Chapter Seven: The Ghosts Which Haunt Our Stories
Sara finds transported into some manner of… ghostly theater, and immediately, she is accosted by a skeleton.
She dispatches the creature, killing it with haste—though, can you kill a thing which is already dead?—and takes in her immediate surroundings. She stands in the midst of a grand staircase, either side leading toward balconies which overlook the room, the stairs in front of her leading to a large door.
As Sara opens the door, she finds herself within a long hallway, which then leads into… a room in which a significant portion of the floor appears to be missing? Odd.
She looks through the missing floor. It leads into a pit of skeletons. Very odd indeed.
She walks along what floor there is, and approaches three heads. She readies herself to continue on, yet when she turns the corner, it spews some manner of… strange magic at her, nearly blasting her.
Curiously, she retreats. It does not stop.
She retreats further, beyond the corner. It stops again.
How very fascinating.
Perhaps… she remains stationary, but turns as though to face them, and surely they begin again.
Ah! So puzzles it is to be, then? Very well.
She continues across, making very well sure to continue facing the strange bones, and surely enough she finds she is successful in finding her way through.
Of course, the room which follows leads in two differing directions. Which, however, is correct? She has no map, and as such no way of telling.
As she ponders her options, she hears an odd sound. She turns, only to find herself confronted by some manner of strange eye, pendulum aswing beneath!
It pursues her, offering no time to decide on a path, as Sara leaves her fate to chance, making a turn left with little time to consider her choice.
She dashes through the door, leaving it to close behind her, as the strange eye seems to crash into the barrier in its attempt at pursuit.
Sara continues to fight her way through the many rooms within this place. She is met with myriad more traps and obstacles, and she begins to tire of it.
She comes across a room dark as pitch, the floor seeming to descend into an endless darkness, though she can faintly spot a platform in front of her.
She does not like this puzzle.
She leaps to the platform, only to discover yet more platforms to follow.
In truth, she is reminded of jumping upon stones in the river with the other children in her youth.
Only, far more dangerous.
She leaps through the room, cautious as she can be, platform to platform, and quickly finds herself at the last, and she leaps for it, and she nearly lands, but her foot slides off the edge, and she screams as she falls…
…Only to catch herself upon the edge.
She pulls herself to stand firmly atop the final platform.
That was far too close for her liking.
She finds herself within a strangely shaped room, empty but for a bell set upon a stone altar in the rear of the room.
A bell? What use can this have?
She examines it, eyes catching upon the brass glow of the metal. Curious as to its nature, Sara rings it.
Nothing happens.
“This will be useless then,” she states, disappointedly. Still, best to keep it on hand. Perhaps it can serve as a sufficient distraction to some manner of creature that may seek to end her?
She walks on, discovering yet another room with strange beams of magic, this time blocked in places by odd metal plating.
She dodges and jumps, and is nearly hit, but manages to fall behind one of these plates with little enough time to spare.
Sara hesitates but a moment, pausing with intent to catch her breath. She is surely grateful that she had thought to practice her ability to dodge before departing, as most like she would be doomed had she not.
She continues past this strange room, with its strange puzzles, and finds herself within a room which has a balcony… and yet no visible staircase? How odd.
She examines her surroundings, taking things in. She wonders, idly, what lays below.
Surely, it cannot do her harm to have a look…?
There on the floor just below, pace two large, burly beasts. Ogres of a fashion, it would seem.
Sara does not like the looks of them. And yet… there appears to be no other way to proceed.
Sara heaves a heavy sigh, and leaps from the balcony.
Immediately, the creatures lunge at her, large clubs in hand. Sara rolls out of their path, as both clubs slam upon the marble, and she lashes with her whip. The red ogre charges her, and manages to land a blow upon her, before moving to make another, and though Sara reels still from it’s strike, this second time she succeeds in latching onto its club with her whip, and makes attempt to pry it away from the ogre—only for it to pull her along with it.
