387 C.E. 01/03 Mid-day

 

The Guild is pushing to find a means of eradicating the vampires for good. Some members think that there’s a secret weapon that The Church is hoarding for themselves, and others believe that it's impossible to eradicate their existence, and that they’re just a part of life now, a predator that we have to fight. I believe the secret to beating the vampires lies in their own kind. I’ve received reports from an agent inside of a manor that’s owned by a vampire. This vampire doesn’t loathe humans like the others do, and yet, possesses similar strengths to his kin. Rumors have circulated within its walls that this vampire, Tiryl, wants to have a son. If his traits are passed on to his offspring, we might be able to kidnap it and train it to fight for us, instead of them.

- Jade

 

Prologue

388 C.E.

 

Rain pattered on the high tree leaves below Visrynth as more storm clouds circled in. He hovered above, staring into the dark unknown. Flashes of light erupted in the ashen sky, revealing a brick-laden estate. He held his father’s crimson sword loosely. Water flowed down its blade like a flooding river. A translucent black tether ran to the base of his skull from the luminescent ruby pommel. The jewel contained a swell of black mist that was moving consciously. The tether allowed Visrynth to communicate with the demonic spirit within the ruby.

“That is where your brother resides, Visrynth.” A guttural voice whispered in his head.

His grip tightened. A frown enveloped the lower half of his face.

“Araxis’ will must be carried out. As you wish, Nobellum.” He recited with sharp, glowing eyes that stared at the manor.

“Yes… Annihilate his son… Destroy your brother, he breeds too soon…”

A sharp, overflowing beat lined the walls of Visrynth’s mind. His thick eyebrows dipped as he hovered ever closer to the structure.

“Tiryl failed me where you did not, my son.”

Ceaseless chatter… Visrynth thought. He released the sword, gravity having no effect on it. With closed fists, he began bashing through an outer wall. Bricks plummeted to the ground, the sound of thunder masking his efforts.

“You serve me well, firstborn…” It whispered, sounding pleased.

Visrynth landed on purple carpeting, wet with rain. Thick stone chunks surrounded him as gusts of wind poured in, unsettling his long, grizzled hair. The sword followed him inside, returning to its red right hand. A soft melody echoed throughout the halls, originating from a harp somewhere in the estate. The walls were decorated with violet draperies hung around paintings of vampires. Visrynth sniffed the air.

“A human is near.” He whispered.

“Slaughter and drink all of his servants… Erase this foul history.” The voice commanded.

Unhanding the sword, it darted tip first around the corner. A pained groan, followed by the crashing of silverware reverberated in the halls. Spilled blood trailed the floor beneath the blade, it carried a neatly dressed man by his stomach. Visrynth stared into his lifeless eyes, scarlet hues created a growing pool on the servant’s white clothes. The man’s features gradually sunk in and became hollow. The sword dropped the empty body on the floor and returned to Visrynth. Dots of blood absorbed into the swerving blade.

“I thirst for more!”

Visrynth continued past the corpse, deeming it too old for his refined palate. He fixed his vermillion tunic when the harp’s song abruptly concluded.

“The humans can wait. They know I'm here now.”

Visrynth slowly gained elevation. He began maneuvering through the halls, the servants he passed below fleeing from his presence. In the main hall, he saw his brother sitting beneath a massive golden chandelier.

“There you are, Tiryl.”

Their eyes met. Visrynth loomed overhead. Tiryl was idle on a delicately carved black walnut stool, a golden harp between his legs.

“Where is the child?” Visrynth demanded.

“You won't find him.” Tiryl set his jeweled hands on his thighs.

“Kill him now! My kin are unconcealable to me!” The voice ordered.

Visrynth remained, waiting, watching. Both of their senses heightened. They could taste the stale air. Feel the howling winds vibrating the curtained windows as the storm grew. Tiryl’s right hand slowly slid down the outside of his thigh. Visrynth postured to a two-handed stance, not knowing what to expect. Thunder crackled and roared. Three gleaming daggers flew toward Visrynth. Their metals clanged with his sword. He winced, his flesh sizzled. A sterling blade protruded from his left shoulder.

“You dare use their weapons on me!?” Visrynth shouted.

He tore it from his body and discarded it. The skin on his palm bubbled. 

“Fascinating… Tiryl uses their weapons better than they ever could. Such a tolerance to their effects must have taken decades to build.”

He lunged down, bits and pieces of wood sprayed in every direction. Tiryl tumbled the attack, unleashing a barrage of silver darts. Visrynth squinted at the impending wall of glittering metal. His body morphed into a plume of bats. They fanned out and evaded the projectiles. Before Tyril could react, they encapsulated his limbs and lifted him into the air. Tyril flinched when the sword snapped into center vision.

