Castlevania: Darkness Never Dies

Fan Fiction

"Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow may have its true sequel, but many of the fans who were taken in by the original's tale of deception, self-affirmation and revelation have seen its future course to a different end. The latest author to make his debut, The Crossman, shows us an iteration resulting from the inevitable failure of Julius Belmont's eclipsed-powered seal; in a world where a Soma Cruz is sorely lacking, the time is ripe for the Dark Lord to return. It's in Castlevania: Darkness Never Dies where the responsibility of combating the greater evil once again lay with those pesky Belmonts and their like-named friends. Indeed, all of the names, places and events tie together to bring us back full-circle."

Castlevania: Darkness Never Dies

By The Crossman

The year 2098 A. D, a cold winter haunts the world. The difficulties of providing food and fuel to the outskirts of the northern nations have become a world-wide catastrophe. Hundreds of thousands are becoming refuges, while the bands of renegades are only growing larger and larger. Millions of humans have already died of hunger and cold or had been murdered by the bands of renegades. But as the eyes of the world are fixed upon this human tragedy, other more dangerous powers are starting to become active once again. For almost seventy years the world slept peacefully after Soma's victory over the leaking chaos. But now, the serenity of the land has been broken by destructive forces. As the old legend tells, every one hundred year, the forces of God mysteriously starts to weaken. Thus the powers of Dracula starts to revive it self, his powers groves stronger and stronger, every one hundred year. And now the messengers of doom, once again stalks the world of the living. This threat, considered to be forever stopped by the act of the sealing in 1999, has failed. The man who sealed the kindred spirit of the dark lord within him, are long since dead. The few who remember, are been haunted by terrible visions of the future. If these visions are indeed true, they have no choice. The heirs to the house of Belmont must face the dreaded count again. And they must face him, alone…

Part 1: Gathering darkness

"It is happining again.
A crimson moon, and dying stars.
Living nightmares walks the earth at night.
The dead rides fast, and a circle never ends.
A new aria of war is drawing near.
I can feel it, as a breath of death,
like a feeling of dread.
Soon the enemy of man has returned.
What once was, shall again be.
This I foretell."
An unknown seer. June, 2096 A.D.

Prologue: Dwelings of Doom.
Tokyo, Japan. The 8th of October. 2098 A.D.
Noriko Hakuba ran down the street. She could hear them, the hunting cries of the creatures hunting her. She once again gazed at the houses around her, but to no avail. This was one part of Tokyo where no one would hear you scream. The once prosperous streets, where now empty of all lives, which, a long time ago, where crowded by men and women, beside, of course, the most ignorant and deprived sorts of people. Like drunkards and prostitutes, criminals and soldiers of fortune. She tripped on a loose brick and fell face first on the pavement. When she got up, and after dusting of snow and garbage, she turned around to look. Two of them had couth up to her. The first one was a Egyptian girl, looking like she was bitten at the age of eighteen, with shoulder-length black hair, dark-brown eyes and attractive features. The other, a grown-up look-alike of her-self, was, like she was, Japanese. Slim and delicately formed, with dark hair and eyes, most likely bitten at the age of twenty or twenty-one. They where dressed like the usual female habitants of this bad area of town. The Egyptian girl where dressed in a high-cut white dress and skin-collared silk-stockings which hardly concealed anything. The other girl had a tight-sitting, low-cut white T-shirt and black leather trousers, jacket and boots. She had a brief thought of how they could have survived this long in the cold to eventually become cursed, but that was of no interest at the moment. But they where no longer humans anymore, they were now foul creatures of the night. She recognised their blue-greyish skin, pointed airs, sharp claws and foremost, their fangs and bat-like eyes, filled with Hell's fire. "Oni." She whispered, tears forming on her eyes. "You can't escape us." The Egyptian girl cooed, licking her full crimson lips and shining white fangs. The Japanese girl nodded, drooling while her eyes fixed upon her veins. "Your blood belongs to the master." She smiled sinfully. "Give yourself to the darkness of the eternal night. I feel you will eventually learn to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh." The demon smiled ecstatically. "Not today, oni!" Swiftly she raised her hands, uttering one of the Shinto-prayers her great-grandmother Mina, had thought her. The shock-waves of the spell sent the two vampires flying. Not staying to watch the outcome, she turned around and started running again. She had to reach the safety of the shrine, before these demons eventually took her.

Hakuba-shrine, Japan. The 8th of October. 2098 A.D.
Out of breath, she fell on the stairs leading to the shrine. She couldn't stop here, she knew this. But she was only a child. Living on the streets in these days didn't provide her enough to eat. Especially not now, when her parents where dead. She hadn't encountered any other vampires after she had knocked out the two in the street before. But she could still hear their hunting cries. The sound sent chills down her spine, but she couldn't stop it. The Hakuba-shrine was not as beautiful as it once was. Since the eclipse-incident, the government had denied all people access to the shrine. But she had to enter, no matter what. She did not want to end up like a vampire, and this was the only holy sanctuary in this region. Thinking this, she never saw them coming. Two female vampires, one Brazilian, dressed in a blue dress which promoted her gender to the world, and one Vietnamese, dressed in a short-cut black dress, which showed forth the delicate forms of her legs, showed up. This time, she had no time to react, they pushed her to the ground. She knew what they desired, but not in her live she was going to give them that pleasure. The Vietnamese tore open her over-couth, sweater and shirt with one swing of her sharp nails. Wile drooling, she used one of her claws to open a gash at the neck's main-vein. Then, wile licking her fangs, she prepared for the kill. The other one, while smiling diabolically opened a wound in her wrist, poised the bleeding wound over her mouth. She tried to resist, tried to speak one of her Shinto-prayers that could destroy these creatures, but it was useless. She had no power left in her. But even when the Vietnamese vampire lifted her head to dig her fangs into her neck, she continued to struggle. Then, suddenly, she remembered something her great-grandfather, Soma, once told her. With the last of her strength, she grasped into her pocket. Grasping her last family heirloom in hand, stamped the object on the Vietnamese vampire's forehead. The scream the thing uttered, almost made her go deaf. She watched in amazement as her enemy burned away in a pyre of green flames. She held the thing up, to study it closeler. How could so much power rest inside this little thing, this crucifix? She had no time to puzzle, the other vampire, the Brazilian one, was still very much alive. When she closed in on her, she raised the crucifix against her, the demon hissed and fled, taking on the form of a bat. She sat down, breathing heavily. She could not stay here. But her energy was dappled from running and from the numerous battles. The Brazilian vampire would soon be back, and with more powerful vampires at her side. But she had to rest, at least for a while. Only the steps now, and she would be safe. "Hakuba Noriko." The voice struck her with a sudden dread she couldn't suppress nor understand. The stranger's voice was not angered, not threatening, but she was more scared than ever before on this terrible night. The voice was kind, as if it came from that of a good-hearted man, and with an accent she had heard often this year. The stranger spoke like a mix of a Frenchman and a Japanese.. "I have come to bring you before the master." It was as if the cold mist that had drifted trough the streets had taken on human form. A man, or something that looked almost like a man, with pale blue-greyish skin, hair like the purest snow and bat-like features, stood before her. Had it not been for these facts, she would have called him a nice-looking man. She was only eight years old, but she knew how a gentleman looked like. But that was beside the point. He was a vampire, and that was all that mattered to her. He was dressed in a white European overcoat, like one from the early 2000s. Around his neck there hung a scarf, having the same collar as his hair and on his foots there where huge boots from the same place and period of time. In his black-gloved hands, he held a white hat of the same passed age. He looked on her in some of the same manner her great-grandfather had used to watch her. And it was this, that she somehow knew him, which was the most frightening of it all. "Who are you?" She managed to whisper, unable in makeing her voice any stronger. He bowed respectfully. "I, my dear child, is Jones Graham, a humble servant of the master. I am most sorry for all this, but you see, the master needs your blood." Hearing almost the exact same words as spoken by the two vampires she met in the streets. She turned around and started running up the stairs to the shrine. "You cannot escape your destiny." He called after her, she did not care. All she cared of was getting to the safety of the holy shrine, where no oni or vampire could enter. She thought she heard flapping of many wings behind her, but did not dare to look back. But as she ran, she wondered why the stair seemed to be longer than she remembered. It was then, that the world disappeared in a blink of bright light. The last thing she noticed, at least she thought so, where the chuckle of Graham Jones. Then, all went black, and she knew no more of the woken world.

