There aren’t words in this Earth that can describe how divinely beautiful the Goddess is. She possessed luminous, light blue tinted skin, like the sky after the dying twilight before nightfall. Her hair was lavender like our fields right outside of our once-standing estates on the east, and her eyes were liquid onyx, two jewels that besieged in her gaze, the concern and overall wellbeing of us, that she called her own children. She appeared with a message for our people, and her first order was that we never force or instill our will upon people who do not wish immortality. Immortality wasn’t a privilege, it was an honor in duality with a sacrifice, and that statement rang forever true to me. The second order she gave us was to keep living in peace among the humans as we had been, but to seal ourselves off from the outside world; the humans who wanted in our coven would find themselves at our door by fate. Lastly, we were a coven now, and to keep following in the peaceful ways of life that we led, and she taught us the knowledge of utilizing alchemy to our benefit, and to pass it on through generations.
My father was coronated as the ruler of the Selenian coven, shortly after, he met my mother while on a voyage to France. She had been a theater performer and a teacher of soprano from Paris, a demure, delicate-boned woman with ringlets of hair the color of early sun drops, no more than five feet tall, and dressed always in her taffetas, lace petticoats, and ribbons, baubles of freshwater pearl and diamonds. When she and my father felt enamored by one another, they married a year from their first gathering, my unfortunate soul already but a faint heartbeat in her womb, and she became Queen Dayanara Montpelier-Tepes. And then I was born circa the 11th of October of 1865, into the zodiac sign of a cardinal Libra. And given three years later add or subtract, mother also gave me a little sister named Vibekka, born into the sun sign of Leo, and this was evident in her very feisty personality. We were Mother’s semblance in nearly every physical aspect. I was her male embodiment, only significantly taller, but I heavily favored her in my borderline androgynous features (as I have been told), and her same hair except mine was absurdly straight, and kept long past my shoulders due to my culture and the way I was raised among the warrior men of my coven. My sister and Mother were often mistaken for siblings, since Vibekka got the curly blonde mane from her.
About Dracula, our common ancestor and nemesis: It was alleged that Dracula was even the very spawn of Sekhmet or that he or his family toyed into black magic and he was possessed with her spirit and the spirits of several other demons, to condemn him to walk in darkness. I always remained openly skeptical as I wasn’t in existence back then, although my existence has been an arduous, blood-stained longevity. Other than this far-fetched helter-skelter, I had seen the Goddess Sekhmet before, and she was both magnificent and benevolent, exuding the regality of being the original vampire goddess herself. She appeared to me as a tall, lithe woman of golden skin, onyx hair, kohl-lined black eyes, scarlet lips, a headdress made of scarabs, and the pointed black ears of a feline. She also possessed fangs when she spoke sweetly to me.
Happiness or at least the ephemeral phantom feeling I knew, fleeted me in the blink of an eye. It had to be around 1883 when the Dragul came to be under a new leader, and were becoming more and more carelessly bloodthirsty, and the news of the slaughter or countless civilians reached our ears. Sadly, just due to human ignorance, we were all lumped in to the same category, and our clan had to become increasingly cautious of both human and Dragul vampires. Because of the preaching of our coven to willing ears, unfortunately, my father had also begun to attract vampire hunters. My father had gone out on a mission to discuss and hold a peace treaty with the Dragul one night, against the begging of my mother, so the negative spotlight would fade out among both of our bloodlines. Nicolae tried to be the glue that held us all together. The Dragul weren’t having it and their leader had seized my father for ransom for trespassing into their lands in Targoviste. By the time we had gotten the telegraph of his whereabouts it was too late; a member of the Dragul coven staked and decapitated him, sending us the head as tangible proof.
