Castlevania: Aria of the Ascending Soul

Written By: Lady Lunar Phoenix

Beta By: Lady Lunar Phoenix

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It was beautiful in its strangeness.

The stories of the Castle of Dracula were of a castle shrouded by eternal night. Only to collapse upon seeing the sun as a sign that Dracula was defeated. So there was always this mystical feeling of what the castle would look like when it returned and brought these eternal nights. She had dreamed of the castle in her youth, of the foreboding walls and towers. The windows were lit with the warm glow of fires that brought to mind fireplaces and late night studies.

Later in life she found such settings in the fantasy and medieval romance stories, with the warmth of the fire chasing away the chill of the night. While the balcony she currently stood on in question was of stone, though it lacked chairs there were climbing roses up along side it. Filling the air with its sweet slumbering scent to comfort whoever stood there especially considering the lake below.

"So Dracula has made the two founders into his personal guards? Literally guarding the master chambers?" Francines' voice was carried off on the predawn breeze as she stood on the balcony. It rested as part of one of the hallways, allowing a person a bit of fresh air. The castle was slowly evolving glass for the windows beyond the interior walls of the structure. Windows for the parts of the castle that involved rooms were expected to have windows and shutters and curtains.

The winds were crisp and clear despite the absolute slaughter of the surrounding area upon Dracula's return, the lake below still a hollow bowl of shattered glistening shards of glass and dust. "Is Celia ok? Given how your own members were transformed, I can only wonder what happened to her."

"She hasn't fully gotten comfortable with the transformation yet, it could be that she's still new to it. But she was fine beyond that and was pleased with your ability to strengthen her sect." Michael recalled as he stood there, hands ever folded into the sleeves of his robe.

"That's a relief, was she able to tell you what happened? Has she just been here in service of Dracula?" Francine asked as she turned to look up at the castle. It was pointless since the balcony faced outward and the wall blocked the view of the master chambers.

"No, I'll have to admit it was a bit my fault on that. Graham was away from us for a long while and I spent my time chatting with him," Michael confessed.

"How is he? Given that he built your order off the belief that he was Dracula, finding out the truth must have been a shock." Francine noted as the light in the sky began to bloom.

"Well, to be honest not well... Dracula was kinder to Celia. But she didn't stab one of his friends," Michael conceded with a slight shrug. "He's trapped in the body of the demon he called up. Which may explain what happened to my followers, I can only theorize that his actions are the reason for the transformations. Because of our connection to Graham."

"I see, that would explain a few things true," Francine noted. "While we only wished to restore the balance that was destroyed when Dracula was defeated."

She was quiet for a moment before sighing, "or at least that was the general gist of what Celia would tell the followers." Her tone turned inward, repeating something she heard before, "It is best that Dracula exist, or else the need for his evil will spread to the populace. For their safety, we must offer up ourselves and our divine given gifts to ensure he stays the course."

"Ahh yeah, 'For God to be absolutely good...'" Michael recited...

"For God to be Absolutely Good, there must be an opposing and equal force. One needs look no further than the Old Testament to see this truth. For without an opposing force to lead His Flock away, there is no reason for God to care for man. What loving God kills a man's family just to have a contest of loyalties? He proves the loyalty of the man in question, but He blithely kills the family to prove it. One can even point out His disdain for women, how they are casually subject to treatment meant for animals and little more. Sure his Son saw the value in women and respected and cared for women as he did for man. But He did not strike down any of his women hating followers who carried on after His Son died for us."

It was the first sermon that Francine ever attended that Celia hosted.

A decidedly different direction than what Francine was used to, certainly. But there was a magnetism to how she spoke and certainly truths. When people were developing magical powers for the first time in ages upon the arrival of the Castle in 1999. Francine, herself, had been born with a form of necromancy, though she couldn't control the dead. She 'could' animate inanimate objects that had the form of living things.

A table stayed a table, but those tiny fairy figurines she had growing up came to life under her power.

"I don't understand why the Hunters even bother coming. They protect Dracula now clearly, but if Dracula strays from his path they would lose their powers as the cost. I recall you mentioning that once; that the Holy powers of the Hunter clans is dependent on the curse. Superior strength, stamina, endurance, magic... why would anyone want to give that up?"

"Well that's a point of contention between our groups," Michael pointed out. "I'm still in agreement that if the current form of Dracula does not wish to return. We should just replace him," Michael suggested easily as he leaned against the balcony's stone rail.