Chicago, USA. The 10th of November. 2098 A.D.
"Gently now, my dear, feel the flow of the power within you, and concentrate. Concentrate. When you feel yourself ready, begin." "Yes grandmother Yoko." She concentrated all she could, and this time, as sometimes before, she felt the barrier between her and her inner source of power shiver and brake. Just a moment, but that little moment was all that mattered. "Very good, Torah, very good. Now, rest for a moment, take a deep breath and calm yourself." She nodded and sat down on one of the couches in the room. For a moment, and to calm herself, she cast a glance out of the high-placed cellar-window. The snow was still poring down outside, as it had these last weeks, but for once it didn't worry her. She looked at her grandmother. She was an elderly looking woman, slim, with long silvery-white hair and a good wrinkled face. She was dressed in a simple green gown of an older model and with a woollen shawl around her shoulders. Torah, although only eleven years of age, thought she was beautiful, and, after all, she was her only relative alive. Her parents died in a plain-crash wile she was only an infant. And her grandfather was murdered by a Satanist assassin. Why she did not know, not until know, that is. When her grandmother learned that she where gifted with great magical powers, just as her grandparents, she began to train her in the arts of sorcery. First she had learned to control her outburst of raw power in a stressed situation. And now, she was learning how to control its flows and how to feel the difference between the powers of thirteen, and how to control them. Of course, she only learned about the ten powers of God, earth, wind, fire, water, ice, lightning, thought, spirit, life and light. And not about the three powers of the "master", which where darkness, death and nothingness. And so far, she seamed to stick up with it pretty quick, even learning to cast some simple spells. She still had some difficulties about breaking her inner barriers to gain full control, but she was sure she would make it eventually. Her thoughts were interrupted when a knock on the house's front-door sounded. "Who may that be?" Her grandmother wondered. "Chicago has been cowered in snow, so who can be outside now, and at this time of day?" The clock was close to twelve, and if she knew her grandmother right, then they would be training at least two or even three hours more until they went to bed. Luckily her grandmother only trained her this hard in the holydays and weekends, but sometimes it made it hard for her to keep up with school, but that was beside the point at this moment. "Put aside your magic-books and training artifices. Meet me upstairs in the kitchen thereafter." She nodded and got to work. Her grandmother could be very strict at times, so she put aside the books and things she had gathered together and put them inside the secret place, before she turned down the light, and went out. She could hear her grandmother move over to the front-door to see who was outside at this time of night. "O great good one." Her grandmother exclaimed. "Come in, come in. You two must be freezing out there." "I bless thee fore thy kindness." A man's strong young voice sounded. From her position from the cellar stair, she could see two robed and hooded figures entering into their home. She wondered a moment why one of the men, they where clearly bought males, had spoken in such an ancient tone and strange-sounding language. But on the other side, many of the people that came here, where indeed strange. It was when the strangers removed their hoods that she really saw how strange they where. The first one had shoulder-length ice-blonde hair, like that of high age, and with cold blue eyes that had little humanity left in them. He was dressed with a white lace scarf around his neck and in dark-green, almost black, silk clothing from the renaissance period. A long yellow-rimmed coat, with white lacework at the sleeves, light-grey waist-coat decorated with yellow embroidering and knee-long trousers and black boots. Even they, decorated with gold and dark-green emaraids. The other one looked so ordinary in comparizon with the first one, that he looked unnatural beside the first character. This person was shorther than the first and skeletal in appearance. He had long flowing white beard and hair, pale blue-greyish skin and black eyes, behind heavy eyelids in a cold arrogant yet wise aristocratic face. He was dressed like a wizard, in a midnight blue cloak and a simple white robe, with a heavy black rod in his hand. It was then her grandmother screamed. "Graham Jones!? But you are dead, Bought Soma and Genya swore that you where dead!" The youthful looking man smiled. To her silent horror, expanded fangs, like that of the dreaded vampires she had read so much about. "You are mistaking, the creature you mention has other missions I'm afraid. But we are here, to take good care of you. My name is father Jeremiah, but you can call me, Shaft." He smiled like winter's heart. The man beside him, smiled as well, parted his lips, showing of the same set of fangs. "Impossible, you are dead. It's written in the family log, that my ancestors, Maria Renard and Adrian Lecarde, killed you, hundreds of years ago." "Indeed. We are dead!" The one called Shaft coldly hissed. "Dead and forever beyond the grave, the master made sure of that." Now they bought smiled like devils. "My friend here, known as Voivod Heinrich Orlock, and I, have come fore you. You are the last of your kind. And when we kill you, there will be no more Belnades to nose in the master's plans." With an evil laughter he lifted his arm, and in the palm of his long pale hand, an orb created of spiky black flames, erupted. "Die wench!! The ball flew towards her grandmother, but she was already at alert. With a wave of her hand, a body-sized bubble of green light deflected bought the fireball and the explosions when it hit home. "Yeah!" She made a couple of green jewels appear in front of her. And without thinking twice, her grandmother hurled them towards the vampires, only to see them become crushed against a swift raised barrier consisting of ice. The vampire called Orlock smiled, just as cold as his barrier. and made a magical gest. The barrier seemed to harden and exploded into many skull-like projectiles, darting toward her grandmother. Her grandmother lifted her hands, to form orbs of magical energy, then hurling them at the vampires. "You can't win." The one called Shaft added, before he, with a wave of his hand, made the energy explode in mid air. And before her grandmother could do anything to canter-strike, Orlock opened his hand and let loose three homing balls of blue energy. They struck home, right into her grandmother's breast, which sent her flying to the ground. The duo went over to investigate their handy-work, smiling like devils. Orlock knelt down to check her pulse, when he got up again, he spoke. "She is finished. We have done what we come here fore." Shaft smiled ecstatically. "Then, at last, the clan of the Fernandez is destroyed." The other one, Orlock, nodded. "I should have loved to stay to search the house, but we have no more time." Then, laughing like madmen, the two disappeared into thin air, not a trace of them left to prove what they had done. She did not wait long after they had left, she ran to her grandmother's side. "Grandmother!" She cried, when she saw the blood oozing from her wounds. But she didn't care if she got blood on her school-uniform, her grandmother was all that mattered to her right now. "Carrie?" Her grandmother mumbled, before recognized her, then she smiled. "Oh, Torah, you are still alive. I have not failed. The clan of the great Sypha Belnades still exist, and so it must be, fore the sake of the world." She didn't understand, but as long as her grandmother was alive, she did not care. I was then that her grandmother grasped her hand in her own, surprisingly strong, taking her condition. "Torah, listen to me now. I don't think I have time to tell you this more than once." She went silent, until she responded. "Yes grandmother." Her grandmother then took a deep breath before she began to talk. "Take the ring I wear on my finger, use it to open my room, in there, you will find the thing you needs. Then, travel to Europe, to Italy, there you shall go to the Vatican. Tell them that you are a Fernandez, and they will help you to contact John and Christian. This is vital Torah, you must not fail. If all comes to pas, travel, with them, to Romania, to Veros in Warakiya. Ask for Morris and Schneider. Do you think you can remember all this?" She sadly nodded. At this moment it was not a thing in the world she wouldn't have promised to do for her grandmother. The old woman smiled weakly. "I am dying, Torah, but do not give up your faith in God. It is the Devil that is to blame here, not The One." This she spoke with a strength she had almost never heard from her grandmother before, but it did not make anything different. Once again she nodded. Her grandmother smiled one last time. "Fare well, granddaughter, may we meet again in some better place." Then she passed away, just as peacefully and strong like she always had been in life. She sobbed at her site for she didn't know how long. Then, when she had cried herself empty, she closed her grandmother's eyes and laid her in place for the funeral. Then, she, with much regret, took the ring off of her deceased grandmother's hand. She then, almost automatically, cast a glance of herself in the mirror. Her grandmother would never have permitted her access to her room, if she had been dirty or shabby in any way. Her dark-blonde short-cut hair, which lay close to her head, and her winter-paled skin was smooth and clean, like they used to be. Her school-uniform, which she had not had the time to remove, after she returned from school, a brown sweater, black tie and skirt, white shirt and knee-high stockings and a pair of dark-brown shoes. Everything was in order. Then she, without looking back, ran up the stairs.

