Chapter 4 - A Dark Past
After the snowstorm had finally subsided, and the winds had stilled, the Ice Tribe and the Wolfskin worked together to lay the fallen to rest. The bodies of their comrades, some of whom were barely recognizable, were covered with snow in solemn graves, and the air was thick with mourning. The warriors, though weary from the battle, showed reverence as they honored the dead.
Back in the chieftain's home, the group gathered around a fire, their faces somber, though each of them was still processing the events that had unfolded. Across from them sat Abel, his posture slumped, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had finally accepted that there was no avoiding the inevitable. His past had come to haunt him in ways he could no longer ignore.
Abel sighed heavily and met their gazes, resigned. "I suppose you all have questions," he began, his voice strained. "What do you want to know?"
Corrin, sitting at the center of the group, spoke first. Her tone was soft, yet filled with a weight that only her uncertainty could bring. "Abel, you've been with us through a lot so far, but now... this... Nosferatu, this dark past of yours. What does that mean? What kind of person were you before?"
Effie leaned forward, her arms crossed and her gaze intense. "You said you were once a lord of some kind, but is that true? What kind of ruler were you? What did you do when you were this…Kain?"
Jakob remained more skeptical than the rest, his arms folded and his eyes narrowing in thought. "You've been hiding a lot from us. Why didn't you tell us the truth from the beginning?"
Niles, ever the pragmatic one, spoke next, his tone laced with suspicion. "What's the deal with these Dead Apostles? You seemed to know a lot about them. Why are they after you? Why are they even involved in this whole mess?"
Flora, always the curious one, asked the question that had been burning in her mind. "What is it about them? And why is it that you—Abel—are the key to everything? You've kept so many secrets from us."
Keaton, still nursing his wounds from the battle, let out a low grunt. His voice, though strained, carried weight. "What kind of monster were you in the past? And how can we trust that you're not the same thing now?"
The silence stretched as Abel looked at each of them, the room heavy with their expectations. It was clear they had to know the truth. And though it was a truth he had tried to bury, he couldn't hide it any longer.
Abel sat there, the weight of their questions pressing down on him like the cold mountain air outside. Each of their eyes felt like a blade, probing into a past he had tried so hard to bury. He took a long breath, his voice low but steady as he began to speak, knowing there was no more hiding, no more evasion.
"Alright. You want the truth. You've all earned it, even if it's something I wish I could leave in the past... but I can't anymore. So here it is."
He paused, his gaze falling to the fire in the center of the room, his hands instinctively tightening around the rosary wrapped around his arm.
"Before I was Abel, I was Kyo Hirasawa. I was just a normal teenage boy, not special in any way, living a solitary life. I was socially inept, and I spent most of my time trying to make sense of a world that felt distant, disconnected. I wasn't a leader, and I never sought power. I thought I could live my life quietly. But then fate twisted everything. I met Elesia—she was a vessel for Michael Roa Valdamjong, the most powerful of the Dead Apostles. That night, she cornered me. She gave me a choice—either die or serve. And in my weakness, I chose to serve. Elesia turned me, and I became a Dead Apostle. That's when I truly fell into the darkness. I embraced it—became a monster in every sense of the word."
Abel's voice grew harder as he spoke, as if the memories were clawing their way to the surface.
"As a vampire, I did things I'm not proud of. I became a lord, yes, but not in any honorable way. I conquered, I slaughtered, manipulated and betrayed those who trusted me. I sought to create a world where vampires, Dead Apostles, would rule over humans. I thought I was destined for something greater—above humanity, above everything. But in reality, I was just feeding my own darkness, my own desires. I thought that by becoming the strongest, by wiping out everyone who stood in my way, I could force the world to bend to my will. I was a tyrant. And when Elesia died, I was left alone, a pawn with no master, but my goals remained the same. I gave myself a new name… Kain. The locals of the area I haunted soon began to call me Nosferatu. A synonym for devil or fiend. It's also another term for vampires in folklore. As Kain, I continued Elesia's work, thinking I could achieve what we both had set out for. But humanity, as much as I wanted to crush it, wouldn't be defeated so easily. There was war, there was bloodshed. But in the end, they managed to defeat me."
He paused again, his eyes distant, lost in the memories.
"But the real nightmare didn't end there. I was taken away to a new world—Zemuria—where I thought I could rebuild my empire without interference. I was wrong. Even there, I couldn't escape the heroes, the ones who would rise up against me. And it was my obsession with an innocent maiden that eventually became my undoing. In the end, it wasn't a hero or a vampire that defeated me, it was my own desires. A priest offered me a second chance instead of ending me. He sealed my powers and gave me a new name—Abel Deville. A new life, a new purpose. I've spent the years since trying to make amends, trying to become something different from the monster I once was. But that doesn't change what I've done. I've killed, I've betrayed, I've destroyed. And I can't change that."
