Sidyan walked over to the ghouls, who froze under his commanding gaze. “You boys… I’m sorry this happened to you. I really am. But now you’ve only got two choices. You live and you help us take those Darkling pricks down, or I reap you all right now, and… that’s it.”
Rudolph purred softly, nervously moving away from the group. Maya joined him. Their allegiance was clear, but they also wanted the ghouls to join us. No one wanted the true death that awaited if the ghouls decided against helping us. Not even I.
Silence settled over our group as the ghouls thought this over. Not far from our position, the caravan got moving again, with Corbin, Tristan, and Valaine leading the way on horseback. The bodies of the deceased were set on fire now that the rain had passed and the sky was clearing again. It was an honor for the Aeternae soldiers to die in battle, so cremation was the purest rite they could be given under the circumstances.
The Darklings’ bodies were left for the carrion to feed on. They did not deserve any honor, only decay and silence. Slowly but surely, the convoy moved south, taking the coastal path back to Astoria, and from there the Green Road back into the imperial city.
One of the ghouls finally stepped forward, bowing his deformed head. Rudolph and Maya grinned with genuine satisfaction. Sidyan understood the message. “I’m glad you decided that,” he said. “I will trust you all to stand by our side when things get nasty. I don’t want to use runes and binding spells on you guys. You’ve been tortured enough already.”
“All right. Glad we got that out of the way,” Seeley said. “Now, let’s go after Veliko. The sooner we find the Darklings’ true leader, the quicker it’ll end for all of us. Hopefully in a good way.”
Sidyan smirked. “Your positive thinking is downright infectious.”
“That was bitter sarcasm, at best,” Seeley replied.
Lumi and I chuckled softly. “Come on, guys. We need to catch up with that overachieving maniac before he gets out of range.”
Sidyan offered his hand. “Everyone must be linked to me.”
The ghouls touched one another, the last one reaching out to Rudolph, who took his hand and continued the physical connection through Maya. The young ghoul settled by Sidyan’s right side, while the rest of us linked to his left hand. Once we were all together, Sidyan breathed out and whispered his spell.
Seconds moved slowly, ever so slowly, as the world warped around us, greens blending into blues, the sky dissolving into the ocean and the ground and the trees. Tristan and Valaine’s convoy became but a faded memory as we slipped through the fabric of space, treading the world until we got closer to Veliko and his remaining Darklings and ghouls.
Our work was nowhere near over, but I took great comfort in knowing that Zoltan was finally going to pay for what he’d done to me and to so many innocent souls and Reapers. And, as Seeley held my hand in his and inundated my spirit with renewed energy, I found myself smiling. My journey was only just beginning.
Kelara
This was quite the task we’d stumbled upon.
The Night Bringer had been sealed into Cruor, much like the Morning Star had been, until recently, bound to Vetruvia. From what we’d learned so far, it was a spell similar to Morning’s imprisonment and consisted of a massive seal. There were Beta elements we needed to find and break in order to release the Night Bringer.
However, we had a massive problem. Life had all but died on Cruor. Not a single blade of grass remained of what had once been a mountainous paradise, let alone a living Beta element. That had led us to conclude that the Beta elements in this case were objects, which made our mission all the more difficult—along with the fact that Morning was still unable to reach out to her brother.
Back on Vetruvia, she’d been strong enough to talk to us through the Vetruvians she’d learned to possess and control. The Night Bringer had had no one to cling to. He’d been stuck here for millions of years, drenched in nothing but pain and misery and death-like silence. I couldn’t imagine a more horrifying fate for a Reaper.
Morning stayed back with the Widow Maker and the Phantom, keeping her bare palms pressed to the dry ground in a bid to contact her twin brother. The Soul Crusher and I had decided to take a walk and survey as much of the area as possible. Maybe there were clues here we might use. It was a long shot, but it was better than just standing around and lamenting our difficult position.
I found the Night Bringer’s connection to Cruor rather intriguing, and Soul was constantly amused by my dazed expression as we walked along a narrow path between two giant stone mountains.