She struggles to free her weapon of the club, and attempts to squirm her way away from it. She kicks the ogre-beast in its singular eye, and it releases her, clutching at its eye, pained noises emanating from it , as it drops its club. Sara races to pick up the whip, as the blue attempts to bat at her.
…Well. She can find no reason against using those methods which show themselves to be effective…
Sara leaps atop the club, and uses it to bound atop the ogre’s head, grabbing hold of an arrow from her quiver and sinking it into its eye. The ogre claws at her, claws at its eye, but to no avail.
It seems the other ogre has taken notice, and trundles towards her, club waving threateningly in the air. Sara moves quickly, sliding down the back of the ogre whose head she currently sits atop.
With hardly time enough to spare it would seem. The club of the red ogre collides with the head of the blue as she hits ground.
The blue one becomes enraged, and she readies herself to dodge…
Only for the blue ogre to slam the red across the face.
The red is further enraged by this, and slams its club into the ground, sprouting flames at the feet of the blue. The blue then answers this by throwing a rock directly at the red.
It seems as though they will continue like this for a while. Sara takes such an opportunity to creep toward the door.
She has almost made it, progressing near clear across the room, when one of the ogres seems to take notice and begins pursuing her, and soon, the second follows.
Sara exchanges her creeping for a mad dash, heaving the doors open, and slamming them behind her. She only narrowly avoids the barrage of attacks they would seek to perpetuate against her.
Yet narrowly avoided is still avoided.
Sara sinks against the door, sitting for a moment, enjoying a much needed moment to catch her breath.
That fight was difficult, yet…
A creeping feeling within leaves her feeling that one far more difficult lie ahead.
Sara, cautiously, continues onward into the next room. It seems a stage, though she can find no one and nothing within. She circles about, and makes to leave, recalling the second path, though… she recalls the bell she has in her possession.
Sara recovers the bell, and rings it, if only to see what will come of it.
She notices nothing, and finally makes to concede that this room begets nothing, before…
“Oh, Sara! You’ve come for me.” She spins upon her heel.
“Leon? Is that truly you?”
“Of course. I’m so glad you’ve found me at long last,” he answers, a perfect smile upon his face. As he cradles hers in his hand.
And Sara wants badly to believe him, so bad she nearly does, yet…
Yet is all feels so… dramatic. Perhaps 'tis only the stage, but this reunion, this… scene, it feels so… contrived. As though it is all but an act.
“Leon… how is it you managed to escape? How is it you found yourself captive in the first place? It has been months, how is it you live?”
“Walter was too busy preparing for some war, he hardly noticed me make my escape. I am overjoyed to see you. Please, let us make haste.”
Sara squints, but… perhaps she is but being harsh. Truly, it has been months, perhaps Leon is but unused to speaking with her normally. Surely, she is simply exaggerating—
Sara feels a sharp sting bloom in her shoulder, embedding itself into her back, a brilliant, sharp pain blossoming from the wound.
Sara turns to look behind, only to see “Leon” give her an unnervingly large grin.
“Who… who are you, to take his face, to deceive me?”
“My… but this unfolded far better than I had hoped,” “Leon” says, as “he” transforms, taking its true form as a creature of temptation.
Sara readies her whip. “I knew. I knew this to be far too easy.”
The succubus heaves an evil laugh. “What an unexpected surprise! Months have passed, yet the girl still seeks out her dearly beloved!” The creature’s laughter ceases, leaving her voice filled with a cruel satisfaction. “But the traitor’s pawn has been killed, and you shall soon follow, once my master hears of your presence!”
The succubus rises above her, wings unfolding, to create a whirlwind. Sara fails in dodging her, flung around like a child’s plaything, and finds herself thrown upon the floor. She makes to attack the succubus in turn, lashing at her with the whip as the succubus creates large blooms, beautiful. Sara normally enjoys floral life, yet she can near feel the poison dripping from them. She had best be careful.
The succubus throws waves of some manner of strange, rotten energy at Sara, and she rolls just out of reach, before being nearly stricken with a bolt of lightning.
It is clear this will be a difficult duel.
