Earth

Dusk had settled across the castle, staining the hallways and chambers with stripes of firey orange light. Casting a glow about the red plush carpets and ancient wall tapestries, it created a strange sense of both comfort and unease. Emilian noticed none of this, however, as he skulked up the cold, stone staircase of the castle.

Blue Castle. That's what the locals had called it. Those ignorant, overly suspicious fools. After noticing the time-worn spires rising above the distant line of trees that surrounded Bistritz, he'd asked around. The answer, or lack thereof, had surprised him.

Emilian's caravan had been in the area for a little over a week now. They'd set up camp just a mile outside of the tiny hamlet. Gypsies. Thieves, heathens, whoremongers. His people had other names as well, but as they say, a rose by any other name still smells as sweet. At least the people in this town had the decency to treat him like a fellow human. A poor, begging, disease-ridden human, but human nonetheless. Better than he could say about many other towns he'd been to.

Most of the adults didn't give him the time of day. They were cordial enough so that Emilian didn't have a proper reason to hate them. But the children. The children weren't so judgemental, weren't completely baptized in their parents' racism yet. And so, he'd spent time with the children. Or child, he should say. One child. A girl; Nina. She knew what he was. She knew of Emilian's kind and yet she did not judge him. Smart child. Emilian liked her. The two of them seemed like an unusual pair, but talking to the girl seemed to be so easy for him. He'd learned that Nina had just recently lost her father and that she and her mother ran a small sundries shop in town to make ends meet. Such a strong willed child.

It was a clear afternoon on the day Emilian had asked Nina about the castle looming in the distance. What was it, and why did everyone else in town act as if it didn't exist? How could they, Emilian wondered, when the large structure blocked out the sun every evening?

Nina had told him it was known as Blue Castle. That the townsfolk believed it to be haunted. She'd never been inside but one evening she had wandered into the forest and soon found herself cornered by a pack of wolves. The girl's eyes twinkled as she told him her story. Apparently, a tall man appeared from inside the castle and saved her life. Then, he took her hand and escorted her safely back home, singing to her softly. It was an odd story indeed, but something about the girl's conviction told him it was based in truth.

Emilian had heard the castle was long abandoned, contrary to Nina's story. Regardless of whether or not the place was occupied, he had a plan. A castle in the middle of nowhere? That may or may not have zero inhabitants? Sounded much too easy to him. But easy didn't come often, especially to a gypsy, so Emilian would take the chance gladly. That night, when the sun began to set, the young man would break into the castle and loot anything of value that he could find.

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It appeared the place truly was abandoned. Emilian hadn't seen any trace of recent life in the castle. A thick layer of dust blanketed each room like a light snowfall. Despite the castle being empty, it was beautifully furnished. Most of the decorations and fixtures were still intact; a crystal chandelier, paintings that appeared to be from the Renaissance period, plush furniture and more. Easily worth an incredible fortune. Backwater townspeople could be so foolish.

"Haunted...heh." Emilian scoffed to himself, his stomach fluttering with greedy delight.

This place was a dead zone. Not even his refined senses could pick up any trace of life. Although every now and then the young thief felt as if a pair of eyes were upon him, he'd chalked it up to nerves. After all, the castle was rather eerie.

Grabbing a silver candelabra from a nearby table, he stuffed it into a large canvas bag. Next went an expensive looking hand mirror. Then a small painting. Then a ruby studded bracelet. With the former parlor looking quite bare, Emilian shouldered the now heavy bag and left the room. Back into the foyer, the gypsy once again felt the unsettling sensation of being watched. His eyes darted about the large room in an attempt to find the source...but came up with nothing. What his eyes did find, however, was a large stone door on the opposite end of the hall. Feeling drawn to the room somehow, he decided to go there next.

