Beyblade 1. Prologue

_**Aeternum Vale – Farewell Forever**_

_By KuriQuinn_

_**Fandom:**__ Bakuten Shoot Beyblade_

_**Rating:**__ R for language, mature themes and violence_

_**Pairing:**__ Chaya Tate / Kai Hiwatari_

_**Blanket Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Beyblade, never will and have no intention of leading a crusade to try to own it. It's too much money and too much effort to expel over an anime with mediocre animation. However, the characters have always amused me and so gave birth to my many fic ideas. The idea of Beyblade is attributed to Aoki Takao while the actual anime is a product of Nelvana. The only characters herein which are not under their jurisdiction are Chaya Tate, who belongs to me in every way that a character possibly could, Miyami Kinomiya who has and will always belong to my best friend the late-great-Chibi Tari-and-current-porcelaineblue. Riley and Melania are the property of Midnight Insanity. _

_**Summary: **__Takes place in an entirely alternate universe. A vampire with a chip on her shoulder and little bit of a suicidal god complex plots to take out the Lord of the Night, only to find out that her venture is definitely more complicated than she originally believed. Warnings: Dark Themes._

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Prologue

The story you are about to read is not a fairy tale, despite how much it might sound like one.

When you think about it, it has all the generic plot elements that would make it one, except for the fact that it's far from happy. There's the ever-present beautiful blonde heroin, the handsome prince, the castle and all the monsters that you could dream about. There might even be a moral to the story, as is usual with fairytales.

But if the mothers of the world begin to tell this tale to their children at bedtime in a bid to quiet them, lull them to sleep with the sound of their voices as they recount the gruesome, terrible details, it means I've either completely failed in what I set out to do – or mankind has become a cesspool of bacteria which thrive on the misery and misfortune of others.

Stories never have a definite beginning; they have a point where they start, but there are always events leading up to it which steal it's true commencement and turn it into merely a continuation, a plot point, a venue to weave the tale along. This beginning is really more the middle and it starts with a child.

Don't they all?

But this child was perfect; the smallest, most perfect human being that could ever have existed. Ten tiny fingers, ten tiny toes. Skin like silk, expressive blue eyes and the few strands of hair that she had were a fuzzy golden down.

A new life, completely innocent – and totally ignorant of the six hour labor she put me through. As I held her that day, with my husband standing by my hospital bed and smiling down with the befuddled, not-quite-sure-what-to-make-of-this-new-feeling expression on his face, I felt what all new mothers feel: the overwhelming protectiveness that promises to viciously destroy anything that threatens our young.

I remember every single smile that day, every family member's congratulation, every comforting touch and good luck wish. I wasn't really paying attention to them, now that I think about it – I was more interested in my daughter, with her bright eyes and perfect dimpled cheeks and rosy lips – but I guess somehow they all made an impression on me, because it's all still there. The happiness in the room was a disarming thing.

It was pure bliss, plain and simple.

For two days, even though I was trapped in the hospital by follow-up tests and recovery from the C-section, nothing could have been more perfect. She couldn't have been more perfect. He sometimes left me, always returning with flowers. People I knew, people I didn't know, appeared to welcome the baby, praising it as the people had praised the miracle child born in Bethlehem two thousand years earlier.

When we left the hospital we were preoccupied, talking and dreaming of the life we were going to start together, about the new things we would discover – the rumors we'd heard, the secret joys we couldn't wait to experience. About how we were looking forward to hearing the first words from those cherry lips and watch her first steps from dainty feet. When we put her in the car seat, she was so tiny that she was almost lost in the many folds of the blankets and infant clothing.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Even in the split second when the other car smashed into the side of the van, moment before we were flipped into the ditch, even though I couldn't see her, I knew she had been completely perfect and peaceful.

I don't remember much of that day. Even if I could, I don't want to. Waking up in the place I had just left, I knew. I didn't need to see the sad faces or hear my husband tell me in a low, dead voice as he held my hand, trying to numb the blow, that the drunk driver in the other car had plowed into the side with the baby in it. The constricting feeling in my chest told me everything.

It had been a painless death. She hadn't suffered.

I think I did something terrible that day, because I can only feel pain and suffering when I think about it, and then an empty darkness that swallows everything. They needed to sedate me to keep me from deepening my injuries.

Everything was quiet after that. Words held no meaning for me, couldn't express the enormity of the sensations that ruled every conscious and unconscious thought. My husbands voice rarely reached me. Alone in a dark room, I watched on the television as the drunk driver was given a mere hundred hours of community service and threw a picture frame at his face, watching with numb suffering as the glass shattered, sending sparks and fragments all over the room, spraying from the massive hole in the screen.

I slept, but might as well have not. In every dream, she was there. I'd cry and scream her name, but she didn't move. I would try to pick her up, but my daughter was always out of reach and then I'd be shaken awake by my husband. And then came the endless sobbing into his arms until my eyes were burning and the tears didn't come any longer.

My family took us in after that, just until we got back on our feet. I didn't notice. One home was the same as the other, because I was dead inside all the same.

They came in the night.

I can still hear the screams of my parents and brother from outside my room. I thought the house was on fire, and wanted to burn with it, but my husband came to get me. He pulled me from my room just in time for me to see my sister's bloody corpse thrown into the wall opposite us, gasping for breath through the gash in her throat.

At first, I thought it was a joke. Some kind hoax, a game.

When he told me to hide, I refused, telling him I just wanted to go back to bed. When I didn't listen, he dragged me downstairs to the basement and locked me in the cellar. I vaguely remember trying to escape through the window, but it was too small.

Not small enough to hide what was happening outside.

I watched them kill him, drinking his blood from wounds in his face and wrists before they left him to rot in the street, staining the snow red. My brother's screams remained ringing in my ears for the next day, until the investigators found me.

There were no feelings then. No emotion attached to any thought. When they told me that my entire family was gone – the grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins – it didn't register. They wanted to know if anyone had a grudge against my family and all I could wonder was why they hadn't taken me as well.

No answer, no comment.

They sent me to a mental institution, one with a deceptively happy and upbeat name, where they told me I was dealing with trauma but were afraid I'd try to kill myself. Never mind that I was already dead inside, a hollow shell. Never mind that I didn't have the energy.

I don't know how long I stayed there, but I knew that I was dying. I couldn't eat and I'd lost my voice from disuse. Drifting in and out of reality, not knowing whether I was awake or dreaming, I waited to die. I knew it was coming. They knew it was coming. Why stop the inevitable?

In one dream I actually stood and left my room, drifting through the locked doors and windows with ease, as though I had walked through the walls. No one paid any attention to the ghost. Maybe they didn't see me. No one even noticed me walk out of the facility, bare feet padding across cold concrete. I stepped on something and my feet bled, leading a track after me, but it didn't matter. There was a graveyard nearby where the patients who never got better and whose families didn't want them were buried. Forgotten.

I knew he was there before I even heard the footfalls. There was a vague indication that I should do something, but I didn't move or try to fight back when he took hold of me. There was pain somewhere and everywhere and I felt blood seeping down over my shoulders and neck cavity.

And then he drew back.

As he looked at me, I realized it wasn't a dream.

I still didn't fight.

"_Poor child_," he whispered to me, the same deadened whisper that leaves give off only ten times as imposing. _"You have suffered so much…and you're thirst for revenge is unquenched, poisoning you from the inside out."_ I waited, wanting him to leave me to die. _"I can offer you the means to achieve it."_

I didn't hear him at first, until he turned me head towards him and stared down at me.

And for the first time in months, I was awake. I felt pain all over and felt completely aware of myself, of the blood that had stained the starched white smock from the ward, winding down my legs. I was standing, but only because he was supporting me. I would be dead in a few seconds from blood loss, which was already making me light headed. _"You want revenge against those that took your family. I want revenge against those that took me from mine. Our goal is mutual."_

I was numb. I was falling, down the dark corridor, away from the echoing voice.

"_You need only say so."_

What was he saying?

Revenge.

My baby, so perfect in the first minutes of life, crying as the first breath of air entered her lungs. My husband as he held me weeping in his arms, letting me pour out my soul to him, my grief making my heart burn like it had been placed in a vat of led. My family…was I really alone now?

I was dead now too, looking down at the poor broken woman and laughing at her.

"_We are never alone."_

Revenge.

Pain and cold engulfed me and I cried out.

Please.

There was no answer as he leaned into me.

Deeper and deeper…down. My heart slowed. The light rose above me and I was drawn to it, feeling warmth everywhere. But I turned away from it, turning towards the cold void. I didn't deserve the warmth until I made amends. As I did I saw flashes of him, of his life, flowing through my veins and mind in pictures and sensations. I tasted the blood on my lips. It didn't have the taste of ambrosia I would have thought it did. It was still the salty, metallic taste of blood. It ran down my throat and I felt my heart begin to beat as fast as though I had been running, running to escape something. Faster and faster and suddenly it felt like it exploded and I screamed.

As I writhed on the cold stone of some old man's grave, he watched. In my mind I could see my family's deaths over and over, tears cursing down my face. I gripped the ground beneath me in pain, scraping my fingers on the stone, bloodying them and tearing the nails off two.

And then it was over.

Like my parents had done for me as a child, he helped me take my first steps. I knew and understood immediately what I was. I would know no end and feed upon others. He stripped me of my bloodied gown and we left. My nakedness didn't bother me – in fact, as important as it had been when I lived, that's how trivial it became.

And then he stole me away to the hidden chambers beneath, finalizing my death and descent in the nightly world that would become my eternal hell.

Three days later, the driver that had started everything was found brutally murdered in his bed, covered in blood.

And that's how my story begins. What happened next, though...

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TBC 


	2. Chapter One

_**Aeternum Vale – Farewell Forever**  
By KuriQuinn_

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"Happy New Year's."

She shrugged at the happy couple that passed her, not really acknowledging their presence. No doubt they were on their way to some office party somewhere and utterly insulted by her lack of response, but that didn't matter. Throughout the streets and strips were the echoes of festivities and celebration. She had already been invited to join two different strangers, which she had spurned with a mere glance.

If she had chosen to, she could have remained unseen, a preternatural movement in the shadows of mortal ken, but it wasn't in her style. It was easier to hunt in plain sight, to blend into the surroundings and vigorous life than to be hidden in the shadows, where anyone might look for her. Normally she preferred it that way. But tonight was different.

Tonight's prey was a lot harder to keep track of then the average vampire.

The back alley streets were empty, strewn with shops that were closed and dark. The shadows more often than not cast by whatever Christmas decorations that were still up at the time painted strange, warped imaged on the walls opposite them. People mulled about everywhere on the main streets, but in the back, it was as silent as a cemetery. A few corner restaurants and shops were open, but only if they had to be.

No one liked to be open this late. It invited trouble.

She walked the lone corridor between the back of a shopping mall and a porn store, the darkness sweeping her up within it as she moved down her path. Although a shadow, her form seemed to exude the only feeling of life in the entire strip of the alleyway.

To the mortal eye, she looked no different from anyone else. At first glance, anyhow. Upon closer inspection for any length of time, the subtle differences in her looks were evident. For example, how her skin seemed to radiate like a cold marble, every wrinkle that had existed before smoothing over with every new year. Or how her eyes were glassy, bright as though from unshed tears,

She was dressed casually – albeit completely black – a pair of pants and a long, sleek-looking leather coat to fight off the cold. But to those whom she hunted, there were the delicate differences that only they could have seen – such as the barely perceptible bulges in the coat where her weapons were stashed or the scent of old blood which coated various parts of the material, which had been constructed to keep her movements easy.

Seventy-five years had passed since that night so long ago when she had been reborn as an immortal, but she remembered each and every day as though she was reliving them one by one. Time was relevant to her, every instant happening simultaneously with only the future barred from her minds seeking eye. She remembered the people, the places and the traditions changing ever so little over the years until they had morphed into practices completely different from what they were that very night as she stalked the streets.

Mortals did not – could not see it; for them, traditions repeated themselves over and over – that was the essence of their meaning. But as an immortal looking in on it all, like the casual observer through a shops' window, she saw the differences. Much like she watched the norm change, day in, day out.

Dante had told her many things after he made her. Some of them hadn't even needed words.

He had not made her to be his companion, but rather his successor, he had said. He was planning to leave the world for eternity and because every vampire was limited to creating only one fledgling, he had been searching for years until he found her. His name hadn't been Dante – he had chosen that name for himself more than two millennia earlier, upon his rebirth.

"It means to endure," he had told her in his simple, quiet way. And from what she had seen in his mind, he had endured more than any human should have. He had watched barbarians during the sack of Rome murder his family, watched them torture and kill his sons, rape and murder his wife and daughters. He had been ordered to dig his own grave before they savagely speared him and left him to die, piling the burning carcasses of his loved ones around him. The one that had made him, a wrinkled and grizzled creature, had come upon him dying and, amazed by his will to survive even two days after the fires went out and he had been wounded, saved his life.

And forced him to watch his city, his empire, burn before him.

Dante was one of the oldest, excepting the Prince and his court, which had lived long before the ancient Egyptians set foot near the Nile or before the Sumerians built the ziggurats. Long before writing and speaking had been thought of. Their years allowed them the luxury of walking in the daylight where others couldn't and it was said that they were the only true immortals among vampires.

When she was made, he told her immediately that she was an abomination. The Lord of the Night had laws that if any vampire that had lived to see a millennium created a fledgling, they would be hunted down and destroyed. The power of ancient blood was said to corrupt the untrained, giving them more strength than they should have been gifted with – and it would only increase with every passing year. And so she walked the world for nearly three-quarters of a century, never looking a day past the age of twenty-five; young, but old. The youngest living vampire to have been created by an Ancient.

Any others, she and Dante had destroyed immediately.

For fifty years, he had trained her. He taught her to block prying minds from her thoughts – how to disguise her movements, how to blend in with the shadows, how to drink without spilling a drop of blood, how to hide herself from the sun and discovery…

Because of her sire, she had the strength to take it all in. She could handle the blows he dealt her, even when he used all of his strength. She'd had her spine shattered and her skull crushed in on a number of occasions, but continued to fight. Even then he was impatient, saying she wasn't healing fast enough or that her movements were sloppy.

Only when she completely mastered everything he taught her had he brought her hunting. They sought out the covenants of creatures that feated on the innocent and guilty alike, the ones that destroyed families and children, those without protectors. As a rule, they fed only on the immortal, never those that Dante assured her they were protecting.

When he died, it had been by her hands. A final test. He had refused to simply lie in the sun and let himself turn to an ashen statue, or stabbed through the heart by a splinter and left to rot. He was a stoic, a true warrior – he believed in honor at death, like many at his time had believed.

The duel lasted an entire night, almost into the morning when the rays were peaking over the horizon. Both had come close to winning the fight many times, but as time became harder to come by, she beheaded him and drank his blood until there was no more.

And so she stood, watching the sun from the door of her hideaway, her heart set on the final and eternal revenge she had been promised.

That morning before she laid herself to rest and waited for the evening, she renounced her name, becoming the hunter.

Which brought her to her business on this night.

Times were dark now. The past generations had envisioned the future as a neo Golden Age, with the rise of technology and intelligence paving the way to an even brighter future. A revolution of culture and society. But all there was, was the dark.

Pollution had altered the state of the environment drastically, staining the air and sky. The day seemed shorter with the smog that blocked out the sun. Day appeared to become night, where the creatures of darkness could walk and parade themselves into the wee hours of the morning and late hours of the afternoon. They were able to feed more.