“Man, this whole trip has thrown you for a loop, huh, Kelara?” he asked, albeit rhetorically. I’d gotten used to his smirk. There wasn’t any ill intent behind it—just his psychopathic nature unable to hold back.
“After everything I’ve learned about vampires? You bet your ass I’m dazed,” I replied. “I still can’t believe our journey brought us all the way here.”
“Yes, yes. I remember Taeral’s accounts of this place. Cruor is important to the Shadians.”
“It’s the birthplace of vampirism. I mean, sure, it’s got a dark history, but it’s a cradle of civilization, if you think about it,” I said. “I’m still trying to figure out whether the Night Bringer had anything to do with the creation of vampires. Look at this place…”
Everything was just… dead. The mountains were naked stone. The ground was nothing but dust and sand and pebbles. Judging by the overall geography and the arching of the nearby slopes, this place had once been home to sprawling forests. The ripples and holes along the ridges spoke of enormous trees, silent giants overlooking the plateaus.
Behind us, the memory of a wide plain persisted. I imagined it green and grazed on by herds of bison or whatever creatures had called Cruor home long before the Elders. The sky must’ve been clear and blue once. The night must’ve been starry and beautiful. Rivers must’ve flowed in these parts, given the dried-up banks covered in rounded pebbles.
“Considering that I’ve spent over five million years inside Thieron’s blade, I’m afraid I’m unable to fill in those gaps, Kelara,” Soul said.
“I know, I know. But a theory or an opinion wouldn’t hurt. At least until we hear the truth straight from the horse’s mouth.”
“My brother will flip if he hears you called him a horse.” Soul laughed.
I couldn’t help but smile. “What was the Night Bringer like?”
Soul thought about it for a while as we stopped in the middle of the stony path, right where the two mountains met. Ahead, I could see a massive basin, probably a former lake that had dried up. I could imagine willow trees bending in the wind, their branches caressing the water under a reddish sunset. What kind of people had lived here? I found it hard to believe that Cruor had always belonged to the Elders. The geography, the biology—it just didn’t fit their dark and toxic nature.
“Night was always calm and quiet. Never sad or sullen,” Soul finally said. “He had this peculiar serenity about him. It didn’t matter how bad things were; he muddled through. He kept going. Morning, on the other hand, was like a firecracker. Always bright and positive, to the point where she used to get on my nerves.”
“I take it she’s changed, from what you’ve seen thus far?”
Soul shrugged. “Maybe. She’s different. Perhaps it’s some kind of trauma. After all, she’s been in absolute misery and endured terrible suffering since Spirit bound her to Vetruvia. My imprisonment—if you want to call it that—was of my own making. My decision. I accepted my role and my fate. Neither Morning nor Night had a say in what happened to them. So yes, I expect our younger sister to be different. She’s hurting, especially since Night is still trapped.”
“Maybe she’ll be more like herself once we free him,” I replied.
“Maybe. That’s a nice word. Maybe. It doesn’t make any promises, does it?”
We resumed our walk, constantly looking around, each of us hoping to come across some sign of life. There wa
s nothing. Cruor was a tomb, a barren wasteland of dried dirt and dead mountains.
“Look over there,” Soul said after a long pause, pointing off to our left. On the edge of the former lake, I could see the stone foundation of what must’ve once been a settlement. “A village, perhaps?”
“It looks bigger,” I replied.
We dashed along the edge of the basin until we reached the ruins. I counted at least two hundred spaces that had once held houses on top of them. “A town, then,” Soul muttered, carefully analyzing the entire area. “There. That must’ve been a town square of sorts. A place where people gathered, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah. See the ground here?” I moved to the northern edge of the settlement. “The forest reached all the way into the town. These people dwelled in the woods overlooking this lake.”
Soul crouched and touched the ground with the tip of his scythe, his lips moving as he whispered a spell. My skin tingled as the blade glowed white for a moment. “The memories are so faded,” he said. “This town existed millions of years ago. Long before the Night Bringer got here, for sure.”
“You’re able to tell?”
