Chapter Sixteen: Anger, Hatred, Agony
Sara runs, and runs, and runs, blood weeping from her wounds, dripping onto the marble below, as her tattered cape flutters behind her.
And he continues give chase near enough behind, the strike she had delivered his leg hardly appearing to hinder him.
She dashes through the castle, Clea fluttering along higher in the air just behind, as Sara's hopes, her regrets, her losses, aflash before her very eyes. The bound wound in her leg, reddened and puckering, which had quickly soaked its linens impeding her gait, the long gash which now runs jagged 'cross her back, the blood an ever present flood which cascades onto the floor in scarlet curtains, splashing against beautiful marble warm and wet, yet Leon pays it no heed.
She knows not where she runs; no potion she has, and no window to escape. Perhaps Rinaldo, yet she should hardly hope to bring such a danger to his very doorsteps. In truth, she hardly thinks of her path, mind unable to conceive of any thought which seperated from the steady thrum of her heart shouting run, run, RUN!
Yet her pursuer, specially so in the state she finds him in now, will never tire, even as Sara finds herself exhausted and winded, and she knows him to be a better fighter than she.
And he gains speed toward her.
She must act. Quickly
Sara reaches for her whip, lashing behind as she flees from him, sword-rended cape fluttering about her as she misses her target.
An image of a man charmed by a creature of the night, triumphant and self-satisfied as Sara reels from his attack, flashes unbidden in her mind. And so, too, the look upon her beloved's face as she saw bloodlust cloud his gaze.
Leon... Leon NO...!
She can hardly focus her attention behind, but it appears he is hardly fazed by such an attempt at injury, nary so much as a flinch.
She lashes again, and she strikes true, catching him upon his side, which sends him stumbling, then sweeping the whip under his feet, knocking him off his balance.
She takes an ill-advised look backward, glimpsing what once was Leon, her beloved, an absent look behind his gaze, as he clambers to his feet, eager to begin to give chase again.
Sara weaponizes the opportunity given her by his stumble to sling her bow from her shoulder, grasping for an arrow, and shooting an arrow at him.
It sinks deep into his leg, and he hisses in mindless fury at her, quickly springing back to his feet, and beginning the chase yet again, though he does appear to affect a greater limp after Sara’s attack, greater even than that he affected after a battle injury years ago which had permanently altered his gait.
Sara only hopes absently that this will not further impair him, whereupon he regains hold of his mind.
Sara directs her thoughts and movement onward, continuing her sprint.
And so they continue, through the labyrinthine halls of the castle, both leaking their vitality onto the marble, Leon coming ever closer to meeting Sara’s speed.
Just as Sara feels her surge of energy begin to wear, they come to the foyer to the castle.
Sara knows she will not rescape the halls whivh seem to entrap them regardless. She is slowing, tiring, and Leon faces no such hindrance.
Clea, for her own part, coos at Sara, and flutters upward, landing upon the wooden chandelier which lights the room.
But of course!
Sara dashes up the side of the wall, and as she uses her speed and strength to break from it, she springs into the air. She lashes with her whip toward the chandelier which lights the room, gaining hold, wrenching herself atop it.
Leon paces below, nought but pure wrath congealing in the aether around him. Sara had hoped being unable to reach her would, by some incredible stroke of luck, come to his senses the moment she was out of his reach.
Would that Sara had ever had such luck.
At the least, now Leon cannot reach her. But neither can she reach the exit.
Her head begins to spin with the loss of her blood. She runs out of time.
She must find some means of escape. Perhaps… should she manage to entrap him, if only for a moment—
Sara takes count of her arrows. No more than six remain.
She arranges her person such that she sits atop the the outermost ring of the chandelier, betwixt two candles, careful as not to burn herself, lodging her arrows between her thighs, and hangs herself, upended, from her knees, readying her bow.
Nock, aim, loose.
Six. Miss.
Nock, aim, loose.
Five. She but hardly hits, and with a flesh-like sound which echoes through the room. Sara feels herself recoil at the sound.
Leon snarls, rending the arrow from the wound, hurling it toward her, sending it flying in her direction.
Sara manages to dodge as it sinks itself firmly into the stone ceiling above.
She shall need remain cautious.
Nock, aim, loose.
Four. She sinks one firmly through his heel and into his sole, brazing it to ground.