And she was obligated to kill more.

For twenty-four years, she had searched for the Prince, only to be thwarted by his many loyal subjects and her own ignorance as to where he resided. Dante's revelation to her that his blood would make her strong enough to destroy the others drove her on.

In those many years she had not changed. Not by much, anyhow. She had made the discovery in her early years with Dante that vampires were not the dead that they had been made out to be by books and media. Their hearts still beat, pumping blood all through their bodies and they breathed and moved just as humans, although perhaps faster. The only difference was that they were no longer humans. They lived, but it was not life. They were immortal at the cost of the daylight hours and at the cost of innocence. They did not eat or drink, but murdered for the blood of others. These were the prices of immortality.

Her thick blond hair was just as it had been before her change. It grew, just as her nails did…or her skin when it was damaged. Her senses and speed were more attune and her brown eyed turned black when she was angered, hungered or making a kill.

Dante had told her that vampire eyes never turned black. It was obviously a human trait left from her life.

What life.

A shout to her left broke out and she regarded the house coldly, for a moment envying and hating the happiness within.

Happiness never lasted.

The wind changed and she suddenly smelled the scent of her chosen prey that night. She turned lazily. He was five blocks away. She had been stalking him for eight nights now. He was an Ancient, of the Prince's court. Perhaps as old as Dante had been.

In her minds eyes she watched him stalk into the home of a large family that sat in the basement, drinking to the New Year. They didn't know that they were about to become a demons meal.

She moved then, to the small suburban home. Because of the preternatural speed she stood at the house in seconds, now allowing her presence to be known. In the house she felt him pause, searching her mind; fear and excitement thrilling through him.

And he was suddenly in front of her, his eyes gleaming hungrily. He could sense the blood of the other immortals pulsing through her, as well as he could see her thoughts and emotions that she allowed to slip through her mental block. His smirk widened.

He was taller than her by a head and larger in bulk. He looked to be of Slavic descent with blond hair and eyes red with hunger. When he spoke, his voice was low and accented, echoing and not of this world.

"For a Young One, you are powerful," his voice was quiet, at a pitch that only an immortal could hear. "Many have died by your hands, I see, but you've fooled yourself when you think you could take me, child of the outcast Dante."

She didn't answer him, but to cock her head to one side and smirk.

"Eager are we, traitor?" he taunted, looking over her form again. "Revenge will never be yours, after I'm through with you. Maybe I'll also learn to cloak my scent as you have done. I must say, I've never seen that trick before…"

"Keep talking," she prompted, baring her sharpened eye-teeth. It always annoyed her that her prey liked to make conversation. Did they think it would dissuade her or something? He laughed and in a moment had slivered through the air, until he was behind her and had his arm around her throat in a choke hold.

"Perhaps I should try even less and you can die with honor," he said pleasantly, his mouth inches from her neck. With a growl she jutted her elbow backward, but he read her mind, stopping her hand and grasping it strongly, his nails plunging into her skin. The scent of blood mixed with the cold night air and she could feel the pinpricks of snow meeting the rivulets of blood. "Or maybe I'll be merciful and kill you quickly."

His grip on her throat and her eyes clouded over. She felt his rasping chuckle and warmth above the pulse in her neck as his open mouth hovered there. "I can feel it. You're paralyzed with fear."

The corner of her mouth quirked upward ever so slightly and she reached up, deliberate, with her free hand, fixing her finger tips firmly on the back of his head, all but digging into his skull as she flipped him over her head.

He still held her as he flew over, yelling in pain and confusion. They landed on the ground seconds later, with such force that the pavement shattered beneath them, creating a crater underneath their bodies. The other growled in pain and she felt anger radiating beneath her as his grip on her lessened. Taking this as her cue, she unsheathed the knife at her hip and plunged it into the flesh beneath her.

He screamed and shoved her off, propelling her into the air. She maneuvered herself to land on her feet, her arches curving to fit her boot as she wobbled a little.

When she looked up, he was standing, his left leg bent in mild pain from the blade puncturing his thigh.

"Lovely trick," he said, smiling cruelly and in a way to tell her play time was over. He bent down and jerked it out of him, letting the blood spill forth. She smelled the ancient blood as it fell to the ground, ensnaring her senses and the hunger. "I may not be able to read your intent, child, but my speed will more than make up for it."

She felt his rage at her and although she could interpret his moves from his mind, she couldn't react before he appeared before her and launched her backwards, crushing her into a nearby parked car with an explosion of sound.

Glass and twisted steal scraped her cheeks and bare shoulders as she was flung into the upholstery. Before she had time to even find her feet again, he had caught her by the shoulders and pulled her with him, bringing her high in the air and away from the prying eyes of those who were celebrating, wrenching her shoulders in their sockets.

As the ancient one began to descend somewhere near Central Park, she swung upwards and kneed him in the face, using his fleeting lapse to flip him over in such a way that acted as a buffer between her and the pavement. The landed and she heard the jarring of his ribs.

They had hardly landed when he had picked her up and pitched her into a tree, pinning her there with the dagger she had used to stab him. She gasped in surprised at the sudden sharp pain and stared down out at the weapon buried in her abdomen. She could feel his blood from the knife mingling with her own as the wound began to repair itself with supernatural speed. He was there before she could rip it out, hauling back his hand to hit her.

As quick as she could, she caught his hand before it crushed her face, feeling blood in her mouth from the wound below. Growling, she kicked out, sending him into the street again and coldly pulled the knife out of her body with a twist. Warm blood splattered down her front and to the floor.

The moonlight reflected in her red eyes and she flung the knife at him, putting all her weight into pinning his shoulder to the wall of a store. In several swift movements, she had thrown the razor discs from her belt, watching without feeling as they embedded themselves into various placed in his chest and one between the finger and thumb of his left hand.

"Tell me about the prince," she ordered, taking her time in coming towards him, watching him struggle to catch his breath and attempt to escape. With a bellow like a wounded animal he swung at her with the right arm, tearing his shoulder further. She caught it and twisted it backward, ignoring the sharp crack of his breaking wrist. "Tell me."

"Kill me and you'll never know, outcast," he rasped.

"I have no intention of killing you…yet," she replied. "There's only so much that one take, even an Old One like you."

He spat at her feet and her eyes narrowed. With a quick movement, she shoved all of the discs deeper into his body.

"Tell me where he is," she said evenly.

He hissed in response.

"I know that you know. You're one of his right hand men, Sergei," she continued, flexing her sharp-nailed fingers before him. "You know all the things about the court. About his plans…everything."

"I can wait you out," he winced. "The longer you talk, the faster I heal."

She laughed, a sinister single note, "You mean the faster you die."

Her hand working at a barely perceptible speed, she shoved cupped her fingers and thrust her hand suddenly into his chest, ripping through flesh and bone to grasp the tender muscles of his heart. The scream of pain that erupted from her prey was louder than any that she had heard that night, and with it came the knowledge that he was broken.

"Do you see?" she purred, leaning close. "You've given in to the pain…you're blood will tell me anything I need to know now…"

His eyes widened, but she didn't see anything else past the haze of bloodlust that had filled her senses as she sunk her teeth into his jugular vein, ripping through the skin of his throat as the hot blood of this ancient poured down her throat.

Image after image of his life lodged itself in her mind, but she pushed them aside as though they were worthless trash; she searched through the memories as she drank, lazily fighting back his arm as he tried to push her from his body in frantic, pained spurts. The heart in her hands began to beat extremely fast as the fear took hold and she penetrated deeper within for what she was searching for.

_'Call out all of them…it shall be a celebration of mass proportion…two thousand years of our rule…'_

The heart of the Old One had returned to its old pace, beginning to slow as death overtook it.

_'…I will welcome the masses…shall rule for eternity…supreme species…shall find my match…'_

'Tell me all you're secrets,' she told him in her mind, echoing a soothing deception. 'Or else everything you lived for will be lost…'

Memories filled her senses and she took them into her herself, feeling as his ancient blood settled in her own veins. She could feel herself getting stronger, supporting the weakening body beneath her with more ease than she had had before.

_'In the third week of the month of Janus…'_

All he knew emptied into her and she felt him finally give in to her.

"Is that so?" she asked, pulling away from the ancient, her lips stained with his blood as he sagged, the weapons the only thing holding him up. "Well…I guess I should be on my way to Britain now."

He gazed at her with drooping, uncomprehending eyes as she turned away from his torn body and began to walk away. He moaned and she looked back at him as though he were merely an afterthought.

With an uncaring shrug she dug into her pocket and pulled out the lighter, flicking it open so that the flame danced before her eyes. It created a brown patch of skin on her thumb before she launched it at him, turning her back as the flames burned the body in seconds, his last dying cry echoing in the empty streets.

A shop-owner poked his head out of his shop to see what all the commotion was, but everything was empty, save the wall nearby where a lighter lay closed on its side in front of a large burn stain on the wall.

* * *

TBC 


	3. Chapter Two

_**Aeternum Vale – Farewell Forever**  
By KuriQuinn_

* * *

She gazed up at the manor warily, her eyes taking in the dark structure looming before her with a type of wonder that even her hatred of vampires could not dispel. Its size made it seem like it could only be a castle or maybe a monastery, it's masonry a blur of Gothic and Romanesque that became more imposing in the full moonlight. The stones and moss that crept up the sides added to its mysterious and lonely aura, down to the cobble stone path that wound down to where the guests were arriving.

The place streamed with activity, almost like a mortal gala, one which rivaled the British royal family's outings. Some arrived in a cars, coaches and even in one ostentatious case, a horse drawn carriage. All of them were dressed stylishly for the occasion, in groups that ranged from one to eight. She too was dressed to blend with these creatures, in a burgundy velvet dress, complimented by a black bodice that defined her already curvaceous form. A choker of black Alaskan diamonds, surrounded by rhinestones adorned her neck and her hair had been twisted elegantly behind her head. The vampire to whom it belonged had been unfortunate enough to come across her path on her way to the gala.

She felt somewhat uneasy around all these vampires, although she was careful to mask such thoughts in a way that only the unneeded, false information could be read by the other blood drinkers. Dante had told her once that one of the reasons he had chosen her was because he couldn't read her thoughts – and it was that which also made her stand out. In fact, it was an effort on her part to force the emotions and images through whatever barrier it was that her mind created naturally.

She heard whispering and glanced at the group nearby out of the corner of her eye. Five women, two men. An easy fight, if she were to try, she thought, but knew that would never do. They were eyeing her condescendingly, whispering once in while to each other in voices which were louder than a mortal child's cry. She gritted her teeth, tightening her fists and trying to keep calm enough not to begin any type of slaughter. There had been humans like this, she remembered suddenly, when she was a child.

"Just ignore them," a rich, sly voice said. It send shivers down her spine as she turned around. "They're only the regulars that are present at every function. They believe they are above all others they haven't seen before."

The owner of the voice was a vision, she thought, unable to keep the awe from her mind. He was taller than her by a head, his pale skin offset by his gleaming amber eyes. Long raven hair was bound, trailing down his back in an elegant queue and the rich suit he wore reminded her of the ancient robes the Chinese Emperors had worn, only it had been tailored to fit in with this century's movement requirements.

"I see," she replied, fixing her velvet evening gloves as a means of keeping herself occupied. This vampire was an old one. Very old. From his mind, she understood that he came from one of the old Asian tribes, long before the time of the mythical Xiu dynasty. He was the oldest she had ever met to date and wondered, perhaps with the barest twinge of mortal nerves, if he might be able to penetrate the barrier she had upon her mind.

No, he couldn't. Dante had told her so, and she trusted his memory.

"You are quite young," he commented, obviously reading her mind and finding only the things she didn't much guard. "I guess I must seem extremely old to you. A geezer, as they say in mortal terms."

She allowed a hesitant smile to appear on her face.

"Allow me to escort you in, Madam," he said, grinning. His long eye teeth poked out from beneath his lips. "I would hate for my partner for the night to feel left out…"

"I'm honored that you should choose me as you're partner for the evening," she said, her voice as humble as she could make it. "However, sir – "

"Raymond," he corrected. "Or Ray. It's just less of a bother."

"Ray," she allowed. "I'm afraid it would only be tonight that I could be your guest."

"Why ever…oh," he looked disappointed for a moment, before perking up again. Her intent was in her mind, to become one of the cloistered women who vied for the attentions of the Prince. Such an opportunity was impossible to pass up. "Such a petty cause doesn't become a lady such as yourself. However... I'm happy to just bask in your beauty this night."

She pretended to blush and looked away as though embarrassed. She wanted to get in already, why was he stalling with her?

It had been so long since she had been flirted with or any male had shown her attention such as what the ancient one was lavishing on her at the moment that she didn't know how to react to it. Not even Dante had pursued her in the seductive way that was custom of most vampires to their prey.

"Come, you must be getting cold, er…"

He looked at her expectantly and for a moment she was confused before she realized he was waiting for her name.

"Chaya," she replied, using her mortal name. The word seemed strange upon her tongue, like tasting a long forgotten flavor.

"Chaya," he replied, his eyes twinkling. "What a lovely, but ironic name…" She smiled grimly. "Anyhow, the weather in this blasted country is horrible. It's been raining ever since we got here and tonight's the first clear night."

He chuckled as she took his hand and led her up the cobblestone path and through the wrought iron gates of the estate.

The two of them joined the throngs of elegantly dressed males and females towards the entrance of the manner. She followed her escort up the stairs and into the beautifully gilded foyer of the manner. It was decorated in dark colors of red and brown, many of the objects within it antiques in great shape. It reminded Chaya of a great parlor or sitting room from the sixteenth century, were it not for the door in the middle that had been severed in half. Behind it, what had obviously once been a closet or resting room for the servants, was now a room filled from top to bottom with weapons of every kind. Rifles, knives, swords…everything.

To her surprise and mixed alarm, Ray led her right to it

"What's this?" she asked him in confusion.

"Weapons check," he replied, almost absently. He wasn't looking at her, but past her. "I'll be right back, there's something I have to see to. Wait for me?"

Before she could reply, the ancient one had strode off, disappearing into the elegantly dressed crowd.

"Weapons check?" she repeated incredulously.

"Tha's right, don' make the mistake of thinkin' you're the only one that's got 'em," a sharp voice answered her, and she turned to the vampire that leaned against the counter that separated the fine parlor from the weapons room behind. "We all got to defend ourselves these days, what with tha' psycho vamp out there killin' everyone she can git her hands on."

The vampire was a Century Child, one who had seen perhaps six hundred. She was shorter then Chaya by a few inches with long silver hair that hid purple shading. Amethyst eyes peered out from under unruly bangs that hid a piercing in her right eyebrow and her hair was piled behind her carelessly, as though she had been ordered to put it up but she was protesting by having it messy. Unlike the other guests, she was dressed in street clothing. Black cargo pants with a belt made of chains and leather and a black T-shirt that showed off her curves but didn't hide the silver tattoo of a dragon curving from her stomach to her back.

"And who are you?" she asked coldly.

"No need to get your panties in a bunch, I'm the 'ead of security for the prince," the other woman said. "Name's Riley."

"Head of security?" Chaya echoed. "How does that work?"

