1475
Targoviste, Wallachia
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"No!"
A lone scream ripped through the night air as a middle-aged woman of beautiful descent was dragged kicking and flailing from her beloved cottage. Her luscious golden locks having been shorn in a jagged cut to the back of her ears and her attire clothed in just her undergarments; bruises and lacerations littered her fair, flushed, skin tone. She was yanked brutally from the now smoking home, pulled harshly from its once secure and comforting presence, and out into the cold breath of night. And she hollered more at the sight of her youngest child being roughened into a forced crouch-like position.
The men in thick robes of white and red draped heavy manacles over the squirming girl of five -and-ten.
Blood sprayed along the ash covered ground as the seething youth struggled in an attempt to break out from their hardening grips, kicking, punching, and throwing herself bodily in all sorts of directions. But she was sent reeling back against the dirt as a blade sliced at her thrusting fists, managing to cut the displayed palms of her flailing hands, forcing a howl of pain from the younger blonde.
"Let her go! Bishop, I plead with you!" The elder woman cried in horror and desperation as she sobbed in obvious pain at seeing her own child's blood spill across the ground. "She is but a child!"
The bishop ignored the woman's pleas and approached the snarling girl.
"A witch's horrid creation, indeed," he hums with an apparent look of pure disgust at having seen the gold irises of the young girl.
He sneered at the tearful gaze she gave him.
"What manner of devilry aided in the making of such an abomination, I know naught." His voice was full of venom. "But on this night. We shall purge Targoviste of this horrendous creature and its whore of a mother."
With a wave of his hand, the bishop gestured to him men.
"Remove it from my sight," he orders them over the now terror induced wails of the distraught mother of said daughter. "Keep it from out of the mother's view. We shall rid of the beasts' creator first and then finish it off… Be hasty before it gathers strength again."
"No! No, not my daughter! Please, you must listen to me!" Wails the woman as she throws her weight against the men restraining her, struggling to get to her snarling and sobbing child.
Again, she tries to plead.
"She's only a child!"
"A child of two monstrous beings!" The bishop howls. "An abomination!"
At this, there is a terrible growl that emits from behind the raging man clothed in the robes of a devout Christian follower of the Church.
It was thunderous and full of lethal emotions, dark with promise. The sound reverberated from the now resisting girl in question – whose golden eyes burned with the fury of a thousand suns. Her lips pulled back to reveal the lengthy fangs of a night-creature. Gold locks of blonde hair swaying to display the now pointing ears of an elven being. And raw hands that were marred with blood curled with the claws of a deadly predator. One look at the young girl and all innocent view of her was lost in the face of a shifting figure. A form that was now twisting and jerking in what appeared to be pain as her body rolled and curled in on itself, yanking at the manacles that held her down.
"W- What in the Devil?"
A horrified man of the cloth whispers in fear, having lost his grip of the chains that held her down in his moment of horror. "What is this… this monstrosity! She's- she's changing, Bishop! Into a beast! A true beast!"
Their horror multiplied as her form gave way to a mutated sight.
The girl's body was in the throes of a painful change between human and bestial alike. Her limbs and back arched as she howled another ear-shattering roar.
Golden strands of what seemed to be patches of fur burst from her flesh.
Her facial features broke and reshaped into the beginnings of a beast's own snout.
It lengthened her head and with it came the shifting of the rest of her body. Arms cracked and positioned themselves beneath her thin, slender frame until they became the grotesque looking paws of a wolf's. With it came her back legs as they slid and groaned below her body, crackling like wooden branches until they became a part of the hindquarters of a four-legged creature. And with a long, agonizing, howl that shook the foundations of the burning home, the once mortal-looking girl was gone.
In her place, relieved of manacles, stood a horse-sized wolf of majestic appearance.
The sudden shifting of girl into four-legged beast sent the group of robed men into a frantic moment of genuine terror. They scrambled back from the ghastly sight of the snarling, drooling, set of bared fangs as the pale-golden colored wolf prowled ever-so closer to them.
