Chapter 56

  Is This Deifically Normal?

  Elijah was bursting with questions. If this thing was already dead, how did it stand before him? Was he supposed to empathise with an avunculicide? How was one word of this creature’s story relevant to him?

  Unfortunately, the vampire’s compulsion held fast; no matter what the teen did, he was unable to make so much as a peep. Despite his enforced placidity, Elijah’s captor could see the questions dancing in the young man’s eyes, so he chose to answer them.

  “You are, no doubt, wondering,” the progenitor of vampires began, a smile behind his glowing red orbs, “‘How is any of this relevant to me?’”

  The creature scoffed when he saw the affirmation in Elijah’s posture: back straight, eyes wide.

  “The young – always so self centred. Still, it isn’t an unreasonable question. I sought to give you an understanding of the world I came from. A world where one must take as much as they can, relying only on their own two hands. That said, there were limits. Honour and tradition separated humans from the many monsters that plagued the Torus.

  My honour bound me tightly. It forced me to kill my uncle, but it also drove me to risk my life to try and save a woman I didn't yet know.”

  Elijah tried to snort and failed. Based on what he had heard, the man in front of him had only sallied forth into the storm because he had developed a crush on his fiancé-to-be; had the lordling not been informed of the lady’s temperament, which he seemed to find so appealing, Elijah doubted the once young man would have risked the ride. Honour had nothing to do with it.

  If the vampire noticed the teen’s incredulity, he didn’t show it.

  “Before we go any further,” the creature continued, ignoring Elijah’s reaction, “there is something I must ask you. Does your world have gods?”

  The sudden non sequitur caught the teen off guard; it took him a moment to realise the compulsion holding him had loosened slightly, just enough for him to rock his head back and forth in an uncertain gesture, though not enough for him to speak.

  Elijah had no idea why he had been asked such a question out of the blue or what it had to do with the previous conversation. He was caught so off guard that he couldn’t begin to think of ways to leverage his newfound freedom, slight though it may be, before the elder asked his next question.

  “Let me put it another way: do you have deities that take an active and definite hand in your everyday lives?”

  This time the teen shook his head definitively.

  “Ahh,” the vampire said in understanding. He waved his hand, tightening Elijah’s mental restrictions once more, not stopping his speech as he did. “Then you likely had gods similar to the ones that inhabited Terra Torus before my death. Whispy, fluid things, made from the prayers of the populace. Able to nudge events slightly within their domain but not strong enough to guide events directly.

  I recall farmers used to set up shrines to Lumious, a god of the blood-cursed sun,” the vampire reminisced, a sour expression twisting his features. He looked about to spit before he remembered himself.

  “I used to think them superstitious, but knowing what I know now, their worship likely helped shape that blasted sun deity. Back then, all that godling would have been able to do was make the days a little sunnier, increasing the harvest. Little did I know what that abyssal god, Lumious, would become…”

  The creature looked off into the distance for a time, unpleasant memories dimming his glowing red eyes. After a moment, he snapped back to himself and continued:

  “Sorry, I digress. My point is, these minor deities, made from the faith energy of the people, can be found nearly anywhere in the universe, but they have nothing on the true, capital G, Gods: beings made from the very fabric of reality itself.

  The thirteen true Gods have absolute dominion over their respective domains. Whenever they make a decree, what they say comes to pass – no matter what. There is no nudging or games; existence itself bends to fulfil their wishes.

  I say all this to say that, after I had been shot through the neck by an arrow and bled out on the battlefield, I met one of these true Gods. Two, in fact. Though I knew not their importance at the time.

  After seeing a twisting wind, filled with black feathers, and hearing the sound of a thousand dead crows cawing a dissonant medley – my blood-soaked teeth clenched and my body as light as a leaf – I got my first real glimpse of divinity,” relayed the vampire, returning to his story. “When the cacophony had ended and the air settled, I was no longer scrambling in the dirt, desperately striving towards the villains who had slaughtered my men and abducted my to-be-wed. Instead, I stood, hollow and cold, in a place devoid of light, of sound, of the air, and of the ground.

