//Author Note: Another perspective on events: Rotten Æther | Scribble Hub//

 

Birds of all colours sing as they gather in the yard, searching for their breakfast, they guide the wind behind them with a magic that they were born to, just as natural as the feathers on their wings. They seem to hold a special interest in my home, gathering in the few trees that were maintained in the gardens, looking as if colourful flowers upon the branches.

They sit here almost as if in waiting, perhaps a servant here once spread feed for them, to invite them here, but no longer. Or maybe it is just that this spot of green in a city of mud and muck is an invitation to those who see it from above.

I’ve not once found myself curious about these things before today, or so it feels, because something has changed in my perception of the world. The air is just a little lighter drifting by lazily on by, the scents brought to me are imbued with meaning and emotion that I’ve been blind to up until this moment.

There is something special to the smell of fresh bread, the one scent that I pick apart from the others.

It is familiar and warm, like the soft blankets in the cold of winter. It is the scent of morning. What I would awake to every day since my birth, only missing on the few times when I would be forced to travel great distances on holiday or to escape the war.

Focusing on it now, I hear the pounding of small feet rushing down the halls of the mansion, and as the children pass me, I see the mirage of another boy amongst them. Luke, my younger brother.

I’m sure that he would be ecstatic to have so many new friends.

A sharp pain strikes my heart.

Like a shard of ice that pierces my flesh, it torments me, and yet that pain is itself not a terrible thing. I had thought to cast aside these emotions as the attachment to a life that is now gone. Illusions and lies. Things that I do not deserve to have as a creature estranged from the living.

I’m no longer certain how much of that is true. All can know for sure is that these attachments linger, though they should be long decayed.

The children accidentally tug at a curtain as they pass. The light, cursed and cruel though it remains, is a bright and cheerful affect to the house that has been blighted too long with darkness. It is as a healing magic, burning away the evils that have stained these walls. My own hands sting as I pull the curtains wider.

At my suggestion, the rest of the curtains are pulled open, creating a maze of light and shadow between me and my destination. I hop and skip through the halls, dodging the light. A game I would once play as a child before I’d completely lost my playfulness to act as a proper lady.

There is much that I must do today, and already I’m forcing magic through my æther veins to strengthen myself further, but that is no reason to let this wonderful morning go unappreciated.

Syr is likely already off on her own quest, rummaging around through a crypt full of undead. It’s the sort of thing that I’d expect of a mercenary and a necromancer. She will find herself in trouble, I’m sure of it, but she’s terrifyingly strong. She’ll survive.

I must worry instead for my own sake if I wish to ever meet her again.

My problems are not so simple as hers, however. If I could resolve all my issues by digging through an old crypt, then I would be out there with all the guards I could gather to the task, disassembling the crumbling ruins brick by brick, but no. My problem is something else entirely.

My fangs itch as a servant girl bows to me in passing. Her scent tickles at my senses and instantly I can see her tied to a bed, struggling as she cries, paralysed and unable to even squeak out a small vocalisation of her terror. I show her my fangs as her blood ripens, a sweet taste that I can already feel upon the tip of my tongue as I tease out her fear.

I swallow down the invasive temptation, shuddering in anticipation for something that I cannot allow myself to have.

Has my mind always been like this? Or is this sickness growing worse?

Syr and I both must battle against the undead, but where she can use clubs and swords, I must find another solution. My own undead heart cannot be cured with a sword, though perhaps a flame could clear away these terrible things that I feel. A solution best kept for more desperate times.

Who am I now?

Am I still the Christina Greystone that would blush when her step-mother reminds her of the embarrassing pranks she used to pull?

Am I the monster that lusts for blood and fear? Dreaming of my own servants being made into meals?

Will my madness grow further still? Who will I be once taken by the madness, when I no longer hold myself back from temptation?

There is but one person in reach that knows what it means to be a vampire, someone who holds all the answers that I need, and yet to get those answers…

Frost floods my body as I think of the red-eyed monster, seeing him at the dinner table enjoying his meal. My own face contorted as I scream at him, but I do not remember screaming at all. He takes notice of me and draws near, unlike in the past, this time he sees me, and the chains fall away as he offers me his hand.

