Chapter Nine: And From the Ashes, a Flower Shall Bloom
Sara takes a brief moment of respite to recuperate at Rinaldo’s cabin; in truth, this whole affair is more tiresome than she realized previously.
She wonders at the empty room she had happened upon. Was there to be a creature there? Some manner of challenge? She knows not.
She hopes only that the orb to be collected there can yet be recovered elsewhere.
Sara reenters the room with the five platforms yet again, and deliberates which she will step upon this time.
She could continue on with her pattern, investigate the middle next, yet… not yet. She knows not why, but she feels that best be saved.
She waltzes over to the next platform besides it, and stands upon it. This time, she finds herself…
Within a garden. Wonderful, Sara loves gardens. She wonders how this accursed keep can corrupt even this.
She briskly makes her way down a meandering hallway, finding herself in a room with many small flowerbeds, the flowers twisted, gnarled, grey, the grass yellowed beneath them, the soil a light brown.
Yet still, they live. And in the right conditions, they could perhaps even flourish.
She battles many and more skeletons here, seeming to appear near endless, before, finally, she defeats them.
Already, she tires of these skeletons. At times there seems to be no end to them, only existing as fresh fish to slow her.
Eventually, she happens upon a small, overgrown room, a statue in its center—yet, there appears to be a baldachin within the wall where it should fit.
Sara has learned her lessons from the accursed levers. She will not waste her own strength on this. She swipes the statue with her whip, pushing it back, and back and back, until it finds itself within the baldachin.
As she makes her way through the garden, she discovers yet another puzzle.
My, but this vampire seems to enjoy filling his keep with puzzles and riddles.
In this, there are strange poles which slide along the walls, a switch at the far end, leading to a platform afront a door.
Sara should like to say it took her only mere moments to rope her way across the room, missing nary a mark, yet that would be untruthful; in honesty, it takes her many attempts, the refusal of the poles to stay stationary vexing her.
Still, she finds her way across, into another room with a statue-and-baldachin.
Sara idly ponders whether these statues exist to serve a purpose. She would assume so, as they seem to activate some manner of mechanism once they reach their resting place, settling into the floor with a large rumble, but what purpose that be, she knows not.
As she continues through more rooms, only just does she notice that there seems to be a light filtering in through windows. It cannot be the sun, as the night within this forest is unending. What manner of light is this, that cannot be from the sun, the daylight which extinguish life from this castle’s vampiric residents, yet continues to provide the flora just enough vitality to continue on?
A riddle to be solved upon a future day, perhaps.
After she fights on, through a room of suits of metal plate which ring hollow, seeming to never end, she comes across more crossroads, and realizes she travels in circles. She ponders what means she might have at her disposal to track where she has been already, much like Ariadne and her string, before hearing someone pass.
She suddenly recalls the vampiric lord of the castle holds some manner of council. Would advisors of such be allowed in such a place?
She makes herself scarce, allowing them to pass, and hopes against hope that even though they are like to be vampires—whom she knows little of, but has heard tell have better hearing than humans—they will not take notice of her.
The cloak must protect her against undue sound, as, mercifully, they seem not to notice her.
Only one talks, yet… be there a second? She cannot see, so she cannot confirm the presence of the second. She thinks to imagine an occasional hum of agreement, a second pair of steps, yet… no. She must be imagining things. She has been within for far too long.
She only prays she will not encounter them again.
———
After fighting through many arenas full of monsters, Sara eventually discovers the last statue, and seeks out the door it leads to.
Her search leads her to the room in which she had first appeared. To its side, there is a second door, one she had overlooked upon her first venture here. She enters…
And finds a simple enchanted ring, but nothing altogether useful. Of course.
She seats herself atop the table on which she found the ring, gathering her thought. There is still a second path she could follow, and she had seen a platform leading upward she need investigate.
Upon returning, Sara finds a way upward, pouncing upon a large, truculant plant tall as a man, narrowly avoiding its bite, and after solving yet another puzzle (truly, they are becoming tiresome) discovers a room with a crumbling bridge, leading to a tall staircase in a tower beset by thunderbolts.
She strides a long hallway, to find a man made of thunder.
Perhaps not so much a man, though he does take the shape of one. Perhaps some manner of specter, a specter of thunder, much as the last.
The specter summons thunder, striking in her footsteps, as Sara dodges his attempts. She lashes with her whip, the specter returning her blow with a matching one of his own, wielding a thunder bolt the thing would wield as a staff, but she is able to counter his attacks, matching him blow for blow.
