Vampire Origin

Episode 7: "Flesh and Fire"

Any sort of serenity has been destroyed by the explosion outside Nightshade Manor. Alarms screamed all around the mansion as the vampires tried to defend themselves. Their pulses racing in time with the turmoil all around them, Alaric and Lilith stood side by side preparing for what lay next. "We've lost the element of surprise," Alaric said, his voice tight with rage. His gaze looked about the room and landed on Sebastian, already fastening his weapons. "They came in force," Sebastian remarked, his voice icy. I will cover the eastern wing. You two—— Alaric cut in, then turned to face Lilith, "Stay together". Though the urgency was obvious, his gaze softened just slightly. We cannot afford to live apart. Should we do, the hunters will pick us off. Though her face was tinged with worry, Lilith nodded. Though no vampire in her family could ever be fearful, she was not terrified of the approaching conflict; rather, the weight of what was at risk tormented her. The hunters were only the starting point. They had to stop the disaster they had started before it devoured all they knew. Alaric remarked, "Let's go," steely in tone as he pointed towards the main hall. The manor's old walls creaked under the weight of the fight raging outside as they hurried across the hall. Every stride they made appeared to upset the fundamental basis of the estate. Long before the fight arrived, a vampire's enhanced senses saw their rivals. Distinctive smell of blood in the air, shadows moved far away. Rising from the shadows, the first mercenary had wide-open hunger. He was human, nothing more than a blood slave under the control of the actual predators. Though it would be no match for a vampire's strength, he held a silver blade. Without delay, Alaric drew his dagger and sliced across the air. Striking the mercenary's chest, the blade flashed in the low light and sent him crumpling to the earth with a terrible thud. His body broke down into ash virtually right away. Alaric murmured, "Another one down," cleaning the blood from his blade. His voice dropped and his face clouded. But this is only the beginning. Knowing the clock was running short, they moved forward fast. Every second lost brought another step towards losing control over their planet. They had to reorganise with the remaining coven, compile their army, and be ready for the last stand. But footsteps stopped them in their tracks when they arrived at the great hall. They were not solo. The hall doors opened with a loud smash, and in stepped someone whose presence chilled the air. Once the skeletal shape of myth, Anselm the Butcher was flesh and bone—a hideous, towering figure with brilliant eyes and a nasty smile across his face. "You failed," Anselm's voice shrieked across the hall. You closed the seal; it makes no difference. The hunters will have their payback. Their obvious conflict was like the quiet before a tempest. Alaric's fingers tightened around his dagger as his blood boiled. But before he could act, Lilith moved forward, her voice a consistent counterpoint to the approaching danger. Her eyes burning, she responded, "You're wrong." "You were a tool." Like a puppet. And right now you are only a relic from the past. Anselm's smile got bigger. "You talk too much, Nightshade," he snared and raised a hand. His fingers closed into a fist, and all of a sudden the room erupted in a dark-energy tsunami. It sent them both tumbling back into the marble walls. Alaric struggled to his feet, and the agony burst through his chest, but it was nothing compared to the wrath he experienced. Butcher, you will pay for that. Alaric rushed forward with terrible speed, cutting his blade deadly precisely through the air. The Butcher stopped the strike with his great arm, readily grabbing Alaric's dagger in his hand. The collision of steel against bone echoed across the hall, but Anselm's smile went unaltered. Not one to be surpassed, Lilith called the shadows, her power coiling around her. As tendrils of darkness emerged from the floor, trying to entangle Anselm, the air thickened. But Anselm's wicked laughter rang out, and with a stroke of his hand he shattered the shadows, sending them to dust. Anselm teased, his voice oozing with disgust, "This is pointless." I cannot be stopped by you. The hunters are out gathering already. The planet will burn. Alaric was done speaking, though. Driven by the burning need to defend what little left of his family and the vampire world, he hurled himself at Anselm with ferocity, every ounce of his strength fuelled by it. Their fight continued, strikes thrown, magic flickering in the air, the weight of their force rattling the very manor's walls. Bloodied but unbended, Anselm staggered back and Alaric saw his opening. He threw his dagger deep into the Butcher's side with a shout, twisting the blade with every last bit of might. The hunter howled in agony; the dark energy around him flickered before it totally disappeared. Alaric knew this victory was fleeting though the Butcher dropped to his knees and gasped for air. His visage dark, he turned to Lilith. "We must wrap this up." Lilith nodded, her own body hurting from the effort of the battle, but her will was unbroken. She lifted her hands, and once more the Midnight Mirror started to shine brilliantly. This time it was more than just a mirror; it was a tool. "Together," Lilith replied, her voice full of subdued will. Alaric never hesitated. He stood at her side, his might blending with hers as they directed their shared bloodlines into the rite. Glowing brighter than ever before, the Midnight Mirror and Bleeding Chalice were a surge of light that tore across the Butcher's black essence, sending him into oblivion. Apart from the distant sound of falling stone, the room went quiet. Alaric fell to his knees next to Lilith; his body gave up from tiredness at last. Though his chest heaved with laboured breaths, he felt a great release. They had carried it out. They had ceased the Butcher for now. Still, the conflict was not close to over. Turning to him, Lilith's demeanour softened from that of the conflict. Her hand rested softly on his shoulder, and between them there was a gentle, silent understanding despite the blood that soiled them both. Her voice a little beyond a whisper, she continued, "This isn't over." Alaric nodded, his eyes far off. Not sure. Still, however, we are standing. And for now it is sufficient. They knew this was only the beginning when the sun rose above Nightshade Manor and sent its first beam over the broken windows. The bloodlines the hunters had sought to guard were still in danger. They were still hunters. But Alaric and Lilith stood together, poised to meet whatever came next, for the first time in a very long time.