“You can destroy me, but please…” Tyril tugged his restraints, ash sifting from his charred hands. “Spare the child… Like me, he needs companionship.”

The blade cut into Tyril’s clothes, revealing his bare chest. It carved into his flesh a pentagram, then sank itself deep into its center.

“Rejoin our creator, Tyril.” Visrynth’s voice emanated from every circling bat.

Tyril’s features deflated and became hollow.  A black goo seeped from the wound and enveloped the blade. The sword flicked and splattered it across the room, painting a gash that stretched from the center of the oak floor to the marbled ceiling.

“I can sense the child’s presence. There is a secret passage beneath the mansion.”

Visrynth returned to his original form and palmed the hilt. He gently landed on the floor and pondered.

  .  .  .  Tyril was strong. I trained with him regularly when my father hid us in the catacombs during the war. Before he died, my preferred weapon was my fists, that's why it was so easy to destroy him. He was predictable, and I was not  .  .  . 

Visrynth twanged the strings on the harp, snapping each one as the pitch descended. He glanced at the servants watching through keyholes and cracked doors, a protruded vein pulsating on his forehead. His fingers reached the end of the harp, meeting its golden frame.

“The child’s presence is fading, my firstborn.” The voice urged.

Visrynth’s hand engulfed the frame of the harp.

“Maybe one of these sniveling humans knows where the hidden entrance is.”

He released the golden fixture, leaving an impression of his grip behind. Visrynth neared a delicately whittled chestnut door, the scurries of humans audible on the other side.

“Hiding like rats…” 

Visrynth walked through the door as if it was a tower of cards. Splinters scattered, coating the ground below. He advanced toward a whimpering woman hiding underneath a broad desk. He lifted it with one arm, tossing it aside. She laid in a fetal position, a puddle of tears near her face. Visrynth grabbed her bunned up hair and lifted her to eye level. The servant clawed at his wrists, dread filling her eyes. Her peers fled in the background.

“Futile… If you want to live, you will tell me where the child is.” Visrynth’s grip tightened, strands snapping from the pressure. “You have no future in this estate, little girl.”

“O-Over there.” Her trembling arm pointed at a half stocked bookshelf. “Please let me live. I have chi-” 

Visrynth’s maw enveloped her throat, drinking his fill. The air of life slowly escaped her lungs, losing consciousness as her skin adopted a gray tone. He discarded the sunken husk while gliding toward the bookshelf she pointed at prior. The tearing of wood reverberated throughout the office, revealing a concealed tunnel. Water dripped through the cracks webbing its weakening structure, tapping Visrynth’s shoulders and scalp. A baby’s soft cry echoed.

“Destroy the child!”  The voice in his head commanded.

Visrynth closely examined the stone flooring as he continued down the shaft, ignoring Nobellum’s urgency.

“I suspected he was at work here… But a trap underground, how irregular. I wonder its purpose.” 

He stared at a lime pebble tucked away. Under closer inspection, sigils were carved on its surface, glowing brighter as Visrynth neared. He looked left and noticed another. Then further ahead, a third, creating a triangle. Visrynth clamped the bridge of his nose, trying to figure a way past the snare.

“Hmph… During The Purge, they used no such tactics to destroy us. There were only speakers that read from books to summon snares that bound, dooming us to be consecrated in the sun.” The voice inside Visrynth’s head recounted.

Visrynth clashed his elbow against the wall, chipping out a sizable shard. He used it to scooch the pebble over, narrowing the triangle and creating a path around it.

“The man that created that is known as The Jade Trapper. I’ve heard stories about him, but never encountered his work. I suspected there was a defector amongst Tyril’s servants, but I'm curious as to how the child got past the trap…” He stroked his beard. “Maybe the human transporting him knew of it?”

“Intriguing… A challenging adversary.” The voice concurred.

Visrynth proceeded down the tunnel, puddles splashing beneath his stride. He contemplated Tyril’s words and lifestyle.

  .  .  .  Why did Tyril have so many servants? They seemed to have no purpose other than to just be present, as if he needed companionship. Neatly dressed, fed… He didn’t kill them for their soul’s sustenance either, they appeared very content inside this manor. But that's very unusual for- Humans hate our kind, we consume their souls, barring them from heaven for eternity… Why did Tyril create a child as well? He was brought up by Nobellum, same as I. He should share the same belief system that we have. There must be some sort of mastermind behind all of this, that’s the only explanation as to why the humans wanted to be here.  .  .  . 