The large, ornate stone door appeared far too heavy to be moved by any normal person, but with just a light touch, it slid open slowly with a low and awful crrrrreeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaak that made Emilian's breath catch in his throat. Swallowing hard, he slipped inside the dark chamber. A narrow staircase led down. With each echoing step, the young man's heart beat faster. Was he really afraid? Of what? There was nothing to fear in this place! It was just an abandoned castle that some idiot people decided was haunted. What could there possibly be in here that could be so frightening? Reaching the bottom step, Emilian surveyed the room and quickly found a potential answer.

Coffins. Stone coffins lined the wall on either side of the room. Emilian's eyes grew wide, if but for a moment.

'Relax, jeez! They're just coffins! This is probably the family crypt.'

He reasoned with himself in an attempt to calm down. Slowly stepping into the middle of the room, his narrowed gaze trailed over the coffins. Moonlight now pouring in from the windows painted them in a pale blue. The room was suffocatingly silent, the only noise was the light ringing in Emilian's ears. Carefully, he surveyed his surroundings.

It appeared that each one had a name engraved on it; Abel...Edgar...Hilda...Leon...Steven...Each coffin sealed up tightly, which made Emilian breathe a little easier. At the end of the line, however, he stopped cold, holdng his breath.

Two coffins lay with their covers removed halfway. A pained closer look revealed only the red satin lining. The young man's eyes ran over the two engravings, his racing mind barely having time to process the names; Keith and Vayne.

When the gypsy's head finally caught up with his feet, he was back in the foyer, still holding his full canvas bag with a trembling hand. How something as simple as this could frighten him so was beyond Emilian's throught right now. Once he was back safe inside his caravan he would scold himself for being such a coward. But for now, he needed to leave. Footsteps sounding loudly in the vast expanse of the room, he outstretched his other hand, prepared to push open the door and rid himself of this strange place forever...

Vayne was angered beyond her comprehension. But not at the young boy that barreled through the door to Castle Blue, but at herself for being caught off-guard like this. Centuries ago, Vayne would have simply back-rolled to her feet and viciously attacked this intruder to her family's home. But now, she was simply a young woman, knocked to the ground, and admittedly scared of the world around her.

The boy's grip around the large bad around his shoulder tightened, and Vayne knew what he was doing: looting. Vayne had use for this boy though, so she was prepared to forgive this indescretion. Vayne needed to know when she was, and what happened to her family. As she looked up, the boy began to yell at her.

Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?

Not bothering to wait for a response, the boy turned sharply and ran as fast as he could into the woods. Now Vayne needed to get to this boy. Not only did he have information she needed, but now he's seen her, and she did not want rumors of there being activity in Castle Blue, or more looters and excorcists could arrive.

Vayne took off after the boy. He ran surprisingly fast for a human, and Vayne hated chasing prey. There was one other problem that past through Vayne's mind: she needed to keep the boy away from the corpse she just drained. By the similarity in clothing and the fact that the man was following this boy, they probably know each other. If the boy discovers the body, then Vayne would have to kill him most likely, and she didn't want to have to find another human to interrogate.

Bounding forward, and slowly closing the gap, she realized the boy was smarter than he looked. Instead of running directly to his destination as to lead her there, he was circling and trying to lose her in the forest. Vayne hated games unless she was the one making the rules, so now this game of cat and mouse was going to come to a close. Vayne vaulted up into the nearest tree, and took after the boy, nimbly jumping from branch to branch.

They were beginning to come dangerously close to the body, and Vayne knew she had little time. She now had the boy directly in her sights. Vayne withdrew the dagger from the back of her bodice, and threw it full force at the boy. It stabbed into the ground at the boys feet, and it slowed him just long enough for Vayne to jump down onto the back of the boy.

Vayne again was surprised as instead of having a weak and feeble prey around her arms, the boy rolled forward once her hands reach the back of his neck, and his foot met her gut. Vayne flipped forward, landing on her feet, and the boy sprang up.

Now they were both deadlocked. Eyes of green and gold set on one another. Vayne entered a relax stance, smirked, and asked, “So what's your name, kid?”