“I’m able to pick up the residual memories of places, but it’s not easy. It takes a serious toll on my energy levels.”
We spent the better part of an hour examining each nook and cranny, every crevice and piece of carved stone that had gone into the town’s foundations. Time had eaten away at it all but had yet to remove its identity. Parts of it lingered, even today.
I tried to imagine what sort of people had once called this place their home. They had to have been friendly with nature surrounding them. Maybe some kind of fae? No, there were no signs of elemental powers here. The planet wouldn’t have died like this, had there been fae living here.
“Kelara, come over here, please,” Soul said, bringing me back to the grim reality of present-day Cruor. I crossed the town ruins to reach him. He stood before a stone plaque. His fingers were covered in dirt, as though he’d dug parts of it out from the ground. “I found this.”
“What is it?”
“Take a closer look.” He sighed. “I saw a corner poking out and recognized the symbol.”
Kneeling before the plaque, I felt my temperature drop—a strange sensation to experience, considering I no longer had a physical body. “Oh, there’s something hinky around here.”
Soul chuckled. “I knew you’d pick up on it. You’re highly receptive to death magic,” he reminded me.
“That’s what this was, then,” I murmured, adjusting to the chills that persisted deep inside me as I touched the stone plaque. Running my fingers across the engraved symbols, I gasped. “Oh, wow.”
“Does any of it look familiar?” he asked, sitting next to me.
I leaned forward for a closer look. Yes. I recognized some of the symbols. “It’s our Reaper language. Our runes.”
“Indeed. Do you know what it says?”
“Do you?” I asked, glancing at him.
He shot me a grin. “I might have an idea, but it’s your assessment I’m interested in.”
“Why? What makes me so special?”
Soul looked at the plaque again before settling his focus back on me. “How many times do I have to say it before it sinks in? You’re different. You might not be a First Tenner, but you are filled with wonders that other Reapers cannot even fathom,” he said. “And I want you to tap into that potential. I want you to find your limits.”
He wasn’t looking to flatter me, but weirdly enough, he’d done just that. One of the strangest and most dangerous of the remaining First Tenners, the Soul Crusher had become attached to me and my abilities, eager to help me tap into parts of myself I didn’t even know existed.
“Thank you,” I mumbled.
Soul nudged my shoulder, then nodded at the plaque. “Tell me which runes you’re able to read.”
Leaning forward once more, I took a moment to analyze the symbols. “Touch… It says ‘touch’ right here,” I said, placing my finger on the rune. Something jolted me. Dark and powerful, it was like an intense power surge had suddenly coursed through my being. “Oh, snap!” I yelped, pulling my hand back. My finger tingled, and I was still buzzing from the electric currents that rushed through me.
“Don’t stop,” Soul said, taking my hand and pressing it against the symbol. As soon as my skin touched the rune again, I shook from my very core, and everything turned black.
Breathless, I found myself here, but not now. I wasn’t me anymore, either. I was seeing it all through someone else’s eyes. I could feel his horror, his fear, his desperation as he used a sharp metal instrument to carve these runes into the stone plaque.
Soul wasn’t with me. I was on my own, rushing to finish my message. But these weren’t my words. No, there was another presence inside this body. A tendril of pure night and cold silence, reaching out and gripping my consciousness, beckoning me to keep carving, to tell his story.
The urgency burned in my throat like a wildfire.
I heard screams. Turning around, I saw them—the former inhabitants of Cruor. Dark mist spread across the town, seeping into the skin of innocent people. Leaves and flowers were braided into their long, silky hair. They wore calfskins and delicate tulle-like fabrics wrapped around their slender, petite bodies. Their ears were pointed, their features soft. I’d seen creatures like this before, in ancient tales of folklore from Earth and other worlds from the Supernatural Dimensions.
Tears welled in my eyes as I watched the horror unfold.
The black mist was not… “Oh, God,” I managed, my blood running cold. I kept carving, forced by this interior power to complete the message. Someone would stumble upon this plaque someday, and the Night Bringer might see freedom again.