  I felt nothing. The emotion which drove me, which pumped through my veins, caused my ears to ring, made me the man I was, deserted me, leaving nothing but a hollow shell behind.

  Something caught my attention: a flash of white in the otherwise empty void. A skeleton stepped forth, its head replaced with the skull of a massive crow and wing bones sprouting out from its shoulder blades.

  I watched the figure step through the blackness as if it were a curtain. Black smoke billowed out from its marrow and created a cloak of shadow. It struck me that I should feel scared, angry or confused. Instead, I felt the warmth of peace wash over me as he came ever closer.

  Within seconds, the monstrous form stood before me. Despite his intimidating appearance, I felt nothing but comfort. He raised his hand, prepared to lay it gently on my shoulder. In that moment, I was completely content, as if I had done everything that I needed to in life and was ready to move on.

  I closed my eyes, ready to feel death's embrace. Nothing happened. The sudden swelling of peace passed, and when I opened my eyes again, I was surprised to find the bony hand held in place by a horrid, burn-scarred appendage, fractions of an inch away from touching me.

  With some of my awareness returned, I jumped back, making space. I was ready to fight, but it didn’t matter; the two figures, the skeleton and what looked to be a dreadfully wounded elf, faced each other, eyes only for one another. Neither spared me a glance.

  ‘Ori’Vairion, what do you want?’ The skeleton asked with polite derision, his voice a silent whisper, deep and insidiously calming.

  ‘Dem, I claim this soul,’ the elf replied in a voice as rough as gravel.

  The darkness grew darker, and Dem, the beastkin skeleton, raised his wings in anger. I had assumed the newcomer to be my saviour, but as I processed his words, a new sensation washed over me – fear, cold, deep, and as dark as the void.

  ‘You have no right!’ Dem declared, raising his eyeless skull in a superior manner. “The souls of the dead are mine. They must return to the cycle.

  The other man spat, ‘Cycle? What cycle? This is not Gaius; the planet’s not even the same shape! For all we know, souls take a different path here.’

  The crow-man deflated slightly, but still, he stood tall, unready to back down. ‘Death is my domain!’ he insisted.

  ‘And Undeath is mine,’ Ori’Vairion replied, not missing a beat.

  They stared at one another, neither backing down. After an agonising moment, in which I felt the void was about to be torn asunder by the intensity of their stare, the ragged, black-haired elf spoke again, in a conciliatory tone, ‘Besides, you owe me one, remember?’

  Dem, the God of Death, finally looked away. After a breath, he withdrew his wings and spun on a bony heel.

  ‘Fine, you can have him,” Dem declared, waving a hand over his shoulder in a far too casual manner, ”but don’t think I won’t remember this,’ he hissed, stepping back through the veil and disappearing.

  Once Ori’Vairion, the God of Undeath, was sure that his peer had truly left, he turned, facing me for the first time.

  I had gathered myself as much as I could. My body didn’t seem real in that strange place – it was transparent, made of some sort of pale grey light. I was unsure if I would be able to fight in this form, but I readied myself nonetheless; there was nowhere to run and nothing to hide behind.

  My fists dropped, and I retreated a step unconsciously when I was finally able to get a good look at the God who had fought for the right to own my soul.

  The hideous monstrosity shook me to my very core. The vile pile of meat where his face should have been made me shiver. One of his eyes had been gouged out, and a piece of brain was exposed from a missing section of his forehead. It was all I could do not to scream in terror!”

  Despite his words, as the vampire recalled the nightmarish God, there was a smile on his lips; he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

  Seeing his captor laugh after describing such an ungodly sight did little to endear Elijah to him. It did not explain the countless atrocities Elijah had glimpsed by touching this creature's mark, the killings, the flayings, and the torture. In fact, the young man felt more than ever that his prejudices had been warranted; this was a monster, through and through.