The gypsy ran directly at her, knife outstretched in front of his body, and the canvas bag clumsily hoisted on the other side of his body. This time, Vayne was prepared. Vayne shifted her weight to her right leg and slunk down. Her right shoulder ducked under the boys’ knife and collided into the boys left ribs. Vayne took care to use only enough force to push the boy off his feet, and not enough to do much bodily harm.

Off balance, Vayne grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the knife and pulled down, slicing the strap to his bag, and stabbing the cloth into the ground. In one swift motion, she pushed her hip into his, and flipped him over her shoulder, and with a thud he landed on his back. The contents of the canvas bag above his head, messily strewn across the dark lifeless grass.

Vayne lazily stood and breathed a sigh of relief. The running and struggle had finally subsided for a moment. A beautiful ruby studded bracelet was at her feet, and she reached down and picked it up. Admiring it, Vayne slipped it on her supple wrist. Against her pale skin, the red of the ruby shown brightly, an ethereal glow surrounding it, making it seem that it was stained with crimson blood.

So deeply entranced by the beauty of the jewelry she almost completely forgot about the gypsy boy at her feet. “So now are you going to stop running and just tell me your name?” He didn’t respond. His eyes were moving side to side, in an apparent way to analyze an escape. But then it returned to the canvas bag, and the items he’s risked his life for twice now.

“Well, I can at least tell you, you won’t be going anywhere with these items you’ve looted…without at least paying for them in some way.”

“Pay? What are you, a walking sundries shop that sells hidden treasure?”

Vayne upturned a smile; she liked the kid’s moxie. “There are other ways to pay. Let’s play a game! For every question I ask that you can answer, you get to keep one of these trinkets. For everyone you don’t know the answer to, I keep a trinket. Sound fair?”

The boy was slowly getting to his feet looking at her quizzically. Vayne was hoping this little exchange would work. She’d hate to have to sully his pretty little face.

“Alright, fine. What do you want to know?”

“Good choice. First of all, what year is it?”

“1914.” The boy didn’t wait for Vayne to refute his answer, he simply grabbed a green cloak lined with emeralds and diamonds and pulled it around himself. He looked at the glimmer around his body and seemed to have a little bit of relief.

“Okay, what do you know of the castle?”

“Only what local stories I’ve picked up since I’ve been around here. It was once home to a rich family that were the protector’s of this village. No one alive really can recall who they were, only that they were odd, in the sense that they never seemed to age. It’s been abandoned for at least two generations of families in Bistritz, but no one can say for sure. The last master of the castle supposedly had just left, he stopped by to bid farewell to a small girl he saved. Most people don’t believe he really was a lord of the castle, but with you here now, I don’t see any reason to doubt that.”

While he spoke, the boy was lazily tracing his fingers over different things in the bag, and when he was done, he firmly seized an ornate sapphire ring, and put it in his pocket.

Vayne was very dissatisfied with his answer. The aged vampire couldn’t believe that her family would have abandoned their home. But, it did make sense to her now as to why she was awakened. The castle was as old and powerful as the Valentine family was, and it needed a master. But if she was woken to be the master now…she was the last in line for that title. Where was her brother, her parents, anyone?

As she pondered this, Vayne felt considerably more and more sick to her stomach. The boy started to pace around the treasure, feeling either uneasy or impatient for another questions, Vayne couldn’t tell and didn’t care which it was.

“Do you know where the last master was headed?”

“Not specifically. I did see him traveling with a few other people as they were leaving. They exited Bistritz from the west exit.”

A crystal necklace was his next choice, as he quickly stuffed it into his pocket. Vayne really didn’t have a plan of action, and didn’t know really where she was going. If she caught up to the last master of the castle, she would have more answers than this boy could provide. But for now, he was useful to keep around as a guide, and a potential source of food.

“What’s your na-“

Before she could finish the question Vayne felt a sharp pain rip through her, and she was sent flying slamming into the boy, and they both tumbled until Vayne hit a tree, with a fierce impact. It took a moment for Vayne to get her bearings but when she did, the familiar rush of adrenaline put her senses in overdrive, and her she fixed her eyes on her target. An old wrinkled woman, her gray hair pulled back messily, her dark eyes sunken into her skull, she was the epitome of a corpse that just refused to sleep.

