The Beginning

...Some six hundred-odd years after "the incident", a mysterious pilgrim discovered the cave.

The pilgrim had traveled far and faced much adversity, hardened by life's ether he crawled the depths with little hesitation to explore its bounty. Further beyond the darkness of the enclosure stood other signs of life. Bounties old and worn strewn about the many fixtures within, markings decades, even centuries old warned and warned again.

And yet through it all, he did not yield to the perils that lie ahead. One would be a fool without a cause to be, for the pilgrim, it was not foolishness, but revelry. The status of a girl named Shantiel Lothaire, hung high up on walls, each one a sign, a worn reminder, of someone gone, someone lost. Someone... Who wanted to be... The bounties were all the same, Shantiel Lothaire, wanted by local authorities: Alive or Dead.

He traipsed further and further into the cave. One would swear the dimming light from his lantern would be swallowed whole by the darkness and dank creep of the walls that surround him, entrapped by rock with none more than the echoes and creaks of his handle and what seemed to be 'breaths not-yet-breathed'. Soon he came upon rust and iron, beaten and old. He had happened upon a cell, empty, only with hanging shackles, little more than a pale, and with any hope of some sign of life once here: the skeleton of rats, their furs remained, their bodies mummified, sucked dry... And what more left, than a notebook left behind... The pilgrim narrowed his gaze upon the notebook, he takes it into his hands, within, lies a story unlike his own:

A cold air brushed his shoulders, like a remnant had been there. With only the light before him, and seclusion he recites the notes, soon the words he from the diary spoke became thought...

Six hundred years ago.

My family holds much influence in this world, as the standing rulers of Olvgram City.

Adherents of the Lothaire Family, rulers of the two cities, Lucedinia and Olvgram, subterranean homes of our kind, Vampires. One day, a lesser girl became wary of the opportunity.

She was feeble, belonged to a powerful family, daughter of a powerful man. In this light, she would present herself with less-than-savory results. Her name was lost. Hidden away, and forgotten, until she joined them- Until I had become amongst them. 

Her name was Shanti.

As Vampires, our kind were rumored to possess greater blood pools than any of our kind. Of course, it was just a rumor— the inheritance of power comes from a deal between my father and a person with no past nor name. 

It had all begun when a stranger had sold my grandfather boujee, a type of 'relic' as they were often remarked—

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[...Some time ago...]

Jeffrey Lothaire opened the door of his family home to respond to the knocking, and his face lost all excitement when he saw the man in armor.

"Greetings, good sir!" said the man. "I've come to make a deal with you, and I'd be honored to show you my pitch."

Jeffrey's irritation was no longer possible to conceal. "Have you come bringing me filth, Salesman?"

"Oh! No! My good sir, I'm not like that at all! I've come to pitch an idea to you, of which you might be interested in."

Jeffrey rolled his eyes with a sigh. "Out with it. I am very busy."

"I've heard from the locals that you're expecting a daughter," the armored man stated confidently, "and given your position as ruler of this district, I believe you should consider investing in the means of ensuring her safety."

Jeffrey frowned, and began closing the door. "I am sure that my strength is quite enough, Goodbye."

Before he could shut the door, the Salesman stops the door himself, irritating Jeffrey further, causing him to reopen the door only now with much less abandon.

"What do you want from me...?" Jeffrey grumbled, at his wits end.

The Salesman let loose a grin visible through his visor, he snapped his fingers, and before him suddenly appeared a black scroll. "Within this scroll are the details of my vision regarding your future daughter's weapon. . ." He hands the scroll to Jeffrey, whom snatches it away.

Jeffrey unfurled the scroll, and as he read it his bemusement gradually dissolved into excitement. "My!"  Jeffrey exclaims. "This is most wonderful! I'll pitch this idea to my wife immediately; I'll get back to you as soon as possible!"

After the door closed, the armored man muttered, his grin was still visible, "Soon to be bestowed upon your daughter. . ." and started to chortle.

Walking away, he transformed into something that did not resemble a man in armor, or even the same man without any armor, at all.

#

I was born.

I was happy.

Then one day. . .

#

Years later, the front door of that very same house was rapped upon, and orders boomed through it. "Ms. Rosette and Mr. Jeffrey, we are the Olvgram law and order, state yourselves immediately!"

Jeffrey managed to clumsily shake out the words "C-Coming right up! J-Just a second!" while putting on his boots, and opened the door to find more men in armor, this time on a very different mission.

"Lieutenant Jeffrey, You and your spouse are hereby charged with heresy."

After several seconds of struggling to get the words out through the haze of his shock, Jeffrey managed to eke out "Heresy?! What do you me—"

But it seemed the armored men had felt that the time for questions was over before it had begun, and Jeffrey soon found himself pressed against the floor by one of them. "Agh! The fuck is this about rookie?"

His aggressor lightened the pressure against him, perhaps realizing Jeffrey's family was watching, and allowed him to rise.

"Why are you invading my house? My privacy? More importantly, in front of my family? What are you planning?"

"Calm down, we have no intention to hurt your family," one of the men replied curtly. "We've only received orders to take you and your wife in."

Jeffrey responded by grabbing him and pulling him face-first into the wall. "My wife!? Just what do you think you are doing?"

Doubtful that such a display of aggression was worthy of an answer, the men moved in and started to drag him away, along with his wife and daughter, who knew of no other possible means of recourse other than to scream "Pa! Help me!"

His daughter's pitiful cries defeated whatever capacity for restraint Jeffrey still had, and he grabbed his captor and pinned him to the floor. "JUST WHAT ARE YOU PLANNING?!"

"None of your concern, traitor. . ." the prone man muttered.

"I'll show you concern!" Jeffrey spat, bolting toward the man who was holding his daughter captive until he was tripped by another. He managed to regain his footing while narrowly avoiding a punch. Jeffrey then took advantage of the fact that these men's armor did not reach further than their shoulders and landed a right hook to his attacker's face. While he keeled over, his accomplices rushed to apprehend Jeffrey.

Jeffrey reacted quickly, pouncing at them, grabbing each of their hands and letting them get ensnared in the kinetic energy of his leap, causing them to lose their footing. But his exertion was quickly catching up to him, and after a feeble attempt to throttle one of the men he was once again knocked to the floor by the others.

He heard the voice of a fourth man from the distance — "Enough, you wimps!" — before being approached by him and recognizing him.

"General Sebastian. . . You bastard. . . I knew you were behind this."

Sebastian cast a dour gaze at his supine prisoner. "You'll pay the price, Lieutenant," he growled, before kicking him in the temple.

Sebastian then couldn't help but laugh, but was interrupted by Shanti's cries of "No, let daddy go!"

Sebastian didn't bother to conceal his amusement as he departed her now unconscious father to observe her.

"So you're Jeffrey's daughter? I can see it scribbled in your eyes, your face, your annoying demands and little noises..." Sebastian silently motions to his troupe to take Jeffrey away, as he takes the wrist of the child with sinister interest. "You'll be coming with me."

The pilgrim closes the diary. They soon experience a sudden nausea as they begin hallucinating, their memories were gradually recovering. Soon he toppled over unconscious, from the sudden exposure of such reminiscence.

#