I had gone out en comandante with another second lieutenant in charge, and a group of twelve men, to hike past the Transylvanian Alps to what is now known as Targoviste, where the Dragul coven made a home. We made trenches out of rock and snow that were deep enough to block out the sunlight, our immediate death. The death of my father was an unholy one, and spelt retaliation from us. I eventually came face to face with his killer, some general of their army, and I paid back the favor with the edge of my blade, ensuring every drop of his blood went back into the soil of the Earth. During this tolling epoch, I had taken a young aristocrat named Silvana as my first lover when I was seventeen, which I terminated without consequence as I made her forget me after that one night. Silvana was very much a leech of society, though it wasn’t her fault that she was born into lavishness.
Long after many epic battles that spilt each other’s blood over the land, the war had reached its end when I’d slain the former coven leader, and he was replaced by a man name Narciso Tepes, who was a few centuries old, and foolishly convinced me and the Selenians to peace. We since then retreated.
After the war had gone cold, around 1887, is when I met her one winter night, she was on the edge of seventeen years young, and I was almost twenty-two. I learnt that she was the daughter of a well-known priest in town who had once been claimed to be a respectable vampire hunter, but the darkness of bloodthirst and greed from the vulgar amount of dowry he was paid drove him to kill incessantly. He then began to kill anyone suspected of being or associating with my kind, and it appeared that he used this illogical reasoning to justify his actions, ultimately enslaving the minds of the citizens through manipulation of security. He infiltrated and influenced the Christian Church, and soon, the lively town of Meytros was sovereign under fear and tyrannical power of the priest overlord.
She was a maiden of sun kissed skin, long, luscious ebony hair so dark it almost seemed blue, and her eyes were a liquid amber, with lips red like a rose. Upon our first encounter, I had been taking a solitary stroll in the streets of upper Meytros, on my way to consult with one of the town’s secret witches, Marion and her son Tyro, who were planning with my mother to come to live in our city. Tyro was close to my sister’s age, and she had confided in me that they were seeing each other for some time. I was to help them get through that night.
The human village numbered about 2,000 people, with the Magalesti Cathedral in the central plaza with a fountain in the front, and the buildings here were all made of limestone, brick, and roofs and doors of pine. The citizens had lined the thresholds of their doors with garlic to ward off vampires, which I found incredibly asinine. I would purposely tear them off and crush the garlic heads under the sole of my boots. The streets were cobblestone, with a narrow alley behind all the homes that led them to schools, bazaars, or bars, and the richer neighborhoods were adorned with electric light posts, including the cathedral. I had passed the fountain when the young maiden, who’s height was up to my shoulders, had stopped me abruptly, and held a cross waveringly close to my face, it was made of silver. I instinctively covered myself with my cape, made of black velvet, and dashed quickly behind her, which only angered her more, and if she yelled any louder, for sure she’d cause a scene. I had to work a bit of tranquility magic on her, although my intentions were pure and genuine, I had no intent of harming her nor any citizen in town.
Her face was beautiful, the tan skin reflected the moonlight in a blue translucence from her cheekbones, but expression was stern as if she was ready to kill me if I so as even breathed the wrong way. I put both hands up in the air even though she possessed no weapon other than the cross in her hand, which ended in a sharp dagger at the bottom, to stake me right through the heart.
“Please hear me, young lady, I’m not here to shed any blood,” I said to her. I opened my blouse to expose the left side of my chest, and I guided the tip of the cross dagger to where my heart was
and held her hand there.
“You have my word,”
Her eyebrows furrowed at me, and her lips pouted cynically.
“Please, you think I don’t know what you are? It’s very apparent you’re not from here, starting off with that ridiculous cape and the feathers in your hair. And you also seem like you’ve never been out in the sun once in your lifetime. You’re so ungodly pale you even glow in darkness,”
“Put your weapon down and walk with me,” I told her, gently managing the dagger out of her hands.
It was visible to see she was shivering from the cold nighttime weather. I lent her my cape that she thought was ridiculous, and she took it gratefully, it looked like she was swimming in it. I pretended that the cold didn’t bother me, though nothing was further from the truth, as I wore only black trousers tucked into boots, and a white tunic beneath the cape. We walked to the outskirts of town and sat on some fallen logs in a meadow shadowed by a circle of pines, and only the full moon shone above us. She had to catch her breath in the cold. I had hoped that by now she had figured out I rendered no hostility toward her.