“Another one of those pesky Valentine’s, I won’t allow you to help that little brigade. You’ll die here!” She raised her hands, focusing energy again, this time Vayne was ready for this witch’s magic. Vayne pushed the boy hard, out of harm’s way and dove out of the way to the left. The magic hit the tree, splintering the bark and creeping the tree forward.
Vayne did two front flips forward and without hesitation of the age of this old lady, sprang forward on her second flip and her feet connected with the face of the witch.

Vayne got back to her feet and was satisfied with the crumpled body on the grass before her. But that is when she realized that there was no woman in the pile of clothes on the ground, and instead there was a floating creature behind the boy. As it raised its hand to attack, the boy turned around to see the cloaked figure, and he tackled it out of the air. Vayne was impressed by the boy’s guts.

As quickly as it was on the ground, it forced the boy to fly off of it. It raised itself high into the air and began to chant demonic noises, and the earth beneath Vayne and the boy shook, until stalagmites began to erupt beneath them. Vayne once again tackled the boy out of the way, and Vayne was struck by one of the earth shards, a deep gash on her right shoulder.

She got up quickly, not allowing this wound to slow her down, and vaulted off of the stone steps, brandished her runic dagger, and stabbed the being in the center of where she believed its stomach to be.

They came crashing down to the earth. Vayne used the creature to break her fall. When Vayne got up she ripped the dagger from the body of the creature, pleased with her work.

Unfortunately, it did not take kindly to staying dead. The creature let out a wail, and invisible magic blasts burst forth. Vayne knew there was no avoiding them this time. So she grabbed the boy and began to muster power of her own, to defend herself and the boy as much as she could. To her surprise, as she mustered her own magic to defend them, the boy seemed to react and act as a conduit, instead of resisting her magic. The power grew and a wall of emerald light grew around them, and the magic of the spectral creature dissipated.

The creature seemed not to respond to physical assaults, and Vayne was growing tired quickly. A prolonged fight was not going to be in their favor. Vayne saw the glint of a hand mirror, encrusted with vampiric symbols and adorned with jewels. Vayne tumbled forward and grabbed the mirror. She willed her power through it and drew a symbol of control over a symbol of enchantment in the air, their outline shining in the air around her. She then threw her dagger shattering the symbol and gaining her power. It stabbed into the creature. Vayne held up the mirror and it reflected the image of the writhing creature. A bond formed between the dagger and the mirror, and just like that, the witch’s power was sucked through this bond, and she was transferred from a floating creature, to inside the hand mirror, her body and power trapped.

Both the vampire and the gypsy boy were panting, exhausted from their ordeal. The boy looked at her, and quietly said, “I’m Emilian.”

This was the absolute last thing Vayne needed- let alone wanted. As for as she was concerned, Vayne was no one's pawn, and she will control her own destiny. Besides, there was something off about this purple haired girl who had just enough precociousness in her speech and double meaning in her words to anger Vayne.

If this...commoner thought she was better or even slightly prettier than Vayne she was sorely mistaken. She can take her half smile, lazy gaze, and curtsey and go straight to hell for all Vayne cared.

A dull pain in her right shoulder had turned to a firm ache and Vayne stopped feeling contempt for the woman long enough to turn her attention to the wound, and to what she would respond to this woman.

“You seem to have a great vocabulary for one who's just going to be a servant. Most of my servants could barely read or write, let alone speak in circles like you do. However, I don't have the time or nearly enough patience for this so I'm going to be blunt, so empty whatever silly little thoughts you have in your cotton candy covered head. I am wounded, tired, and thirsty beyond recognition. I want to find my brother, who I can only assume was the previous master who left this castle, and I could not care less about whatever your Master has predicted. If he really intends for a Rapture to come he could at least come himself to relay all of the information he can rather than sending...you. Now, I'm going to head to town to recoup with my new friend Emilian and you can follow us and shut up until we get there and once I'm good and ready, I'll let you fully explain your premonition, or you can wander in the forest till you die. Have I made myself clear?”