"No... I mean the idea is sound now that we have some context of the situation. But Dracula was ancient, and even his modern incarnation carries that power clearly. Anyone we put into position would be swatted aside instantly by, if not him, one of the Belmonts. We need something that is already ancient enough not to fall to the Belmonts power." Francine argued, her gaze drifting down to the far distant base of the mountains in the distance.

"Only Dracula commands all those very beings by his own presence. So even if we enthroned one of them, they would only give the throne back to Dracula at a moments notice." Michael pointed out, his tone carrying his own bit of frustration over the matter. "And Dracula doesn't want the throne, so the most we could possibly hope for is to stay in the castle, hope for some form of immortality to wait until his modern incarnation dies. Then enthrone someone else."

"There's his son, he's certainly not going to take on his fathers' role as ultimate evil of the world," Francine griped quietly. "And if he sits on the throne of his father..."

Beyond them the sky was growing into a blaze of fire, the sun was clearly starting to peek above the horizon on the other side of the mountain range. It was almost serene and peaceful, save the morning breeze gave a low hollow whistling sound over the lip of the emptied lake. Time was needed to heal the scars of what Dracula did when he realized what they did to his son. But the world could handle it, the trees would grow back.

If Dracula was anything, he was amazingly forgiving to nature's whims when compared to his nature towards people.

"I made a bad call there Michael. I thought that Dracula 'had' to be someone other than that teenager. How is Dracula, even if he humors us and returns to his throne; going to forgive us for crucifying his son?" Francine asked, her tone almost helpless in its frustration.

He watched as the breeze ghosted over her tired visage, a sign that she had been up too long and would be needing some rest very soon. "Well that's life you know, we have to make a call in everything we do. Sometimes we screw up, but that's just a learning experience."

"But this is a one shot deal, we die naturally we go onto the afterlife, we get killed and we end up here. And not in a way that helps us promote the very reason we're here. We won't be living and we won't be sustaining the natural order. We'll be no better than... than..." She threw up her hands in frustration. "We'll be lawn furniture and garden gnomes!"

Michael snorted in amusement before he shook his head, "you said it not me." He replied in amusement, the seriousness of the situation was not lost on him. But her sect had been about the preservation of the status quo on a global scale.

Graham had been about power. That the power of Dracula, the manifestation of his abilities were a sign of his superiority over humanity. Of course the Dark Children knew from the start what they were and had resources for hiding. Humans, after countless generations of merely 'being' human, were not so fortunate.

Grahams' stance however, was a natural progression of hubris. He was handsome, people listened to him due to his elegant appearance and speaking style. It was the type of style that got him backers from the elite and rich. Money couldn't buy immortality, though a Vampires' Kiss could. But Michael had seen the narcissist in the man from the start.

Realistically Celia was no better than Graham, for all her preaching and talks, the reality had been her power. Now Celia didn't want to 'be' Dracula, she wasn't interested in being fairly ritually killed every hundred years by some hunter. But she 'did' want to keep the powers that Dracula bestowed upon her upon his last defeat.

Francine had bought into the ideas that Celia promoted, and now that Celia was gone Francine pushed forward with those ideas. For which Micheal had to admit to himself that even if she wasn't who she was; he probably would have been willing to bend Grahams own order to her will.

"However; its gotten so late that its morning, we really should be getting to bed sometime soon," Michael pointed out.

"But we can't ignore the hunters..." Francine argued for which Michael just shook his head.

"And what are you going to do while drunk with fatigue?" He asked pragmatically. "Dracula is in no condition to come after us and the castle certainly affords enough safe spaces for us to rest. We've done all we can to secure our positions in the castle so we might as well get a rest."

Francine groaned in frustration as she rolled her head to look over at Michael. He gave a faint encouraging smile as the sun finally peeked a sliver of its light over the mountains. It cast a third of his face in light, as she was forced to concede that she 'was' tired. "Do you think its safe? Given the castles' penchant for turning people?"

He gave a light shrug, "I suppose this is one of those 'faith' moments," he offered while she begrudgingly began walking back indoors. While the sun was up the majority of the zombies would go into sleep states themselves. Dark Children associated with the day would continue being active, but those of the night would be gone. Meanwhile the cults would be in various states, those under his command had mostly been turned into beasts that were still roaming about. The others that served under Francine were still mostly human and interacting with their human needs about the same.

'I sealed off the kitchens... I... wait can the zombies bring food from there regardless? Or should I unseal the kitchens and dining room for meals?' Michael was suddenly left pondering.

