you return, you will die. Go, and let me see you no more." The vampire struggled, but it was no use. The arms wrapped around him, implacable and undeniable.
"Let me go!" He roared, but it was no use. They dragged him away, through the front doors and out into the darkness once more. His last glimpse of the ruler of Casket Hill was of him sitting on his throne, eyes intent upon the thrashing prisoner. But oddly enough, the dark orbs were filled with nothing but sorrow.
The doors closed, and Horace was dragged away, a bitter taste in his mouth.
They threw him out onto the hard ground, just outside the iron gates. Horace lunged desperately, but the doors slammed shut, leaving him trapped in the forest.
"Wait!" He cried. "Please!" But even as he reached out to touch the metal bars, a dark cloud swirled around him, obscuring his vision. When it cleared, there was nothing in front of him except rotting trees and a black sky. Casket Hill was gone, and with it went the only person who could have helped him.
Horace fell to his knees, and although he could not shed tears, wept bitterly.
So this was to be his punishment, for failing. His feet stumbled over a rock, and he tripped, hitting the hard-packed ground with a thud. It was so, so cold, even for him.
Me? The thought rippled through his mind. Was he... someone? The knowledge was there, behind a wall, and the man could not see it.
A silent effort, and the wall receded. He was Horace, and he was wandering the Land of the Dead without end.
My search... the amulet! How can I find it? And now the rest of the memories came flooding back, as they did every time he returned to himself. He had been assaulted by bats, wolves, unspeakable horrors, and his only defense had been the ever present magic inside of him. A blast of power drained the life from all who opposed him, letting him continue to wander. But as the magic waxed and waned, so did his mind. Lately, it had begun to result in lapses where Horace lost his memory completely, each one longer than before.
If I continue like this... I won't come back. I'll be lost forever. Yet what else could he do but wander, searching for something he might never find?
Because if I stop... they will be lost as well. And I will never allow that to happen. It was my responsibility to protect my people, and I failed. But I'll make it right. His foot hit another hard object, and Horace fell once more. He grumbled, moving to pick himself back up, but the sight of the object in front of him stopped him in his tracks. It was a small, square stone, rounded at the corners, and well worn from the passage of time. In fact, it was an exact match for the roads of his village.
This cannot be...
His hands trembled as he traced the stone with a finger. It was real, real as anything else he had seen. The village could not be here. It was an impossibility, sheer madness to consider. And yet, there was another, and another! A hoarse laugh croaked from Horace's throat as he rose, staggering forward to follow the stones. Slowly, they merged into a path, and then a road, and the vampire began to run. On and on he went, not caring how much noise he was making as his feet pounded on the street. His energy was almost expended, but shelter was waiting for him up ahead. It had to be.
The vampire crested a hill and stopped, stamina virtually exhausted. There, as though he had never left, was the village he had lived in all his life. For a moment, he thought he saw the smoke from the various huts, the fires of the forge, and the usual faces of his family, waving to him. But then it was gone, and Horace saw the ruin for what it was. The town was crumbling and deserted, devoid of any life or happiness that it had once held.
"How did this come to be?" He murmured, staring down the main street. Before, it had been busy, but now there was nothing but a chill wind that blew across hid neck. The vampire twitched.
This silence won't last long... And I have not much time left. Horace started forward slowly, moving down into the clump of abandoned homes.
The main street was a mockery of its former self. Many of the structures had collapsed upon themselves, leaving piles of rubble stacked up upon their wooden foundations. The forge at Dimah's house had all but crumbled away into chunks of rock, and the well was had frozen into solid ice. What few houses he could investigate were barren and devoid of any furniture. Most concerning, however, was the constant buzzing of some sound that had appeared as he entered his former home. It was barely discernible, even in the silence, but it persisted no matter where the vampire walked. At some points, it was audible, while the humming faded away at others. Somehow, he knew he had to follow it.