She dare not waste her chance with but a single arrow to protect her from a famished vampire, yet perhaps she yet has hope, she considers, as she begins to feel a dizzying sensation overcome her.
Nock, aim, loose.
Three. Miss. The world begins to spin.
There comes a roar, and Sara thinks it to come from Leon, yet the sound originates not with him.
For Sara herself, she soon realizes, is the one to emit such a war cry, voice rending itself from her lungs in an act of desperation and determination.
She worries to have startled Clea, and looks to her, only--Clea is not here, where has she...?
Nock, aim, loose. Two. She sinks an arrow into his knee, sending him kneeling. She thinks to hear a shatter of glass, but more than like it is the loss of blood, affecting her head. The world begins to blacken.
Nock, aim…
Sara feels herself fall.
———
Sara awakens to a cozy and somehow familiar room lit with the comforting warm of the crackling fire in the mantle warding the biting frost of the winter’s night.
She finds herself lain upon a simple bed of straw, bandages bound tight about her torso, soaked in her own viscera.
She makes to pull herself to sit upward, but too sharply, and the world begins to spin over again.
“Not… quite so hastily, Madame Trantoul. You have been given potion, yet your wounds still heal.”
Sara slumps back upon the bed, recognizing the voice of who speaks.
“R-Rinaldo? What… what exactly has happened,” the events return to her slowly. How is it that I—Leon, does he—“
“Relax, Sara. I heard you scream into the night, and your dear pigeon led me to the castle to investigate.”
Sara looks upward, much as she can in her current state, and, clear as day, is her dear Clea, preening her soft feathers.
“The vampire—whom I assume to have once been your betrothed—mad with hunger as you plunged from the chandelier. A dangerous place, that. I managed to hold him at bay long enough to bring you here, but he yet stalks the barrier to this cabin. You may find it difficult to leave.”
Sara lets out a breath she had not known herself to hold.
“He—Leon, you must understand—he isn’t like to do such things, he is a good man, truly—”
“I understand. But you must remember, he is no longer your betrothed. He has been transformed into a creature of the night, by the curse which corrupts his veins, and he is maddened by hunger.”
Sara hesitates. “I—I must… see him, surely he has returned to himself by now, you will see, he is… the cloak—he is not like this.”
“Sara, you are not understanding—”
But she listens not. He simply does not know Leon, not as Sara does. He has not seen him, the humanity he still holds even after becoming what he is. She leaves the cabin, and retreats without.
And she catches sight of her Leon, as he interrupts his paces, appearing to hold himself rigid in place.
He says nothing, and Sara approaches, cautious.
She paces to meet him and reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind his now-pointed ears, and he remains in place.
Yet the moment her hand crosses the air betwixt them, he snaps at her hand, and she withdraws it swiftly, as the very air seems to electrify in a manner of barrier, reacting only to Leon's presence, leaving her untouched.
This seems to break whatever spell he found himself under, and he snarls at her, not a thought behind his two eyes.
“It is as I warned you, Sara—that cloak protected you, yes, but without, he has no need to obscure his true nature from you.”
And in truth it does terrify her, the way in which he pursued her with such ferocity, though they spoke amicably, as though nothing were wrong, not a single hour ago.
In truth, it is easy for her to think this is not Leon, that some… monster has replaced him. And true, were Leon to have presence of mind, he would never choose to commit such actions.
And yet this is Leon, now. He will never again be the Leon she once knew, she knows this now.
Yet he is still, even after all that has happened, Leon. And it is because she knows this that she will not abandon him, come what may.
“Come, Sara, let us finish healing you,” Rinaldo sighs, resigned.
Sara near makes to follow, yet… something moving with haste down the hill leading to Rinaldo’s cabin draws her eyes.
She thinks it nothing, yet, there is something about this... thing. No. Not a thing. Rather, a person.
In all of the mayhem she had forgotten the reason she had been sent fleeing in the first place.
For Mathias still appears under the vampire’s enchantment. And he approaches. Rapidly.
“Leon,” Sara tries, “Leon, turn behind you.”
Yet he does not heed her advice, words glancing past his notice as though they were nothing, as he snarls.
“Leon, Leon, behind you, please,” Sara raises her voice, desperation increasing. Yet still he does not listen.
“Leon, please, behind you—!”
But too late, as gleaming metal pierces through Leon's chest, and Leon stumbles, rending the sword from his chest, and turns to his dear friend Mathias, neither present of mind.