"You must have been living in a cave for the past century," Riley rolled her eyes. "Anyway, no time for that tonight. Maybe I'll let you in on it all some other night. It's opening night tonight an' he doesn't want his guests to be bored stiff wi' details. So I'll be havin' your weapons---and I know you have 'em, other wise you wouldn't be stalling---and then you'll be off wi' you're ancient sweetheart over there…"

She stared at the other female for a few moments, before leaning down and unwrapping her weapon holders from around her thighs and ankles. With a challenging glance, she handed Riley the three throwing knives, silenced revolver and small vile of acid spray.

"You trainin' to be in the V-Forces?" Riley raised the pierced brow as she filled out a small form and then handed it over to Chaya. "Not that I imagine you'd have a hard time, you know, ya seem strong, but man oh man…"

"Trust me, being in the princes private army is the last thing on my mind," she replied quietly as she signed the sheet and tossed it back to Riley. "Like you said, we're all on alert, aren't we?"

She felt Ray return to her side and looked up, allowing him to see an encouraging smile on her face.

"Shall we?" he grinned. "I do believe I had asked for a dance."

"I guess my card's full for the night then," she said. He laughed quietly and turned her away from the weapons check, his hand on the small of her back.

"See you Riles," he called good-naturedly back at the vampire who nodded simply before attending to the business of other guests.

She smirked subconsciously at the fact that she still had the poisoned dagger hidden in the front part of her corset, sheathed by a small leather scabbard that masked its scent unusually well. It was flat and went unnoticed among the black ties that hid it.

When they had entered the large entrance hall, splendidly decorated with many Renaissance paintings that she was sure were real, he leaned down further. "So. All I know of you is that you're name is Chaya and that you are an American, among other non-important things. You have an amazing mental shield."

"I don't trust easily," she replied nonchalantly. "Trust leads to betrayal. Betrayal leads to anger. Anger to hatred and violence."

"You sound like an ad for _Star Wars._"

She couldn't help the chuckle which escaped her. "You know, I hated that film when I was alive. But some of it does make sense."

"Which parts?"

"Hm…all of them, I guess," she decided. He laughed at that, good natured, casual. The topic was dropped just as easily as it had been broached and they entered the ballroom.

It was a large area, roughly the size of a football field with finely decorated balconies above at either sides. An orchestra of vampires played from one end and the other held an assembled group of chairs that she decided must be for the Prince to watch the proceedings of his gala. Above the chairs was a shield that depicted the eye of a vampyre surrounded by blood of humans. In Latin above it was written '_aut__vincere__aut__mori__'_ – either to conquer or to die. Strangely appropriate.

"Come, dance with me," Ray's grip on her hand tightened for a moment and then he pulled her off to the dance floor, where many stylishly graceful couples already danced. Those that didn't dance stood around the floor in groups, sipping blood from wine glasses. She could tell by the scent that the blood was fresh and mixed with champagne to give it a more refined taste. Others wandered through the halls of the great castle, admiring the paintings or stealing off for a romantic interlude.

As Ray led her around the floor, twirling her about in a fluid waltz, she looked over his shoulder, her keen eyes taking in the many vampires that graced the entrances and exits. These were dressed not as elegantly, but not in the street clothing that the weapons check vampire had. The measures that had been taken to protect the Prince only seemed minimal, but she knew that many of those that seemed to be guests were undercover guards. It was easy to tell, first in the alert manner in which they carried themselves, also with their thoughts which she broke through easily as she reached out for knowledge.

As far as she could calculate, there were far more guards here than she had earlier anticipated, which might possibly hinder her plans.

"You seem awfully quiet," her dance partner said lightly. "Mind somewhere else, maybe?"

"I'm looking for the Prince," she replied, using her earlier lie to pacify this creatures thirst for knowledge.

Again, he seemed to give off an air of being disappointed but covered it up. Any other time she would have attempted to pacify his unhappy emotions, but what she was trying to do was too important.

The orchestra stopped playing all of a sudden and a lone figure stood, blowing into his trumpet to announce the arrival. All movement stopped in the halls and the guests looked up towards the galleries where a procession was filing into the balcony that she had seen earlier. Two vampires, one a tall pale one with red hair, the other a hard looking one with steely blue eyes, walked before the Prince, before settling on either side of him as he approached the balcony. His entourage stood behind him, including only one woman that was more finely dressed than even the Prince.

"Kai always did know how to make an entrance," Ray whispered in her ear, but she was past listening to her partner. Her eyes were riveted on the Prince, cold creeping up her spine as she finally set eyes on the one she had been hunting since the day of her family's death.

He did not disappoint the image that she had set up in her mind, but went beyond it. He was tall, not as tall as the redheaded vampire, but still impressive, and muscular beneath the black lace shirt that opened to reveal the top of his toned chest. On any other, his shirt would have seemed feminine, but with his muscular build and pale white skin that gave off an ethereal glare, it just magnified his presence. Eyes that were permanently blood red stared out at every guest he could see, framed by slate-colored hair that had been carelessly fixed to keep it out of his eyes.

The whispers and movement stopped as he leaned forward, his hands gripping the marble railing of the balcony. She noticed thanks to her keen eyes that he wore silver rings on his fingers, whose nails had been painted a drowning black.

"Welcome, my children," he said, his voice at a normal tone although it echoed throughout the hall. "It heartens me to see the sheer number of you that have returned as I have so wished. It has been many years since such a gathering has been called, although I wish it were merely to celebrate the two thousand years it's been since the last celebration, or the ten thousand years that it has been since I first came to walk the earth. But there are more serious matters that concern all of our lives. However, tonight is not the night that we'll worry about such things. Enjoy this night as you would the grandest celebration of the times…but in the coming days, be ready to pass judgment."

There was confused silence as he retreated from the balcony and sat down. His entourage did the same, except for the two vampire that had come before him. They stood on either side of the balcony, searching out the faces of the crowd.

"What does he mean by that?" she asked as the orchestra began to play again, a spirited gavotte.

"For once…I have no idea," Ray said as he pulled her close to him again and entreated her to dance. "Kai's on about six different subjects at once. I think being this old is starting to affect him."

"You know him?"

"Of course I know him," Ray replied carelessly. "He _made_ me."

Chaya would have fallen over in surprise had Ray not been spinning her around the floor.

She hadn't even known! Usually she could read the minds of other vampires and discern their lineage, but she hadn't even been able to come close with Ray. It was obvious that the old ones were powerful enough to cloak their origins, although she felt sure that it had been the prince that cloaked it from Ray's mind.

The night passed quickly, in a whirl of dancing and music. The clock chimed midnight and past as the guests became louder and more at ease with one another. The Prince and his entourage did not move the entire night, and she was sure he was watching each guest, delving into their minds individually to search for something that only he knew.

At one point Ray left her and she was pulled into the arms of another vampire, a redhead with a loud laugh and an accent that suggested he was Scottish. He asked her questions that she ignored and moments later left her again. Ray was next to her, handing her a glass of the blood champagne and before she thought she found herself sipping it thoughtfully, forgetting that it was the blood of a human.

It warmed her tongue and sent a burning sensation from her head to her toes, warming her cold body. Ray grinned at her and she smiled back, until suddenly the warmth was gone and there was a piercing cold in her body. Her head hurt suddenly, as though someone had hit her. Cold hands seemed to take a hold of her brain and she dropped the glass, barely noticing the shattering glass or the blood spilling over her feet and dress.

Someone was prying into her mind and trying to fight against her mind shield.

She staggered, grasping outward to Ray to steady herself. He was talking to her, trying to figure out what was happening, but she couldn't concentrate. There were faces spinning around her and she closed her eyes to concentrate on the foreigner in her mind, shutting him out.

There was an angry hiss from somewhere as his efforts were blocked.

'_Skoro__, mo __dorogoye__.'_

Her mind cleared and she found herself staring into the crimson eyes of the Prince himself before he disappeared back into the rooms beyond the balcony.

"Are you alright?" Ray asked, squeezing her hands tightly to bring her back. She looked at him, a confused look upon her face as she tried to figure out what he was talking about. When she did she blinked and shook her head.

"I'm fine," she replied. "I just…I never really took to alcohol. A mortal habit, I'm afraid."

"Really?" he looked surprised. "Never? In all the years you've been a blood drinker?"

"My sire told me never to mix substances," she joked coolly, reverting back to her former, abrupt nature. "What time is it?"

"Nearly five a.m.," Ray said quietly. "Soon time for all those that seek Kai's hand to enter the women's wing. We still have a little time for ourselves, though…"

She saw the look he was giving her and ignored it.

"I wish to retire earlier," she replied. "Can you show me to where the other women are?"

Now there was no mistaking the disappointed look in Ray's eyes, even though he led her into a side hall where other women were going off. A gilded door separated what must have been the cloistered quarters, because when someone went in, she didn't return outside of it.

She began towards it, but Ray pulled her back, leaning in close to her face, his finger tilting her chin upwards.

"Can I not have a kiss to remember our evening together?" he asked, his voice husky and his eyes dark molten amber.

"If you must," she replied uncaringly, barely flinching as he leaned into her and crushed his lips against her own. She looked off around her, studying the door as he deepened the kiss, his long canines grazing her tongue, thankfully not drawing a drop of blood. His hands wandered up her back and massaged her waist, but when she didn't respond, he finally pulled away.

His entire demeanor was cooler than she had seen the entire night, and he bowed to her stiffly.

"Sleep well, my lady," he said, backing away from her and then stalking from the hall. She watched him leave, before walking towards the gilded door and opening it.

Sleep. Sleep hadn't come to her in fifty years, why would it come to her now?

* * *

TBC 


	4. Chapter Three

_**Aeternum Vale – Farewell Forever**  
By KuriQuinn_

* * *

She was more surprised than ever when she came through the gilded door. The fine furnishings of the halls and rooms before had seemed so elaborate. But it was like walking from the colorful Renaissance back into the Dark Ages. The hallways and doors were made of heavy stone, the floor with material not unlike the cobblestones that had made up the path leading up to the manor.

Torches lined the walls above steel doors that looked more like prison cell gates than anything else. A cold draft blew through the corridors.

She looked right and left, searching through the empty hallways for where all the other female vampyres had disappeared to, but the place was more silent than a grave.

"Are you looking for lodgings?"

She jumped and whirled around, nearly unsheathing the dagger at the threat of danger.

The one that had surprised her was an old one, although she looked no older than fifteen. Her brown hair was curled about her and mahogany eyes stared out at her. She was not dressed as though she had come to the gala, but as a lesser maid, in a long black dress and white pinafore. Her face was small and pointed, her eyes being the only thing of color.

She felt instant pity for this strange vampire, having been taken at such a young age. It would have made it hard to get respect from other blood drinkers.

"Yes," she replied shortly and the young one nodded.

"I will take you under my wing, follow me," the old one said, taking a torch from the wall. "My name is Hiromi. If you need anything at all, just call for me."

She suddenly felt the familiar pain rush through her, the rush of her blood as though it were contracting towards her stomach and heart. The hunger was rising within her and she would need to feed soon, or else her defenses would be down soon.

Her eyes followed her guide and she willed her eyes to refrain from turning red, even in the dark. As though she sensed something the other vampire turned to look at her in confusion, and she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. She had to keep the other female's eyes from her own.

"Are you some kind of housekeeper?" she asked and the vampire turned fixed her in a piercing stare.

"No. I am no housekeeper. I was commissioned by his Lordship to show those that wished to be cloistered to their lodgings," she said coldly. "And for that matter, I believe all of you are mad."

"Why?"

"Because every vampire out there knows perfectly well that the Prince has no intention of marrying," she replied. "He enjoys his freedom too much to actually choose a snot-nosed woman to tie himself down with. He uses the excuse that he has not found 'her' yet. Who she is, no one knows, but I believe it's just an excuse that will keep him the sole holder of the vampires' power."

"But then why do all these women flock here?"

"They're either young or stupid," Hiromi replied. She eyes Chaya. "Or both. The Prince has held many gatherings to find himself a bride, but after meeting them all he decides that he simply can not have any of them and sends them on their way. Of course some that are here now believe he will finally decide and make them his eternal love and the rest of that trash."

She smirked. It seemed ineptitude crossed over along with living again.

And she was expected to play one of these fools.

The other vampire led her up a winding flight of stone steps, the draft following them even as they climbed higher.

"How do you house all the women that come here? The invitations went out to all the vampires that could be found, am I right? How do you lodge all of the hopefuls?"

"Contrary to what a young one such as you might think, vampires are quite small in number compared to human beings. We are a mere billion in this year, considering most of the newly made have been either killed off or made stupid mistakes and killed themselves," Hiromi replied. "And as I said before, they know that he will not choose. Vampires have learned by now only to count on immediate words, not choices. The intelligent vampires come only for the gala every two thousand years."

She digested this information slowly. It seemed that now she would have to play the part of an inept vampyre that sought the hand of the prince for the sheer glory of it.

Not too hard to do. Of course if she didn't feed fast, it might be.

"This is yours," Hiromi said suddenly, stopping before a door that looked identical to the other iron doors. "You are rooming with another, so try not to fight. I've already had to clear out the remains of a one your age that insulted an ancient one."

She walked off and Chaya looked to the door, trying to sense the one behind it before finally putting her hand on the old iron doorknob and pushing it open.

The sight within confused her even more. The room was richly decorated, in contrast to the prison-like décor of the halls and corridors of this wing. Two four poster beds with sheets of red velvet and silk, with canopies were in either corner of the room. The floor and walls were also made of stone, although insulated with the old stove and heaters in the corners. A door broke off into another room that must have been the bathroom, still dark against the light of the main room. Thick rugs and curtains complimented the floor, as well as polished desks and boudoirs in the corners, where another female was already putting her clothing.

She was young, about the same age as her, dressed in a green peignoir. She was perhaps an inch shorter, but still the same build, with pale skin and short red hair. Blue eyes studied her from beneath her bangs and she gave her a condescending stare.

"And you are?" she asked in an arrogant tone.

"None of your business," Chaya said brusquely, walking towards the window of the room, tense. She studied it. It was in the likeness of a medieval window, with no screens or windows; however there was one manner of concealment. The only piece of modern technology that she had seen that night had been attached to the windowpanes. It was an electrical screen that would be placed over the window, blocking out the sun and everything outside. According to the digital numbers at the side, it was programmed to close automatically at four in the morning.

She glanced at the antique clock above the door to the room.

Three-fifty-eight.

There was enough time.

"You are a strange one," the other vampire said as she began to brush her hair. "What's your name? I'm Emily, sired by Michael. He's known as the Archangel, you know, even though he's really no angel. I haven't seen him in so long – "

"I know who you're talking about," she replied, not looking at the other vampire as she concentrated on keeping her mental strength up. The hunger raged in her veins and she stared in the mirror, watching her eyes turn from brown to blood red.

The mechanical screen latch beeped and began to move over the window.

"Really? How?" asked the falsely cheerful voice as she began to shake.

She faced the other vampire. "I killed him."

The vampyre had no chance to scream as she leapt upon her, knocking the brush from her hands as she bit into the frail neck, her hand clamping over Emily's mouth as she took the immortal blood into her. The other gnashed her teeth, trying to bite into the skin of her left palm to make her release her, but she ignored it. She had become Zorn again.

The blood of the other pulsed through her, making her flush as she devoured as much as she could without spilling any of the living ambrosia. Her victim began to weaken, her hands falling limply at her sides as she slowly gave up. She whimpered and Chaya felt slightly guilty at using the other creature like this, before her heart became stone again and she drank more vigorously.