The specter flies backward, and as Sara makes to prepare for whatsoever his next attack may be, he lunges at her. She makes to dodge but it is too quick, and leaves a graze upon her arm.
The wound itself is hardly deep, but the heat, the light of the thunderous attack leaves her reeling.
Sara huffs, attempting a strike of revenge, but it spins that staff of its, blocking any chance of riposte.
As she takes a moment to ready her next barrage of attacks, the specter uses the speed garnered after it to deliver multiple strikes, one which lead into the next which lead to the next.
As Sara bounds and leaps out of the specter’s path, she finds herself in a somersault—landing just so that she is only hardly without its next attack—a large, circular array of lightning.
Awaiting the abatement of this attack, Sara unleashes her power with the whip—utilizing its cold bite to strike the creature, lashing it again, again, again, as she uses the frozen thing to bind its legs and pull it down to the earth below. As it struggles to regain its float, Sara uses the opportunity given her to assail it.
The specter unleashes one, final attack, striking room with thunder, no seeming pattern to where it has stricken, but by sheer luck, Sara is able to avoid this attack, and continues her barrage.
And lo, he has been felled.
Her whip would now summon thunder as well, it would seem. Quite the useful boon indeed.
Ultimately, however, it does not further her progress at her quest.
Which leaves only one option. Continuing onward appears the only option.
Though she has no genuine reason not to continue on, in truth, she had not wished to need come this way. She would feel the very air itself foreboding her, warning her.
Yet this way she must come. She will allow nothing stop her from finding Leon.
She continues, into the garden where plants have the eyes and bones of a human and eat of human flesh.
There are four of these rooms, and Sara is relieved when she finally arrives at one which is empty.
She squeezes past the gate, seeing a large tree, and at its base, a ring which seems to protect against thunder.
Sara groans. “Had I this ring moments ago, my life would certainly had been much easier.”
At least, this is what she would have said, but at that very moment, a sword comes soaring through the air, directed to hit her.
It embeds itself within the large tree, and she searches around for the source of the lone sword, seemingly without its wielder, and sees a man of ivory hair, floating near the path which Sara entered through, arms crossed. Surrounding him, many-numbered blades, afloat in the air, almost as a shield.
“And who might you be, to traipse among the undead garden?” The strange man would ask.
Sara reaches for her whip. Best not to answer; if Leon lives, her answer could endanger him, and, more importantly, whether he lives or not, her answer could endanger her.
None are meant to know of her presence here.
“You are a strange one. You do not smell of a human, nor a were-beast or succubus, yet I do not sense you are a vampire.” The man tilts his head. “I wonder why might that be?”
“It matters not,” Sara tries to keep her response brief, adjusting the hood of the cloak to ensure it covers her face.
“Oh? And why might that be?”
Sara answers not, lest she implicate herself.
“Uninclined to share, are we? Very well, I find myself with a similar inclination.”
This is all the warning Sara gets, before he rushes toward her.
She lashes and cracks at him, yet his blades appears to form some manner of barrier around his person, difficult to penetrate.
He continues his barrage, while Sara seeks a weak point in this barrier to exploit.
It takes longer than she should like, but she discovers one.
As the man continues to float, there are small magical lights scattered from his person which hold his barrier in place. If she can manage to do them enough damage…
Yes! She succeeds, and the barrier falls, but the man fires all swords toward her at once, and Sara narrowly dodges, as he magically pulls his swords back to his person, as if with some manner of rope. She strikes hard and fast, with as great frequency as possible, and he attempts to parry with his swords, but it is clear he specializes more in magic than melee, and he begins to slip.
She nearly has him, holding off his swords with the wood of her bow while preparing a strike with her—
Yet the chain of her whip is caught upon something as she releases it. She turns to see what has caught it, to work it loose—
It cannot be.
To her side, wielding the sword which halts her whip is Leon.
Leon.
To be sure, his hair is far longer and retains far less of its typical luster, instead dull, tangled, and matted, and he is far more gaunt, with blood coating his bedclothes (the very bedclothes he was taken in, she would presume) where he has more than like been injured, and without his iron-hand to boot. But Sara knows, beyond a doubt, she would recognize him were she blind and deaf and mute, unable to feel his touch or hear his voice.
Leon tilts his head, and Sara can but stare upon him, a million questions flitting through her head, and it seems as if time itself freezes, for but a moment.
But it very quickly resumes, and as the other man steps back, presumably taking a moment to recover, the chain of Sara’s whip grows lax as Leon makes to stab at her.