It alarmed me to find out that she was the daughter of the town’s priest, she seemed so free-spirited and a complete opposition to how oppressed many of women appeared to be, confined to the prison of a religious lifestyle.
“Isn’t it very dangerous for you to be out here alone then? What would your father have to say if he knew you roamed the city by yourself at night, or worse, with strangers like me?”
She shook her head and gave a shy smile toward the sky.
“I don’t allow what he thinks of me to worry me. Everything he says and does has been an empty threat even to present day. I truly don’t believe he would ever do harm to my sister and me. We seem to be exceptions to the rule, as harsh as I have seen him be to my mother and other women in town,”
I was growing sickly worried about the way she described her own father. I had never seen my own father behave that heartlessly toward my own mother or sister, or myself even at our most insolent behavior.
“Why do you think you’re an exception to your father’s punishments?”
She sighed gloomily, “Because my father is too concerned in instilling fear into the minds of our people, even in very young children. He resides over a convent where young girls get sent to for being allegedly scornful, and he spends plenty of time there. My sister and I are not allowed to set foot anywhere near the place, or else we will get severely beaten, like my mother was. Now she is blinded in one eye. So, in essence, it’s a gift to be ignored, I spend plenty of time in libraries and bazaars, finding answers to all my questioning against the Catholic Church, and the more I know, the more of a nontheist I am becoming. I wish I could get out of this god forsaken place,”
My heart grew weary, and I took her hand in mine out of sympathy. She flinched, probably thinking this was the part where I bit her.
“Don’t be afraid, I just want you to know that you aren’t alone, I want you to consider me a friend, you can confide anything in me. I know life is hard, I lost my father a while back in a war,”
“A war? The only war we know about here is a legend my father once spoke before mental degradation began to take its toll. He told us of a vampire war, not that I believe those creatures exist save for in storybooks,”
I scoffed internally, slightly relieved that she still hadn’t figured me out, or if she had, she was being very coy about the matter.
“The imagination for storybooks always receives inspiration from something tangible,”
“What in tarnation are you saying?” she questioned me furiously. I pushed a lock of hair behind my ear and laughed at her comment, quite carelessly, not being mindful for a moment of my fangs. She immediately jumped back in horror and was pointing the dagger in my face again, stuttering and trying to find the words to tell me off.
“Are those f-f-. Fangs. I knew it. My intuition was right, you’re a bloody vampire, aren’t you?!” She was hysterical, jumping all around me like a triggered kitten, and I was thoroughly amused.
“Calm yourself, yes you’re right about me. Congratulations, you’ve formed alliances with the undead,” I told her, as I watched her anger subside again, just quickly enough before she walked up to me and slapped me as hard as her small hand could. It didn’t hurt at all.
“You realize my father will kill me and you as, well don’t you? Get out of here now!”
I remained still and unbothered by her emotional overreactions.
“If you suspected me already of being a vampire, then why would you foolishly follow me into a lonesome meadow, where I could have easily killed you. You’re not very wise despite your social standing,” I called her out. She rolled her eyes at me and sighed, through crossed arms, and cheeks flaming red.
“Who do you think you are showing up so bravely among humans? What brings you here anyway?”
“Ah, my lady, you don’t ever ask a man his business, just as I would never as you of yours. Now let’s not forget you’re the one who has been the aggressive one this entire time, and I have chosen to remain civil. I can’t help I was raised that way, and maybe you’re not used to chivalrous men in your village,”
“How dare you….” She seethed.
“I’m not trying to be cynical about it. I really do wish to be your friend. You have said you wish you could escape your wretched habitat, but you still defend the very people who treat mothers and daughters like scum. I can’t help those who don’t wish to help themselves. I have business to tend to. It was nice talking with you,” I told her as I bowed down towards her, and turned my back, walking away from her direction. As usually suspected, the little pitter patter of feet on crunching leaves followed right behind me.
