17 Title At The End
Outreach day.
A day organized to stimulate cooperation and "good feelings" between the townies and the outcasts.
Dracul observed the students being handed their "volunteer" assignments. They seemed excited. The idea gave him pause.
He knew eventually he would have to make a decision about the lower denizens of the world. The outcasts. He did not believe in wasting resources and the lot of them were resources. Not good ones, at the moment, but he could feel the potential for greatness pumping through their veins. Greatness, that should be used to serve him.
Thinking about their potential, he could not help but allow his mind to drift to the bonds tied to him.
As his body healed its damaged cells by slowing consolidating his contained lifeforce, merging and becoming more than just a physical aspect, and returning to one capable of being manipulated just as easily as he manipulates energy, he could sense the bloodlines connected to him more clearly.
He was beginning to gain an idea of their conditions, such as strengths, mutations, abilities.
He could feel that some had evolved in his time away.
Some had surpassed their past peak.
The idea was one that should have brought him contentment and pride in his subordinates. However, the more he was able to sense, the less pride he able to feel. Instead, a coldness was oh so slowly inching its way closer to his heart. A coldness that he cultivated when he realized that he would have to put down his father and cut those ties. A coldness that allowed him to be capable of doing anything, no matter how gruesome, should the need arise.
He did not know where it was coming from, nor did he care.
He had always been an individual deeply connected to his instincts. Instincts that had allowed him to survive countless times, growing up in a culture where the royals had to be able to slaughter any who would threaten their people. A culture where they could and would be called upon, at a moments notice, to fight against the odds to keep their lives and power. Where only their pride allowed them to remain independent, when it would have been far easier to bend the knee.
Therefore, when that familiar coldness began to spread to his heart, and memories of his teenage self impaling his would be conquerors on pikes started to filter through his mind, he did not ignore the signs.
Signs that spoke of war.
War that would require a coldness that he, since he had awoken, did not want to embrace once again.
Dracul looked down, from his seated position on the ledge of the second floor, his eyes focused on Wednesday.
The coldness that had been spreading, progressed no further. However, it also did not recede. He could feel himself on the very edge of his humanity.
As if she could feel his eyes on her, she turned and raised her head, looking directly at him.
He did not know what she saw, but it was not two seconds after catching sight of him that he saw her begin walking briskly towards the stairs that led to the second floor.
"Stop," he spoke out.
His voice louder than he meant and intent uncontained, it spread throughout the quad.
As if time froze, none moved an inch.
Unintentionally, he had bound the entire area.
All were aware, but none could move more than their eyes.
He saw Wednesday attempting to continue her movements. The coldness receded ever so slightly.
He did not want her to see him like this.
He knew if she came too close, she would feel the coldness drifting off of him. The death, despair, and darkness, with an undertone of bloodlust, would not repel her. She might even like it. However, he could not allow her any closer.
Sitting there, he discovered something.
Something that caused the coldness that had slowed and slightly reversed to immediately coat every inch of his being.
There was no more Wednesday. No more quad. No more Dracul.
Only Vlad Dracul The Impaler.
He moved instantly.
His previous position reduced to scattered dust as he appeared in mid-air. His wings spread wide.
He stared at where he once sat. His face void of any traces of emotion. Only purpose. Decisiveness.
There, garbed in a skin tight, fully black outfit, was Katherine. Her sword that he once gifted her clutched in her hand.
She rose from her crouched position and turned to face him.
Her face solemn. And sad.
He could feel the sadness radiating off her as she looked at him.
He did not care.
He did not care for her sadness, her purpose, nor her reason. It mattered not. Because he could finally sense something that he was not supposed to know, nor be capable of knowing.
He could sense her intent.
In the past, such a thing was not possible.
The bond was only capable of showing those tied to him and their conditions.
It was never capable of showing that which went beyond the physical aspect. Their hearts were always their own. Even if he forced servitude, it would only be their minds compelled to submit and follow, but not their hearts. It was one of the many reasons his pride would not allow it.
However, he was evolving.
As he healed, his being was mending in a way that went beyond the original.
There was something...extra...within him that was elevating his being to a level that he did not know existed. His spirit, as it merged and mended his physical, using his consolidated lifeforce, was allowing him to discover aspects that did not originally exist, as every part of him became one once again.
They stared at one another.
Him looking down at her and her looking up at him. Neither moved to engage.
"How did you know?" His "loyal" one asked him. "I know you better than anyone. I have observed you carefully, closely, watching. You never once suspected me of anything. Until a moment ago. I saw it in your eyes. I recognized those eyes. How did you know?" She questioned him again.
He continued to look at her.
He could see her growing desperate.
"I know you are at your weakest. I have told the others." She said, her fear beginning to leak through, merging with her sadness.
"For years, we were hunted. Hunted and fought, all in your name. We gave you everything!" She shouted as her voice grew.
"We waited for you. Longed for you. For your return, to sweep the world and lead us once again, but you did not come!" She spoke, her eyes becoming resolute, despite her sadness and fear. "We decided we did not need you. We loved you. Served you. But if we wanted to survive, we did not need you any longer. We rule this world. We stand at the top. You are no longer needed." She brought her other hand to grip the sword and held it firm.
"Stay here," he saw her look towards Wednesday, as Wednesday looked back. Unable to move, only her eyes trained on them. "Stay here, with the girl, and leave us to ourselves, Vlad Dracul. This world is no longer yo....." Before she could finish speaking, a shadow pierced through her back and out of her chest, raising her from the ground, her body impaled.
"What I can do. What I will do. Only I decide." His voice spoke out, traveling for miles. In different parts of the world, his words echoed in the ears of the few. "History may have forgotten, but I do not." He descended, hovering over his impaled "loyal" one. Her body frozen. "This world can only follow, after I have walked my path. That is what it means to stand absolute. Gather your forces. Firm your resolve. Vlad The Impaler has returned."
He waved his hand. His "loyal" one swallowed by the shadows.
He hovered there.
His face betrayed no emotion. Only resolve.
"My path is my own." Only one heard his words that time.
He turned his body. His eyes lowered onto hers. Her eyes unreadable, too many thoughts going through her mind.
Vlad: {Though, we walk it together.}.
His voice sounded in her mind.
His mind, allowing the slightest bit of warmth. The bit that belongs only to her.
He could see whatever thoughts occupying her switch, as her eyes showed shock...and something else.
He flapped his wings once.
Everyone in the area, regained movement. Their eyes glazed over. Then, they continued doing whatever they were doing before he and his servant exchanged words.
However, he was no longer there.
Wednesday looked around, attempting to find him. Her head swung in every direction.
He was gone.
She looked around her. Seeing that nobody seemed to acknowledge the events that just passed, and knew that only she remembered.
She focused her eyes back on the spot where a ledge once existed.
Her mind filled with thoughts of her own, and her hands clinched into fists.
Wednesday: {You are not getting away.}
She said in her mind. Tapping on that link that she had only just realized had been inactive for so long.
Her lips spread and her clear white teeth were on full display.
Everyone around turned to look at her. Surprised and weirded out by the broad smile that randomly appeared on her face.
Vlad: {You are not getting away. Await my return, scumpa mea moarte mică}.
The smile on her face remained.
Her dead heart pounded in her chest, like a drum solo.
'My stalker.'
"Wednesday Addams, its nice to see you excited for the festivities."
The smile disappeared from her features, as they returned to their resting neutral face.
'Fucking Principal Weems.'
The End.
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Just Kidding. Haha. Ha.
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