Visrynth could smell the human carrying his target close ahead. When the target came into sight, he lifted off the ground, nearly grazing the ceiling of the tunnel. A rush of bats stormed past the servant and the baby she carried like a black blizzard. They congregated in front of her and formed a wall, slowly combining. Visrynth emerged from the black cloud, sword in hand. She stumbled backwards and fell, water splashing from the impact. 

“Who do you serve?” Visrynth inquired, his sword hovered inches from the woman’s nose.

She crept backwards while still facing Visrynth. “I-I served Lord Tyril.” The sword maintained its momentum, matching hers.

Visrynth raised an eyebrow. “Served?” The sword moved its peak and touched the tip of her chin, raising her eyes to meet his. “Whom?”

Visrynth stepped closer, his towering body overshadowing hers. He looked down at her with belittling eyes. 

“Stop wasting time with this sniveling human. Be done with her. Destroy the child.” The voice demanded.

The woman’s lips quaked, fearing eternal damnation. “A-A hunter wanted me to deliver the vampire-child to him.”

The sword dipped downwards and sank deep into her chest. Her grip faded and the baby rolled to the floor, sobbing. Visrynth picked it up by the collar of its garment. He stared into innocent, red eyes with slight disgust and an overwhelming feeling of curiosity. 

What was Jade’s plan for you, boy? Tyril’s need for companionship controlled him like a puppet. Creating a baby vampire… How absurd. This infant must be significant somehow. Visrynth thought.

“What are you doing Visrynth, staring at this abomination? Destroy him!” The voice ordered.

“No. I have plans for this child now, same as The Trapper.”

Visrynth held the child in one arm and found his way out of the tunnel. The rain softly trickled on the passing leaves as he gained elevation. The baby stared at Visrynth the whole way, tugging at his long, grizzled hair with loving, crimson eyes.

“So it's true… Infighting between the vamps.” Mumbled a stocky man, wearing a jade jacket. 

He was crouched over the collapsing corpse of Tyril. A hallowed husk, slowly caving into itself, turning to a pile of ash. In the aftermath, only bones would remain. He touched the center of its torso, rubbing the remains between his fingers. Looking up, there was no evidence of a Sun’s Consecration. The man continued to rub the ash, his index and thumb moving in circular motions around the fingertips. His eyes followed the mysterious black gash that sliced the room while he scratched his head.

What the hell happened here? He thought.

The man attempted to pick at it with his finger, but it seemed to be a stain in the oak floor. He opened a booklet and began scribbling an image of the scene into it. After a dedicated couple of minutes, the book snapped shut in his calloused hands. He moved to a different room.

“Jesus… Poor woman.” The man opened his satchel and laid a blanket onto the deflated corpse and made the sign of the cross. “May your soul find release from the vampire that consumed it.” He kissed the golden cross hanging from his neck. “Amen.”

Wrapping up his prayer, he turned around to the decimated bookshelf. The literature riddled the floor, pages bent, covers destroyed. He shook his head.

“What a waste.”

A soft draft unsettled his short, unkempt brown hair, originating from the secret passage that the bookshelf had concealed. He stood near it for a minute, listening, waiting. The light breeze kissed his ear. The moisture of the tunnel stuck to his skin like a humid summer day. Silence filled the air, save the soft hum of the air flowing into the manor. The man sighed and pursed his lips while he entered the maw of the tunnel.

“Shit. I knew they needed to be concealed better… Just wanted to make sure the kid didn’t get caught because of Abigail’s lack of perception.”

He crouched down to pick up his lime pebbles, depositing them into his pouch. He continued down the path.

“Ah, what's that smell?” The man covered his nose with the collar of his shirt. “Oh no… I’m so sorry, Abigail.”

He put his hand over the deceased woman’s eyes to close them. Letting out a long sigh, he put a hand on his forehead, wiping the sweat from his brow. He scrunched his eyes shut and kicked a pebble down the tunnel. The man crouched down, shielding his closed eyes from the outside world.

“God rest her soul.”

After strapping the corpse to his back, he looked around for any evidence of the child being destroyed, but there were no piles of ash.

  .  .  .  Damn… Why did he take the child? I was told that the bloodline Tiryl was born from despised breeding, and destroyed any vampires, along with their offspring. Luckily for me, the defectors amongst the servants fed me a bounty of information regarding their espionage on Tiryl. It seemed he was controlled by human emotion, companionship no less… It may have been passed on to his sole descendant.  .  .  .

 After jotting his last thought down in his notebook, he climbed a short set of stairs and lifted a hatch. Sunlight illuminated his chocolate eyes, squinting from the exposure. He brushed the dust off his shoulders and readjusted the straps holding Abigail. He slumped her against the hatch and unstrapped a small spade from his belt.

“You deserve a proper burial, Abigail.”

 

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