He offers to share the meal. I stand, taking his cold hand in mine, and the familiar faces turn towards me. Tears stream down their cheeks, their terror seeping inside of me. It is wonderful.

I gag, lifting a hand to cover my itching fangs.

I must know, who I am now. I must find a way to pull the answer from that monster, but if he speaks even a word to me…

An electric thrill runs through my guts, realising that he could remove my inhibitions and allow the monster in me to be free.

Grinding my fangs, I steady myself and walk on. I cannot allow myself to be the monster that he would make me into, but there is a chance that I would become a monster anyway.

I cannot allow myself to remain ignorant. Therefore, I must face him and find my answers, but how? How can I get answers from a villain who can slay with but a single word?

“Belle,” I call, knocking on her door, my body still laced with the desire for more blood and fear.

“Tina,” Belle says, sitting up in her bed, appearing to be in better health than before. My soul itself burns as I take a step into the room, her faith has grown tremendously since her revival, and she’s still growing now.

Reeve Lewark and his apprentice, Kai, are both here before me, and it seems that Belle has been explaining her new magic to them.

“I don’t understand,” Kai groans, leaning on the side of the bed. “You’re telling me that through having faith in the truth, you can change what is true? Isn’t that a contradiction?”

“Is it?” Belle asks, smiling wide as she stares up into the sky. “This world is full of lies and illusions, I have more faith in the truth that I create than in the lies that surround me. All this magic does is realize the things that I already know to be real.”

“So, this fire isn’t hot, to you?” Kai asks, holding out a candle.

“This fire isn’t real,” Belle says, holding her hand out over the flames. Her faith burns and her magic takes effect on the candle, reshaping what exists to fit with her own perception of truth.

“Don’t bother with the details,” Lewark shakes his head, holding the shoulder of his young apprentice. “Faith magics aren’t something you can understand unless you are already a little bit mad. These things don’t work on the logic that you can understand through study, boy.”

“No, I refuse to believe that,” Kai shakes his head, leaning in closer.

“Well, you can hit your head against that wall another day,” Lewark says, waving me closer. “For now, we have business to discuss.”

“Business? May I ask?” I step closer to them, shrugging off the pain it causes me to stand this close to Belle.

“Merry came by while you were gone,” Belle says, her smile a little too broad. “Lysis has found his faith. He’s changed, and he has something to say.”

Lysis, the royal brat who chased us from a ball and into the streets with only cruel intentions in his heart.

“An apology, one would hope,” I say.

“An offer to get us into the castle,” Lewark cuts her story short. “Right to the head of the snake.”

Is he talking about Aldramodore, or the king?

“Why?” I ask. “Why would he make such an offer, and why would Merry care for it?”

“We’re paladins,” Belle smiles, her faith building in her chest and heating the air around her as if to keep me at a distance. “The palace is where the rot in this city is coming from, so that’s where we’re going to go.”

“You want to overthrow the king?”

“Yeah, but not today,” Belle scratches her head. “It’s an investigation. That’s all. Come on, Merry was adamant that you come along for this. He wants to help you too, you know? We could help you to grow to your potential, help you to find your faith. Maybe we could even help cure your curse. You could be human again.”

She smiles, her offer hanging in the air as if a promise of salvation. As if I should be rushing to her side at the prospect of having my humanity restored.

Yet…

Is it wrong for me to be a vampire?

Syr never once suggested that I needed to be cured, accepting me simply for who and what I am. A warmth spreads through ice that fills me, just remembering what it was like to lie in her arms. What it was like to have her accept me, not begrudgingly as Lewark and the others, but eagerly. As if my vampiric nature were something beautiful rather than ugly.

“This is all for the sake of spying on the castle and those within?” I ask.

“An investigation into their crimes,” Lewark nods.

“Then I will join you,” I say. “Aldramodore frequents the halls of that castle, and I must know all that he knows.”

Facing Aldramodore directly would be suicide, even though both Semi and Vael have suggested that it’s necessary. Instead, it would be much better if I could find some way of spying on him. Getting from him what I need without putting myself at direct risk.

“Let’s go!” Belle says, sitting up. The healer has worked hard for their wage, and her leg has been returned to her, though one arm only goes down to the elbow. “What answers are you after?”