“Wait, vampire,” she ordered, through pants of exasperation. I turned back to face her, the girl could not run much.
“Yes?”
“You almost forgot your cape,” she said, handing me a black velvet bundle in her lithe little arms. I shook my head and insisted that she keep it, it was too bitter cold even for myself, let alone a normal human being.
“I never got your name, vampire,”
“How rude and tactless of me, I apologize,” I said to her, a faint blush of embarrassment overcoming me. I extended out a hand to her and bowed down to her again, “Good evening pretty young woman, I am Prince Enttu Tepes of the Selenian coven,”
She gasped softly, her hand still in mine, “you’re a prince as well?”
I rose up and stood before her, “Yes, the more you know,”
“Well, your royal highness,” she said as she curtsied playfully, and blushed, “pleasure to meet you, my name is Nayeru Aurelia Magalesti,”
I escorted her back in to town careful to be out of sight of any nightguards, and then after dismissing ourselves, I went on to the witch’s home, to help her and her son move in to my city in the hours past midnight.
Not long after she would start shown up at random hours past dusk, and on one of these occasions, one of our guards had caught her by the lavender fields before the woods that led to our village, and taken her in to our royal court, for inquiry on suspicion of being a spy. I had just returned from hunting animals for blood, when I walked in on my mother, the Queen, questioning the pretty young girl who was wearing my cape I had given her before. I intervened and after several moments of bargaining, my mother let her go, and I led her up to our star-gazing tower where science professors our courts had hired to teach also taught here. Many of the science, medic, and art professors, including an English teacher from America were persecuted scholars whom were still under heavy scrutiny and persecution of the Dark Ages and the heavy influence against science from the Vatican. They had come here to offer our vampiric coven an education in exchange for immortality. I know for a fact that my father, King Nicolae, had saved plenty of women during the Salem Witch trials in A
merica, and that is a very elaborate story to be saved for another day.
Nayeru was very fascinated by the literature, scrolls, and textbooks in the tower, as well as really taken akin to the bubbling solutions and covalent compounds brewing in beakers made of glass, and samples of the virus that caused our vampiric strain in primitive petri dishes.
She had mentioned before that she wanted to get out of her rut of a village, and it sparked back into my memory as I observed her reading and tinkering with our educational instruments for hours on end. We eventually came to an agreement that I would meet her by the fountain every night past evenfall, and I would escort her to our village past the woods, into the castle and let her pursue her studies on her own, in exchange of a cat or dog per week, so we had something to eat. Unfortunately, her father had been long suspicious of her after a witness in town had seen her taking a cat from a neighbor’s ledge and running off into the meadow with it.
By then, our meetings weren’t so much solely for her learning anymore, we had developed affection for one another, and it grew stronger as time passed on. One night, she was not at the fountain on time and I knew something had to be terribly wrong. I was able to quiet my mind and meditate for a few minutes, before I heard a shrilling scream that broke my train of thought.
It was her voice, and it was coming from the direction of the cathedral. I ran fast enough that no human noticed anything but a blur whooshing past them, and when the screams grew louder, from inside a stone building behind the cathedral with a wooden door, I kicked open the door with such a force, the door broke off the hinges and went flying against the wall. Mine was always the luck of arriving to a fight right on time. There was an old priest with white hair and the most lusterless eyes I have seen, my undead was lively next to this man. He was holding a branding iron, and in the corner, I had seen a stripped naked Nayeru, sobbing loudly and it looked like her arms and upper body were freshly bruised and welted from whip lacerations. Really never measuring the gravity of danger, I dashed between her and the priest, and he had the white-hot rod of the iron at the tip of my nose. I spat at him, and bared my chest out, daring him to try to burn me.
The Dhampir Dimension Page 17