Vayne ended her chastising of Lieselotte with a snickering half smile, reminiscent of the one she had done not a minute ago. She then turned to Emilian, who was standing mouth agape at Vayne, probably stunned at her little outburst. “Let's go Emi. Can I call you Emi? Much cuter nickname in my opinion. Oh, and keep the cloak, it suits you.”

Vayne and Emilian collected their belonging, smashed the handmirror, and walked towards the faint light of Bistritz. Behind her, she could hear faint footsteps follow them. Vayne just sighed, and kept walking.

Dusk was firmly settling in by the time the plane had began its final descent onto a desolate strip of baron land that was supposed to be a landing zone. There was no one to greet them as they landed, let alone help guide their landing. The plane shook violently as its wheels hit the uneven ground; eventually the friction from the ground slowed the plane to a skidded halt.

Dante and his co-pilot Lorell were exhausted from the trip. Neither of them wanted to be out here in Rouen, but there destinations were rarely their choice. They need a vacation in the worst possible way.

Dante was forty seven years old and had been a pilot for the past twenty-three years. He was the father of three children, two boys and girl, and the husband to a beautiful yet modest wife, Sasha. They were everything to him and he worked these miserable hours and flew to the most remote of locations to provide for them. Sasha worked from their home washing the townspeople’s laundry, their daughter, Rasta; helping even thought she was only seven years old. His two boys, Clausel and Ricot, ages seventeen and thirteen respectively, did small jobs around the town for minimum wages. Sometimes just for food. Either way, a family of five in a poor village was never an ideal situation, but they made due and they were happy.

Lorell on the other hand was a young man of only twenty. Dante had taken him on as his co-pilot less than three months ago. Lorell had a natural talent and reminded Dante of when he was a young pilot, eager to see the world. Lorell had specifically requested the contracting company to be paired with Dante. He knew that Dante always flew to the most exotic of locales, and he wanted to waste no time in surveying new places.

Dante was not always pleased with flying his lone passengers to their odd places and then waiting for them to return to fly them back, but it was the highest paid job he could have with the company. He always felt the money may be dirty, but he didn’t mind sullying his hands for his family. In this business, the fewer questions asked the better.

Lorell immediately lowered the stairs and disembarked. “Hey! Don’t go running off, we gotta stay with the plane,” barked Dante after the eager boy.

“I know, I know. I’m just gonna look around a bit. I’ll stay close. Don’t be such a worry wart.”

Dante just sighed and smiled. He liked having Lorell around; it reminded him he was still a parent, yelling after his kids when they would run off due to some mischief. Being alone in the cabin was calming. Well, he wasn’t exactly alone. But he might as well be. The man that was his passenger hadn’t spoken a single word to them the entire trip. Not that most of his passengers enjoyed idle chit-chat, but most of them at least entertained pleasantries.

Dante knew he has to at least speak to this man once; he needed to know how long he would be. Dante hoped for a swift return. “So, sir, what time shall I be expecting your return?”

The man was in the back of the plane, mostly shrouded in shadow. There was a palpable silence after Dante spoke. He wasn’t entirely sure if the man heard him. Dante craned his neck around his seat and stared into what look like an abyss. Louder this time,”Sir-“

“Dante, you gotta come see this place, it’s so beautiful at nigh…” Horror stuck the boys face. He was silent as he crept towards the crumpled mass next to the pilot’s seat. Blood was splattered all over the window and the steering console. Dante’s lifeless eyes were staring up at the ceiling. There was a single bullet wound in the center of his forehead, a small trickle of blood was leaking from it into the pool that was amassing underneath his head.

Lorell was incoherent. He spun around to where the man was standing, but only saw an outline of shadow. He screamed the only thing his head could grasp at the time in a hoarse rage, “Why?!”