With a start, Horace realized he had traced his usual path through the village. In front of him was his own house, half buried in a pile of timber and stone. The lanterns next to the door were gone, and the roof looked as though it could fall in at any minute. Without thinking, Horace stepped up onto the porch. The next second, he felt a jolt of pain as his power surged once more, eating relentlessly at the little humanity he had left. The vampire staggered, seizing the doorpost to prevent himself from falling. A groan of pain left his lips.
Not when I'm so close. A little more time! With another great effort, Horace forced the magic down even as it burned fiercely inside of him. After a moment, It subsided, and the former man was able to stand upright again.
"When will this pass?" He murmured, but there was no answer as Horace pushed the door open.
The interior of his home was just as he remembered, save for the collapsed wall where his bedroom had been. A small kitchen formed the left side of the cottage, complete with table and chairs. Further back, his study dominated the remaining space, but it was devoid of all the instruments that made it his favorite room. His potions and books were gone, and the shelves themselves were little more than dust. The vampire paced forward, shivering in the sudden cold.
Cold? I've not felt this cold in the Underworld since I arrived. The buzzing increased in volume as he took another step, red eyes flicking over the remains of his past life. And then he saw it, lying on the table: a piece of parchment, engraved with lines. Horace picked it up slowly, examining it. A map, maybe, or some unknown language? Even as he scanned it, the paper began to dissolve into dust as age finally made itself known to him. And now the buzzing was taking a different tone, one that felt more insistent and forced.
That was a page from one of my books. An ancient tongue, dating back to the earliest era of the Goddess. But why did it remain, while nothing else did? A message from her? Horace backed out of the house as he thought. The buzzing seemed to be pointing him back towards the center of the village, and he obeyed numbly, unsure of what to do.
The area around the well was still deserted, but the sound in Horace's head pulsed louder as he approached.
Not here, but close... A screech echoed through the misty air, breaking the silence he had become so accustomed to. Another one of the cursed bats was soaring overhead, and when it saw him, it hurled itself directly towards his position. Damn it! Without thinking, Horace seized his power and hurled it at the approaching enemy.
Pain unlike anything he had felt thus far exploded through him, and the vampire fell to the ground, even as his enemy was blasted from the sky. It was agony unlike anything he had ever known, and the sensation tore at his very mind as he curled into a ball, howling wordlessly. And then it stopped, and Horace managed to sit up, hands shaking. Another tremor of pain arrived but it was weaker, and he could ignore it.
That's it, then. I've reached my absolute limit. Even now, he could feel the old bond between him and the witch beginning to stir. The buzzing sounded again, and Horace though he understood.
"It's buried beneath me?" Another pulse, like a heartbeat. Without a second thought, the vampire began scraping at the hard packed earth below him. It was frozen solid, but he managed to move a few millimeters of earth with each pass. Soon, the hole was a few centimeters deep, and yet he did not see anything besides dirt.
There was another piercing cry, and more bats soared out of the trees towards the village.
"I can't fight." He murmured to himself. "I can't. I'll lose myself." Without a doubt, the vampire knew that if he succumbed to his power again, it would be the last time he did so. Horace redoubled his efforts, clawing and hacking at the ground with his pale fingers.
"Maybe a shield..."He said softly, and raised his hand as the bats swooped down upon him. A few feet away, they crashed into an invisible wall and bounced off, squawking with malice at being unable to reach their prey. The pain struck again, but Horace thrust it out of his mind. He needed to focus, needed to find it!
How long he knelt upon the grass, fighting off every-increasing agony and scraping at the earth, he did not know. The bats had given up their attacks and merely circled around his barrier, waiting for him to tire. It was over, and he had no energy left to resist.
His fingers scraped something even colder than rock, and Horace froze. It was a metal chain, connected to something deeper within, and the vampire pulled on it. Slowly, it began to yield, and he could see more of the same golden chain emerging from the icy ground.