This was a creature that deserved no pity. It was a murdering fiend that had taken the lives of her family, however indirectly. Vampires did not belong alive, therefore she was doing the world a service. Her victims would feel no more and be in eternal peace, which was more than they had given to the families of their human victims…

She finally felt the life disappear from the vessel beneath her and let her fall, standing and flattening the wrinkles from her dress. Emily's crumpled corpse looked up with glazed, uncomprehending eyes and Chaya wiped her lips of the blood. She felt restored now and there was only one thing left to see to.

Stepping over the body, she walked over to the mirror of Emily's bureau and punched it, watching the glass shatter into all of the cosmetics and products. Ignoring her now bleeding right hand, she picked up the largest slab of glass. Almost wonderingly, she turned it over in her hands, studying it, before whipping it at Emily's body at such speed that it severed her neck at the place where she had bit into her.

Someone knocked on the door, frantically.

"What's going on in there?" Hiromi's voice demanded. "The corridors stink of blood, and it's coming from in there!"

Emotionlessly, she took slashed part of her neck and breast with another piece of glass, before hobbling towards the door.

Hiromi's face was one of annoyance until she saw the blood the pooled out of her neck, sullying her corset.

"What happened?" the younger looking girl hissed, pushing past her and stopping when she saw the sight of the dead vampire in the corner.

"She attacked me," was the simple reply, conjuring up images in her head that would make Hiromi see herself being attacked by the other vampire. "And I defended myself. Enough said."

"I thought I told you I didn't want to clean up any other bodies?" the brunette sneered, her eye teeth looming larger in her anger. "Why couldn't you listen!?"

"It was me or her," she replied. "And I chose me."

"Bitch," Hiromi mumbled as she stalked forward and yanked the arm of the dead vampyre, dragging her out from the corner where she had been dropped. Chaya hissed in response, but didn't move to help her.

"Is there a problem in h – oh, shite," a new voice said, and Chaya looked up to study the newcomer. A silver haired, silver eyed female had poked her head in and was staring at the corpse with widened eyes. "Another fight, may I presume?"

"Don't start," Hiromi warned as she hefted the body. "And don't say anything to anyone else. The Prince will have my head if he finds out we might have a repeat of the last gala…"

"That one was his fault," the newcomer shrugged, trailing into the room gracefully and lounging on the bed, careful not to wrinkle her long scarlet silk dress. "He said he wanted the strongest."

Hiromi sneered in reply, dragging the corpse out and then looking back in.

"Just wait here," she said in an annoyed voice. "I'll be back to show you your room when I get rid of this mess."

"Oh, don't bother," she replied with a quirky smile. "I believe I've found my quarters. I want to see what this one does next. Have my affects brought up here to join hers."

Hiromi let out a growl of annoyance, but left the room with a slam of the iron door.

The new girl giggled and looked at Chaya. "I'm Mayume. Or Miyami, whatever you'd like to call me. I'm your new roommate."

"Chaya," the blond replied shortly, walking over to where the smashed glass and blood lined the floor. She began inspecting the items she had 'suddenly' inherited. "And as to being your roommate, that's all I am. And I'm not here to entertain you."

"Yeah, but if you decide to kill someone else, don't make it me. And throwing them out of a window works so much better," the silver eyes vampire smirked as she lay back on the bed. "And don't give me that 'how did you know' look, anyone can see that you don't do well with annoying people. So you off-ed her. No problem. What vamp hasn't done that at least once."

She was quiet as she took one of the dresses and ripped it in her hands, using it to mop the blood over her wounds.

"Thanks for the tip."

She met the eyes of the other vampire, who grinned wickedly. Chaya grimaced suddenly, though not in pain.

"You're different," she said suddenly, dropping the bloodied rags back on the bureau and facing her roommate. "Something about you is strange…"

"I'm surprised you didn't notice when I first popped in," Miyami drawled. "I'm a born vampire."

"But that's impossible. Vampires are – "

"Dead?" she snorted. "Oh come on, even you should know that we're as live as humans are. The only difference between born vampires and true vampires is that I had a chance to be mortal. And that was centuries ago, so I don't know why everyone makes such a big deal over it. My entire family's like that. I mean, I have a cousin that's attendant to the Prince himself! If he can accept us, than why can't normal vampires?"

"Because the average vampire doesn't have the brain capacity to understand it," Chaya replied coolly. She turned away and walked towards the door. "I'm going out. Don't wait up."

She wrenched open the iron handles, hearing her roommate snort. "Man, that's cold. You're not a people person, are you?"

"Not anymore," was the staunch reply, just before the door latched shut.

Once in the dark, empty hallway, she breathed out. The night had been long and stressing. She had found herself feeling as though she were choking countless times, blaming it on the fact that she had never been surrounded by so many vampires in all her years of living. She was uneasy and didn't know how to react to the things they did.

She shivered, even though she wasn't cold and walked down the cobblestone passage, her eyes recognizing the drag of blood that must have come from Hiromi dragging the body. She followed the trail for a while, before she saw the lightening of the air and halls. The cobblestones opened up into a balcony that overlooked the entire property.

Approaching it slowly, she leaned out on the railing, the stone cool beneath her hands as she gazed into the gardens, watching as many couples appeared from behind bushes to turn in for the night. The manor's east and west wings surrounded the garden, its various rooms alight. Every few moments a light would go out as the mechanical screens moved over them.

All except one.

She found herself drawn to the light there. It was the topmost room in the eastern wing, void of any presence within so far as she could tell. The cold feeling washed over her again and she glared.

'_Not tonight, your highness_', she thought vindictively.

The first rays of sunlight began to rear their heads, creating pink gold shine along the horizon. Her skin tingled painfully as though she was beginning to discover sunburn, and she turned with a swish of her dress to return to her room.

All the doors were closed tightly, darkness seeping beneath as the halls began to lighten. Despite the nearing morning light, her pace didn't increase and she walked at the same calm march up the stairs and to her room.

This was a game she played every night. Fighting the truth of it all. The truth that sunlight could kill her and that she was a creature of the night.

Holding back a growl of anger, she swung open the door of her room, closing it tightly behind her.

Miyami's luggage seemed to have arrived by then and a light steam rose from beneath the bathroom door. She heard Miyami humming within. With an eye roll she swept towards the boudoir and pulled out one of the thin black slips that Emily had owned. She curled her lip at the slinky night dress, wondering why vampires hadn't become extinct due to frost bite.

Shedding her bloodied dress and mopping the rest of the blood from her naked skin, which had begun to heal already, she pulled on the garment, shivering at the feel of the cold silk on her skin. She felt strange about taking these clothes, although she had never had qualms about taking the clothing from her victims, considering she needed it more than the deceased.

The found herself looking into the mirror that wasn't ruined, taking in her pale appearance in the dress.

"I look like the bride of Frankenstein," she said to herself dryly.

"That you do," Miyami's cheerful voice said as the other vampire appeared from in the bathroom, rapped in a large black towel. "But if I remember correctly, she had black hair with that really grotesque flash of white down the side. Nah, toots, you look much better than she did."

Chaya didn't bother replying and padded over the carpet to her bed, pulling back the fine covers of the four-poster and slipping in. Miyami began to change into her own things and Chaya lay back after turning her light off. Something sharp poked into her neck and she frowned, leaning up somewhat so that she could reach beneath her.

Her hands fastened around something thin and she sat up, withdrawing an envelope from behind her. In the center, perfectly scripted in calligraphy was her name.

"Did you put this on my bed?" she asked, glancing at Miyami as the other vampyre pulled on her own night clothes.

"Negatory, I've been in the bath since you left. I was just full of blood and anything else, you know?"

"I don't need your life's story," was the curt reply.

She tuned the other vampire out and glanced down at the envelope.

It was made of parchment, the ink seeping through it, filling the veins of the paper.

With slow and suspicious movements, she opened it, revealing another slip of parchment within.

Turning it around slowly, her lips thinned and her blood ran cold as she read the message.

'_Perhaps not tonight, but you may not have forever.'_

* * *

_TBC _


	5. Chapter Four

_**Aeternum Vale – Farewell Forever**  
By KuriQuinn_

* * *

The estate gardens were well-tended, exotic flowers from all parts of the world arranged in an untouchable manner. The moonlight flitted over the plats, bathing their greenery in the eerie light.

The night's gala had not yet begun and she found herself exploring the property absently. She was already dressed for the ball, in a form-fitting black gown trimmed with silver lace. Her hair was piled on her head, teased and twirled thanks to Miyami's stubborn attitude. The dress was tight, Emily's form having been somewhat smaller than her own.

Who was it that had said beauty was pain and was it possible to kill them, she thought ruefully.

A twig snapped to her left and she whirled around defensively, her hand rising towards the sheathed dagger concealed in her bodice.

From the darkness of the garden trees, a pale form appeared. A female vampire, one of the cloistered ones as was read in her mind, approached, looking much like a ghost materializing in the brilliant white gown of silk. She was so pale that in the distance it couldn't be truthfully discerned where her skin began and the dress ended. Her hair was raven, although her bangs were a silvering blue, and these colors were an abrupt shock from the lightness of her robes and the paleness of her skin, that they brightened her silver-blue eyes which blazed cold fire.

Chaya turned away, her solitary wandering interrupted, intent on returning to the inner chamber, when the vampire spoke.

"You're wasting you time."

She turned slowly, regarding the pale one with masked curiosity.

"Oh?"

"The Prince won't even look at a child like you." Chaya raised a delicately shaped eyebrow as the other continued. "I saw you last night, looking towards his chambers. You hold a wasted hope."

She hid the fact that she was surprised that the lit room from the night before had been his and looked defiantly at the pale one. She was older, also a Century Child like Riley, shy of a millennium, and although her eyes were cold, they showed knowledge and strength.

"You aren't the first to tell me that, Lady. But from what I hear, it's more the older ones that are fools. After all, they've already experienced the fickle mind of the Prince first hand. So technically, I can be excused for lack of better knowledge."

The pale ones eyes blazed and she loomed before her.

"Do you think it smart to mouth off to someone so dignified compared to yourself?" she asked in one breath, her annoyance carried over on the whisper. "I've killed many times in the bid to become Queen, I don't have any qualms of doing it again."

The blonde's eyes narrowed in reply, lips pursing.

"And before you even entertain the thought of harming me…" here the other female smirked, her lips parting over her teeth in a sly smile. "The Prince and his attendants have known me for many hundreds of years. They'd sooner suffer your death on their conscience than indict me of a crime."

"As long as you are confident in that respect, Lady."

The pale ones eyes narrowed even more and she moved in such a way that suggested she was to harm her. In an instant, Chaya summoned the memories of Emily's demise, letting the flicker of her brutal beheading with the looking glass register in the other's mind. Screams of pain from various other kills filled the other female's mind and a flicker of wariness passed though her eyes.

The message was clear. There would be no hesitation to destroy her should the need arise.

She stepped back, being an intelligent female. Death would be an unnecessary hindrance, especially over such a petty cause.

"I only meant to warn you," she said, although her eyes flashed a different message.

"Likewise."

She turned away and strode towards the stone steps, aware of the burning gaze she was receiving from the older one. It seemed that making allies in this strange world of the immortal was not one of her strengths. Already they were becoming wary of her.

She didn't blame herself. It was Dante who was at fault for not showing her to exist among other vampires.

Then again, maybe he himself had never truly known.

When she reached the balcony and looked down, the pale one was still watching her like a hawk, and she met her gaze steadily for a few moments before it was broken. The older one had turned and returned to the shadowed gardens of the looming estate.

Her tense shoulder relaxed somewhat, but not completely. Her senses shivered.

There was someone behind her.

"Do you enjoy stalking my every move," she asked quietly, still looking out. "You're Lordship?"

A low chuckled behind her made the gooseflesh rise over her skin. The sound was so low and unending that it seemed to engrave itself into the very contours of her soul.

"A very perceptive one, aren't you?" Even now that he was closer to her she still felt as though his voice projected, echoing its trill through the darkness and the night air. It was as crisp and clear as it had been on the night of the first gala. "And young."

"So I've heard," she turned around, finally looking him straight in the eye…the eyes of her final obstacle.

Here was the reason her family had been cruelly butchered. Here was the epitome of her death, the enemy of all she had ever known or believed him.

She regarded him with cool, collected fascination.

She had always envisioned herself leaping on him in a ravenous, hate-filled rage, unable to keep her anger in check, ripping his throat out. But now that the meeting had come and she stood before him, she merely did so. Standing before him, cold and regal, facing his own elegant self.

Although the most expressive and living feature of his body, his blood red eyes, so stained through all the years of blood drinking, seemed void of all emotion. They contrasted so with his pale skin, which was like ivory, pure and unblemished save for the tiny scar near his temple. Something had her wondering how a being as eternal as the dark prince could possible be scarred.

On this night he wore another crisp, open shirt, crimson this time, an ankh hanging around his neck and his nails were still adorned with black.

She looked again, realizing that his nails hadn't actually been colored; they were merely aged to such a point that they were opaque and black.

"Do I pass your inspection?" his voice was cold, sounding displeased with her, although she knew perfectly well that he had been doing the same to her.

"I should pose that question to you," she replied.

His eyes narrowed.

"The lady Mellanie was merely giving you advice," he told her, ignoring her earlier comment. "By taking her counsel, you might live through this ordeal."

"I like to figure things out for myself, thank you. And she's not my friend."

"Shame," was the next remark as he leaned over the balcony, surveying the gardens. In the shadows, various figures sneaking through the greenery. "In this world, a friend is something most beneficial to you."

"Not to me."

There was a low sound, much like a rueful snort.

"I find you most amusing," he turned to her, eyes still cold. "You are unlike any vampire that I have laid my eyes on. You have an impenetrable power over your mind, hold the blood of an ancient by your scent, yet you act as though others of our kind disgust you. You don't get close to anyone. You even killed another woman for her clothing…"

She was startled.

"Don't look so surprised, of course I know of that," he said dismissively. "But that isn't important." He turned pushed himself off of the balcony to look at her again. "There is one word that can sum up your entire being: why."

"None of your business."

He made the scoffing noise again.

"Another trait that draws me to you…you don't seem to realize in whose presence you stand. You don't seem to fear me…instead, you seem very much at ease. Most have been instructed since birth of how to act in my presence."

"My sire taught me to fear only death," she told him coldly. "So forgive me if I don't bow like all your yes-men."

His smirking face didn't change and for a moment she thought he was just going to stare at her, before she found herself suddenly unable to breathe, hanging over the balcony. Only his hand held her up and she gave into the human reaction of grabbing on to his hand to keep her up. Despite the frigid cold of his skin, a wave of heat flashed across her blood and there were stars in her eyes as she gasped for breathe through the iron grip on her throat.

"Perhaps you should," he said pleasantly, holding onto her lazily. "Your sire was clever to teach you to only fear death. But it seems he neglected to tell you that I _am_ Death."

Her feet dangled helplessly in the air, the elegant dress making her seem heavier. At his words, she narrowed her eyes and lowered her hands, not going to give him the satisfaction of her struggling.

At this, he laughed out loud, his grip tightening.

"Amazing. Although with even the slightest of movement I could snap your neck and drop you to the ground, leaving the sun to destroy any of the evidence, you still attempt to show your defiance," he drawled. "And your mind is still as calm and clear as it was when you first arrived here." At this he sounded somewhat admiring, although she could have been mistaken.

"What can I say," she choked. "I'm one hell of a girl."