Riveck simply drew his pistol and aimed it, the only visible thing outside of the shadow. “Orders.”

The last thing Lorell saw was the coldness of his eyes. It was the most bone-chilling stare he had ever seen, and yet, it wasn’t filled with hate. It was empty. Lorell thought of his first flight. And then he crashed.

Vayne was completely uninterested in any Ragnarok or beacon, but the mention of her brother peeked her interest. At first, Vayne was contemplating just torturing the information out of Liesolette, she obviously knew a lot and what she knows, Vayne could make her speak. But, in this strange world trying to decipher cryptic messages would be easier if she had someone like Liesolette to do the bulk of the work for her, even if she did talk in riddles.

Vayne had not sipped her tea. It was beginning to turn cold, and Liesolette was just staring at Vayne, waiting for her reply. “Okay, I shall accompany you. If Keith is chasing after this warlock then I will as well. Besides, I have questions for him.”

Leisolette looked please. It was the first emotion that Vayne saw on her face other than her indifferent pleasantries. “I have a few conditions first. Number one, you will not interfere with any of my feeding. Number two, I agree to only go with you as long as there is interest in it for me. If I am to find my brother before the end of all of this Ragnarok business then you are on your own. And third, I do not owe anything to your Master. I am not a mercenary who can be bartered to wage his battles for him.

Now that we have come to an understanding, I am hungry and tired. We will leave at first light."

Vayne did not wait for her response. She had spotted an attractive man purchase room and board for the night at the inn desk. She followed the man to his room. Knocking on the door lightly Vayne put on her best alluring grin. When he opened the door, she was allowed entry. She gave one last wink over her shoulder to Liesolette.

Tonight Vayne would be sated in both flesh and blood, and she would begin again tomorrow.

Riveck began his slow march towards Rouen. It would take him some time, the landing zone was a bit farther off from the town than he had intended, but Riveck didn't mind the quiet walk alone through the dense woods.

Riveck didn't regret killing Dante or Lorell. In fact, he was happy to be rid of them. Loose ends were not a part of Riveck's plans, and they always made a mess of things to clean up in the end; Riveck preferred to clean as he went.

Two more souls closer, he thought. Riveck had his own motives for wanting death and destruction to follow him. It was the path that he chose. Yes, his parents were killed at a young age, and yes he was groomed to be a natural borne killer, but Riveck was never compelled to do any of this. He felt a yearning, a desire, to want to be the one that ends life.

Paradoxical, Riveck revered all life, and respected it. But, he believed that if you are not willing to own the defense of your own life, then you deserved to have it ripped from you. Sentimental attachments only increased the lives you would have to defend, yours and your love, and your children, and your grandchildren. That was a responsibility that Riveck would never undertake, his life was the only one that matters.

It is not like he had much choice in the way of sentiment anyway. For who could love him? He was a monster, no better than the malice instilled beings that blindly killed everything in their path. The difference was, Riveck was worse. Riveck thought out the death of others, Riveck assured it. No one could ever love someone like that. Even if he decided to poor his entire twisted soul out to another person, it would only be wrenched away from him, and he would be left broken, alone, and scared.

What is worse, Riveck would never be able to handle that kind of emotion. Being alone for his whole life, if that was to happen it would be too much. He could not stand to see his love happy with another person. It would mean their deaths, or his own. Riveck had a mind to end himself every so often, when he thought that maybe he didn't deserve the life he was living, being a harbinger of death. But then he realized that that day would only come after his soul had been completely unraveled, and right now it was only incomplete.

But he still knew no one would ever love him. So Riveck whistled a tune – I'm the angel of death, babe the end is near. Keep your hands on your chest, don't let me whisper in your ear. It's best to keep on walkin', lock the door when I come knockin', mines the voice you never want to hear. Oh, mine's the voice you never want to hear. - And he walked alone, down the dark path of death and destruction, forever unloved, until someone came along, and destroyed him completely.

And he heard a noise rustle through the trees, stopped his tune, and turned so that the intruder could too, look into the eyes of death.