She halts his jab with the sturdy wood of her bow, then rears it back to swipe at him.
He deflects this with ease, then delivers a riposte, which catches Sara upon the nose and cheek, though leaving her hood intact. She lashes around his person, intending to avoid hitting him directly, and hopes he will not realize she has no intention to land any blows, while Sara considers how best to resolve this conflict. For surely, once he realizes her identity, he will cease to fight her.
Yet it is not so simple as that. There is the other man to consider.
She knows little of him, other than that he is some manner of sorcerer, and he appears to ally himself with Leon… yet she knows nothing of his intentions. Are they true, or does he seek to manipulate Leon to his own ends…?
If she reveals herself, will the fighting cease, or will she only put herself, and perhaps even Leon, in danger?
There is much to consider, and no time to consider it.
She continues lashing, half-heartedly, and Leon continues to deflect, but Sara must grow complacent, because as he thrusts the sword he wields into the dirt, he grips upon her chain and pulls her toward him, appearing frustrated.
And all at once she begins to realize.
For up close it is much more difficult to ignore: the bright crimson of his eyes; the sharp bite his teeth now hold, and the blood which stains them; the point of his ears; the unearthly pale and cold of his skin; the lack of breath which passes his lips; his hand, burning as it holds the pure silver of the whip. There are signs beyond counting, how could she have been so ignorant to them?
This is not Leon.
This is a monster.
This is the monster who took Leon from her.
He speaks to her one word only.
“Fight.”
He releases the chain, which sends Sara off of her balance, tripping and falling into the embrace of the tree trunk.
The one that was Leon absently brushes his hand against his bedclothes where burned by the silver, pacing with purpose as he retrieves his sword, as the other man appears to recover, and Sara near feels faint. So there truly is no hope then? Leon is truly gone?
And this, this is what has stolen his life.
Asudden, Sara can see but red, and all exhaustion flees her body, as she pushes herself to stand, and charges for them, whip in hand, letting out a battle cry.
She strikes across at both with the whip, dodging as “Leon” ripostes, and the other jabs at Sara with his floating blades. Sara drops at just such a fortunate time, making to knock “Leon” off of his balance by sweeping his legs out from under him with a kick, yet he manages to spring out of her path.
The other seems to glow for a moment, as strange lines on the ground begin glowing, one of them directly below Sara, she leaps off of it just as a large, glowing blade slices out of it, spinning to block another sword blow from “Leon” just before it lands.
The floating man spins his blades around him as a wheel, as “Leon” seems to prepare a heavy-handed slash.
She reaches for an arrow with her quiver, slashing to and fro in order to block “Leon”’s attacks, before nocking and loosing it, mere pounces from him.
He catches it, unfortunately, as she plucks yet another arrow, sliding beneath the floating one, and firing the arrow directly up toward his face as she slides, but he manipulates a sword such to deflect it. After appearing on his other side, Sara lashes at him, only for him to deflect with one of his blades.
She makes ready to dodge his next attack, yet, too late, she catches glimpse of “Leon” rushing her…
…only for him to dash past her and leap to embed his sword directly into the eye of a monstrous flower, burying his sword deep and slashing outward.
As he does this, Sara lashes outward with her whip, twirling it around the stalk of the flower, and wrenching towards herself, causing it to collapse.
“Leon”, of course, lands soundly upon his feet.
Yet more enemies continue to surround them, gargoyles of stone, lizards who stand and walk on two feet, and some manner of festering corpse with blades for hands.
“Do not think this over,” says the floating one, as he sends swords flying into a gargoyle, sending it spiralling out of the air, as Sara lashes against two lizards, and “Leon” continues on to fight a corpse as it springs out of the ground.
After a time, they manage, at long last, to defeat all opponents.
Both parties gaze back at the other, tense, apprehensive. Have they finished with their quarreling? Or are they to continue?
“Leon” and his ally appear to discuss her, as Sara stands, a hand upon her whip, the other upon her bow, awaiting what shall happen next.
The two approach her, uneasiness in their gait, yet no seeming threat of imminent attack.
“You fight well. What is your name?” “Leon” asks of her, his voice bearing the rust of disuse.
Sara adjusts her hood, pulling it further over her face. If this… creature, who took her Leon, is to discover who she is, how much danger would she find herself in?
The other grouses, “had I not warned you they would answer not?”
“Leon” breathes something that lies somewhere between a sigh and a huff, and continues. “I am Leon, and this,” gesturing to the sorcerer, “is Joachim Armster. Have I at least your word you shall not tell Walter of our escape, or seek to betray us?”