Growls of vicious anger burst from her massive chest as she swiped thick, clawed, paws down at them in warning.
Her snout pulling back into an ugly sneer as she leered hungrily at their wide eyes.
"Tatum! No! Do not give into the anger! Let go of it, I beg you, my girl!"
It was a panicky cry from the distraught mother, who took advantage of her restrainers surprise and broke free of them, charging ahead for the massive wolf before them. Her hands, strapped together in a horrid rope that was stained with her blood, rose to stop the snarling beast.
The action causes the beastly creature's fury to halt at the look of pain rippling across the beautiful woman's tear-stained face.
A whine of sorrow passes its darkened lips, seeping through sharpened fangs.
"Do not do this! You'll regret it, I know you will. Because this isn't who you are! You're stronger than this!" She went on to cry in earnest now, approaching the giant wolf with love and grief in her teary eyes. "You're my daughter, your father's daughter… We raised you to be strong in both heart and mind. You know I speak the truth, my darling girl… Trust in me, once more, I beg of you."
Tears fell from the large wolf's expressive golden irises and snaked along its snout as she dipped her head in submission to her mother's pleas, having no strength to ignore her mother's begging request, as she loved her very much.
"Enough, Witch!"
Hands roughly seized her, yanking into her shorn off hair and dragging her backwards into the chest of an angered looking Bishop, who spat in utter disgust and hatred at both mother and her beastly child.
"Restrain the Werewolf!" He bellows in great rage. "We burn the witch before she commands her familiar to slaughter us all!"
A terrible sense of fear settles upon the four men he spoke too.
"But- but Bishop? What will we do against this beast!" A pale and sickly-looking man of youthful features cries out to the man, who walks to the nearby wagon and horses with haste and urgency in his step.
A growl, that shook the ground, broke off the tension between them.
The woman, who had pleaded for mercy and for her daughter to remain calm, watched with grieving eyes as her youngest child's fury grew more intense as she listened to the men's voices spout nonsense about her mother's untimely demise.
She lurched forward to lunge at the men, who backed further away from her powerful form, and gave a loud bark of wrath, demanding they stop.
Yet there was one thing against the five-and-ten-year-old girl.
This was the first proper change she'd fully done in success. And since it was, her body was still weakened by the effects of her successful shift and wobbly at best.
Her hindrance was followed by fury at herself and them.
The Bishop's knowing gaze spotted her obvious weakness and a sneer grew across his wrinkled features as he led the still sobbing, sorrowful, woman away from her newly shifted child. Ignoring the anger that built within the girl's glowing irises and her body as she pushed herself to move closer, forcing away the shakiness of a newborn foal.
Her sheer determination made her body move further than it had before (sturdier appearing as well.)
But the uneasiness in her four-legged limbs could be seen every so often as they quivered with apparent strain. Which doused her furious rage with pain and despair.
"Do not let the foul thing pass or else our mission is all for naught!" He ordered the men with a craven look on his face as he shoved the beaten woman into the back of the wagon.
With a forceful tug, he quickened his pace.
"Our Lord and God will lay witness to the trial of these unsightly criminals and then we will toast to our God's mightiest warriors!" With this wild cry, he gestures to the men adorned in armor, who still held tightly onto the manacles that held the squirming and snarling bestial girl in place.
The men froze.
He ignored the blind terror and waved a, slightly, shaking hand towards them. "You four, alone, are our shield against this beast! Defend us readily!"
This sent the young shifter into a state of denial and fear as she jolted her body forward in shock at the sight of her mother being dragged away.
She howled in rage, steadying herself before reaffirming her position and resolve.
The bishop's command was all that remained as he disappeared down the stretch of road. And all that remained was a snarling, swaying, beast and the four firm faced men of cloth.
They watched each other with clear apprehension and fear; the looks swirling in both sides eyes as they stood in a motionless silence.
None moved.