  The mirth vanished from the creature's face as seriousness overtook him.

  “I shall not tell you the exact events that followed, as I have been sworn to secrecy, and an oath to a God cannot be broken.

  What I can tell you is that Ori’Vairion and I struck a deal. He returned me to the world of the living so that I could save my fiancé and avenge my men. None would be able to kill me until my mission was complete and I called on the God of Undeath to free my soul.

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  The next thing I remembered was the void vanishing and the two of us appearing back in the forest a second after the deal was struck. I stood over my body, my form ghostly and ethereal.

  With morbid curiosity, I reached out to my cold dead self and was instantly pulled back into my mortal vessel. The pain I felt before death returned, but I was unable to scream, or cry out, or even open my eyes.

  The God said something about my body having lost too much blood to function before I felt a pinch at my throat, right where the arrow had struck me. A blisteringly cold, tingling feeling spread from that point, filling me with strength.

  I snapped my eyes open. The stormy night was vibrant and full of colour. I could see the glistening black blood that streamed from the deity's hand and into my body, I could hear the family of birds sheltering in a tree a hundred paces away, I could taste ozone in the air, and I could smell blood all around me.

  For a moment, I was lost in the deluge of new sensations. It should have been too much for my mortal mind to handle, but when my resurrector asked me a question, the world snapped into focus, and I was able to ignore the superfluous feelings.

  ‘Tell me, are you alright?’ The God who had stared down death itself asked with trepidation.

  I rose before answering, getting to my feet with incredible lightness. I opened and closed my hand slowly; there was power there, more than I could possibly imagine.

  ‘I. I am fine, just a little hungry.’ I replied, surprised by the revelation – a part of me had doubted that any of this had been real, let alone possible.

  ‘Good,’ the faceless horror responded with what might have been a smile. Before I could utter another word, the all-powerful being slapped me on the back, nearly sending me sprawling, ‘I knew that would work,’ he said in a most unconvincing manner. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to go now; I’m very busy, as you might have guessed. Good luck, and see you soon.’

  With that, he left – walking through a decaying tree as if it were intangible and disappearing. Surprised, I took a moment to survey my surroundings. The rain had lessened, the bodies were cold, and none of my enemies were in sight. It had likely been more than an hour since my death, though it felt like little more than a few minutes to me.

  I needed to find the trail of those murderers, but with every second that passed I felt the hunger growing in the pit of my stomach. My eyes roved around, looking for broken branches, hoofprints, and other markings that might tell me which way the enemy had gone, but I was unable to focus; the throbbing need in my gut grew exponentially with each and every heartbeat.

  I soon realised this gnawing hunger was something I had to deal with as soon as possible. A part of me considered searching my men’s belongings, but stealing from the dead was a line I was unwilling to cross. Searching through the saddlebags of my slain horse, I found nothing. I had left in such a rush that no provisions had been packed.

  The hunger grew so wildly, so rapidly in such a short time. I blacked out – fainted from hunger – the next thing I recall, drool dripped from the corners of my mouth, and my clawed hands tossed bodies aside, desperately searching for something, anything that could sate my hunger.

  Internally, I recoiled. In a matter of moments, I had devolved from a nobleman to a brainless animal. I heaved at the reins of my mind, desperate to regain control. My body didn’t listen; it rooted through corpses for food like pigs root through mud for truffles.

  Nonetheless, I tried harder to regain myself. This was not me! My efforts nearly paid off, until I spotted a strip of dried venison poking out of someone’s pack and the beast took command once more. With a vile need, I snatched it, pulling it to my chest, looking around to ensure none would steal my prize.

  When I was certain that my meal would go uncontested, I forced the meat into my mouth, swallowing it whole. Hot, stinking refuse oozed down my gullet. The reaction was instant – I vomited out the jerky as well as whatever remained in my putrefied gut. I scraped at my tongue desperately with a knife, needing to get rid of the foul taste. Black blood poured out from where I had cut my mouth, but the wounds sealed themselves within seconds.