His eyes flicked over to the group, his expression both weary and searching for understanding.
"I didn't tell you the truth from the beginning because I thought I could bury it. But you deserve to know who I was, and what I've done. The Dead Apostles, the legacy of Roa, Elesia—they're part of me, whether I like it or not. I know too much about them, and I carry their influence. They still want me, and there are others like them who would use me for their own ends. I didn't share this with you because I didn't want you to see me for what I was. A monster, a killer. And I know you have every right to doubt me, to wonder if I've really changed."
Abel's voice softened, a flicker of remorse passing through his eyes.
"I've done terrible things. I was a fiend, and I can't erase that. I want to believe that I've changed—that I can be better. I know it's not enough to just say it. I will do whatever it takes to prove that I'm not the same Kain that you've heard about. I want to stop running from my past, and I want to make things right. I won't ask for your trust—because I don't deserve it."
He met each of their eyes, his expression hardening with the resolve to face what came next. "I was a monster, and now I am trying not to be anymore."
The atmosphere in the chieftain's home was thick with tension as Abel's confession settled over the group, each of them processing the weight of his dark past in different ways. The snowstorm outside had long subsided, and though the dead had been laid to rest, an air of unease hung over them, thick as the night clouds. Each member of the group found themselves reflecting deeply on what Abel had revealed.
Corrin sat closest to Abel, her usually warm eyes now clouded with conflict and empathy. Abel's revelation had stunned her, but more than anything, she felt a pang of sorrow for the man sitting before her—a man who had once been a tyrant, driven by lust for power, and yet had found the will to change. Corrin's heart went out to him, sensing the anguish beneath his words. She thought of the allies and friends she had lost, the battles she had endured; she had fought monsters before, but never had she seen one so open about their own regrets.
Jakob crossed his arms, his brow furrowed in clear distrust. Skepticism radiated from him as he observed Abel's expression, weighing every word he'd said. For Jakob, loyalty was absolute; he dedicated his life to Corrin, and he knew how easy it was for people to hide darkness under a facade of remorse. As Abel finished speaking, Jakob's sharp gaze didn't falter.
Effie felt a flicker of unease but also sympathy as she thought about Abel's confessions. As Corrin's protector, she wanted to trust anyone who had fought by her side. And she had witnessed Abel's loyalty, seen him risk his life for them. But this revelation—it was hard to reconcile with the steadfast ally she had come to respect. She squared her shoulders, her expression serious as she looked Abel in the eyes.
Niles, leaning back with arms folded and a smirk on his face, tried to suppress the strange familiarity he felt with Abel's story. He had a rough past himself, one that left scars few could see. As he heard Abel's story, the corner of his mouth twisted into a knowing smirk.
Flora, quiet and contemplative, was deeply conflicted. She had fought to protect her people from violence, from bloodshed, yet here was a man who had once caused immense suffering. And yet… she sensed the weight of his repentance, saw the way it clearly pained him to recount his story. As a person who knew the value of loyalty, she struggled with her emotions, wanting to protect her own while understanding the pain in his voice.
Keaton, though wounded, grunted his way through the story, his eyes fixed on Abel, still assessing him as though he were prey. He was a leader of the wolfskin, proud and protective of his kind, and he didn't take Abel's admission lightly. Though he'd fought alongside Abel, hearing about his past sent a shiver through him.
Abel looked at each of them, absorbing their responses with a grim but respectful silence. Their reactions were varied, some skeptical, some sympathetic, but none of them were lighthearted. He knew he had earned their doubts as much as he had earned their tentative faith. Their acceptance, for now, was fragile, conditional.
"Abel," Corrin began, her voice steady but tinged with emotion, "I can't pretend to understand everything you went through, or the choices you made... but I can see that those choices haunt you." She leaned forward, the firelight illuminating her resolute gaze. "You're here with us now, standing against those who wish to harm. I believe in the person in front of me, not in the shadow of who you used to be."
"You say you're trying to atone," Jakob said, his tone cool and piercing. "But a past like yours? It's not something easily forgiven, or forgotten. The things you've done can't just disappear because you regret them now." He glanced briefly at Corrin, then back at Abel, his eyes narrowed. "Lady Corrin may see goodness in you, but forgive me if I'm not as convinced."
"People can change," Effie said slowly, her voice almost hesitant but unwavering. "And I believe in second chances, Abel. I'll fight to protect those I care about—Lady Corrin, and everyone here. If you're with us, if you're really committed to this path… then I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt." There was a firmness in her voice, as if daring him to prove her right.
