A New Flame

When Wesley came to it was a cloudy morning. He found himself in the woods near his village, the village of Ivayla. He smelled smoke, and that's when he remembered! He got up suddenly and was immediately met with pain forgetting his injuries from the night before. He grimaced then made his way back to his village only to find it completely burned down.

All throughout the village were soldiers cleaning up bodies and going through the wreckage to salvage anything they could. Leading the cleanup was Captain Fred, who unlike Sir Ted had no injuries to speak of. Most of the villagers were dead. There was one pile for burning the corpses of the villagers in the village and another outside of the village for the Vampires that representatives from the church were responsible for purifying.

Wesley made his way through the village slowly still in disbelief. He then saw the pile of corpses burning and among them were his family, childhood friends, and the one he planned to marry. He couldn't contain his tears and fell down sobbing. He wondered why out of everyone who died that he was the one person to survive. He looked around for more survivors but there were none.

"What are you doing here kid?" asked a voice.

Wesley looked up to see a proud looking man armed with a sword at his side and rough, brown hair that was shoulder length. Wesley did not know it yet, but the person who was talking to him was Captain Fred himself.

"This was my village," Wesley groaned.

"Oh, then my condolences. I didn't know there were any other survivors."

"So there were others?!"

"There was one survivor, and he's being taken care of at a parish down the road right this moment."

"Who was it?"

"We don't know. He was too weak to talk. I suppose you want to see who it is don't you? Well see here on this map? if you follow the road south a bit you should run into it."

"Who did all this?!"

"Don't you know boy? It was blood-sucking Vampires."

"V-v-vampires did this?!"

"It's what they do."

"But my family, everyone I knew... they're all dead?!"

"I'm afraid so. Even now, those monsters are escaping, but not before they wiped out most of my men. It seems we far underestimated their power. At least we were able to kill their king, or at least I hope we were, because they took off with the body, the vampires that is."

A silence then fell with only the sound of the flame and the wind. Captain Fred felt no sorrow over the loss of the people of this village, in fact he almost appeared satisfied with all that transpired the night before. As Wesley looked at the captain he noticed this demeanor.

What was Captain Fred's reason for being here? It was clear he didn't care that much about protecting all the villagers. So was he here to kill the vampires? Why did the vampires choose this village to attack over other ones? Again he was also wondering why he had survived and no one else in his family did.

His family was dead. His love interest was dead. All of his friends and neighbors were dead. His heart sank deeper and deeper into an abyss of regret and survivor's guilt, an abyss that was his own made specially for him. But there was still a flame alight inside him, one that was brighter than the flames that burned the corpses around him.

Each time he looked at the corpses he was reminded of everything he lost, all his hopes, dreams, the people he loved, admired, and respected, his home, his family, all of it was being burned away by a flame, one that made him feel something else, something beyond grief and beyond despair.

At this point he had no meaning for living, no reason to go on, but yet he wanted to anyway. It was then he remembered that one person survived. Who were they? Why were they spared as well? These questions drove him to make a choice and that choice was to find that person to see whether or not they had the answer to his questions. As he got up to set out for the parish, Captain Fred was intrigued.

"So are you going to the parish after all boy?"

"It isn't like there's anything here for me. Also my name is Wesley."

"Wesley is it? Well good luck Wesley." Captain Fred said.

"One more thing. What is your name Sir?"

"Just call me Captain. I do not know you well enough to give you my actual name so Captain will have to for now."

"Alright then Captain. What do you plan to do once this is all cleaned up?"

"I'll go home and report. If there were anything left of this village we would send supplies to help rebuild, but since there is nothing and no one, we will just write this village off as a loss."

Wesley walked away with sadness in his heart. What he needed most was a mission, a distraction, and going to the church to find out who had survived fit that need well. Though he was still in physical pain, the pain was not comparable to the pain in his soul. He tried to recall what had happened the night before but could not. His mind drew a blank, something which made him even more anxious than he already was.

It wasn't a long road before him, but it was hard and slow with the pain he felt. All he knew was that each step he took would take him closer to some answers, and for him, that was worth bearing through the pain he felt, and it was worth sacrificing just a tiny bit of comfort for his physical body in exchange for some peace for his soul.

Some people passed him on the road seeing his suffering, but none stopped to help. Each person that passed was another reminder for him of just how alone he really was now, and he began to shed tears. Even the weather now turned against him as it started to lightly rain. It wasn't a heavy rain, but it was raining enough to get him wet and make him even more discomforted.

Eventually the rain and the clouds subsided, but when they did, Wesley was already at his lowest point, he was already more miserable than he had ever felt in his entire life. When Wesley got to the parish it was sunset. Long shadows were cast all around him and a looming dread that whoever it was that survived had either died or didn't have the answers he sought, threatened him.

The moment of truth was fast approaching as he knocked on the door waiting for whoever was on the other side to come meet him and let him in. Moments later the door was opened by the priest in charge of the parish, a younger man in his early 20s with short blond hair. When he saw Wesley he was suddenly alarmed.

"Oh my gosh mister! Are you alright?!" the priest asked seeing Wesley's injuries and his dirty wet clothes.

"I... I heard there was a survivor..." Wesley said weakly before nearly collapsing to the ground. Luckily he was caught by the priest who helped him back up.