Chicago, USA. The 10th of November. 2098 A.D.
Her grandmother's bedroom was as clean and organized as she used to keep everything else. Her grandmother had liked rococo and Victorian furniture, but she tried not to look at it, knowing it would only result in beginning crying again. She used the ring to break the magical seal around her grandmother's huge old locker, her grandmother had shown her how to do this, and opened it. At first, it looked liked that it where only clothes inside, but after some research, she found a hidden room, nearly the same which she had in her own room. Inside this room, she discovered two objects. The first one looking like a book and the other like some twin racer-rings. She knew what they must been. Her grandmother had told her many a story about the great Carrie Fernandez, who, at the side of Reinhardt Schneider and Henry Oldrey, had defeated Dracula in 1852. These rings had to once belong to that legendary girl. Shyly picking them up, she did a body-swing, then a double-cut motion and a crisscross dash. For the first time in this long night, with a little smile on her lips. She knew she was fast and agile, after the good grades she had gotten in the gym-classes at school, and on the dancing-lessons she took on a free initiative. Now she may have to use these skills to kill with, not to improve boys or her grandmother, but to survive the coming battle with the vampires. She had to do this. Then she opened the book. In it was a chronicle about the exploits of the Belnades/Fernandez clan. And, also, a family-tree, where she could reed the names and splitting of her family. Starting with Gandolli, in the 7th century, until it was changed to Belnades, in the 13tth century. Then splitting into two fractions, the Renard and Fernandez families, in the 16th centuary, while smaller fractions, like the Erlanger's disappeared or was taken up into other fractions of the family. She smiled to her-self. Many of her female descendants seemed to have married many a Belmont. She also noticed that her family, as it was now, had two main branches. The first one, with herself as the last in line, had kept the last name of Fernandez. Set aside her grandmother as the only one, her son had seemingly decided to remain a Fernandez. While the other branch, the Oldrey-Lecarde fraction of the family, descendants of the Renard-side of the family, had a man named Thomas, as their last borne child. It confused her, but it seemed that, in 1999, a man called Mathias Fernandez had been the founder of her side of the family. Wile his cousin, Katrina, bearing the strange last name of Lecarde, had married a man of the name Peter Oldrey. She put down the book, this was getting her nowhere. She took the book and rings with her, to her own room and put them in her backpack. Then she went down in the cellar and brought out some of her own magic books and tools, stashing them also in her backpack. Then, she went upstairs again, and, trying not to look to close on her grandmother's body, she took out her heaviest winter-poncho. And, not to forget, scarf, gloves and a hood. The phone-lines where down, thanks to all the snow. She would have to go to get to the funeral agency, and to the airport. She did not know how much money her grandmother had, but she was going to do as she had told her. For vengeance or redemption, she did not know. But she knew she had to do this or other families would have to suffer the same fate as she had. And that was a thing she could not, and would not, axept. She was a Fernandez. She hoped her great ancestors, watching her from the Heavens, would be proud of her. It would be a long journey, but she should not fail. Failing would be to fail her grandmother's last dieing request, something she could not. She took a deep breath. She know she was only using time without doing anything, she opened the door, and went outside in the cold blizzard night.

Forest, Warakiya. The 1st of December. 2098 A.D.
"I say this again, old friend, this is impossible. There is no such dogs as huge as this," He waved his hands in front of his face, to clear away some of the smoke, coming from his breathing outside in the cold. "no wolfs either, man. And anyway, why should women be hunting? Especially these days? In know most of the men take care of the hunting. But even with them out of town, there should be plenty of them left to play with." Thomas Oldrey-Lecarde shock his head, Edward Morris, his long-time friend, nodded in agreement, it really gave no sense. But Victor Grant, descendant of the DaNasty family, had a bad language at times, but he was still the best hunter in Veros, not to mention the best tracker he had ever met. Because of the heavy snow and cold, it had become difficult to supply Veros, and the other villages in Warakiya, with the needed food and other necessities. So the man and some of the women, in the towns had gathered up what little weapons they had, mostly heirlooms and a few shotguns, to go hunting. And since the mobs of renegades where growing larger and larger, he was not the only man dressed in what remained of an ancient suit of armour. And although he was the first to admit that it was cold inside, but it gave him enough protection to do what he had to. He himself, a light-blonde man with pale skin, cold grey eyes and aristocratic face, where armed with a shotgun from the mid 1840s, strapped to his side, and a spear, left to him by the men and women who once founded the family of Oldrey-Lecarde. His friends where armed in the same unusual manner. Edward, with sandy-brown hair, beard and moustache, brown eyes, and with muscular frame which where almost hidden under a dark-brown coat and a wide-brimmed hat. Where armed with an even older-looking shotgun than his own, possible from the 1820s or 30s, a hunting-rifle from the 1890s, and a huge Bowie-knife. Wile Victor, a slim-looking short man, with dark-blonde hair, black eyes, and a friendly face, dressed in an old-looking tunic with overlapping steel-shells, hip-high boots and a night-cap looling hat, had a huge battle-axe and something that looked like a set of throwing spikes, made out of silver. That was indeed a curious thing. Another was their shotguns, or rather, the ammunition of the shotguns. The bullets where all carved out of silver. But even bullets this valuable had to be sacrificed whenever they saw something that looked like it could be eaten. Silver that you could live on during normal times, was to no use now. You couldn't eat it, even though he'd heard that some fools had tried to hid away some of these things. But that had little interest in the moment. He knew that he was only trying to ignore this, this impossible track, they had come across. Traces after wolfs that was to big to be just that. And the other things, footprints after humans, females he thought, but that couldn't be possible. "They're leading towards Carmilla Cemetery. Should we follow?" Victor asked worriedly. He was a trained hunter and a trusty companion, but at sites like this, he grew worried. And, to be honest, they frightened him as well. But they could not just stand here. A threat to the village was their responsibility. He nodded in agreement. "Let's hunt some monsters." "Lead the way, old buddy." Morris smiled boyishly, like he used to, when they, in the good old days, had been out hunting. After Victor had taken a better grip on the axe, he nodded. "Follow me." He told them.