Sara has no wish to bargain with two creatures of the night, less one who took her dear fiance from her. The very fact that he still uses his name disgusts her, a mockery of the memory of her beloved.
Yet, what alternative has she? She cannot continue to battle them, as she is near exhaustion, and undoubtedly they would best her. And, far as she has made it on her own, she has use of assistance, as she tires, and knows not whether she will be capable of escape on her own, loathe as she is to accept help of such sources.
Sara bows in agreement.
“Then for now I suppose that must be enough.”
———
They continue past two enchanted suits of armor much as those Sara fought earlier, alone, dispatching them swiftly before continuing up a flight of stairs, leading to a room adorned with statues.
And seeming no way forth.
Sara feels irritation, and she has already explored all other avenues of progress, so she knows not how they would continue.
It seems “Leon” feels the same, wroth leeching off his person, as he lashes out, smashing a statue, then another, then another.
But hold a moment. Be that…?
“Leon,” Joachim starts.
“I cannot believe we come so far to be stopped now. Have I not wasted away long enough in this accursed place.”
“Leon,” Joachim tries again.
“I miss my very own wedding, spend months thinking only of escape, only to find there is no way forth—“
Sara lashes near him, and he makes to attack, before truly seeing her.
She points him the door. The very one he has uncovered with his… erratic behavior.
And does that not tell her all she must know? Her Leon would act not in such a way.
But she does succeed in getting this… creature’s attention, and he manages to stifle himself.
They continue on, through a meandering hallway, reaching, finally entering…
Yet another empty room.
Sara tires of these empty rooms. “Show yourself, monster!”
The walls, the ceiling above, the very earth itself trembles, as the statue against the farthest wall begins to animate, its head crackling, separating itself entirely.
“Monster?” It booms. “You insolent wretch! Very well then! The three of you shall make excellent statues!”
“Leon” sounds just as horrified as Sara feels, looking back on the decorations which adorned their path within. “You mean to say—“
“Silence!”
With little warning, the snakes which make the creature’s hair strike out at Sara, as she only just manages to evade them. The head of Medusa begins to cry, yet what should be tears of salt and water are instead… blood.
“Leon” immediately dashes toward her, Joachim not far behind, both seeming ravenous, starved, making to drink the blood, yet hissing as it scalds them. Perhaps the blood is… poisoned?
A small part of Sara is glad. She does not think she could stand to see the being that now inhabits Leon’s body drink of blood.
The head slows, pulling all the snakes of its hair close, into a spherical shape, and rolling and bounding around, in attempt to hit the three of them. It nears not Joachim, and Sara manages to maneuver around, though “Leon” only narrowly dodges. The head of medusa makes to snap at “Leon” as he is taken off his balance, and one snake manages to sink its envenomed teeth into Leon’s flesh, to which he responds by making a quick slice with his sword, severing the head of the offending snake.
“You…!” The head of medusa says, glaring upon “Leon”, eyes beginning aglow, which is the last Sara sees…
Until suddenly she is face to face with Leon, who holds her arm.
“…hear me? Do you hear me?”
Sara blinks and stumbles, off balance. She makes a noise of query.
“A beam from her eyes had struck you, turned you to stone. Are you alright? Can you yet fight?”
Sara nods, though not amused to realize she had lost time, little enough as it was.
She has had quite enough of this… this mad forest.
She is shaken out of her daze as snakes approach her and Leon, slithering upon the ground, as they must caper about so as to avoid them.
They both return to the battle, brief distraction forgotten. Sara lashes at the snakes which snap and bite at her, attempting to perhaps whittle down the number of enemies which face them.
She manages to sever the head of one, two, three of these snakes.
“Damn you…!”
Several boulders float about the head of Medusa, before they are lobbed at Sara, “Leon”, and Joachim.
Thankfully, all manage to avoid being stoned.
Joachim sends blades flying at her, “Leon” hacking away at it, as Sara lashes at the monster one last time.
And so it is done.
The two vampires make to converse, nearest the door, but Sara remains.
As the head of Medusa lie dying, it asks of Sara one thing more.
“That is… Rinaldo’s whip?”
“Yes,” Sara answers, quiet such as to avoid being heard.
“And it has acheived its complete form?”
“…complete form?” Sara would have to interrogate Rinaldo on this topic.
“It matters not… for it cannot match the abilities of… my master…!” She screams out, before finally, herself, turning to stone.