Something struck his barrier, and it burst into a thousand shards that vanished into the dark. Horace flew backwards, stunned by the strike, rolling across the square to fetch up against the well. Stars flashed in his vision, along with a whole lot of red, and the vampire sucked in an icy breath. A spectral figure loomed over him, holding a sword in one ghostly hand. Its eyes were obscured by a large helmet, but its fury was unmistakable.
So this really is it. After all I've survived down here, this ghost is going to kill me. Above him, the vampire bats were swirling with uncontained bloodlust. Horace laughed quietly at the situation, and the movement made him realize that something was still clutched in his fist. He opened it, revealing a golden pendant.
Time seemed to slow. The amulet. After his entire journey, the item he sought was in his hands. It was small, with a simple golden chain attached to a silver circle. In the center, a scuffed and faded diamond had been mounted, seemingly without any tools. It was unimpressive, but the vampire knew instinctively that the small necklace held enough power to destroy him without a second thought.
I finally found it. I guess there's only one thing left to do. The specter leapt forward, and the bats fell upon the slumped figure. But they were too slow, and with a smile, Horace pulled the amulet over his head.
I'm ready.
There was a brief moment of calm before oblivion took him.
"Horace!" The name was ripped from him as he leapt up from his bed. Where was he? Where had the village gone? What had happened to the amulet? His hands clutched at his throat, but there was no chain to touch. In a near panic, he whirled around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. A window showed a night sky filled with stars and a vast ocean.
None of this is right! None of it! Finally, he located the door and leapt towards it. Get out of this prison first, and then-
"Ean?" The voice stopped him in his tracks, and the figure turned back towards the window. Another person was stirring, in the same bed he had been lying in a few moments prior. It was an elf, with cerulean hair falling around her shoulder. Her eyes were wide, and he saw hints of confusion and fright in them.
"Iya?" The name fell from Ean's mouth, and he felt his senses return.
I'm not Horace. I'm not there. Not trapped. He felt his panic subside slightly, but the elf felt his heart pounded relentlessly. Outside, the stars twinkled merrily as the ocean pounded the shore. That's right. We're in Seri. They had flown there, and the sultan had given them rooms in the palace. Iya had gone with him into his room, and then... nothing.
"Ean!" Vincent roared. "Can you hear me?" He had never heard the man so frightened before.
"You saw?" He asked simply, and he felt frustration emanating from the spirit.
"You vanished again. What happened?"
"I'm alright. Tell the others we'll talk later."
"But-"
"Later, Vincent." The elf said, a hard edge entering his voice.
"Ean?" Iya asked again, and he started. She looked even more concerned now, with a blanket drawn up around her torso. Evidently, they had both been fast asleep.
"Sorry, Iya. Didn't mean to wake you." With a sigh, Ean sat down on the edge of the mattress, brow furrowed. What had happened to Horace after he put on the amulet? Why couldn't he remember? As if sensing his tension, Iya slipped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest. They were soft and gentle, rooting him firmly in reality.
"A dream?"
"Memories." Ean murmured as she moved her fingers through his hair. His nightshirt was out of sorts, and he straightened it after a moment. "Horace again. And the amulet." He had told Iya about his previous visions of the man-turned-vampire. "He was in pain, Iya. They were killing him!" His voice rose slightly, but he could not stop himself. "He was dying!"
"It's okay now, Ean."
"It felt like I was dying. I was him, for a while." His companion was silent, but her hands did not cease their comforting movement at his near whisper.
"I'm sorry." He said after a minute or two. "For waking you."
"Don't be. I'd rather be awake with you." Iya yawned slightly. "What time is it?" He glanced at the window, and saw that the moon had barely begun to sink towards the horizon.
"A little past midnight." He murmured, turning to face the female elf. "Thank you for bringing me back, Iya." She nodded, and then gasped quietly as Ean seized her, dragging both of them back down onto the mattress. He felt her body curl up against his, and the elf's eyes closed almost immediately.
An indistinct murmur, one he couldn't quite make out.
"What was that?" He breathed, and Iya repeated her statement quietly. A smile crept across his face.
"I love you too." And having said this, he fell asleep.