  With every drop of rain that fell, my hunger grew, again, and again. Like a man possessed, I tore my way through the dead. A stale end of bread, a slice of cheese, and a skin of water – consuming anything ended in the same result. There was nothing I could keep down.

  Then, like a ray of crimson hope, something struck me. A scent that smelt not only palatable but downright heavenly – like the sweet aroma of cooking pork, freshly picked apples, and flaky, buttery pastry, all rolled into one. It smelt like the absolute best version of the absolute best meal I could imagine.

  Following my nose, saliva dripping from my mouth, pouring over my elongated, sharpened teeth and onto the muddy ground, I scrambled up the hill and towards whatever was giving off this otherworldly scent.

  Heaving myself over a boulder, I came face to face with my lieutenant. He had been struck in the abdomen by a sword and was bleeding; however, he was still very much alive.

  ‘My lord—” he began, but the words, spoken with a mix of delighted surprise and eager bloodthirst, were cut off before they could be said.

  I would like to say that the undead monster I was swiftly becoming forced me to tear open his throat, slurp down his thick, syrupy ambrosia – his blood – until his corpse was as shrivelled as a raisin, but I cannot. Perhaps I would not have been able to stop myself from killing him, but I didn’t even try – the thought of finally eating something, of ending the starvation ripping me apart, well… it was just so overwhelming…. But that… even that is an excuse…

  I owed it to my lieutenant to try, to attempt to hold myself back. That knight, Reginald, he had been my only true friend. I didn’t even realise it until every drop of his blood had been exsanguinated.

  Redgy was the only one who I could truly confide in. My relationship with family had always been strained – formality pervaded our interactions, every word filled with hidden meaning, with subterfuge; the curse of power.

  And, while it was true that the man had never spoken out of turn when in public, when we were alone, training, sparring, or studying, he was the only one who felt comfortable cracking a joke, poking fun at me, or speaking honestly about my mistakes – I treated him coldly. He never knew how much those moments meant to me…”

  The vampire trailed off, his voice hollow; he took a moment to reflect, and Elijah saw on his face, for the first time, a truly human emotion – regret. The teen wanted to put a hand on the mourning man’s shoulder and tell him that everything would be alright, but the compulsion held him still.

  The emotions passed, and the proprietor of this Trial returned to his normal self. Elijah’s mind recoiled; he couldn’t believe he had just felt sorry for a man he knew to have killed thousands in unspeakable ways.

  “At the time, I was unable to blame myself. I blamed our attackers; if they hadn’t assaulted my fiancé, I wouldn’t have left my town, I wouldn’t have died, and I wouldn’t have been turned into the monster I saw myself as.

  This lit a fire under me. More than ever, I needed revenge! Like a beast, I locked onto the scent of blood the marauders had left behind and galloped through the woods, as fast as the wind.

  It didn’t take long to find their camp. Tents were set up under an overhang, sheltered from the rain. Most were empty; many had died. The knights stood by a large bonfire with some of the commoners who fled tied up in a line before them, kneeling on the slick stone.

  The men who should have been protecting these peasants whipped and berated them as they forced a bound and struggling redhead to watch. Any hope I may have had for their chivalry died at the sight.

  I didn’t hesitate. Like nearly all young vampires, I was a slave to my hunger. By the time the cry went up, half the camp had been drained dry. I didn’t savour my revenge as I thought I might; instead, like an addict, I searched forwards, desperate for my next fix, for blood.

  Swords stabbed, spears poked, and arrows sprouted, but I didn’t so much as blink. The pain was nothing compared to the pleasure drinking the blood of the living gave me. My injuries healed so quickly; none of them so much as slowed me down.

  In the span of a hundred heartbeats, everyone was dead save the woman I had come to save. Having drunk my fill, I regained some of my reason. Though a large portion of my mind was obsessed with the blood beating through the human’s veins, I managed to hold myself back.