"So you are," he narrowed his eyes. "Although I don't think it wise of you to continue on as you do. Your attitude might get you killed."

"People've been telling me that since I was four," she forced out and his smirk reappeared. He stretched out further, his grip becoming more painful on her throat.

"I'll be watching you."

He let go abruptly and she fell, bending her knees beneath her dress. She landed on her feet, the ground reverberating beneath her at the impact. With a hiss she stared up at where he had been, but the space was empty.

Only the sound of the wind through the trees could be heard, even the lone roaming vampires were gone.

Her hand found its way to her neck, massaging the spot where he had held her in the painfully cold grip and she narrowed her eyes at his absence.

"I intend you to."

As she turned to walk towards the great hall, she saw the face of the pale vampire, standing in the doorway of the hall. She was draped in the arms of a redheaded vampire, the same she had seen guarding the prince the night before. She stopped and they met each other's gazes for a moment, thoughts mingling with one another.

'_I warned you_.'

The words played over and over in her mind as she shrugged and continued down the cobblestone path, the eerie music getting closer.

As she entered the gilded hall again, the presence of the other immortals nearly suffocating her, a nagging thought at the back of her mind made her think of his actions.

The Prince could easily have killed her, even for the simple reason of not being able to read her thoughts. She knew he had done so on previous occasions, why not her life this night? And she had been blatantly insulting and arrogant before his presence, which should have given him reason enough to kill her.

So the one question remained, eating away at her from the inside.

Why hadn't he?

* * *

TBC 


	6. Chapter Five

_**Aeternum Vale – Farewell Forever**  
By KuriQuinn_

* * *

The music grew louder as she walked toward the great ballroom, passing by the window where Riley still stood, watching the weapons. She strode forward, a set look in her eyes.

"When do I get them back?" she asked pointedly, having not asked the question the night before when Ray had been pressing her to leave and dance.

"When you leave," Riley shrugged, her silver hair rippling with her movements. She leaned over the divide in the wall, looking utterly bored from all the events of the night. "And if you by some lucky chance become queen, you don't. It's as simple as that." The look Riley was giving her made it plain that the older vampyre was of the mind that it was a laughable thing to even think she'd become queen. "By the way, aren't you supposed to be in the ballroom already? All the cloistered ones are to be formally introduced to his lordship."

"We've met," she replied shortly, whirling around and stalking towards the giant room, from which the music emanated in haunting tones. She could hear her shoes echoing throughout the hall, even though it was filled with other noises. The preternatural hearing of the vampyres was both gift and curse, especially when trying to hear more than just the clatter of various shoes and the hushed voices of various men and women.

A hand clasped around her own and she tensed, ready to wrench away and fight her assailant, before looking up into Ray's eyes. The amber-eyed vampire smirked down at her, patronizingly. She relaxed slightly, waiting for the explanation she knew was coming.

"Lady Chaya, you seem to be slightly tardy for the ceremony," he commented dryly. "Whatever could have kept you?"

She was quiet, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she waited for him to stop his toying. He snorted and shrugged.

"I have orders from his lordship to take you to him, so if you'd do me the pleasure of accompanying me…" he held out his hand to her charmingly, and she regarded him suspiciously. After all, in truth he could be lying. "He told me you'd hesitate. He also said that even if you refuse, he'll still watch you. It would be better if you came when he called for you. I'd hate to see such a beautiful female die by his hands…it's such a gruesome manner…"

"You're ghost stories don't scare me, Raymond," she replied, taking his hand as a tango started up. "Do as you were bid to and take me to him."

Ray's eyes gleamed in a catlike way as she drew her to him, weaving through the elaborately dressed dancing guests towards the stairs that were concealed behind a marble door and a tapestry. With a glance back into the dancing, and seeing that no one was watching, Ray opened it up and showed her through. She held her dress before her to keep from tripping, allowing the older one to lead her upwards, into the balcony that she had seen from afar.

"I'm impressed," he told her amiably, his face gleaming in the candle-light that lit the stairwell. "Most would be scared beyond all things to be in your position now."

"Scared by the fact that they are to see the Prince, or scared at the fact that they are being led somewhere unknown by a vampire with a dishonest and manipulative nature?" she replied easily, challenging him. He snorted. "If it be the latter, I'll have you know that I have no qualms of defending myself from your uncouth ways."

"Ah, if it could only be that easy, Lady," he said in a would-be-careless voice. "I do as my lord commands both for great respect and great fear. He wanted you, so I must stave off any an all of my desires as to what I'd do with you."

She frowned, disliking his tone greatly.

A large solid wood door loomed ahead, the wrought iron handle locked with steal and metal bindings. Ray withdrew a lone key from his robes, placing it within the keyhole and turning it. There was a loud, echoing click of the metal and the door swung open.

The place opened up onto the balcony and the door beyond, where she could see countless ancient ones sitting among each other. The portrait they made reminded her disturbingly so of the pictures in textbooks or history tomes that depicted the ancient Egyptians careless lifestyles, the way they were still adorned in the silks and jewels of ancient ages, their eyes painted and pale skin gleaming in the false light. Some lazed about, while others partook in more intimate doings, although none of these things seemed to bother the lone figure that stood on the balcony before the door.

He was gazing out at the dance floor, an incomprehensible look upon his face.

"My lord?"

"Thank you, Ray," he said as the Chinese vampyre spoke. "Go amuse yourself, I have business with the young one."

Her sensitive ears focused on his voice, deep and caressing with tones that sounded of a hint of a Russian accent. Smooth and sly, yet eloquent at the same time.

Something within her seemed to wake and she felt confused.

She felt, rather than saw, Ray bow next to her. Her eyes were riveted on the Prince, taking in his dark magnificence for the second time that night. A turmoil of emotions, such as confusion and wariness swam through her mind, but she forced herself to think clearly.

"I see you have decided not to heed any of the warnings given to you."

"With all due respect, _your lordship_," she drew out the words with distaste, watching his amused expression. "All the warnings may have meant something, but the fact that no one has outright told me to leave means another altogether. If you had really wished to be rid of me, you would have killed me when you had the chance or banished me. Which makes me believe you have some ulterior motive to my presence."

He looked at her, a look of impressed amusement clear.

"What makes you think I simply did not stave off killing you for the time being? After all, I may not have wanted to get my hands dirty before one of my galas."

She paused, slightly hesitant, before replying smoothly.

"You would have killed me regardless, as dirtying your hands is something easily justified here. But you did not, for the simple fact that vampyres by nature are a conniving, plotting species. We enjoy the hunt too much to simply kill unless need be."

Now, for the first time, his mouth widened into a wry smirk.

"Are you saying I have decided to hunt you?"

"I'm saying that you've been hunting me since I set foot on this property." He chuckled outright and turned back to the dance, silent. She frowned, and then looked at him calculatingly. "But the question remains, as you so eloquently put it: why."

He whirled around to look at her, clearly taken by surprise as she echoed his earlier question back at him.

"Sharp, aren't you, child," he remarked, looking her over; studying her face, her features, his eyes roving over her body. She felt the unfamiliar feeling of a flush roving over her cheeks and battled furiously to keep it back. He noticed and looked smug. "But you still have the human in you, no matter how scarce it seems to be. You truly are a mystery."

She stared defiantly back at him, holding his gaze.

"Your lordship?"

Neither of the two looked up, intent on staring each other down, although the prince motioned with his hand to the owner of the voice.

"What is it, Tala?"

"Is this one bothering you?"

She broke away from the little game of staring, fixing the intruding vampyre in an annoyed stare.

"No, I asked her to come. Perhaps you haven't met her," he looked bored. "Tala, the elusive and mysterious Chaya. My lady, Tala is my most trusted advisor and longest known friend."

The redhead inclined his head towards her, although his expression didn't change. He looked immensely distrustful of her, at which she shrugged uncaringly.

"Have them play something else," the Prince went on in a bored manner, watching the movement on the floor that swirled to the beat of the small symphony. "This gavotte is beginning to grate on my nerves."

"Yes sire. What would be to your liking?"

The Prince didn't answer for a moment, seeming to be off in space. The two were silent, Chaya frowning at the Prince expectantly, Tala merely waiting. After almost an entire three minutes of silence, the ancient vampire looked up, a strange look in his eyes.

"A waltz."

The redhead bowed his head and disappeared through the door. The Prince was once again in his position of leaning over the balcony and Chaya felt annoyance bubbled up at his silence, as though he had forgotten her presence.

"Is there a particular reason you ordered me up here?" she asked coolly.

Once again he didn't reply and she felt anger join the annoyance. This murdering fool treated her as though she was one of his loyal subjects, a fact that she was sure even he didn't believe. She couldn't get over how spoiled this male was, with his presumptuous ways and careless whims. It just went to show how being alive for ten thousand years was bound to have some negative effects on a mentality.

The gavotte ended and the music stopped for a moment.

The Prince leaned forward, expectant and she felt herself glance over the balcony in a discreet way, although there was nothing of interest to her.

It began with a faint, tinny sound, giving off the eerie melody that reminded her of a music box, one of the old ones where the tiny porcelain ballerina spun round and round before her mirror. For a few moments it went on like this, before the other instruments slowly joined in, making the haunting quality of the song become more pronounced. A few dancers took their places to dance to the slow song, which sounded to Chaya like some what a of a funeral march.

"This song holds much meaning," the Prince said thoughtfully, his eyes riveted on the small orchestra. "Do you know it?"

She opened her mouth to tell him no, but found herself stopping before she did. Now that he mentioned it, it did sound familiar…the beat was something she recognized, and it held some deeper significance that even she didn't know…

"I'm not sure."

"It was played in your time," he said simply. "Of course to your generation it was nothing but a jingle heard in one of your moving pictures."

Now she remembered. It had been one of the songs in a children's film when she had been a child. But how could something as innocent as that be warped into a vampiric waltz?

"Simple, my dear girl, it was a song of ours before it was leaked into the human masses," he said dismissively. She realized she had voiced her question out loud and frowned, having not wanted to. Something about this song…something was making her lose her thought process… "It was the song of a princess that had dared to love a vampire…or should I say of a vampire that dared to love a princess."

"It sounds like an old legend."

"Hardly," his voice was cold as were his eyes when he looked at her. "She was the youngest daughter of the ruling family, in a time of revolution. That you can comprehend, how can you not comprehend a vampire coming to love this girl and vice versa?"

"Because it sounds like something one would read in a book," she replied evenly. "If this had happened, wouldn't it have ended up in the history books? And what of the princess and her dark lover? I doubt he would have made her a vampire. That would have alerted the humans to the vampires existence, something that should never happen." Her voice had been sarcastic, and she regretted it almost immediately, when his eyes filled with grim annoyance and another emotion she had never pictured seeing on him.

Sadness.

"He would have. Had the revolution not taken her and destroyed her soul."

She was quiet. There was nothing for her to say to that comment.

The haunting melody seemed to seep beneath her skin and she felt gooseflesh rise over her neck and arms. A sick feeling rose within her and she turned away, suddenly intent on escape.

"If you have no further use of my, your lordship," she said quietly, her eyes riveting around as she studied the door. There was no reply and she would have turned back but for her fear.

As she reached the door, she felt a sudden realization hit her and looked back, merely inclining her head.

"She was your world, wasn't she?"

A pensive silence followed, heavy with tension.

"And when you lost her it felt as though your heart was being ripped out over and over," she continued, trying to hear anything that might give away his thoughts. She heard his breath hitch and change pace and heard the brushing of his head on the silk of his garment as he turned to look at her. She could almost visualize the look of near surprise and pain that she knew well.

She almost turned to offer him a look of comfort, but for the remembrance of her training. The image of her husband dying that night long ago, the blood being spilled as she screamed in agony, her echoing shrieks in the cellar that they couldn't hear. He had coughed up blood, her name on his lips to the very end where they ripped out his heart and left him.

Her heart hardened and she narrowed her eyes to the prince pain.

"Well, your highness, it looks as though you too still have a shred of humanity within," she said coldly.

And she left the balcony, not casting a glance to him or to the room with all of the vampires…she didn't bother to continue skulking through the dance floor, but left towards her tower bedroom, unaware of the suspicious glances that the Prince's closest friend sent her way.

* * *

TBC 


	7. Chapter Six

_**Aeternum Vale – Farewell Forever**  
By KuriQuinn_

* * *

The vampire was running. He knew he was being followed, hunted even. But he couldn't understand why. The huntress wouldn't have the guts to kill a blood drinker under the very nose of the Prince, would she?

He could hear his heart beating faster, trying to scan around the darkness for the eyes he could feel following him. It was the early hours of the morning when the guests of the vampire manor hunted before the masque, and he had been on his way to drink…when he had felt her following him. He had to return to the manor where it was safe, but the moment he turned into one of the small, minute alley-ways of the city, her scent became stronger and he knew she must be waiting near the manor.

All through the minutes as they ticked by, her scent would disappear and then reappear and he shivered.

It was like playing cat and mouse and he had been chosen as the rodent…

"Too right you are," a voice to his left hissed and before he even had time to look, or even scream out, she was on him, ripping into his throat. He vaguely felt the blood dripping down his neck and staining his clothing, and then the calm nothingness.

After drinking her fill, she pulled back, staring at the corpse of the vampire. Tonight's prey had been a Century Child, and a stupid one at that. He had gone into the town earlier, intent on killing the occupants of an orphanage to fill him up for the next week, despite the laws of the Prince not to draw attention to the manor, when she had heard his thoughts in the air.

With a casual grace, she flicked open her lighter and tossed it onto the corpse, watching as it spluttered and burned, disappearing within seconds as the old blood of the vampires was lapped up by the flames.

It would soon be time for the next ball, she thought darkly. And this was the night she would begin setting the traps to end it all. She was glad, too. Because once the Prince and his coven and children were destroyed, she could accept her own death in peace.

The death that she had postponed seventy-five years earlier.

The night air was cool around her, and she was once again adorned in her hunting clothes. Black as the night to blend into the walls and crevices of the city streets. She had wanted to reacquire her cross bow and revolvers, but the Century Child Riley had told her she could not unless she wished to leave the gathering.

The wind picked up, resting lazily about her when she caught it. The scent of another blood drinker.

Old.

This one was older than Ray even, maybe Tala as well. One of the inner courts of the prince. And he was coming right towards her.

"Is that so," she smirked, cracking her knuckles together and leaping upwards to land on the steeple of a small church. She gazed out over the city of London, her eyes glittering black in the dark.

To kill an Ancient beneath the nose of the Prince would alert him to the fact that she was there. It would also be a fine message to him of what was to come in his future…

She tensed suddenly, sniffing the air again, her eyes now flashing angrily.

There was another. He was coming from the other direction, also headed towards her. He was even older than the first and she hissed. The scent of a third Ancient, female this time, met with theirs and she swore.

Ambush.

She could kill one Ancient.

She couldn't kill three.

At least…she had never tried.

"Fine, play that way, your highness," she thought furiously, somersaulting off of the church and landing on her feet. The ground beneath her shook as she made contact and she pushed off, running through the paths of the first two that she had sensed, intent on making it to the main square before they caught up to her. It would be better if she had more room to move around if she were going to fight three of them –

She was suddenly smashed into an alley wall, breaking the bricks and pipes within. Debris fell around her and the jagged ends of stone pierced her arms and legs. She toppled to the ground, falling on her knees and glaring up at the three of them. They stood before her, unruffled and contemptuous looking.