“I must know what it means to be a vampire, and I have no lead aside from Aldramodore,” I say, hesitant to continue. “I am… unsure if it would be wise to meet with him. So, I would like to learn more about him, and the circumstances surrounding him, before I take any action.”

“You want to kill him,” Belle smirks, looking up at me.

“If at all possible,” I nod firmly. “I do not think that it will be.”

“Merry is waiting for us,” she smiles, unwittingly burning me with the faith that surrounds her as an aura.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“Thank you for coming,” Lysis sits in a cell, as there can be no other name for the tiny spartan cellar where he’s been trapped. The lock on the outside of the door puts to rest the last questions that might have been had about the nature of this place, and yet no one seems willing to acknowledge it from what I can see.

Even the prisoner himself seems glad to be here, while a small seed of faith burns in his breast.

“I am deeply sorry for how I have acted thus far. A man is made by his circumstances, and as much as my royal upbringing came with riches and privileges, it was without any hope for change. I was trapped, just as much as the slaves in their collars. I have been shown the truth, made to see myself for who I am and why I have acted as I have.

“No more. I am not going to lash out like a child anymore, but I’m sure that my parents will see it the same anyway. This is a chance for me to change, to be someone else. Even if it kills me, I don’t want to go back to being that person anymore, so I will help all of you to make this world a better place.”

The nobility are trained well to mask their true emotions and intentions, and the royalty should be no different, but his expression is so honest and open that I’m almost lured into believing him outright. The phrasing however proves to me that he hasn’t entirely lost his bearing as a royal brat.

He doesn’t need to lie to be dishonest.

He’s not sorry for what he tried to do to us, but rather he regrets that he was a monster that would do such things. Something that I can sympathise with to a degree.

He is concerned only for himself, and he wished to change as a person.

Yet, if he has no sympathy for those whom he has hurt, even now, then what sort of a man does he wish to be? Another flavour of villain, perhaps?

“You finally see yourself for who you are,” Merry says, nodding cheerfully to the man.

“I’m so glad that we didn’t kill you,” Belle’s eyes glow with an unusual fervour. “No, no. We should kill you. We should kill you and bring you back, then you’ll see the world like I do. You’ll see the truth more clearly than ever before!”

“Not yet,” Merry corrects her, stepping in. “We must first be sure that we can succeed. It would not be good of us to act in haste.”

As troubling as their discussion is, I do not at all mind if they kill this man in some strange religious ritual, so long as I can get from him what I need. Rather, my chest is starting to hurt once again just looking at Belle and the changes that have taken her at this moment.

She is breathing quickly, and her eyes are unfocused, yet she is not pale as one would expect if she were on the verge of fainting. She seems excited about something. Is she still unwell?

Reeve Lewark is clearly of a mind with me, rubbing at the scar on his face as he looks over the scene.

“You can get us inside the castle?” I ask Lysis.

“I can,” he nods quickly. “You know me, I’m a fuck-up and everyone knows it. I left the castle on my own whenever I could, and broke through the enchantments so often that no one knows them better than me. Even when we get caught up in an alarm, the guards know me. They won’t cause any fuss.”

“When we set off an alarm?”

He shrugs and snorts a laugh.

“Even the best can’t break into the castle easily. It’s not something you can do without me,” he says, looking up at me with pride in his voice. There isn’t anything in his demeanour to suggest that he means to set a trap for us, but that’s no assurance at all.

“Why? What do you want to achieve from this?” I ask, waving toward Belle and Merry. “You’re not with these people, you’re not like them.”

“I am,” he says, shaking his head in denial. “I’ve spoken with Merry, and Lucy, and Farloe, and the others. The world that they talk about is a world that I want to live in, I want to be a part of this community. I want someone to remember me when I die, and to love me while I live.”

I stand over him, looking through him, but all I can see is an honest man. He is a selfish man, but even a selfish man can do good things when it is it get what he wants.

“So how does your plan work?” I ask, crossing my arms as I consider how I would torture this man to bring out the best qualities in his blood.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

If you enjoy this story, like it, rate it, leave a comment, and share it around!

If you really like it and want more chapters join the Patreon, I need all your support to keep this going.

 www.patreon.com/formlesschimera