Gravesite, Warakiya. The 1st of December. 2098 A.D.
"Get down everybody!" Victor hissed. The tracks had quickly led them to the once magnificent gravesite. As the hunting-group reached the long-since rusty fences of the graveyard, the silence of the cold winter-night was broken by female voices. They spoke out in, what, a prayer, a ritual? In any chase, the language was one he hadn't heard before. It sounded dark, and in a manner he couldn't explain, he felt it was twisted and heartless. But it wasn't that, which had made Victor call out. The reason, he now saw right in front of his very nose. Hundred meters away, and in a direction that didn't bring their smell to the strangers noses, stood a pack of seven or maybe nine huge wolfs, tied to the fences. Not long from the wolfs stood a group of men, completely armoured in gold-plated armours, armed with lances and with swords at their sides. The crest on the shield they carried on their backs, where that of a crimson dragon opening its wings. In the midst of this group, as some kind of commander, stood a man, no, on closer inspection, he was no man. He was dressed in the same manner as his knights, dough his armour was painted in yellow and black, and he had no lance or helmet. But that was beside the point. It was his head who really caught their attention. That was because, he had no real head. It was no more than a naked bleak skull, whit empty eye-sockets and grinning fanglike jaws. Then he saw the ones performing the ritual, and he felt how his own jaw drop. They where females, no doubt about that, and bought dressed in simple dark and crimson cloaks. But it was not that which almost made him blush with shame. In his heart, he felt a sudden greedy desire to be kissed by the full red lips of these delicate-shaped girls. At the same time, he felt a sudden dread. He felt like a trap was closing about him. The first was also the youngest. Eighteen or possible nineteen, he thought. She had long flowing dark-brown hair, shining green eyes and a beautiful carved pale-skinned face. And, as Victor, being a homosexual noticed, girlish. And as he mentioned it, she was, in bought appearance and demeanour. But that was of little interest, he didn't care if she was lesbian or what so ever. He saw that Edward, being a little Victorian in these matters, slapped him, he went back to the observation. The other must we been twenty or even thirty years older. Although she still was luxurious and tempting, he hated admitting it. She had long burning red hair and lips, but her eyes where as grey and cold as the blade of Victor's axe. Then they discovered the female's pail blue-greyish skin, bat-like features and beast-like fangs and claws. "Vampires." Edward mumbled at his side. "You're right man." Victor agreed. "And I thought they where only legends." This was more than a threat to the village, it was a disaster. Then he thought about the stories he'd heard about bought his own and his friend's families, and on the weapons they had with them, then he almost smiled. "Let's take them." First they just looked at him then they nodded in understanding. "Now I see why they lauded these things with silver bullets." Edward smiled boyishly. Without another remark, the trio made a run on the enemies. The armoured men shouted in surprise and tried to run for their steeds. But never came thus far, while bought he and Morris filled them with silver-bullets from two shotguns. "Shields up!" Cried the skeletal-looking commander to the men still standing. "Yes captain Harrhausen." He noticed that the soldiers answered in strange hollow manners, but was to busy shooting at their wolf-like steeds to think further about it. Some of the armoured men had simply exploded in flames when he shoot them. But for the most part, they only rouse again after falling. It was then that Grant brought up something that really sent his head spinning. "These creatures have no blood, man. See?" He used his axe to cut a gash in one of the soldier's armours. He was right, they didn't bleed more then a rock did. Not even a drop. "There's nobody inside these things." Morris shouted. "What?" Then he saw it. One of the armours had lost its helmet and there was nothing inside, nothing they could see at least. But that didn't stop these things from talking and thinking like they where men like himself and his friends. It was then he ran out of bullets, and after that, thing got really difficult.

The Vatican, Italy. The 19th of November. 2098 A.D.
"Holy father," Christian Belmont knelt before the old man's chair. "I have sinned. In my dreams I have seen unholy and unworthy visions." "Easy, lill bro." John Belmont, the eleven year old boy's older brother, put a hand on his shoulder, before bowing respectfully toward the pope. "Sorry Matthew, your eminence. But he insisted on going to you with this. He has had dreams these last weeks. Dreams who worries him of the future." Christian shook his head. The young Belmont was a nice-looking boy, with short-cut reddish-blonde hair, light-brown skin and kind yet thoughtful brown eyes. "I am sorry if I have disturbed you, your eminence, but I have these dreams almost every night. They scare me." His brother, showing that he carried genes from another part of the family, with pale skin, whitish-blonde hair and grey eyes, watched over his brother with great passion, now that he was the oldest member of the clan beeing in the Vatican. John now glanced at him with worry in his eyes. "Tell me about them." Mathew softly requested. He slightly shuddered, before he begun talking, but where cut short by his brother. "It is really necessary? Have you don't put enough pressure on his shoulders as it is?" The old man's eyes seemed to glow with holy anger. "Yes it is. And as we speak about this, what did you dream about?" One moment his brother looked perplexed, before he just blurted out. "I dream about a golden-haired sapphire- blue eyed girl, dressed in an ancient dress, trying to kiss me. And a horse-raiding scythe-wielding man, dressed in a dark ash-grey hood and cloak, watching everything, laughing all the time." The old man watched him closely and John blushed. Before they could make more out of it, he spoke up. "It's always the same. I see a boy and a girl, together in a dark room. Dough they are younger than me, eight years or something like that. They are doing what I have heard grown-ups use to do when they marry. At first, she, an dark-haired Japanese, tries to resist him, a blue haired boy with burning blue eyes. Then he does something that vampires do. And she stops resisting him. Then something even more terrible happens. The darkness become shaped into stone, metal, wood, glass, texture, furniture from many ages, and many other thing, forms into some sort of castle. Then I hear laughter like that of The Devil himself. Then all goes black and I wake up." John put a hand on his shoulder but he did not care to try hiding his tears. "This is vital." Mathew's eyes looked like they tried to drill a hole into his brother's head. "How long have you been dreaming this, try to be as exact as you can. This is more important than you might understand." John pondered the question, but before he could speak, he broke them of. "It is not John's fault. It was my dreams that started it all, so I'm the one to blame." Mathew rised to lay a hand on his shoulder, like his great-great-grandfather, Julius, had used to do, or at lest so did the holy father say. And since he was the person he was, and because John had told him the same, he believed in him. "It is not anyone's fault, at least no human's fault. If you need to blame someone, then let the Devil be the target." He nodded and answered his question to John. "Fore six weeks, I think." The old man retook his chair, his eyes telling him that he was deep in thoughts. He got up from his kneeling position, thinking it was time to leave. Since he now had delivered his prayer, but got back down when the old man raised his hand. "Go, bought of you, dress yourself for battle. The time has come." They nodded. They bought know that this day eventually would come. Man could never put up to the level of the Lord, and never should try to even do so. The seal was breaking and it was time to do war. He got up, but before he or his brother had managed everything else, the door was opened, and in went one of the cardinals present in the Vatican at this time. "I apologize for my imprudence, your eminence. But there is a girl here, claiming to be a Fernandez descendant. She insist that her grandmother told her to look for someone named John and Christian. And since these two young men are the only one related to the Fernandez clan, I took her with me to see you." Mathew nodded. "Show her in then. And Paul, stay guard, just in case." The younger man nodded, and the cardinal went. Christian placed himself in a protective stance. The seal was weakening, any number of the dark lord's messengers could be free from their prison. When the cardinal came back, he was followed closely behind by a dark-blonde twelve year old girl, dressed in poncho and an American school-uniform. She kneeled in front of Mathew, just as he had done. Then she saw John, and her eyes widen. "Trevor?" Then she shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I just thought I recognized you from somewhere." He smiled. This was indeed a Fernandez clanswoman. She had recognized the spirit which had been reborn in the form of his brother. The spirit that once was his forefather, Trevor C. Belmont. He nodded firmly. "So, it is happening again. In the names of St. Peter, St. John and Michael the archangel, may the Lord preserve us all, amen." He made the sign of the cross, before taking a deep breath. "I will done battle-gear and meet you here, when I am ready." Nodding kindly to the newcomer, he went out the door. This was what he had trained for his entire life. He was only a little boy, but he had promised himself that, when the calling finally came, he would not stay back. "He is right." His brother added, joining him at the door. They had no time to loose. If their dreams where really visions of the future, then it could already be to late. No, he could not think such things, then he surtanly would loose the battle, and that he could not accept. He had trained and trained, now it was time to see if he indeed was ready. Even if the stories was true, nothing could really prepare him for what he would face in the castle, but he had no choice. And beside, it was his duty as a Belmont to do this.