"So this is the hunter," the female smirked. She was oldest of all of them, Asian in face shape, with torrents of bright pink hair that spilled down her back in a braid. Her two companions were also Asian, one with the face of a lion and the other large and well-muscled. All three wore dark velvet robes. "This is the coward that hunts her own kind.

"Cannibal," the lion-faced one said with a shake of his head, disgusted. "We have orders to destroy you and any other threats to our way of life."

"Hush, Lee," the woman said quietly. "She doesn't need to hear us tell her she's about to die, she knows…don't you?"

She hissed and stood, her body recovering from the pain of the hit against the wall, cracking her knuckles threateningly, sizing up the woman. She was pale and her teeth gleamed menacingly out at her from beneath painted red lips.

"Shall we give her a chance to defend herself, Mariah?" Lee asked, his smooth black hair ruffling lightly in the night breeze.

"Why not?" the woman, Mariah smirked. "After all, she is the huntress after all. She'll try anyhow. Might as well go down fighting, am I right, girl?"

"Bite me, bitch."

The pink haired wench laughed out loud, signaling with cold eyes to the larger of the vampires. "Oh, I intend to."

And they were all on her in the moment. She ducked, sweeping a kick outwards, stopping the lion-faced one with a hit to the chest at the same time that she grabbed a pipe from the wall that she had crashed into. It had been sharpened at one end when she broke it off at an angle and she swung at the woman, who caught it with ease and pushed her back, grabbing the pipe from her.

The large one hauled her from behind and she grunted, leaning back and then forward to flip him over, it didn't work. He held her in a tight grip, tightening it even more as the seconds flew by. With a groan she focused as well as she could and broke free, smashing him in the head with two of the discarded bricks. The scent of the ancient blood burst through the air and her eyes turned red to match the others. Mariah lunged at her with the pipe while Lee slivered around behind her and reached out to clutch her neck from behind. She ducked him and rolled out of Mariah's way, as did Lee before his ally could pin him with the pipe. The woman instead burst through an entire wall, dust falling everywhere.

With a growl, Chaya swung at the large one, but he ducked and caught her arm, throwing her against the wall of the alley. As she began to fall back, he kicked her into the air and punched her in the stomach where she fell to the ground again. The lion-faced one bore down on her, reaching forward and clutching her around the throat, eyes gleaming dangerously as though it were the thrill of the hunt guiding him.

Having recovered, Mariah now pointed the sharp end of the pipe at her and charged. She suddenly felt the thrill rush through her the closer the other female got to her and swung her legs upwards, catching the weapon with her feet and twisting it around so that is struck the large vampire in the chest. As he stumbled backwards, clutching at his wounds, she kicked out, landing blows on both the others, freeing herself from the hold.

Mariah hissed at her in anger.

"You think you're so swift, child?" her voice was shrill with anger.

In reply, Chaya swung round in a round house and jammed the pipe further into the large vampires body, knocking him into the dustbins in the corner. Her lighter was out again, flying towards the impaled creature and in a blast of heat and screaming, he was gone, leaving nothing but the pipe.

"Actually, yeah," she smirked, leaning over to grab the long instrument in her hands. "So, who's next?"

Before they could answer, she swung at Lee, but he grabbed the weapon and held it still, punching her in the face twice so that her head hit an iron rim to a window in the alley. The pipe fell to the ground as he lifted her in the air, pressing her back tightly to the top of the arched ceiling of the alley. She struggled, feeling the strain he was putting on her bones beginning to register. She felt a slight cracking in her back and knew that if she didn't get out of this hold soon, her back would break.

He dropped her to the floor suddenly, as though allowing her to recover, before picking her up again by the front of her shirt, his long nails ripping through the material and slashing at her skin. He opened his mouth and gave a growl of victory, his long eye-teeth ready to plunge into her neck but she elbowed him in the face, drawing blood. When he staggered she landed in a crouched position, ducking beneath the swipe Mariah took at her and fastened her hand around the poisoned knife that had been hidden in her boot since the early evening, slicing across his neck with ease.

For a confused moment he stared at her, before getting ready to approach her, when his head tumbled to the ground where his eyes stared up, unblinking.

Mariah let out and angry wailing shriek that turned to a growl and with one powerful punch sent her flying across the alley, landing some twenty yards away. She was on her feet again in a moment, the knife back in her boot, having grabbed a wooden plank that they had dislodged at some point in the fight. Mariah swiped at her, her sharp nails ripping into Chaya's face and fastening her hands on the plank, but with a snarl she had kicked it from the female's hands and into the air. As soon as her hands clamped around it again she whipped it at Mariah, knocking her to the floor. She reached down and was about to stab her with her knife, but Mariah reached up and stopped her, holding the knife at the hilt before tossing it into the corner where it would be harmless.

"You dare…" Mariah sneered, pushing her away with her feet and grabbing the plank to throw that away too. "You dare believe you have to power to overcome an ancient such as me?"

"Isn't it 'an ancient such as I'?" the blond female smirked. The ancient one was enraged and leapt at her, grabbing her by the throat and pushing her up against the archway of the alley, her nails digging into her neck.

"I hope you've had fun," she snarled. "Because now this is your end!"

With a final growl she tightened her hold and the blonds neck and a resounding 'snap' echoed through the alley. With a smirk, the ancient one tossed the huntress to the ground as though she were a broken doll and shook her head defiantly. The threat was over now. The vampires would not have to worry about the cannibal any longer…

_His scent…it was there…she could smell it…he was watching from above…her blank eyes saw his shadows and she knew. And she felt rage bubble forth inside her. He would watch her die…like her family…like her love…like her child…_

_The wind whistled in her ears, carrying upon it the strange tune she had heard before…_

'_Far away, long ago…glowing dimness and embers… things my heart used to know…' _

'_Don't you dare give up __now!__'_

She blinked.

No. Giving up…she couldn't. She had promised never to give up…

There was a sudden stirring and Mariah looked over in confusion.

Chaya was struggling to her feet, tripping and stumbling over the rubble that was all over, her neck hanging at an odd angle and her eyes blank and staring. Blood from her wounds dripped and flowed down her shoulders and back, her mouth and nose red with the substance so that it coated her teeth in a beast-like way.

"What…?" the pink haired ancient mumbled, watching as the blond reached up slowly, and with one fluid movement, cracked her neck back into place. Her eyes regained their determined black hue and she raised her fists, a small smirk playing on her features.

"You'd be surprised what the blood of an Ancient…or should I say many Ancients, can do for your endurance," she whispered coldly. "And maybe it will teach you a thing or two about trying to take me down."

With a shout of rage, the ancient was on her again, engaging in an all-out frontal assault.

"I want…you out…of my way," the old one snarled as she landed another hit to the young ones face.

"And I want my life back," Chaya snarled back as she ducked another blow. "But we can't have it all now, can we?"

She ducked down and seized the ancient one by the legs, vaulting her into the already broken walls and then kicked the plank up into her arms and swinging it at the ancient, knocking her back again into the ground, causing the concrete the crumble up as she scraped along the floor. She was up again in a second, grabbing Chaya from behind and flipping her over her head, smashing her face into the wall.

Something warm was pulling through her eye and she had heard the bones in her hand shatter as it hit the pavement and was crushed by the debris. She whirled around to recover herself, just as the ancient one swung the lead pipe from earlier and plunged it into her abdomen, pinning her to the wall.

Dust and jagged flakes of rock rained down on her as she looked back at the ancient, who was standing over her, her triumphant look broken only by the confused twinkle in her eyes.

"So how many lives was that, _zorn_?" she sneered. "I think we downed eight of them earlier, this is your last one, am I right?"

She didn't reply, keeping loose. She breathed deeply. The ancient was going to swoop down on her and kill her by drinking, but she had just enough room despite the weapon protruding from her bleeding abdomen to use the poisoned knife. One clean cut and she would be joining her friend down on the ground…

She met the eyes of the ancient, sending her a myriad of emotions that were no her own; fear, submission, pain…Mariah smiled sinisterly.

"Don't feel too bad about it," she whispered, approaching. "It was a good run. You almost had me. But you didn't."

She bent her head as neared the young one's neck and Chaya flexed her fingers, readying herself…

"Stop."

The two women halted and looked upwards.

From above, three figures appeared, all wearing the similar black cloaks. The scent of the Prince overwhelmed her senses the moment he appeared, but he didn't look at her, merely glaring at the woman, then back at they who accompanied him.

"This was no test, was it, Tala?" he growled. She had never seen him truly angry before, but he was glaring at the female with such loathing that she was cowering in her cloak. "Was it?"

"No sir," he mumbled.

"Then you lied to me," the prince supplied, looking grave and angered.

"It was for your own protection sire, we did not feel that – "

"Then you lied to me."

Silence.

"Yes sire. Forgive me."

"Return to the manor and make sure all goes as it should," his crimson eyes flashed. "Now."

The redhead and the vampire with the iron face and cold eyes disappeared into the shadows. He turned to the female.

"As for you…"

"Sire, I was only following orde – " Mariah's words never finished as the pipe slashed through her stomach and was then hauled up through her body, slicing her right down the middle. Chaya stood, staggering behind her, panting as she glared at the new corpse.

The blood spilled into the street, staining the pavement and with a half-hearted look at the Prince, she walked away.

He followed her, and she noticed that the both of them had splatters of the Ancient blood awash on their faces.

"This is not your first fight with an Ancient."

"Won't be my last either," she replied coldly. "Considering you seem to think it nice to test your subjects."

"That was not my idea," he replied, regarding her calculatingly. "You look as though you're about to collapse."

"I'm fine," she snapped, looking at her slowly healing wounds. "I'm coming back together now anyway, which is more than I can say for those assholes."

"Tala told me he only wished to test you. I had thought it a good idea, considering it is known that all those that contest to become my queen must be able to defend themselves should I fail in that respect," the Prince explained. "I only realized a few moments before that his real goal was to kill you."

"Can't say I'd blame him," she replied darkly. "I'm not exactly the nicest vampire out there."

"No, you are different from them all."

She looked over at him with a frown as though to question him, when it suddenly hit her. She was walking through the dark streets of London, after an attempt had been made on her life by his own coven and she was talking to the Prince of darkness as though they were on speaking terms.

"Yeah, because I won't hesitate to kill anyone that gets in my way," she hissed, glaring at him and getting ready to turn away. He caught her hand and pulled her back, the iron grip painful on her already broken hand. He stared at her, his eyes almost searching for something in her own, before nodding.

"I see that now. Good evening, Lady, perchance I will see you later this evening when you have healed," he turned away. She watched him go, the harrowing feelings in her heart becoming more pronounced than ever as she heard the music again.

'…_things I almost remember…'_

* * *

_TBC _


	8. Chapter Seven

_**Aeternum Vale – Farewell Forever**  
By KuriQuinn_

* * *

By the time she returned to the manor, her wounds had healed and she had changed into a velvet crimson ball-gown, as well as a mask that had been provided by Miyami, who had informed her of the nature of this night's gala.

"What's the point of a Masque?" she asked grimly as the opera mask was tightened over her eyes and nose. "We can sense each other miles away, we all know who we are."

"Honestly, was your sense of fun sucked out of you when you were turned?" the silver eyed vampire asked incredulously as she swirled around in her periwinkle. Her sleeves reminded Chaya of a faeries wings and her mask of some kinds of butterfly.

She frowned.

"There's no point," she repeated again, wiping off a stray speck of blood that had caught beneath her ear. She'd thought that she had gotten it all…

Miyami was watching her carefully and she leered back.

"You know, for someone who doesn't seem to want to be here, you're going through an awful lot of trouble to doll yourself up."

"What can I say? My nature precedes me."

"And that would be?"

Chaya smirked back evilly, her eyes gleaming of such bloodlust that Miyami took a step backwards in apprehension.

"My thirst for blood and power, of course."

With that, she left the threat hanging in the air and closed the heavy iron door of the room with ease. Perhaps that response might lie to rest the other vampires suspicions.

She should have been more careful in hiding the staining blood of the three ancients from the keen senses of her roommate. Now that she reflected on it, it was probably good that the female had reminded her of her task. It was wise that she had returned to the cloister to purge herself of the sickening stench before going anywhere near the Masque. The other guests would definitely have caught the whiff of the blood seeped into her.

Of course, that's what the Dark Prince had meant for her to do.

She paused in the stairwell, peering into the flickering flame of the torches that lined the stone tower.

Why had he meant for her to do that? From all of the stories and memories she had stripped from her victims, he had been made out to be an impassive, unmerciful embodiment of dread. And yet…his words seemed to suggest a concern for her that ran deeper than for that of his people and race. What other leader would calmly let pass the murder of three of his court? Was he toying with her, or…?

She scoffed and shook her head, ready to continue down the steps.

Vampires felt nothing save hate and evil cursing through their veins. He was probably just biding his time to see what her next move would be, something she refused to let him see.

It seemed that, unwillingly and unknowingly, she had come under his scrutiny.

The music was already playing, the light low and ethereal of slight, and an unnamed attendant wearing a white ivory mask offered his arm to escort her towards the grand hall.

As had been present before in the great affairs, fine clothing and the elegant hall that dominated the place were only part of the alluring beauty that burned into her mind. The masks worn by the dancing couples made Chaya think of old myths of spirits and ghosts that weaved their paths through the land of the living.

Ironic.

The attendant left her and she scanned the crowds, ignoring the brazen flash of jewelry at the necks and wrists of both men and women alike. Grudgingly, she had to admit that the sight made a slightly alluring portrait.

A flash of familiarity washed over her at the scene, the music and the dancing and the mumbling of voices…it all seemed to be pulling, drawing at something locked deep within her. When she tried to concentrate on it, it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Frowning, she tried to block out the sounds, trying to capture the faint wisp of…something, but was interrupted by a brush at her shoulder.

She didn't bother looking up to sense the presence of the head of security, Riley.

"Looking for our dear Prince, are we?" she asked, a strange lilt in her voice.

Chaya didn't answer but studied the silver haired vampire. Instead of her usual leather attire she was dressed in a silky black dress and dark velvet mask, a glass of blood champagne in hand.

"Not on duty tonight?"

"I was relieved by Lord Tala, not that I'm complaining – and you didn't answer my question."

"It's none of your business."

"Whatever I see is my business," Riley replied with a smirk, taking another sip. "You'd be surprised all the things I see in my little cage – and when his Highness takes interest in but one vampire to the degree he has taken in you, it's a cause for suspicion. I doubt he's been so taken with anyone since the Revolution."

She was silent, waiting for the vampire to elaborate, but instead, Riley seemed to switch gears all together.

"Lord Tala seems to find this slightly intriguing as wel – "

"You can tell Lord Tala that if he ever pries into my doings again, there will be a repeat of this evening's earlier activity," the brown-eyed female said coldly, her ears suddenly picking up the familiar spring in a certain vampire's step.

As though bidden by thought, a masked vampire appeared and bowed gracefully before the two of them, his eyes on her.

"Would you grace a humble man with a dance?"

He held his hand towards her, leaving her to stare at it incredulously and Riley to snort into her drink. Her eyes narrowed.

"You are craftier than you are humble," Chaya replied icily, refusing to play along. "A man who wears a mask is one that must have something to hide."

"The same could be said for a woman," his voice was just as smooth as hers in his reply, although she sensed a great darkness hidden behind the mask the stared in her direction. "I beseech you to forget all of our earlier transgressions and join me in but one dance."