The people cried out. Some collapsed, their bodies convulsing and limbs twitching as the mist enveloped them and vanished, dissolving into their flesh. Moments went by in deafening silence as others drew close, desperate to get their friends, their siblings, their parents, their lovers out of the way as the cloud continued its merciless conquest.
The infected creatures opened their eyes—they were bloodshot. Fangs burst from above their canines. It was such a painful thing to watch. The flesh trembled on their bones. There was hunger. Oh, so much hunger…
“What is happening?” I asked myself, but the words never left my lips. I kept carving, my fingers bleeding as they slipped under the pointed metal tip of my instrument. But I couldn’t stop. The message had to be written.
A spine-tingling growl made me glance over my shoulder. The infected creatures were attacking the healthy ones. They sank their fangs into their necks, looking for that crucial vein. Blood sprayed all over, glazing the stones of their huts red. So much pain…
When they were done feeding, the infected creatures fell to their knees, roaring and crying and scratching at their faces, drawing blood and cursing all the gods for what they had to do, for what they had to endure. What sort of madness was this?
“I can’t stop,” I heard myself say. “No matter what. The message…”
I kept working on the plaque, disregarding the sharp pain in my hands, occasionally wiping the blood with the corner of my linen-like shirt. I watched the red blotches spread across the fabric, like poppies blossoming above pristine snow.
Someone shrieked. Looking back again, I felt tension rising. The infected creatures were now attacking each other, ripping throats open to feed on more blood. The hunger was insatiable. Their minds were gone. They killed their own. Those who remained standing withered away in seconds, their bodies hollow and shriveled as the black mist abandoned them.
My heart raced as the column of poisonous darkness headed toward me. I hurried and finished my carving, but I couldn’t escape. As I got up and tried to run, the mist caught up with me. The force that had given me the message was gone, and I was all alone. The Elders invaded me. They consumed me, and I fell apart.
Screaming from the bottom of my
lungs, I opened my eyes to find myself wrapped in the Soul Crusher’s arms as he pulled me away from the plaque. Tears streamed down my cheeks—an ability I thought I’d lost upon dying over a century ago. My pain was real. The ache in my heart was deep and sincere.
“It’s okay,” Soul said, stroking my hair as he held me tight. “Breathe, Kelara. Breathe.”
“Oh, wow. That was… That was horrible,” I sobbed, tilting my head back until it rested on his shoulder. I surrendered to the suffering I’d inherited from that creature. He’d seen his whole world fall apart, devoured and destroyed by the Elders.
“What did you see?” Soul asked.
I needed a minute or two to collect myself, to understand what I had just witnessed.
“That damn rune,” I managed. “What the hell is it? It did something to me.”
“It’s a memory letter,” Soul said. “It’s imbued with the memories of the creature who carved it, living or otherwise. It’s one of the few aspects of death magic that can transcend into the world of the living. I suppose it’s why the Night Bringer had someone carve it in the first place.”
“Wait… what?” My body grew suddenly stiff.
Pulling away from Soul’s embrace, I abandoned the pleasant feeling he’d just offered, allowing shock and anger to take its place as I realized why Soul had wanted me to touch the plaque.
“You knew what the rune did. You son of a bitch, you wanted me to experience that… that hell!” I shouted, pointing an angry finger at him.
Soul raised his hands in a defensive gesture, keeping a surprisingly straight face. “I didn’t know what the message entailed, Kelara. I just knew you’d be receptive to it. What did you see?”
“You used me!”
“I had to! I lack your sensitivity!” Soul shot back. “Now, quit your whining and tell me what you saw.”
“Oh, I ought to…” I took a deep breath, willing myself into a state of calm. I would get my revenge against Soul someday, but not today. I’d have to accept that. Digging through my entire experience, I formed a timeline to follow. “I think I saw the Elders’ invasion,” I said to him. “I saw the previous inhabitants of Cruor, and the black mist of Elders consuming them. I don’t think they were compatible hosts. You know, like the humans. The people of Cruor couldn’t adapt to vampirism the way the Shadians did.”
A Shade of Vampire 81: A Bringer of Night Page 9