Sealing it had been an attempt at looking after Reba, the girl was far too delicate to be endangered by the hunters roaming through the castle. The kitchen and grand dining room had everything she needed to be fed and taken care of. Including the pair of werewolves she had tamed by her gentle nature.

But he recalled the servants producing things out of seeming thin air before...

Francine walked off with her shoulders slouched in sleepy fatigue. 'Once I get some proper sleep I'll go see Celia. Hopefully she'll be happy to know that we made it here...'

She turned her steps towards what she and several others could only fathom as the 'servants living quarters' of the castle. Seemingly constructed for the living humans who had arrived with the intention to assist Dracula. It was, from what she could guess, a seemingly large mansion type of building with multiple rooms. Only it wasn't visible from any area of the castle, it wasn't below ground either as it had windows that opened to the outside world.

It had boggled Michaels' own mind, when they came across it, that he had been trying to draw a mental map of where the quarters were in relation to the castle. Failing to do so as, from what he could tell it was 'near' the kitchen, but not 'part' of the kitchen. It was even built to accommodate humans with plumbing that humans would need for bathrooms and such. So the castle understood, but where in the hell was the damn place? He was pretty sure it could have been on the blasted 'moon' by this point!

'I should get Reba to bed as well...' he thought as he finally dropped his arms and began to walk off to the kitchen. He couldn't hear anything around him at the moment, the daytime zombies staff were possibly fewer in number and only the soft clatter of a butler skeleton could be heard making its way down the paths of the castle. The sound of bones clattering on the stone floor gave the morning stillness a bit of its own heart beat.

When they had first arrived within the castle it had been dusty, the rugs were stained with blood the walls hung with ripped banners. Broken furniture was strewn about the place, at least that he had seen, but not all the furniture as he had been told. Now everything that he had seen that made the castle appear abandoned was fixed, given a clean scrub. It was interesting to see that the castle would make itself appear like this, given the state of mind that Dracula had been in when he summoned the castle back.

Especially since the castle was never known to have the ability to fluidly transition from one state to another in a matter of hours.

Walking alone down the hallways, he could feel the seals that he had placed through out the castle. They were still in place meaning the hunters hadn't figured out how to undo them. Yet keeping Reba safe while he worked had been incredibly important to him. Since Rebas' health never allowed her to do anything. She was one of Celia's followers, but fairly cursed with an immune system that betrayed her. Immunodeficiency, that forced her to live in a bubble for her own safety.

That was what both Francine and several other members of their cult had mentioned. Reba had joined via letters because she couldn't attend any sermons in person due to her condition. She was one of those low rank members who weren't invited into this little mission. Lacking powers of her own and it was only her connection and Francines' compassion towards the young woman that got her brought along.

Michael saw how her gentle spirit allowed her to quell the fury of the two werewolves and bring them to heel. It brought to mind the memories of his own dear daughter, and for that reason he had sealed her in the kitchen and dining areas of the castle. There was furniture for sitting and laying, rich food and drink aplenty for her to experience.

It was a sound in the distance, that of distraught voice crying for help. Carried on the beating of a door being pounded upon in the direction of where Reba had been kept. Soon more pounding could be heard as more fists were added. Leaving a passing thought for Michael if he had accidentally sealed some of the kidnapped guests in the area as well?

But was Reba ok?

Would the sheeple figure out she was part of the cults and take their anger out on her? Fear raised the bile in the back of his throat as he quickened his steps. The paintings and windows became a blur of morning lit colors as he rushed along.

"Is anyone out there? Can anyone hear us?"

Sound was sealed inside by the nature of the seals that Michael had placed. For anyone else they would hear nothing from beyond the seal, for him. He heard the cries for help and the distinct lack of Reba's voice among them. He unraveled the seal so he could throw wide the doors once he reached them. And watched as the doors flew open and spilled a number of people who didn't radiate the same essence of power as either cults.

Reba appeared, her expression distraught as she looked down the hallways and then zeroed in on him. "Father Michael? Have you seen my friends? They gone... How could they be gone?" Her pale, fragile presence comforted him in seeing that she was ok. She was dressed in a gown that seemed old fashioned even by his estimations. It had a light smattering of white powder on it and she smelled of flour and other baking supplies.

"Friends? You mean the two members who were transformed?" He hadn't found out what their names were yet. But odds were that she wasn't even using their proper names either. She nodded though, her flour stained hair was even oddly twisted up in a braid that he didn't recognize.

"Yeah, she seems to have won the trust of those big dogs... But they're gone and then we found the door was locked so they couldn't have gotten through there..." One of the women, her hands covered in flour as well but more cleaned up explained...