This time he didn't give her a chance to respond. Even as his words came to a drawling end, he had grasped her wrist, the opaque nails of his right hand nearly piercing her skin as he pulled her round to take her other hand, a spirited waltz striking up.

"You fascinate me," his words were abrupt and almost breathless with the cool temperament of his voice, even as he wrapped his right hand securely around her waist, making her shiver at the cold now running up her spine. She looked away, focusing on the five crescent shaped indentations in her wrist where his nails had been. She looked up at his next words, staring him down. "You appear to flaunt yourself and yet you are able to remain aloof."

"I do not 'flaunt' myself," she returned coldly, feeling annoyance at these words. She tried to limit the amount of his flesh that her fingers touched, but as though to spite her, he held her more securely. "I never have."

"Oh, but you do," his voice was full of mirth now, although it still retained its porcelain guise. "You are dismissive to your fellow subjects, seem to hold me in high contempt that causes you to lose your etiquette entirely around me – I confess that I have never heard as many hints of insults in my entire existence as I have heard in the past few nights slip from your pretty lips – and, you are so bold as to kill of my subjects to suit your needs in my presence." He smirked at her, although it seemed to be warmer than earlier. "One might think that you had a hidden agenda."

"As hidden as any other vampires'. That is to say, it will remain hidden."

He laughed out loud this time, his head throwing back elaborately, pausing for a moment in their dance. She looked around uneasily, trying to hide her shock in observing the other dancers. The Dark Prince…laughing?

He recovered and smiled grimly down at her and something within her was struck as she realized it was his first real smile that she had seen in her life. It was obviously what made him such an alluring figure throughout the vampire environs.

"Forgive me for laughing…but I took your words for a joke. After all, I have never met a vampire before you that could hide their intentions behind such a mask as you do…"

"You mock me, then?"

"Oh, never, but I do admire and distrust you at the same time," he replied. "Tell me, what do you think of the human race?"

She was so startled by the abrupt change of subject that she almost didn't notice the change in music as a new dance started up. He adjusted his hands on hers as well as her waist as a Viennese Waltz began.

_Strauss_, she thought vaguely as the familiar music echoed around them.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, how do you perceive them? I know some who think of them as merely existing to placate our hunger and others who think that they hold no use at all and should be wiped from the planet. Yet I can not decide where you might fit into this arrangement."

"I believe that the humans are the rightful owners of this world," she replied without hesitation. "We are monsters, born of the demonic and dark. The humans were here before even you, your lordship."

"You think so, do you?" his eyes were cold again and his was holding her hands tightly, the grip becoming painful even to her trained fingers. "Do you think so to such an extent as to kill you own kind? I saw as much from your murder of those three this evening."

"They were about to kill me," she replied shortly. "It was a decision that you would have had no problem in making yourself, Lordship. It was my life for theirs."

"And that justifies it?"

"And our hunger justifies the destruction of the human race?"

They regarded each other for a long moment and his mouth quirked upwards in a smirk again, rueful.

"It seems that we have reached a stalemate," she commented.

"No, I beg to differ," he replied easily in a tone that made chills run throughout her body. "You seem to have won."

"And how have I done that?"

He placed a finger to her lips and looked at her, his eyes dark.

"I believe you have won me," his words were hushed and the last thing either of them said before she felt the shock of his lips against hers in a demanding, dominating kiss.

* * *

TBC 


	9. Chapter Eight

_**Aeternum Vale – Farewell Forever**  
By KuriQuinn_

* * *

For the longest moment she didn't dare move or breathe or even think, her hands still clenched in his own and his cold lips caressing her own, nipping at her as though to convince her to return the caress.

Her rational broke through the shock that had encompassed her since he had initiated the intimate gesture, reminding her of her goal: she was here under the pretence to be the queen of the undead. Without another thought she obliged to his seeking lips and tongue, the kiss deepening to such an extent that a chill sizzled up and down her spine, making her gasp for breath through her nose. It shocked her to find that she wasn't truly pretending as much as she would have like.

_Someone holds me safe and warm._

He was dominating, plundering her mouth mercilessly and to her surprise, and disgust, a low, submissive noise growled forth from the back of her throat. At this, he pulled her closer, crushing her against his frame so that she was encompassed in his arms, her breasts pushing up against his chest. Angrily, she returned the kiss as though to make up for her earlier acquiescence, pushing back against his lips and tongue, trying to push the battle back into his own mouth.

_Far away, long ago,_

_Glowing dimness and embers._

The lights from all around them flashed against the lids of her eyes and when their teeth caught each others mouths in the bruising, molding of their lips. She couldn't breathe, but didn't pull away, instead bringing her hands out of his and sliding them up his arm to take hold of his shoulders. One of his thumbs brushed over her stomach and she felt a strange, familiar quiver run through her body.

_Things my heart used to know,_

_Things it almost remembers._

It seemed as though it would never end, until she felt his mouth turn upwards in a sort of smile and suddenly she felt the scrape of one of his eye teeth against her tongue, the coppery taste of blood entering both their mouths. A hot flash thundered through her body, making her convulse at the wave of pleasure that snaked through her, holding her tightly as he lapped the blood.

Warnings went off in her head and she pulled away roughly, clapping her hand to her mouth and staring at him in horror and anger.

She watched him steadily for a moment, as he gazed calmly back at her, licking his lips at the taste of her blood. She could smell it from there, the hunger that welled within him and she felt doubt at his motives enter her mind.

'_I know what you are.'_

Unable to think of anything else to do, she turned and fled the room, ignoring the muffled shouts of annoyance as she bumped and jostled through the dancing couples. She could feel his eyes on her even after she was gone, even after the heavy doors swung shut behind her…even after she slowed to a stop in the garden and stared up at the empty night sky, a shudder in her breath.

She reached one of her hands up, raking it through her hair hurriedly. It shook against her head, and she realized with muted disgust that her entire frame was shivering and not from cold either, or even fear.

The bastard.

She should never have gotten that close. Never had allowed him the chance to taste her like that. She should have been able to read his intentions before the embrace ever happened, whatever they had been. She wasn't sure. A part of her wondered whether she had just become the prince's prey, the sole vessel he would wish to take unto himself. Some vampyres hunted in such a way, letting their prey live long years, feeding off of them before they killed them.

Or perhaps (and this was what she was sure of) he had grown tired of being unable to read her, both in thoughts and movements. Who knew what the one drop of blood could have told him? Could have allowed him? He had known what he was doing…he had probably known what he was looking for as well and had planned the kiss from the beginning.

Why hadn't she pulled away?

Because she couldn't.

And she had known this the minute his lips had descended on her own. Something had wanted to keep her there, and it seemed to be on her own violation too. A strange, weak shadow of something she held felt before had bubbled up inside the minute the kiss had been initiated to the second her lips pulled away from his.

The night was cool on her skin, and she breathed in deeply as though to calm herself. This was not supposed to happen. Faint glimmers of the past were not supposed to influence her gestures now; she had been sure that she had locked them all away decades ago.

Why neglect what she had been trained to do, trained to commit, because her unreliable and unhealed heart craved tenderness. She balked at the word.

Tenderness?

There was nothing in the prince to even suggest such a feeling, and yet in that brief moment –

'Stop it,' she thought darkly to stem the path on which her thoughts seemed to be intent on. She vaguely noticed that her tongue was healing itself, the skin filling in where the prince's fang had slashed it to taste her blood.

She bristled, examining her wrists where the imprints of his nails were still fresh, their presence allowing the lingering feeling to penetrate her thoughts. She shook her head, throwing her wrists down, away from her sight.

The blood meant that the plan would have to be changed. Things would need to be carried out at a faster rate if the deed were to be done soon.

She thought back to their dance, where he had asked her of her thoughts on the human race.

"_I believe that the humans are the rightful owners of this world. We are monsters, born of the demonic and dark. The humans were here before even you, you lordship."_

"_You think so, do you? Do you think so to such an extent as to kill you own kind? I saw as much from your murder of those three this evening."_

Was it possible he knew who she was?

No, she assured herself moments later. She would have caught some hint from him, and he would have killed her already if he even had the slimmest hint that she had taken the amount of blood-drinker lives that she had. She had heard of his lack of mercy for vampyres who had carried out lesser crimes, such as being seen by a human. He probably believed her to be an incessantly intolerable, power-hungry female.

'No, there isn't any way he could have known what I am.'

The wind rustled through the trees and over the hedges, tussling her light hair slightly as it passed so that she pulled it back. She realized that her mask was still in place, and promptly took it off, tossing the porcelain thing to the ground, watching a crack appear at the eye.

'Unless he's toying with me.'

The thought startled her and for a moment she paused.

Was it possible?

Well, it wasn't entirely impossible, but it was highly improbable. Even if he was toying with her, he wouldn't have allowed her to get as far as she had.

And he wouldn't have kissed her, she reflected silently. Vampyres were seductive creatures, driven by passion and brutality. It wasn't in their nature to kill one to whom held any allurement towards them, if that was what she could call herself to the prince.

And if he was toying with her, why did he allow her to speak to him the way she did? Other vampyres seemed ready to kill her in swift droves, as she had discovered with the three ancients, and by Lord Tala's methods, for the words she used to describe them. From the words she used to speak to them.

The facts spoke plainly, and yet she still felt confusion hovering over her like a dark cloud. There were too many factures, too many questions as to the behavior of her nemesis.

Her thoughts drifted back to the prince, to the kiss. It had been different from when Ray had taken her mouth, although not lacking any of his enthusiasm. She hadn't wanted to submit to the prince, and yet she had. She hadn't wanted to be that close to him, able to smell the unique scent of all the years that fired his blood to his own scent.

She hadn't wanted that, and yet…

Her fingers drifted to her lips, which were still bruised from the plundering caress.

She pulled them back down again and frowned.

'And yet nothing,'

Now was not the time to fall victim to distraction, especially when that distraction was the plan all along.

_Snap_.

She whirled around, at the sound of the breaking twig, searching around her for the origin of the noise. Her face flashed angrily and a hiss of warning from behind gleaming eye-teeth pasted itself over her features as she waited for the approaching threat to make itself known to her.

She hadn't sensed another vampyre within her perimeter, and neither had she sensed the force of another advancing toward her, and yet she watched as one hesitantly walked out from behind the trees, pale skin shining in the moonlight and robes billowing despite the light, weak wind. He was tall and lean, although he looked strong and probably was fast as well.

She eyed him warily.

"Who are you and what do you want?" she asked, bluntly, not bothering to keep her voice in its usual pleasing, low tones. Her anger at the prince seemed to carry over towards this stranger that had happened upon her in her solitude, either unwittingly or not.

Her mind grated on her, reprimanding, why had she been so distracted not to sense him?

"Forgive me, lady," the voice spoke in soothing, soft tones that immobilized something deep within her, "you ran from the hall so quickly, I only wanted to see if you were alright."

He was lying, she thought numbly as she tried to pin-point the voice.

She knew it, and well, but a part of her seemed to be blocking out any leads to this vampyre's identity. He kept approaching with caution, as though worried she might flee, and unlike her usual manner, she didn't step back warily. She waited patiently for his face to escape the shadows that played over it as he came closer and closer.

"After all, you shouldn't be frightened in this company; the prince has the best protective measures that exist."

He stood before her now.

The moon shone over his face, illuminating deep, sparkling blue eyes and elfin skin texture.

She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in shock at the sight of the familiar features, the same determined set in his chin, the same dimples in his cheeks as seventy-five years earlier. The same kindness shone out from behind the windows of his soul and she felt her knees buckling as she searched out the one thing that would confirm everything to her for sure.

She nearly cried out when she saw it.

He still had the scar she had given him when they were seven and she pushed him into the birch tree outside their house. Long ago, in their days of innocence.

Her breathing hitched at the shock registering in his face.

Her words sounded like the whisper of the wind, low and breathless, "Max…"

* * *

TBC 


	10. Chapter Nine

_**Aeternum Vale – Farewell Forever**  
By KuriQuinn_

* * *

The severe and withdrawn look on his face disappeared, replaced by shining joy at her words. A smile more beautiful than anything she had ever seen in her life broke over his face and all of a sudden she was in his arms, and he was holding her, cradling her, as though there was no intention of him letting her go. And she didn't want to be let go, it meant she might lose him again. Her mind was numb, trying to discern whether it was a dream.

If it was a dream, let her slip into a coma and never wake again.

"I thought you were dead," he whispered in her ear, and she could hear the tears in his voice, feel the moisture fall down her ear and neck.

"I thought you were," she murmured, tightening her embrace. "Oh God, I thought I was alone."

Now he pulled away and they studied each other at arms distance, still holding each other. She knew he probably thought the same thing: if he let her go, she'd disappear. Although she couldn't sense anything from him, his thoughts hidden and breaking through at arbitrary moments, the way his skin gleamed like ivory she knew he had been undead for longer than her by but a few weeks. She thought back to that night long ago. That was the night when he had been turned.

She felt her eyes darken. "You're a vampire."

He laughed, the low trill filled with joy and amusement as he squeezed her bare shoulder tightly. "And so are you. I never knew. Tyson didn't tell me."

"Tyson?" she repeated, not understanding.

"My sire," Max laughed, and hugged her again, pulling away. His eyes were soft. "I really thought you were dead, Chays. I thought…I thought I'd die."

_Chays_. She hadn't heard that name in so long, and overwhelming waves of sadness threatened to drown her in them. She remembered as though it had only been yesterday, and the pain began to grow, almost as fresh as that night.

"Only you then?" she whispered, and his eyes became sullen again.

"I'm sorry."

A long silence where they stood, feasting their eyes on each other as though if either of them blinked the other would disappear.

Her brother. Her twin brother. He was alive. How was he alive? She had seen them…she had heard his pain filled scream from behind the cellar door where her husband had thrown her. She had heard his dying gasp. And yet he had been reborn that night…had those noises been of his making? Had he, unlike her, fought to survive? Fought his maker as he drained him and by some consequence been saved?

"How did you survive?" they asked each other at the same time, and while Max smiled, she frowned. He spoke first. "That night Tyson saved me. He followed the vampires that had been coming to our home and pulled me aside. He said that I would die like the rest if he didn't turn me. I didn't believe him then, I wanted to get back. I wanted to save you and our parents, but he was already draining me." Max's eyes became distant in his remembrance. "I was to the point of exhaustion when he asked me if I wanted to live. And I did. I came to and that was that."

There was no enticing story; there was no account of the pleasurable heights that other vampires had achieved at their making, just the facts.

"And you?" She was startled, but didn't show it, thinking back to her making. "Who was your sire?"

"He died," her voice was hollow. Max paused.

"Who was he?"

"I don't know," the hollowness disguised the lie well, and she looked away. "I didn't know anything before that. I was dead anyhow. I thought everyone was gone. Why didn't you look for me?"

She couldn't hide the bitterness in her voice, and he picked up on it. He embraced her again as though to reassure her that he wasn't leaving, then pulled away again. "We did. Tyson and I followed the crime investigation that night; we identified the blood in the cellar as yours and decided that you had been taken, your body destroyed."

She frowned. Blood? She didn't remember bleeding –

_Screaming she threw herself at the wall, scraping her hands against the concrete door. Her fingers bled as she pulled away, trying to find a way out. The window was stuck and angrily she crushed her hand through it, desperate to get out. She didn't feel the glass cut into her skin as she watched her husband dragged out and murdered before her eyes. Some wetness dripped to the floor, and just as she realized it was her blood, she passed out._

She was confused. She had never had a flashback before, at least never one that showed something she had never remembered before. Why would she have blocked it out in the first place?