The succubus stretches, creating copies of herself, and Sara retrieves her bow from her back, shooting at her, yet the succubi move upon the last second, causing her to miss, and she fires again, sending arrows through the two illusory creatures and striking true upon the last.
The succubus growls, as Sara lashes bath and forth with the whip, striking her again and again. The succubus grabs ahold of the chain, yanking Sara toward her, and attempts to… kiss her? No… no, she attempts to drain Sara of her very lifeforce! Sara kicks her away, and lashes yet again with the whip, yet the succubus flies just out of reach.
Very well!
Sara equips her bow yet again, nocking, drawing, loosing, all as quickly as she can manage, many arrows only hardly missing target as the succubus flits about, yet most landing true.
The succubus yells out, and for a moment, Sara thinks to have bested her. Only a moment, before a thick vine, oozing venom of brilliant green erupts from the floor and snakes its way toward her. She dodges that, then another, but is hit by the third, taking a moment to recover as she feels venom course through her blood, before the succubus laughs and flutters about Sara, quickly, taunting, as if issuing a challenge to hit her.
If Sara is to play the succubus’s game, it will very well be by Sara’s own rules.
She lashes the whip furiously, blindly, in hopes of hitting the succubus—and, thankfully, succeeds. The succubus fires yet another spray of magic, this time, in three, as Sara dodges yet again. Growing frantic, the succubus tries yet again to strike Sara with lightning—but not before Sara gets one final lash in, killing the succubus.
The succubus cries out in pain, collapsing into a pathetic heap upon the ground.
It would seem the life of her is fading, quick, and with her final breaths, she remarks, “had I… known I would meet… this fate… I would have… fought you in the guise… of your dearest one… just as the old man… then perhaps…”
Sara finds herself frantic at these words. Old man? She couldn’t mean—
“Hold! To what old man do you refer? Mean you Rinaldo? The man in the cabin?” Sara interrogates, frantic.
“That man… his very own daughter…” Yet before she can finish her thought, the succubus lets out one final scream of agony before she erupts into naught but a pile of dust.
———
Sara returns to Rinaldo’s cabin, intent only on obtaining what resources she can.
Sara downs a potion, hoping to heal her knife wound, She has wrapped and bandaged it as best she could, and mended her cloak to boot, Rinaldo assuring her that the enchantment remain intact. All she has now is to wait.
“You did well to return,” he comments, then, upon Sara’s lack of response, adds, “be there something on your mind.”
“Well, I… no, 'tis hardly my place to ask. Though… perhaps if I am able to assist… Rinaldo, had you once a daughter?”
“What is it you have heard? No, never you mind. You were correct: 'tis not your place to ask.”
“I apologize. I only mean to assist, but if you wish no help... though, if you should find you need anybody to talk to regarding it…?”
Rinaldo lets out a long-suffering sigh, and hesitates for but a moment, before responding, “Very well. I suppose it can do no harm.
“Five years previous. I recall it having been a cold night, the moon, full… I had returned to my home from picking herbs necessary for the art of alchemy… yet what greeted me was but a sea of steaming blood. At the center of the scene, the bodies of my wife and son… and my daughter, laughing, blood dripping from her mouth. I could scarcely believe my eyes.”
“Your very own daughter… was turned to a vampire?”
“Yes. By Walter, no less. After she fled through the window, I created a weapon capable of bringing her her end. The Whip of Alchemy, the very whip you now bear. And I sought her out, intent on—“
“I… need not hear any more. I can assume how this ends, and hearing it would, I fear, make me ill.”
“I understand.
“I made an attempt to challenge Walter, though nothing came of it. This is why I spend my days here, assisting those who would seek to end him.
“But hear me, Sara, think not of my words when you go to face him! He is not an opponent you will be able to defeat if distracted.”
“I understand your concern, but I cannot forget this thing. Knowing that there are others who rely on my success, who will get no rest until this deed is done… it only strengthens my resolve. I swear to you, if it lie within my capabilities, I should seek to see no more suffer the fate your dear daughter suffered.”