The Vatican, Italy. The 19th of November. 2098 A.D.
"Who were they, if I may ask, your eminence?" Torah shyly asked the old man. "That, my dear child, was the once you have travelled so far to see." She nodded, the feeling of recognition had been to strong to be just a coincidence. She already knew they where here, before she had even entered the room. "Then that boy, Christian, you called him? Where right. We have no time to loose." The old man nodded. "Indeed. The eternal battle is about to be fought once more, and forever." She nodded in understanding, her face just as grim as the old man's. It was no more time to think. Indeed, as the boy had remarked, it was time to do battle.

Gravesite, Warakiya. The 1st of December. 2098 A.D.
"Take that you rusty bucket!" Grant dug his battle-axe into one of the living armours and watched in grim satisfaction how it burned to a crisp of it's former self. "Watch out!" He jumped to the side, just in time to avoid one of that dammed Harrhausen's skull-inhabited ice-balls. "Thanks Morris, I owe you one." His friend grinned, before he made an attack with his Bowie-knife. Digging the knife into the brain of one of the wargs. That had been Thomas's idea. He got it from an old children's tale, but he didn't care a shit for that, as long as they died when you drove a silver-what-ever-it-is thing into them. But that was beside the point, as he was busy doing just that. He smiled a grim smile for himself, before doing another swing with his axe. The warg-riders, as they had agreed on calling these living armours. Something from yet another tale, he thought, but his thoughts where cut short. The warg-riders where now forming a defensive ring around the two female vampires, still performing their weird ritual. Then he discovered something that almost made him drop his guard. Eerie blue dust, emerged from the grave in which they where kneeling in front of. The oldest one took out something looking like a pot, catching the dust in mid air. "Perfect." She smiled, nearly as cold as the winter itself. "Good, Elizabeth. Then, let us go." One moment, the older one, now known to them as Elizabeth, looked gaze with the younger one, before nodding slowly. "Gather yourself." Harrhausen barked toward them. "You are bought just as important for the master as the dust is. Countess Karhnstein, Countess Bartley, we have what we came for. If these young masters really are our true adversaries, we will meet once again. For now, let the warg-raiders cower our retreat." The youngest one bowed towards the skeletal-looking knight. "You are right, Rowdain. Let us go." Countess Elizabeth smiled, exposing her fangs. "Yes Miraclla, Mircalla, Carmilla, or whatever you call yourself, it is indeed time. The time is drawing near, I can feel it. We must reach the meeting at the foggy lake. We have no more time to spear" Then the trio disappeared as snow in the wind. "Cowards." He mumbled to himself. But he had not the time to think further about that. They still had a battle to fight. And dough the warg-raiders seemed to be somewhat weakened by the disappearance of their masters, they still put up a good fight. But as he and Morris had been busying hacking on them with their axe and Bowie-knife, Thomas had gotten the time he needed to re-loud his shotgun, and as he began shooting, they got time to rest and, in Edward's case, re-loud as well. While he recovered his stakes of silver, and their hats, which they had lost in the combat. "Holy Jesus! Come here, look on this." As the last of the warg-raiders exploded, Edward had went over to the headstone the two female vampires had been so interested in. He himself didn't recognise the text on the gravestone, but his two friend looked like they had seen a ghost, or something even worse, if that was possible. On the headstone it read: Malus, 1844-1852". "We must go to that meeting of theirs." Morris insisted. Thomas just nodded. "Hey, what's this all about gays?" They told him what "this" was about, and he felt himself begin shivering with fear. But if what his newly-buried grandfather had told him was true, he had no choise. "I will go with you." They looked at him. "You don't have to come, if you don't want to." Morris put his hand on his shoulder, but he shook his head. "It isn't that I want to do this. But you must also have heard the stories about the DaNasty." Thomas smiled uncourageously. "Then this will be just as in the old story about Trevor Belmont. We have no sorceress here, but I am of the Belnades clan as well as the Oldrey, so I will have to do." "You are wrong." A new young female voice added. The trio spun around, over the piles of snow, another group of humans approached them. It consisted of one man, at the age of seventeen or eighteen, and two children, a boy and a girl. It was the girl who had spoken. "My name is Torah Fernandez, cousin. And this is John Kischine-Belmont, and his cousin, Christian Morris-Belmont." The eldest cousin gave her a durty look, which told him that he didn't like to hear that spoken out loud. "Then we are all together again. Hello little cousin, long time no see." Edward tipped his hat, Christian nodded, looking to be happy, seeing his real cousin again. "We are." John spoke, a little angry at the happyness in Christian's eyes. "But before we goes, here you are cousin." He opened his backpack, bringing out another long-sword, with a belt and scabbard. "To you Edward, it's a Morris-family heirloom." Christian smiled shyly. "Pope Mathew asked us to give it to you Edward." His friend smiled thankfully. Now, that they all where introduced to one another, it was time to go get serious. "We have to get to the foggy lake." Bought Christian and Thomas uttered, nearly at the same time. Af first, the two looked gazes. To his surprise, he saw innocence faith in the young newcomer's eyes, in contrast to the tired sense of duty in his friend's eyes. "He is the leader." He quietly admitted. He saw that the other newcomer's looked like they agreed with him. It was Morris that ended the stare by pointing to the youngster's side. He saw that, who Thomas also noticed, the thing, and at last nodded. "He is the leader." Together they left the gravesite.