The entire world seemed to pause as if it was watching them in their quiet battle of wills and determination. And the first one to move out of the five of them, happened to be the youngest looking man of cloth. His frightened face looked up at her with a mixture of fear and anger before he released a loud battle-cry and dove at her with his sword raised high in the air.
A heaviness settled within her chest then.
Limbs froze as her body and mind grew suddenly clear.
A sensation of Power, unlike any other, seemed to flood through her body and enhance her strength and endurance. Firing up her very abilities with a powerful force of ancient magic. It sent a message, as well.
Defend yourself and defend our mother.
Wide, golden, irises blinked in bewilderment.
Adrian?
It was as if her elder brother were here beside her.
As if he was gifting her some of his own power and strength to push onwards in this battle to save their beloved mother. And it brought her a wave of grief and comfort.
She was not alone in this.
Not now, and not ever.
With a thunderous howl, she broke into a sprint towards the running men (who followed after their fellow) and threw herself into the chaos that rained down upon them. Her jowls opened wide and she set her dagger-like teeth onto the men's flimsy chest armor, tearing through metal and flesh. Her claws raked their chainmail and rendered their skin mutilated as she bats them down to the blood-stained dirt, pressing against their crushing torso's as she bore her weight down above them.
Slices of flashing swords tore into her hindquarters and ribs as the remaining men hurriedly stabbed and jabbed at her. Their terror showing as she mauled their comrades with bloodied fangs and reddened claws. And though the piercing sensation of swords entering her body hurt.
She ignored the agony and pain and continued on her merciless killing spree – snapping bone and ripping arteries.
The four men dropped to three.
Three became two.
Until only one remained.
Both she-wolf and man stared at one another in disbelief and defiance.
They were riddled in blood from themselves and each other. Both panting from exhaustion and pain as they tried to steady their bodies from falling apart completely.
It was clear that neither wished to admit defeat, nor did they want to accept defeat.
It was a mistake on both sides. Their wounds and exhaustion now became a problem for the two fighters. And the fight against them would soon end with one winner, who survived, none knew.
"If only you didn't exist!" Screamed the dark-haired man, swaying and shaking with tiredness and pain.
He gritted his teeth and pulled his sword close.
"That woman would live! And my brothers would have never been forced to die under your monstrous fangs!"
Monster.
That's all they labeled her as.
Yet it was the mortals who became monsters when they killed others, they deemed outcasts and watched from the sidelines as their children were brutally attacked soon after their parents' deaths.
With a low, shaky, growl, she edged closer to the man.
"Go on! Kill me, you bastard!" He bellows. "But know this! That whore mother of yours will not survive this night! She's become a blight in Targoviste! Something that needs to be burned to rid the plague she sought to infest upon this land! A land our God gave to us!"
Anger seared to her heart, burning through her veins at his declaration.
With a howl of both despair and denial, she lunged at the armored man of cloth and pounced down onto his shorter form with a hunger for fury.
Sharp, bloodied, fangs tore into his neck and ripped off his layered chainmail in the process. Until she could finally reach his bared flesh to sink her teeth into, therefore finally killing off the wretch that stood in her way. And with that, she dropped her last prey with obvious revulsion before turning her gaze to the nearby city of Targoviste.
Her lips, stained with blood, pulled back and she snarled aggressively down at the towering church.
I'm coming mother… her mind swore, firm with determination and promise.
I'm coming.
Without a look to the mutilated corpses behind her, she broke into a mad dash to the nearby town, pushing herself beyond her limits as she raced desperately to save the only woman to ever have loved and cared for an orphan like her. And just with that last thought, she knew there would be no end to her mission, her dutiful task.
Nothing would take Lisa Tepes from her side.
Be it death or pompous, churchly, bastards.
Hell would soon rain down on them.
First look into my Castlevania fanfic.
Love to hear your thoughts and opinions, even suggestions, if you have some! As I'm excited and eager to hear what you, the viewers, think of my little disruptive character playing with the major characters of the timeline/plot.
R