But Leon has only healed but slightly of his earlier injuries, injuries Sara herself imparted him with, she thinks, guilt-ridden and Leon swipes and slashes recklessly, without direction, in desperate bid to hit something. It is only now Sara realizes how odd it is that Leon attacks Mathias not with teeth, but rather sword
Rinaldo grabs hold of Mathias's cloak and wrests him through the barrier. Mathias makes for the knife Rinaldo keeps on his person, but the old man mutters a quick few words, then touches his middle finger to the forehead of Mathias, who blinks, eyes appearing to clear, setting back to their natural emerald hue.
“I—what—Rinaldo?" he mutters, dazed, before hurriedly shouting, "Leon!" whipping himself about to face his friend, only to catch sight of Leon in the state he remains.
He approaches the barrier with haste, desperation, seeming already aware of its presence, as he pleads, "Leon. Leon are you alright?"
Leon, as expected, gives no answer, as Mathias seems to grow more desperate.
"Leon, please. Surely you are above this--"
There comes a dark, seeming sourceless peel of laughter that sets Sara on edge. Had some vampire followed them back, intent on eating them alive, on slaying Leon…?
Ah. 'Tis only Joachim.
“He is a but a mere fledgeling in the throes of bloodlust, at mercy of his unending hunger. There is no thought in his head except for eating the three of you as you live.”
Sara worries at her lip. “Be there… a way to stir him from such a state?” she questions.
“Hardly any short of all lifeblood which courses your body now. Specially so now he is injured.”
Mathias, for his own part, pauses for a moment, then retreats indoors with naught but a word.
Sara wonders at his actions, tempted as she is to follow him. Perhaps he seeks a moment of quiet?
But he returns moments later with some manner of instruments.
Strangely, they remind her of those she had made note of within the strange bricked area of the castle, where they had fought the construct.
Rinaldo huffs a breath. "By all means, Mathias, feel no need to hesitate in parading through my home unannounced and pilfering my alchemical equipment," he grouses, insincerity adrip from his speech.
“What… what is the purpose of those?” Sara asks.
Mathias appears to settle upon the frozen dirt of the earth, splaying his instruments about him, and seeming to prepare them in some way. “I intend to create a potion to quell his hunger. It… is one I have used before during our campaigns, when our food supply has dwindled, so I shall need to reconstruct it for use by a vampire, which shall only take but a moment’s time.”
He continues fiddling with these strange instruments, examining the bottles of various potions, appearing to take measurements, "though… if I am to be correct, following the taking effect of such an elixir his consumption of blood shall counteract its effects. I cannot find a way to eliminate this effect, though perhaps with more research—but no, I have not the time. Later, then.”
Joachim interjects, “if that is the case, then 'tis best if he is to feed before taking such a potion. He needs drink blood to heal his wounds, and potions and poultices of healing do not work on vampires.”
“Convenient, then that this... iteration of this particular potion should require some manner of agent to diffuse properly.”
Sara opens her mouth to question him, before Mathias interjects, “I had mentioned he cannot partake of blood afterconsuming it, I said nothing of his doing so concurrently.”
“Surely, though there are other options available-certainly, there must be other methods-” Sara protests.
“I am in agreement with Sara. This method should be avoided unless absolutely necessary-though Leon is in dire shape, there is still hope that he may be saved. Once he has drank human blood, there can be no going back-”
Mathias gives a slight huff, almost of...amusement? as Joachim begins to chuckle, soft to begin, yet it slowly grows into uproarious laughter.
“You truly think yourself capable of killing me?Even had such a thing remained possible, you cannot truly believe you could best me in battle. Even you cannot be so naïve.”
Had such a thing remained possible...? Sara feels her heart sink as a sickening feeling overcomes her.
He settles himself, laughter dissipating slowly, as Sara finds the world to spin about her slightly.
At last, Mathias finishes the concoction he has been making, using a small knife to make a cut upon his forearm, mixing the blood into the potion.
Almost the very moment Mathias sets the potion without the barrier, Leon lunges for it, catching the scent of blood mixed within, and hurriedly drinks it.
He stirs, beginning return to himself after a moment, wounds beginning to close, but the potion is, very clearly, slow to affect.
“M-Mathias? Sara? What… what has happened, I… I remember… a vampire...” He trails but a moment, continuing, “we had been found, then… I-I believe I... gave chase… I hardly recall...” his mind appears muddled as he attempts to replace the previous events.