The Vatican, Italy. The 19th of November. 2098 A.D.
When Christian and his brother returned to the room, they discovered that she had helped Mathew with finding and organize the Belmont family's holy weapons and mystic heirlooms. She smiled when she saw that John now was dressed in a grey and brown camouflage jacket, with armoured breast and shoulder-plates, wrist-protectors made out of metal and armoured boots. Around his head, he had a headband, a heirloom rumored to once had belonged to Richter Belmont himself. Across his body, he carried grenades, once crafted by Jonathan Belmont, the man who took back the original family name, in 1969. On his back, he had the sword he had gotten from the Kischine-side of the family. "That sword, in the chronicles of my ancestors, that was the sword of Maxim Kischine, the husband of my foremother Lydie Erlanger." John nodded. "You see, we call each-other brothers, but we are actually cousins, not brothers. But that doesn't mater. We love each-other as if we should we been real brothers. I am a heir from the houses of the Kischine, while Christian is a result of the houses of Schneider and Morris." She nodded slowly. "Then why don't you call yourself Graves? In my family's chronicle it's told that the Kischines changed their name to Graves in 1810 or somethime around that." A grim look went over his face. "It is nothing we are proud of, but in 1984, a Graves descendant helped Dracula during one of his early risings." She nodded, smiling comfortingly. "Don't be sad, all our families have had members that have betrayed our cause." "I know." He nodded, giving her a confident smile. "But I don't think I will be one of them." Then she turning her gaze to the younger "brother" of the Belmonts. He wasn't that much changed in appearance, but there where still something. He now where dressed in a green tunic with overlapping silvery-collared steel-shells, a crucifix around his neck and armoured boots, just as his older kinsman. Her thoughts where cut short, when Mathew gathered them around the table. "There is not much for you, young Fernandez, I'm afraid. But there is still something. This crucifix, it was once carried by your foremother Maria Renard. How it came to be here in the Vatican I do not know. The old Richter did not tell the church much about it, but he told it was a gift, from a dieing friend. The death of Maria Renard, and the identity of her husband, Adrian Lecarde, has been obscured by time. And Richter Belmont, the only who ever knew more about it, died here, in the Vatican, without telling more than this." She nodded, and hung the thing around her neck. "This, some laurels, was left to your family, in the will writhen by Julius Belmont himself. Take them. When someone close to your heart, has been dappled in battle, use them as a focus of your prayers, and they may be able to heel their wounds." She slowly put them down in her backpack. "Then, there is the last peace of weaponry for you, but it is also the most valuable heirloom of them all. And the most powerfull as well, the stop-watch." He handed her an ancient-looking pocket-watch, hardened by the years it had been in this world. "This powerful piece of craftsmanship, is the only thing that we know was once owned by Sypha Belnades. It has the power to stop time itself. But use it only when you need it, one wrong move, and you may screw up time forever." She nodded calmly. She knew what he meant. But it was strange, that this great men and women had taught of her family before they died, in her mind, she prayed a short prayer in gratitude for their great kindness. "Now, for you, my son John, take this, the throwing-axe of the family." The old man handed John a simple-looking axe. But even from the place where she stood, she could feel the throbbing power within it. "To you, my child, take this vials of holy water. When the water is gone, fill the vials with new water, speak a prayer, and the water becomes holy." Christian nodded, placing the vials in small pockets in his belt. "John, this crossbow, was first used by Rachel Belmont, the wife of Jonathan, during their mission into the demon castle. The arrowheads of these things are made out of silver and wood. Indeed of great use when battling vampires and were-beasts." John smiled, while he hung the crossbow over his shoulder. She shook her head, with the grenades and sword, she had thought there where no more place to spear, but this proved her wrong. "I see you have brought with you Richter's old crucifix. That is good, but it will become even more useful, when used in combination with this." With a smile filled with memories, he gave the throwing cross to Christian, whom he places inside a purse, he had on the belt. "Then, there is only these two weapons left." The old man presented a set of golden throwing-daggers, and a shining crystal. "The daggers I give to you John, may it be a last resort. In these weapons, there is power who hardly even the great Simon Belmont managed to control entirely. Their power draws upon the power of their owners, not the power within themselves. But since you two, beside of Christopher, and the great Simon alone, is the only ones in the family which will have to face an enemy which have gotten a full hundred years of sleep." John nodded grimly, taking the daggers and putting them down into his boots. Then the old man turned to Christian. "This crystal has not been used by anyone since Leon Belmont himself crafted it into a weapon of the family. Its power comes from the faith, you yourself bear inside your heart, and that faith alone. That is because I give it to you. It is told that the strong innocent faith of a child's heart, is the one thing that really makes its power to come forth. But remember, doubt, only a hint, and the crystal's power will not do any good. It may even destroy you." At this point, she saw tears starting to form in Christian's eyes, but then the old man put a hand on him, comforting him. "Remember, we all have faith in you, as we do in all Belmonts. Feel the faith of your friends, and you shall never fail. Then, maybe this crystal would become a light for you, a light, where all other light, goes out." The boy nodded, still with tears on his face, but he nodded, and put the crystal down, deep within another purse in his belt. "Then, at last, there is this." The old man brought out, from his robes, an ancient looking leather whip. "This is the Vampire Killer. Your only other living kinsmen, Edward Morris have tried to use it, Alicia Schneider have tried to use it, and bought has failed. I have not presented it to you before, because they where older than you. I was hoping, praying, that an even older, unknown, Belmont should come for the whip, but that did not ocur. Now, I want you two to try the whip." John nodded. And with confidence, he took the whip, and tried to swing it. The whip, just hang down, and whatever he did, it still hang there. "Its power must we been lost." He at last grumbled, handing the ancient weapon back to the old man. She saw the grief in the old man's eyes, when he handed the whip to Christian, the youngest off the two, and she understood him just all to well. If the whip had refused all the others in the family, then it must be this boy's destiny to become the next vampire hunter in line. Christian licked his lips nervously, before he slowly took the over thousand year old weapon in his hands. She gasped, it looked like blood flooded from bought the boy's veins, and from the whip itself. Then, there came a flash of bright silvery-collared light, blinding all the other in the room. Then she heard Christian's voice, filled with newfound faith and determination. "I am Christian Schneider-Morris, heir to the house of Belmont. I am Christian Belmont, wielder of the Vampire Killer. Hope may be broken, and love be forgotten, but the light of The One, which I now holds, may be hidden, but is never going to die out. I bear the duty to never stop, never rest, until Dracula is banished from my lifetime, and not returns until one hundred years have passed. The Belmont clan still hunts the night. The oat of gold has not been broken" It was a older version off the "oat of gold", as it was called, she had read it in her family-chronicle, but it was correct. By speaking those words, he and the Vampire Killer, had formed a bound, which would not be broken before Christian died, or, may the Lord forbid, failed his mission in life. "I bless thee, bearer of the tool of redemption. May the Lord of Light be with you, now and forever, until the end of days, if need be." The pope did a blessing motion with his hand. Julius had been the first Belmont to ever be blessed by the pope of the catholic church. But since then, it had become a tradition. Not that the Vampire Killer had chosen another Belmont to be a hunter since Julius died. But the church and family elders had not stopped performing the ritual just because of that, and now it seemed like their patience had paid of. All this information, discovered in the Fernandez family-chronicle, went through her mind as she stood there, watching a happening only possible once in every hundred years. "Then, al last," Christian hardened his grip on the Vampire Killer whip, the weapon of his family. "we're ready." Mathew nodded. "Indeed, a new chapter in the war against Dracula is ready to begin." She watched them all, she knew that this whip was the weapon which had been used to banish Dracula since the midst of the 15th century, and she knew Christian wasn't the first child-Belmont to wield that weapon, the first one, being Louis Schneider, in 1946, but she was still worried. The vampire where so powerful, and they were just humans, but she refused to give into the fear in her own heart. Her grandmother had told her that fear was one of the most devastating powers of them all, she had no choice. She had promised her grandmother to do this, and she was determined to at least try to fulfil it.