  Instead of drinking her dry, I forced the still screaming lady to swallow blood from my arm – some undead instinct guiding my actions. I watched as her veins turned black and her eyes glowed red. When the process was complete, she returned to normal, save for a slightly paler skin tone.

  Before I could react, she had torn herself free of her bindings, stabbed me through the heart with a broken tent peg and vanished into the night. For some reason I didn’t understand at the time, that injury took far longer to heal.

  Birds began to sing, the storm passed, and the sky began to lighten when I was finally able to rip the stake from my heart and return to the hunt. I wanted to find my fiancé, but the need for blood was far stronger – having been truly hurt, my bloodlust rose once more.

  Hundreds died before I was myself again. Well, as much myself as I could be after such wanton slaughter.”

  Elijah felt his restrictions lift as the vampire slumped.

  “So that’s it? That’s your excuse? I saw you peel off a woman’s skin while she was still alive – why, just because you were bloodthirsty?!” The teen demanded, anger overcoming his sympathy.

  The devilish creature chuckled darkly in response. Before Elijah could explode with indignation at the perceived disregard for human life, the vampire spoke up:

  “No. When I kill in hunger, my victims rarely suffer. All that matters is their blood – I don’t have the presence of mind to torture. Believe it or not, I did that in a misguided attempt to help people.”

  Elijah's twisted expression, a mix between disgusted disbelief and unveiled umbrage, spoke far louder than any words.

  The tired looking vampire sighed, “After I was finally able to balance myself, I was horrified by what I had become. My town and all our neighbouring settlements had been scoured from the Torus. I travelled further afield, the monsters that had kept my people sheltered behind our walls no longer a threat to me, and found that every village, town, and city I came across had been embroiled in conflict.

  It was as if everyone had declared war on everyone else – I later discovered that was exactly what had happened. The whole Torus was at war, thanks to the God of War’s influence. Apparently, she decided to arrive with a splash.

  I needed to right my wrongs, so, leaning on my noble upbringing, I conquered every town and city I came across – forcing them into peace under my banner. However, since war had been divinely decreed, it took some vile methods to dissuade people from fighting with one another. Trust me, I tried everything else; fear was the only thing that worked.

  The woman you mentioned – she was the leader of a rebellion. They weren’t fighting for freedom or liberty. Her band's only stated goal was to kill enough babies to create a throne of infant skulls to welcome some demonic god they believed would invade the torus. These were seriously dark times. Madness spread like a disease; war its number one symptom.

  Fuelled by my misguided obsession with peace, I did some truly terrible things – but I was successful. Over time, I created a kingdom, then an empire that spanned all nine plates. There were setbacks, of course. When the System was created, it gave the commoners a path to power, power great enough to rival my own, but at the same time, the Gods chose to leave Terra Torus, and, as a result, everyone became a lot less violent.

  Without that pressure, I was able to be more lenient; people were more likely to listen to me than want to fight on the spot, but this, in turn, made me soft.”

  The vampire sighed deeply. “It was when I stood at the peak of power, lording over the entire Torus, that I fell to where I am now. The head priest of the church of Lumious, lower case ‘g’ god of the sun, approached me – something about a new project to help the people.

  Arrogantly, I went alone to meet him, completely unprepared for the ambush. They were able to, through the use of divine powers, petrify me and bury my body, stripping me of the memory of its location, although it cost them most of the strongest members of their clergy.

  The church recovered, however, and has been hunting vampires ever since, stopping me from being freed. I only know this because, after a couple of centuries stuck in a frozen body, the System offered me a chance to work for it – testing the level 25 vampires however I see fit before I let them evolve.

  I have a pocket realm of my own that the System calls a Trial, but I’m trapped here until someone can revive me. You, I suspect, will be the one to finally set me free.

  Now,” the most powerful vampire in existence concluded, clapping his hands and startling Elijah, “do you have any questions?”