"Well, well, a vampire tyrant looking to mend his ways?" Niles chuckled dryly, an eyebrow raised. "I've known my fair share of monsters, and honestly, you don't scare me. At least you don't pretend to be something you're not." His gaze softened ever so slightly, though his smirk remained. "Just don't give us a reason to doubt you, Abel. Not everyone here is as forgiving as our dear Corrin."
"I don't fully understand the life you led, and I doubt I ever will," Flora said, her voice soft but steady. "But I can see what it costs you to face your past." She glanced at Corrin and took a deep breath. "Corrin sees something in you, and for her, I'm willing to give you the chance to prove that you've truly changed."
"You're lucky I'm not one to judge someone based on who they were," Keaton said with a rough laugh. "But you listen to me, Abel: if you ever even think about turning on us, I'll be right there to take you down. For now, I'll fight with you. Just… don't make me regret it."
With a deep sigh, Abel finally spoke, "Thank you… all of you. I don't expect trust overnight, and I don't deserve it either. But I promise, I'll do everything I can to prove to you that I am not that monster anymore." His green eyes met each of theirs with a sincerity born of deep remorse. "I know I can never erase my past, but I can try to make things right going forward. That's all I can offer."
The fire crackled between them, the silence heavy but, in some strange way, accepting. Despite everything, they were still a group bound by a common goal. The journey ahead would test them, but they would face it together—secrets, scars, and all.
Abel's momentary relief in opening up was suddenly replaced by an unmistakable, nauseating sensation. He recognized the feeling instantly—it was an all-too-familiar discomfort clawing at his insides, the unmistakable need he had learned to anticipate and dread. Trying to remain discreet, Abel reached into his coat and pulled out a thin metal tube and a small pipe, the latter looking rather worn but carefully tended to.
The others watched, Corrin and her allies exchanging confused glances as they observed Abel with curiosity, though none of them spoke just yet. Opening the tube, Abel tapped a fine reddish powder into the pipe and approached the fire in the center of the room, igniting the bowl with a quick flick of his hand. He took a few slow puffs, drawing in deeply, the embers of the bowl glowing as he inhaled, then exhaled wisps of crimson-tinged smoke that dispersed into the air. A subtle sigh of relief escaped him as he felt the immediate rush of vitality calming the nausea within him.
Finally, Corrin, unable to ignore her concern, broke the silence. "Abel…what was that? Why do you need to smoke that…red powder?" Her voice held only the smallest trace of judgment; mostly, she was worried for her friend.
Abel exhaled a final puff before lowering the pipe, his expression resigned yet slightly softened. "It's… complicated. But you all deserve to know." He placed the pipe on his knee, his gaze drifting into the fire as he began to explain.
"To put it plainly, I'm still a Dead Apostle. The rosary," he held up his arm, the chain glinting in the firelight, "it does a lot to seal my powers, to suppress the vampiric urges, the hunger for blood. Without it, I'd be just as monstrous as I once was. But even this," he gestured to the chain around his arm, "can only do so much."
The others listened intently, a mix of fascination and unease in their expressions.
He continued, "The rosary holds back the thirst. It makes it… easier to forget the need, like hypnotizing myself to ignore a hunger. But that doesn't change the fact that my body still requires something that resembles… well, blood."
At this, Jakob's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "So, what you're saying is you're still… dependent on blood?" He asked the question with a hard edge, his skepticism evident.
Abel sighed, glancing around before he answered, his voice weighed with resignation. "Yes.." He gestured at the pipe, the bowl still faintly glowing. "This powder—it's made from crystallized blood, taken from heretics and vampires I've defeated."
Abel met Niles' gaze, his expression solemn. "Drinking fresh blood is too dangerous. It would reignite old urges, pull me closer to the monster I once was." He held up the pipe. "Crystallized blood like this offers some stability. It can keep me physically intact, without letting the full power of that blood overtake me."
Effie frowned, thinking deeply. "But doesn't that mean you're constantly balancing on a fine line? Between control and… falling back?"
"Yes," Abel replied quietly, a trace of sadness in his eyes. "It's a thin line. But I'll walk it if it means I can live differently, without becoming the tyrant I once was. If I can use the remains of those I've slain to sustain myself, then at least some good has come from their deaths."
Flora spoke up, her voice soft. "It must take so much strength to resist those urges every day, Abel. To choose this life and deny that… darkness within."
"It does," Abel replied, his eyes meeting hers. "Every day, it's a battle. But it's one I'm willing to fight."