Border, Warakiya. The 30th of November. 2098 A.D.
She stopped the bike, to point the front-lights to the sign to the left of the road. "Warakiya, 4 miles." She read. Taking a deep breath and shock her long golden-blonde hair out of her blue eyes, nearly loosing her glasses in the process. She pressed them hard against her nose, while casting a glance to the watch on her wrist. 23.51 a. m. She rubbed her eyes tiredly. She had been on the road since 7 o'klock in the morning. And had only slept three hoers last night and did not expect to sleep more this night. The most people that once inhabited this part of the province had left to go to the ocean, to get transport there to the southern part of the globe, where the cold wasn't as bitter as it was here on the northern parts. She shivered, not even with her fur-coated leather jacket and hole-cowering driving-gloves, she felt colder than what was comfortable. Not that her black leather trousers and boots where that much warmer, but she had only packed the most necessary when she had heard about the happenings in Warakiya. Rumours about evil figures seen in the darkness. And, which where more disturbing, the travellers who came to her family inn, spoke about the dark wanderers. She shuddered again. The dark wanderers where hooded and claoked creatures endlessly stalking the land. Wandered hither and dither, always searching for those who had true Belmont blood in their veins. She had heard that bought the Kischine and Morris fractions of the family was nearly destroyed. And the survivors had taken refuges in the Vatican, in Istambul or among others of their kind. Her family had managed to escape, but she had refused to go with them. She hoped that other of the Belmont-relatives or descendants of the helper families where going to Warakiya, but so far she had heard of non of them. She nearly collided with on of the trees. Driving motorcycle in the winter was difficult enough to not be made even more tiresome by her thoughts and tiredness. Not to mention, she smiled without humour, her bad vision. She had gathered what was left of the Schneider family's weapon and had lend the bike from her uncle. But, as an only nineteen year old, she had no licence to drive this sort of things, so she hoped there where no police around. She had been lucky at the county border. The only guard on duty had been a friend of her grandfather, and a descendant of Hammer, one of the families that had become allies of the Belmont in 2030 or sometime around that. But she had no time to think further about that. Only two more hours now, and she would be in Berestow, where she hoped to get a room to sleep in the rest of the night. It was then she saw it, a black cat, right in front of her bike. She stopped dead in her track. And screamed to the animal like a fool. She knew it was an idiotic gesture, but she could not help it. "You killed my sister, your undead beast!" The result was bought frightening and unexpected. The cat vanished, in thin air, an then there stood a girl in its place. The stranger girl, dressed in a white gown, like that of a bride, was, beautiful. It was no other word for it. With raven hair, eyes like emeralds and skin like that of the most delicate cream. Her lips was full and natural crimson in collar and her forms where voluptuous and yet innocence. For a short moment she felt jealousy before this woman. She almost felt her childhood bitterness towards having to wear glasses return to her, then she saw how she really looked like, then she felt a desire to scream. The girl had fangs and pointed ears, like that of a bat, her skin had a blue-greyish hint to it and her eyes burned like Hell's fire "So, souls really do becomes reborn sometimes." The accent was ancient, and like a mixture of German and Russian. In it, there where poison and hatred, directed toward all living creatures that walked the earth, without haven pledged loyalty towards her master. "Lenore." She hissed, this came from her own memories. Where the other one had come from, she did not know. She had no sisters, only a brother, a half-brother to be true, but she liked Christian as if he should we been her full-brother. She hoped, begged actually, that he was safe in the Vatican, but she didn't have time to think about that now. "The bride from Brahenmark. Isn't that what you call yourself?" She jumped off the motorcycle and, with one motion she had trained on, brought out the chain-whip of the Schneider family. It was not the Vampire Killer, but it was still a powerful weapon. It had originally been crafted for Soleiyu Belmont, the son of Christopher Belmont, to train with during his younger years. Since then, it had been handed down through the family in hundreds of years. It was when Richter saw his family dwindle, with him as the last true Belmont, and he had given this whip to his youngest sister, when she married a man called Schneider in 1798. But that didn't matter just now. The only thing that mattered, was that she now held it, to defend herself against this fiend from the pits of Hell. She readied herself for the coming battle. " Behave yourself. She is a Belmont. So stay back, Von Brahenmark." Another Hell dweller stepped out on the road. This one was a tall skeletal looking male. Dressed in a flowing black cloak, dark crimson jacket, black trousers, gloves and boots, here and there decorated with gold, and with a nobleman's sash, going from his left shoulder to his right waist. He had short-cut white hair, beard and moustache, and his blue-grey eyes made even the cold of the season warm in comparison. "Gilles De Reis." She whispered to herself. "Now I understand. Darkness never dies. But how is this possible? Henry Oldrey killed you in 1852." The undead old man smiled, exposing his fangs. "Nothing is impossible for the dark lord. We, his humble servants only do what we are told to." She slowly nodded. Then she removed her gloves to make a better grip on the whip, made out of silvery-collared steel and with a morning-star at the end. While she with the other hand, took out a vial of holy water from her backpack. She could we used a grenade, one of them the family had learned to craft by Jonathan Belmont in 1969. But she didn't have that many of them to waste, so she took the water in stead. She could always refill them with water from somewhere else, the vial would see to that the water became blessed, but the grenades needed chemicals she couldn't just carry around like that. "Do you think you can destroy us with that? We are immortal. You can never kill us. Watch and learn!" He spread his cape and out from it, flew a swarm of vampire bats. She threw the vial, not at the old vampire, but at his bats. The explosion sent her stumbling backwards. Luckily, she didn't loose her glasses. She got back in the defensive stand, but the vampires still stood there. Swiftly, while her heart beeped like a wild horse galloping, she took out another vial, readying herself for battle. She swung the whip at the female vampire, as she threw the vial at Gilles. He, once again opened his cape. This time, he fired three-directional heat-seeking and, to her surprise, bat-inhabited steam-blasts. She threw herself to the side, missing two of them, and extinguished the third, with a hasty drawn and thrown dagger. She hoped her half-brother would we been proud of her. Christian had always been the best fighter in the family. And, which where more important, the kindest boy she had ever met. Thinking this as she recovered the dagger, puting it back into its scabbard, she got back in her stance in one swift move. "Not bad." Gilles smiled like a devil, as he hid himself and Lenore behind a wall of steam. "I am looking forward to meeting you again, at the foggy-lake." Then they where gone, like snow in the wind. She stood again, wandering what this had been all about. "Its a trap." She told herself. But she knew that she would go to the lake. It was there her destiny would be made clear. Recovering her two used vials, she sat back up on her motorcycle. She still had a long way to go.

Castle ruins, Warakiya. The 4th of December. 2098 A.D.
"Are they all here?" The dark lord, concealing his pure spirit within a black hood and cloak, drilled his burning eyes into the skull of Uriel, the angel of death. "As you can se, my lord, they are all here." The voice of Death, just a whisper in his mind, sent a smile across his non-existing face. "Good, good." He hissed. "Gather them around me. I am coming to need all their power in this ritual." With the aid of a young boy, with blue eyes and hair, dressed in a suit from the 1850s, he went over to the centre of the evil star-symbol, which the witch Actrise, a golden-haired sapphire-eyed youthful-looking vampire, had painted in the snow. He knew he was just a shadow of his former self, his body destroyed, and his spirit weakened by having rested inside the weakening presence of the cursed seal, sat by Julius Belmont in 1999. Even dough bought his spirit and powers where once again fully restored, he had not been able to resurrect his body. But with the ritual that was soon to be held, he would buy himself enough time and power, to be resurrected to his full original state. To his dark amusement, all his servants was where they where supposed to be. Orlock, De Reis, Brahenmark, Karhnstein, Harrhausen, Bartley and Jones where all in their places, reading themselves for the ritual. While Shaft and Actrise where leading the girl towards his other self. The dust from his former corpse, which someone had been foolish enough to burry somewhere he could get his claws on it, had shown itself to be more than important to his cause. "Do it, young one. You know what to do." He smiled as his young servant nodded. And as the other started to chant in the ancient language of the master's servants, Death leading them, reading as he was from the Necromonicon. The girl screamed in horror and pain as Malus's fangs tore into her skin, and made her bleed on the ground. Then, continuing to tear her simple black cloak, preparing to perform the act of what the human fools called "love". While he fed on their fear-grounded lust, he felt the dark energy flow through him. Then he saw them, his enemies. But this time, they had come to late. Even dough the shoot from one of them, a man looking somewhat familiar, dressed in the remains of that Oldrey's armour, made the boy stagger backwards. Then a girl, looking like a dark-haired version of Maria Renard, helped the sacrifice-girl to her feet. But it was all to late. "You thought you could defeat me?" He shouted out to the newly arrived group of vampire hunters. One of them, or perhaps, all of them, had to be a Belmont. "Darkness never dies! You can never truly defeat me. You are just mortals, while I am for ever!" He heard his laughter eco throughout the castle which where re-rising around him. This time, they could not defeat them. Soon, he would be fully resurrected. Then nobody could ever defeat him again. He had lured all of his enemies to him. And, as the castle loomed higher and higher into the cold winter-night, he saw them be split into groups of one or two. They where un-experienced in battle, his servants would do quick work of them. "Kill them, kill the males and bring their females to me." He shouted. He still needed time. But he was sure, he now had enough of that resource to make a full resurrection in time.