“Sara, you are injured...!”
He takes note of the bandage which wraps around Sara’s torso, soaked in blood.
“Ah… yes, but you need not worry, Leon, it is but a scratch you left, it will heal—”
“I… I did this…?”
“No, Mathias did this, after being enthralled of a vampire.”
“But… then I… you? You are the one I gave chase to?”
“Leon, it matters not.”
“I see,” he states, turning his head away as tears well within his eyes. Yet...
They are tears of blood.
Sara tentatively reaches through the barrier, comforting Leon, hand upon his cheek, and he kisses her palm.
“Forgive me. I… need a moment,” Leon states, departing into the woods.
Joachim makes to follow Leon, after he departs, but Mathias diverts his attention.
"Joachim? A moment, if you would. I had hoped we would speak. Alone.”
———
After Leon fails to return, Sara feels worry gnaw at her stomach. She sets off in search of him, Clea fluttering behind, and the other two give in, deciding it best they follow behind her.
Indubitably, they might have spent hours merely searching, had Clea not accompanied them-even considering Joachim's ability to cat h scent, there are far too many within this forest to discern his, specially so given his starvation, but Clea, knowing Leon's face so well as she does, soars over the trees, leading them.
As they tread the snowed-upon earth, Sara finds something stalks her mind. Something she finds she struggles to ignore
“Mathias... that woman, that... vampire... you knew of each other. You each called the other by name-”
Joachim smiles smugly, amused, as watches Mathias as a cat might watch a fish.
“When I was quite young, engaging in... particular activities unique to my family, I had managed to make quite an enemy of her as a rivalling... practician.”
“I... I see. How long ago was it such a thing occured?”
“I do not recall the exact year. I was quite young.”
“And this practice, this activity of your family... what manner of practice might this be, that you find yourself at odds with a vampire?”
Mathias huffs. “I... do not wish to talk further of this. It is a familial affair, one I would sooner forget.”
Sara flinches, if only slightly. “it... it would appear I have caused offense. My apologies.”
Yet... she cannot put it out of her mind. Something in his tone leaves her feeling wrong-footed.
They continue the walk in silence.
———
They find Leon in a clearing, alone, curled upon himself atop a small boulder.
He frowns, looking at the snowed upon earth below him, appearing too lost within his own mind to notice their approach.
“Leon?” Sara prompts.
He looks up, and smiles, melancholy-touched as it is. “Sara. Apologies for… my behavior, earlier, in the castle.”
“It is of no consequence, Leon. I understand entirely. You were not yourself. Of course I forgive you this.”
Leon gives a sad smile.
“I have given much thought to how we are to defeat Walter. I myself am somewhat wounded and will not be of near as much assistance as is common for me in battle.” A frown tugs at his face as he states this, but he continues on. “I… I do not know what manner of room we will face him in, but I’ve assumed it to be some manner of throne room.
“Before continuing, it should be noted: of what Joachim has told me of him, Walter appears to have some sort of enchantment upon his armor which makes it very difficult to strike him. We first must find a way to dispel enchantment upon the armor before we are able to fight him.”
“Long have I searched for magics to dispel his armor. I should like to take such a role,” Joachim interjects.
“Good. This will leave Mathias, Sara, and I to fight him as you focus your magic upon that goal. Which leaves only killing him.
“Only… what little I know of vampires, we are hard beings to kill. A vampire of Walter’s caliber even moreso. I… know not how to end him, permanently, in a way which prevents his return.”
There is a silence, then Sara speaks.
Mathias speaks into the silence, “I... may have a plan which will work, though I have had no chance to prove its efficacy. It is... highly experimental, and volitile, however-”
Yet something of this speaks ill to Sara. “Rinaldo... the whip is incomplete... perhaps there is a way, he mentioned that were I to complete the whip-”
“No.”
All turn their heads to look at Mathias.
“Mathias...?” Leon asks.
“That whip... it was enchanted using arts known only by my family. It is a product of our experimentation with... with souls. Namely utilizing souls to greatly strengthen existing weapons. It had long been theorized, but Rinaldo is the first I have seen to create such a weapon with success.
“For that whip to be completed, Leon would need die.”
A hush befalls their group.
Sara finds herself unable to believe such a thing. “Surely... surely Rinaldo would never suggest such a thing, he... he has helped me, he knows of how I love Leon.”