"You need help mister." The priest said.

"Maybe you're right... but can you take me to him? The survivor I mean?"

"Are you sure you're feeling well enough for that mister? What's is your name?"

"Wesley. Please. I don't have anything else."

"Don't you have any family?-"

"THEY'RE ALL DEAD!" Wesley yelled feeling vexed.

The priest fell silent, feeling mildly ashamed for vexing the young man.

"Alright then. I'll lead you to him. Just follow me." The priest said starting to understand the full extent of what Wesley was feeling after such a devastating blow to his life and future.

Wesley then followed the priest as he led him down the halls of the stone structure. As Wesley was led through the church he had an uneasy feeling. It was extremely basic architecture fitting for a country parish. The air was damp, and the walls had mold and mildew at the edges of them. It was all lit by wax candles with weak flames on the walls, candles that never brought light to the corners in the rooms.

Their footsteps echoed as they walked, and the old, wooden doors they went through creaked. When they made it to the room where the survivor was kept there was another person inside, a young priestess to be exact.

"Duran? Is that another victim of the attack?" asked the girl.

"I believe so, he wanted to come and see Trevor, so I brought him here." Duran, who was the priest, replied.

"Nevermind Trevor! We need to get this young man into a bed right right away!"

"Wait, what do you mean nevermind Trevor? I thought he was in serious condition!"

"Other than a couple of scratches he's actually fine!"

"WHAT?! FINE?! BUT HOW?!"

"Huh... I guess my divine magic is just a lot more potent than you remember!" She said while winking.

"Foolishness! I know you Courtney, and your magic couldn't have possibly healed him that much in so little time!"

"Whether you believe it or not his wounds really have healed! But this guy, we need to get him help quick!"

As she said this, Wesley suddenly collapsed unconscious. It seemed he had worn himself out to his limit. Once he was sure that the survivor was in good condition he was relieved and the adrenaline wore out resulting in him passing out. It wasn't long before the two had him in a bed as well to recover from his injuries and the damp he put himself through to get there.

"What did you say this guy's name was again Duran?"

"He said it was Wesley."

"So there was another survivor... strange... this is the first time I've ever heard of survivors of a Vampire attack. Typically when that happens, the village is a lost cause. Not one person has ever survived a Vampire attack on a village before, so what makes these two the exception?"

"Eh... we should probably get back to work on our chores." Duran said.

Duran wasn't particularly interested in deep philosophy. He had a fairly simple mind, so when it came to grasping philosophical questions he always ran away from them in fear of not being able to understand them. It was a contradiction to his profession, and he knew it.

Courtney was the exact opposite. She was constantly asking herself and people wiser than her questions. She spent as much of her free time as she could reading any book she could get her hands on. It didn't matter if it was an informational book or a fictional story, she filled her head with as much knowledge as she could.

Both Courtney and Duran were sent to this parish some time ago when an elder priest was still the head over it. The priest had died 2 years from the current day and instead of sending a new priest the bishop of Halvor instead tasked the two young priests with the care of it instead. Both of them were 23 years old, and both of them were eager and ready to carry out their duties there, as evidenced by their diligent care of the two injured young men in their care.

When Wesley finally came to it was morning. He got up suddenly feeling aches all over his body. He realized that he probably overexerted himself when he came there the day before. He then looked over to see another young man sitting up in a bed across from him. The young man saw him then made an acknowledging glance.

"So you must be Wesley." The young man said.

"Yeah, but how did you know my name?"

"Brother Duran told me. I'm Trevor by the way. They said you ran all the way over here from Ivayla to find me. Is that true?"

"Yes... I heard you were a survivor, so I wanted to know if you were someone I knew, but it seems that is not the case. It wasn't a large village, but even then there were still people I didn't know. That isn't to say I don't recognize your face, just that you're not anyone I know."

"Same. It just goes to show you that even a small village can be big enough to contain people you have no acquaintance with. Perhaps it was just pure ignorance on both our parts. I am 15 years old by the way. I assume you are somewhat the same age as me?"

"14. I've been alive for 14 years, and already it seems like my life is over, which reminds me. I wanted to ask you how you survived?"

"I guess I was just lucky. Why I survived is another story, one that I don't know nor do have any idea how to find out."

"So I guess I wasted my time coming here after all. I don't feel any special connection to you, I don't feel any divine inspiration, I just feel as hopeless as ever. I thought that by meeting you I would find some new purpose in life. Guess that's a pretty selfish reason to want to meet someone huh?"

Wesley then began crying as the flame in heart finally went out. It was here that his mission, meaningless as it was, ended for him. He sat in the bed and clung to the sheets as it was the only thing left that he could cling to. A new thought then entered his mind. It was anger. A pure unfiltered hatred towards the forces that did this to him, whether it be fate, or God, or reality, or anything else it might be.

One day he would strike back against the forces that left him this way. Someday he would fight against his circumstances and get back on his feet. If he ever found something worth fighting for again he was going to hold strong and fast to it no matter what. Wesley suppressed all these feelings which in turn gave him something he though he would never obtain again. His raw emotions when pushed back this way turned into motivation, and with this he could go on living as before.

A new flame then lit in his heart, one that burned until the very end of his life.