Corrin's hand clasped together as she looked at him, a flicker of sympathy in her gaze. "Thank you for sharing this, Abel. I… I can't imagine how hard it must be to face this every day, yet still choose to stay on this path. But I hope you know that you're not alone in this. We're here for you, to help however we can."
Abel's eyes softened, and he offered her a faint but genuine smile. "That means more than I can say, Corrin. I may carry this weight alone, but knowing you're here… it makes the burden lighter."
The fire crackled between them, casting shadows on their faces as they sat in thoughtful silence. Each member of the group, in their own way, began to see Abel not as the monster he feared he was, but as a man seeking redemption. And in that moment, a new bond was forged—one that would carry them through the darkness yet to come.
After a moment of quiet contemplation, Corrin turned to the group, her expression resolute.
"We need to return to Windmire," she said firmly. "We've seen how dangerous these Dead Apostles are, and we can't delay. Xander and the others need to know everything we've learned here."
Abel nodded in agreement, his gaze meeting hers. "That's a wise choice, Corrin. If Dead Apostles are involved, your kingdom could be in more danger than you realize. It would be best to keep your family informed—and prepared."
Effie clenched her fists, nodding. "Then we have no time to waste. We need to get back as soon as possible."
"I agree," Niles said, looking unusually serious. "The Dead Apostles… they're not like anything we've faced before. If they're a threat to the kingdom, Lord Xander needs to be prepared."
Jakob, however, looked wary. "Are you sure that's wise, milady? With all due respect, involving Lord Xander could lead to… political complications, especially if the Dead Apostles' intentions go beyond just targeting you."
Corrin's resolve didn't waver. "I understand your concerns, Jacob, but this is more than just politics. We can't face something of this magnitude alone, and Xander would want to know, both for Nohr's sake and ours."
Flora nodded in agreement, her expression determined. "I'll instruct the tribe to prepare for your departure, Lady Corrin. We'll make sure you're all equipped for the journey."
She stepped outside to relay the order to the remaining people of the tribe, and they quickly began gathering supplies.
Corrin looked at Abel, a note of relief mingling with gratitude in her voice. "Thank you, Abel. I know you could have just left all of this behind."
Abel gave a small shrug, though his smile hinted at something darker. "I wouldn't miss this. Especially with scores left unsettled—like Malkav, and especially Baron Vordenburg." His expression turned slightly wicked, a glint of old resentment flickering in his eyes. "Even when I was Kain, Vordenburg was insufferable… that smug, self-righteous fool could always use a reminder of his place." He chuckled, a little too pleased with the prospect. "And I doubt they are the only Dead Apostles lurking in Nohr right now."
The group shifted slightly, some of them glancing uneasily at one another, reminded again of the darker side of Abel's past. His sharp, almost sadistic edge, though controlled, still made him feel like a mystery—even a threat—they hadn't fully reckoned with. Effie looked at him warily, and even Jakob's usual composure seemed to falter for a moment.
But Corrin steadied herself, keeping her gaze firm. "If they're here, we'll face them. Together."
Her words drew nods from the others, though there was an unmistakable tension in the room. They were unified in purpose, but the reminder of Abel's complex, dangerous nature weighed heavily. They understood now that the dangers they faced weren't just in Nohr's shadows—they were in their midst.
Corrin, Abel, Jakob, Effie, and Niles mounted their horses and set off from the Ice Tribe's village, their destination clear: Windmire, the capital of Nohr. The chill of the Ice Tribe's lands gave way to dark, twisting forests and rolling hills as they rode, the road ahead bathed in the dim, dusky light that never truly brightened in Nohr.
The mood was tense, each of them absorbed in thoughts of what lay ahead. Abel rode quietly, his gaze focused, his jaw set, the recent revelations of his past still fresh in everyone's minds. Corrin kept glancing toward him, sensing the weight he carried but uncertain how to help him bear it.
The silence was occasionally broken by quiet exchanges, with Effie murmuring reassurances to Corrin and Jakob, ever-skeptical, throwing Abel a guarded look now and then. Niles, for his part, seemed more amused than wary, as if he found the entire situation thrilling in its danger.
Hours passed, and the looming, dark towers of Windmire began to rise on the horizon. Corrin spoke up, breaking the silence. "Once we reach the capital, we'll go directly to Xander. He needs to know about the Dead Apostles and the dangers they bring."
Abel nodded, his voice calm but determined. "Good. We'll need every advantage we can get. And if there are others like Malkav and Vordenburg in Nohr… this might only be the beginning."
The capital of Nohr awaited them, holding answers they hoped for and new questions they hadn't yet imagined. Together, they prepared to face whatever shadows lay ahead.