“He knows you love Leon Belmont, yes, but as Rinaldo sees it, this is no longer Leon Belmont; he sees only a monster which cannot be redeemed, cannot be saved. One which he believes must be culled for the good of others.”
“Leon, you cannot. I have spent months tirelessly searching for you, brightened only by the thought I may again see you. And now I have, and I will not lose you. Mathias, this plan of yours...”
He gives an enigmatic smile, one she cannot read, before he continues.
“My family... we have long studied... particular arts. We are practiced in many areas, but one such subject, one which has remained a particular interest of mine, is the study of souls. What... exactly it is they are, how they came to be, if one might truly be used to create the magnum opus. And methods which may be used to manipulate them. Through alchemy. And through sorcery.”
“I… Mathias, for all your knowledge I would not have taken you for someone so studied in magic. You never thought to mention this?”
“I… worried how you may react. Though I think of you as my dearest friend, and I trust in you entirely, the church does wholeheartedly condemn magics such as these, and I... hardly wished to jeopardize your position,” he admits. “But that matters not, now.
“In my studies, I had discovered a way to use the magic innate to one's own soul directly, without even a focus, a feat most sorcerers might only dream of.
“This magic, this... glyph, can be inscribed upon one's very body. They have capability to accomplish many great feats previously thought unreachable by orthodox methods
“But it is this glyph I have dedicated such time to. Upon use, a massive wave of energy is unleashed, one with immense power, one which might kill even the hardiest of foes.”
“Meaning it might bear the power necessary to vanquish Walter," Leon finishes, voice filled of awe.
Mathias gives a soft smile. “Precisely.”
“I must warn however—only a human should be capable of imbuing their very person with a spell of such strength as this. Any other—it would be entirely incompatible with one of a vampiric nature; the corruption inherent within would render such magic inert.”
Joachim chuckles. “And what of a mere human soul would render it capable to hold such power? The power within a human alone would hardly render it enough to power such a spell.”
Mathias's gaze fills with a hardly contained ire. An odd reaction, to be sure, but to be expected considering the man must remain in a fraught mind state.
“The spell I have created for this purpose, a glyph which siphons the power of a powerful vampire, then channels it into the body of a human, for their own ends.”
“Such a spell could hardly be used in this manner without a more direct connection-”
“Nevertheless, it shall.”
The two seem to meet the other's gaze with contempt, almost as they held an entirely separate argument that only they two were privy to. Sara wonders at the root of this discord is, yet just as soon as it began, they break their gaze, Joachim seething, yet Mathias seeming near triumphant, proud.
Perhaps Joachim had simply wished to end Walter's reign over the night of his own. It is clear he has suffered greatly of the man.
“In such a case,” Leon breaks the tense silence, “I suppose it would remain futile to maintain the charade of my own humanity, much as I would wish to. I... will be unable to bear such a burden.”
Mathias gives but a nod, looking then to Sara. “Which leaves merely us. I would think it best one familiar with these magics uses it. I... am embarrassed to find I remain quite frail from my days confined to my bed, however, I may still find myself capable-”
“I shall do it,” Sara states, resolute.
Mathias’s lip curls into a slight smile. “Very well. In that case, allow me to begin.”
———
“The spell, which I have named Dominus, will be broken into three distinct parts, emblemized by three 'glyphs', each, alone, of immense power. They must be used together, as alone they will not suffice in killing Walter. And, in order for them to work properly, I regret to inform that they must be seared into your very skin. It will be an agonizing process, I warn you.”
Sara nods, apprehensive.
Leon smiles at her, clutching her hand.
“Very well,” Mathias says. “Your armor, it is leather, yes? You will need remove one of the pieces you don, and bite upon it, hard as you are able.”
Sara moves to do as asked, before finding herself hesitating. “Why?”
“Because you will cry out, and alert the vampires to our presence.”
This does little to quell Sara's apprehension, now building into stark fear, seated upon the boulder they had found Leon upon. Surely this can merely rival the pain she had felt momentarily, burning her would closed in a hellish fire realm, surely, yet she still fears as she catches glimpse of a piece of white hot metal, only for an instant, before a sharp, searing heat as white-hot as the metal which brands her skin invades every niche and crevice in her mind as all she knows is bright and hot and burning burning burning BURNING-
And it is done. She breathes, relief filling her, only briefly.
And Sara recalls she must bear this anger, this agony, twice more.