Castlevania, Warakiya. The 4th of December. 2098 A.D.
As Christian saw his cousins disappear into the darkness, the words of Mathew rang in his ears. "Do never underestimate the power of the dark lord. Do it, and it will be your undoing." The girl they had rescued from that blue-haired monster, held her grip upon him, just as the darkness withdraw and he could see again. They stood on a clearing in the forest, somewhere near the castle. He smiled grimly. He may have been thrown out of the demon castle. But he was determined that he, as his ancestors, should manage to battle his way to Dracula's lair, no mater what. First he had to make sure the girl was safe. Then he should do what he had to do. "St Peter, St John, do so that my dear ones are safe and have the power to fight the demons in this place. And please, do so that we may see each-other again. Even if its beyond the border of this world." He whispered in his head. "Michael the Archangel, in the name of Mary the Virgin, the mother of God, stay with me and give me the power to destroy Dracula. Not for myself, but because of all the people in the world. Amen." He closed the prayer with the sign of the cross. He glanced up at the sky, bowing before the star of Christmas, hoping that it would lead him to the place where he needed to be. "God bless us." He whispered to himself. "God bless us, everyone."

Castlevania, Warakiya. The 4th of December. 2098 A.D.
"Christian!" John called for his cousin, but it was to no avail, Thomas tried to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. But he shook it off. He had known it was a desperate raze against time. But they had had no other opportunities then to try to reach the site of the resurrection-ritual in time. He swore to himself that he should find his brother in spirit, or die in the trying.

Castlevania, Warakiya. The 4th of December. 2098 A.D.
"Curse it! Curse it all! Oh, I'm sorry girly." She shook her head, Victor was a good man, but he was still trying to act like some sort of father. She didn't need any father-figure. What she needed was a battle-brother, and she still hoped she would get one. She had knew something terrible would come to pas. Her dreams had become just as dark as Christian's these last days, while they travelled trough Warakiya. But seeing the boy and girl, as she had seen them in her dream, had shocked her more than she had expected. But now they where lost, somewhere near the castle, and when it came to that… She remembered the parts about that clearer than she wanted to. Especially the part where it was told about the form-shifting power of the demon castle, and the stories of all the wile and twisted beasts and monsters within. She started generating one of her energy balls. Readying herself for battle.

Castlevania, Warakiya. The 4th of December. 2098 A.D.
"Here goes nothing." Edward thought to himself. Now he was entirely alone. He knew he had to find the others. He felt there was something "wrong" with some of them. He didn't know who "that" was. Only that it was something that threatened Thomas, and John, but he was far from curtain. He fastened his grip around his sword. Nice of his cousins to give it to him, but he had no time to think further about that now. He had to find them, he had to find them fast. He looked around himself. He was in some kind of corridor, but beside that, he knew nothing. "Can just as well, starts going." He mumbled. "Standing here is getting me nowhere." He went down the corridor.

Castlevania, Warakiya. The 4th of December. 2098 A.D.
She stood on the cliff, cleaning her glasses. She could hardly believe it, but there it stood, the demon castle, looming high in the cold winter night. She took a deep breath. She had never thought this to be easy, but this was just a little to much, even for her. She had faced two of the black wanderers, since she left the border. They where really terrifying creatures. Ghouls, she thought, but knowledge didn't make them less horrible in battle. One of them had nearly blasted her into oblivion with dark fireballs. The other had nearly killed her when she tried to face it in hand-to-hand combat. She had no doubt there where more of them, and perhaps even more, terrifying creatures inside the castle. Putting her glasses back on her nose, she went down the part, leading to the castle. Her hands resting on the whip, readying herself for battle.

Castlevania, Warakiya. The 4th of December. 2098 A.D.
Graham watched the map over the castle and its surroundings. "The first group, where the girl the master needs, and the boy with the Vampire Killer, are at the gate to the surroundings of the castle." He smiled coldly. "I shall personally take care of them." The once leader of the master's human followers teleported away in a coil of mist, the mist no colder than the undead heart within him. Actrise nodded grimly. "That Fernandez and the pirate are somewhere near the mountain-range, leading to the village of Jova. Let's take care of them Gilles." The witch and the elderly-looking undead gentleman teleported away like mist. "Good." Elizabeth smiled her sinfull smile. "The Lecarde descendant is in the Dora-forest. Come with me Orlock, let us go hunting." Shaft cast a glance on the map. "The Schneider-woman is coming, she is near the deserted ferry. Come with me Von Harrhausen, it is time to hunt." The skeletal knight grinned, before the duo disappeared as the other servants. Carmilla smiled to herself, this giving her free hands with the Morris child. Since that Graves boy had whippet her into oblivion in 1830, she had yearned for a rematch with one from that fraction of the family. He was not a Graves, but he would have to do. "Then I will come with you." She turned around. Lenore, standing behind her, once again dressed in her usual midnight-blue robes, smiled initiating to her. "Let's kill a Belmont." She answered. Together they teleported away, as the witch and her vampireic friend had done seconds before.

Castlevania, Warakiya. The 4th of December. 2098 A.D.
"My lord, I have urgent news" One of his servants came rushing in. He waited until the creature had kneeled before him, before he spoke." Yes, Malphas, what is it?" Malphas the necromancer, his hands coward by fingerless gloves, his foots by black leather boots and the body clad in a huge black cloak and hood. He was one of his most powerful servants, and knew better than to come rushing to him. Now the necromancer fixed his black expressionless eyes upon him, opening his black raven-like beak. "The other servants have gone hunting for the Belmont-descendants, my lord." His servant nervously flapped his black wings while he looked upon him without responding, then. "They will find non of them. It is still not the correct time to bring them into the battle. I have shielded them with my power. Soon they will discover it, and return to me. Sitt, and you shall see." The raven-like wizard bowed before taking a seat. "Excuses me my lord, shall I remain as well, or do I have your permission to go?" Nipoura, the princess of the were-foxes and the leader of his crimson-armoured personal guard saluted him quizzically. For a moment, he let himself take pleasure in watching her. She was short in built, muscular yet attractive, with crimson fur and eyes. She had black hair and where armoured in a crimson and black Japanese armour, like all the were-foxes of her fraction of the were-fox race. He smiled from his dark throne. "Stay with me, all of you." He ordered his main-servants. Bought Nipoura, Malphas and the young blue-haired boy bowed to him, but Death only nodded. "This is turning out to be most interesting. As you command, my lord, so shall it be." Death whispered in his mind. This time he would not fail, he was sure of it. They could still banish him back to his unearthly resting-place. But they would never be able to seal him away as the fool Julius had tried to. This was his moment, and it was time to do war once more. "The first move was theirs, now its my turn." Before him, far below the gallery where his throne was situated, there was a check-table. It was as large as the entire hall, large as an arena. It was surrounded by a molten pit of lava, which didn't manage to heat the underground hall, because of their presence. On the table there was magical pictures of his servants and adversaries. The game was afoot. Once again he smiled. They had just themselves, while he had an almost endless supply of servants to send against them. Which should he use first? Then, with a wave of his dark-gloved hand, they shoved up on the table, the child-vampire, the bone-dragon king, the wyvern and the phantom bat. They where all useful but not very powerful servants. They would be good practise to see how dangerous his enemies really where. He sat back in his throne. For the moment, the game, was his.

Chapter 1: The Story Continues | Back