She shook her head. The trauma of the night had gotten to her; that must be it. "They had me in protective custody."

"We were hoping for that as well, but for all our looking, it just proved that you were dead. Tyson told me the chances of you surviving that attack and after a few years, he stopped helping me search. It was about twenty years ago I stopped looking as well. I thought that even if you had survived the attack, you wouldn't have survived old age."

She digested the words and frowned. "You couldn't have looked very hard in the early years. After protective custody, they sent me to an asylum." Max's eyes flashed in anger. "And then he came."

"Who?"

"My sire."

"What happened to him?"

"I told you. He died."

"When?"

She didn't reply, sensing the imminent appearance of another and looked up. A pale vampire, shorter than her brother, with long fluid waves of black hair that seemed to shine with blue tones in the moonlight approached, his sapphire eyes glinting at her suspiciously in the night's light. He was wrapped in an elegant cloak of expensive material and walked like one with nothing to hide.

Max looked up as well, but instead of wariness, his face blossomed into a heartfelt smile, not unlike the one he had given her earlier. "Tyson!"

"Maximilian," the words seemed to be unfamiliar on this vampires tongue, as though he were only behaving courteously in the light of her presence. His eyes raked over her as though trying to discern who she was and she felt him try to probe her mind for the details, annoyance rising in him when he found that he couldn't. He turned to the vampire beside her. "What are you doing out here?"

"I followed her out. Tyson, you'll never believe it…its Chaya. My sister! She's alive!"

The newcomer's eyes swiveled around, fixing on her own. "That's impossible. We found proof that she was dead."

"I can't explain it," Max said joyfully. "But she's alive. And she's been a vampire for as long as I have, right?"

She didn't reply, not liking the look she was receiving. It disappeared and was replaced by a warm, welcoming smile as he approached her, brushing his lips against both of her cheeks to her surprise. "Well, it doesn't matter. As long as Maxie is happy, I am overjoyed to see you. It's good news that at least someone in his family survived that nasty endeavor."

"Quite," she replied, the coolness in her tone obvious. This was a vampire who had known about the attack before it had happened. He might even have been able to stop it. As though he sensed her thoughts, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Max, possessive as he captured the fair-haired vampire in a heated, rough-looking kiss.

A moment later, he pulled away, leaving Max's eyes glazed over and a surprised look on his face. "I'll leave you both to your reminiscing. But don't stay out too long. There's a dangerous hunter loose. I don't want anything to happen to you." He looked at Chaya for a long time. "Either of you."

She watched him take his leave, disappearing into the blend of the garden, and she was in Max's arms again and he was holding her tightly.

"Tyson's right," he murmured. "Maybe we should continue talking inside. This creature really is a traitor to our kind. Did you hear of the many ancients she has brought down on her own?"

Chaya had stiffened, no longer hearing her brother's words.

_Our kind_.

Her entire frame tensed, she pulled away from him and regarded him with cold eyes, masked anger hidden behind them.

"Our kind?" she repeated, as though she didn't understand him. "What do you mean, our kind?"

"Vampires," Max replied, looking at her with worry in his eyes. He came closer, reaching out. "Chaya what's wrong – "

She jerked away from his touch. "Did you forget, Max? What 'our kind' did? That 'our kind' killed those we loved? How could you have forgotten that night? It's been burned into my mind over the past seventy-six years."

"Mine too," Max said, his voice quiet even ask he looked at Chaya as though in great pain. "But Chay – "

"It was 'our kind' that separated you and I, making us thinking we were dead," she continued, loudly. "It's our kind that slips into the homes of innocent human beings, men, women, children alike and steals their lives from them for the sake of their hunger! How do you justify that? What turned you to thinking it was alright to kill? Do you believe that it's survival of the fittest? Or do you just do it because it's what your precious lover taught you!"

"Chays – "

"Don't you dare call me that, Maximilian," she said coldly, seeing him for the first time as another vampire. This wasn't her brother. Her brother had been a gentle soul that couldn't stand the sight of blood; he had held compassion for every species, for every person that ever crossed his path. This creature wasn't him. He had died the same night that her soul had. "For me, there is no 'our kind'. If I were to be killed right now by any hunter, I would do it so as to save myself from being an immoral, evil beast that feasts on the lives of others."

"Chaya, I don't understand – "

"Your sister died, Max, she no longer inhabits this body. Just a soulless vampire who shouldn't even be alive."

She turned and left him in the dark, smelling his tears in the air. She knew he was considering going after her, but the sapphire-eyed vampire had reappeared and was holding onto Max.

She felt a straining behind her eyes, but ignored it.

It seemed now that Fate had decided to deal her a challenging card.

Chaya couldn't kill her own brother.

But the hunter within could kill a fellow vampire.

* * *

TBC 


	11. Chapter Ten

_**Aeternum Vale – Farewell Forever**  
By KuriQuinn_

* * *

She frowned against the darkness, watching from her perch as the vampyre Riley commenced in her ritual lock-up of the security office. According to the antique clock set across the room, it was nearly six-o'clock. Daylight would soon be upon the castle, a time when all the vampyres needed to be secluded by darkness.

The silver-haired vampyre finished with the last of her checks and then moved to the door, absently humming one of the waltzes from the night before. Chaya heard the loud _click_ as the heavy door was shut from the outside, first by the brass key and next by the computer pad.

A slow, steady hum came to live around her as the motion sensors sprang to life.

She held back a spiteful laugh as she flipped down from the ceiling. She had harnessed herself there earlier after the flight from the courtyard, remaining quiet and still. When any attempted to look upon her she had used her will to push their probing minds away. It was a good thing that the others could not sense her no matter how close she was. Other wise she would have long since been found out and dragged to the Prince.

The sensors began their swirling dance around the room, invisible to the human eye, but to a vampyres', they glowed a bright red. These had been specifically designed, probably by the weapons expert herself, to operate in preternatural speed as vampyres did. Mortal perception of speed was a joke, after all. These sensors would be more of a challenge to beat.

Well. Almost.

With a final once-over around the room where she made sure she knew the location of all that she needed, she slipped down onto the ground, performing the evasive manoeuvres in a type of quick-step. As she ducked the sensors, flipping and twirling about the room in a speeded dance of some type she jimmied open the locked drawers and cabinets, attaching the weapons to her person as she did.

Shutting the last drawer she fixed the last of her items into her leather belt, these including the knives and silenced revolver she had been forced to leave upon her arrival. She was particularly fond of this gun, considering the bullets were coated in the same poison that her concealed dagger had been dipped in. The bullets themselves could not kill a vampyre, but with the right poison running through their veins, death would be imminent.

After all, blood was their only life force.

Without a pause she jumped back upwards into the rafters, hanging upside down as she waited for her opening. The blood rushed to her head and her hair hung down in strings towards the floor as she narrowed her eyes in concentration. The window where the weapons expert had requisitioned the weaponry was locked, but one well placed kick would force it open without disturbing the motion sensors. At least, not until the pattern was disturbed when it swung back into place. But by the time that happened she would be within the Prince's castle wing.

Any moment now…

Sweat beaded on her brow as thick as blood, but she ignored it.

The motion sensors swerved into place, leaving a small triangular opening. The minute it made its appearance she swung herself downwards, pushing off of the rafters as she executed the flip and was jettisoned towards the steel window. She kicked below her, feeling her boots contact with the steel and pulled into a crouch as the motion sensor's closed the opening above her head.

Although the manoeuvre took less than a second, the time she was in the air to the moment when her feet hit the window and she slid over the frame felt almost like it had been stopped by a watch. She felt as though she was hovering in some type of dimension where time was at a stand-still. And then everything rushed back to her and she found herself kneeling on the ground outside the weapons area, her gun clicking as the bullets set in the chambers. She allowed herself the quickest glance around to make sure there was no other being in the large ballroom, before taking in the closing window.

With a hiss and a burst of speed she dashed from the room, skidding towards the heavy iron doors that kept the entrance hall from sunlight. As she raced through the open courtyard towards the Prince's establishment she could feel dawn's first rays upon her skin, the burning, curdling sensation spreading across her skin. She ignored the pain, intent on the enclosure.

The Prince's wing of the castle was completely shadowed with every security device and machine to keep the day's light from entering. She would personally have thought the first of all vampyres to entomb himself below the ground where none could disturb him or cause him harm, but it seemed he preferred the pomp and comfort of the tallest room.

His vanity would be his downfall, she decided with grim humour.

The door before her was a joke to open, its great steel hinges barely moving as she slipped through the once-locked door and hiding herself in the shadows. Just as the gate closed, the sound of it grating and echoing across the hallways, the alarm in the ballroom sounded. She nodded, acknowledging the sensors having hit up against the window.

She didn't have much time left.

She could sense his presence far above her, motionless, his mind a blur almost as though deep in a dream. There was no time to lose.

She reached deep into her pocket, extracting a small leather pouch and her trusty lighter. She could practically smell the burnt flesh of the enemy, and she felt the hunger of the hunt fill her as she sprinted off through the dark halls, her mind intent on one place.

The first of the guards came upon her at the end of the hall, although she wasted no time in flipping out the long strip of piano wire from the pouch and slicing through the immortal skins. Cries as they choked on their own blood, their heads and limbs falling to the ground with sickening thuds; the hiss of the flames as she stole from them the lives they had tried in vain to preserve through the dark blood.

She barely noticed the stairs as she climbed higher and higher, the scent of the ancient blood tempting her although she didn't stop to drink. Her hands were stained with the dark, sticky substance as she continued the fatal dance, higher and higher. The vampyres seemed to be trying to call for reinforcements, she thought vaguely as she flipped out her can of poisoned acid spray, hearing the agonizing cries of the guard subjected to the substance.

She was getting closer, she could feel it. The hum of her heartbeat had become a permanent rhythm in her mind, and she could practically taste to blood of the Prince himself as she envisioned the moment she destroyed him. The one flicker of time before she and the rest of the vampyres were destroyed by the Prince's hive-like blood.

She was drunk on the scent of the blood, but she didn't care. She was on the final flight of stairs, in the final hallway…her task was almost completed, soon she would rest; soon she would…

"I knew that you would come here, but I had not believed it to happen so soon."

She whirled around, turning to face the familiar voice. Her heart constricted in her chest as she looked upon the identical features of her brother.

Max stood alone before the last door, his arms crossed and a look of complete pain and sadness there. She couldn't help it as she skidded to a halt, mere feet from him, her face frozen in a snarl of attack. Thoughts of the ebbing time and the loath of the situation flowed through her mind, but none so prominent as the wonder at how she had not sensed him. She had been able to sense the thoughts and presence of every other vampyre in the building, including the Prince, but his…this demon with her brother's face…;not an inkling.

"Chays…please, before you go any further with this – "

"Don't call me that name," she snarled, advancing on him, the hold on the wire tightening so that she felt it cut into her skin, the blood running freely down to the ground. "You, who betrayed everything for a vampire lover, you traitor, you – "

"But you have it all wrong," his voice was pleading with her as she stepped forward, intent on the presence behind the door her brother's likeness seemed to be guarding.

"No, it's you who have it all wrong! You didn't watch it all happen, you were too busy being turned by the demon spawn," she cried. "You didn't have it all ripped from you and then be told that you were the last surviving member…and you weren't thrown into a prison to live out your life knowing you were the last one, having to relive them tearing out the beating heart of your husband before your eyes!" There was a tightness behind her eyes as her voice became more raw, more ragged, and the grip tightened on the wire.

The blond vampire before her looked vaguely uneasy as her voice and behaviour became slightly more unhinged.

"I have to end this, Max, I need to stop the nightmares, both the ones in my mind and the ones these filthy creatures visit on mankind whenever they so can."

"You're wrong, Chaya, please, listen…I felt the same way those first few months," Max seemed intent on changing her mind, even stepping forward a little. He looked as though he was attempting to reach out to her, but kept himself from doing so out of sheer force of will. "I wanted them all dead, and I believed that they deserved it. I still think some of them do, but to want to put an end to an entire race based on – "

"Don't you dare say that you understand," she snarled. "You could never know the suffering this dynasty has thrown upon others, and I'm not talking of myself this time!"

Max was silent, almost pitying in his gaze.

"If you don't step aside, Maximilian," she said lowly, using as much as the strength as she could muster to keep from choking on the words, "I will destroy you as well… I owe my brother that much, that he die by my hands."

"We won't put you through that strain, huntress," a voice hissed to her left and she jumped, whirling around to suddenly find herself surrounded by a dozen or so guards, among them Tyson, Raymond and the fiery haired Tala. He smirked at her coldly, his eyeteeth slipping out from beneath pale lips. "Although I prefer the name 'Chaya', really. The irony of such a name for a sought after killer…"

She gritted her teeth, eyes flitting around the hallway. How had they managed to sneak upon her without her sensing them? It seemed as though suddenly they held the same cloak that Max did, shielded from her senses. Trying to remain undeterred, she stared back towards the door to the Prince's chambers, her heart sinking when she realized it was empty somehow.

"Yes, it seems that your plans are ruined," the cool voice in her ears whispered, and she yelped when she found that she had inadvertently backed into the body of none other but the Prince. Strong arms encircled both her waist and neck and she could feel the ghost of his breath on her skin. His nails gripped her painfully and rough. "Although mine has come together rather well…I knew you could not resist such an open invitation to destroy me…"

Her eyes widened in shock. The gala! It had all been a complete set-up. He had – "…known all along," she choked. "Trap…"

His cruel chuckle in her ears as his grip tightened yet again told her it was right. "Child, I have known of you and your ambitions since long before Dante's traitorous blood flowed through your veins. And although you have disappeared from my senses for all those decades, how could you let yourself believe I have not been watching you? I am conscious of every vampire's thought, of every movement…don't you believe that deep down I could have seen through their blood, in their last moments of life by your hands?"

She froze, her eyes glazing over. Dante had never…ever told her of the Prince's reach…

The air seemed to change and she could feel him looking up, over to her brother. "Maximilian, it seems that you have failed in what you set out to do. You told me you could persuade her against her actions. It seems that her wish for my demise is still strong."

Max looked even more tortured, not able to meet the Prince's eyes. "I am so sorry, my Lord. I tried, but she has been so set in her ways, especially after what that bastard told her…I don't think she will change her mind."

She didn't have a chance to scream at him before she was hurtled from the Prince's arms, the crushing blow into the wall causing her balance to tip and colors to swirl. She could feel the plastering feeling over her blood on the walls from the force of the hit, and reeled for a moment.

"A true pity," the crimson-eyed vampyre said, his voice cold and hard. She could sense his eyes on her. "One to whom justice will be served." He seemed to sense Max's horrified look, just as she did as she struggled to her feet, reaching back for the gun. "But do not worry…we are a civilized race, much to your chagrin I'm sure, Lady." His voice took on a mocking quality here. "You will of course be given a trial before your imminent execution."

"Fuck you," she snarled, raising the gun level with his head. Her limbs were still shaking from the blow to the wall, and she could practically feel pieces of shattered rock and stone embedded in her skin.

The vampire Prince smirked, looking truly evil for a moment.

In a blink he was gone, and she cried out in rage, letting off one shot in surprise. His speed was greater than her own, and she knew that. With a grunt she turned to follow him, stopping still when she saw him standing behind her brother. There was a noise of shock and outrage behind her, probably from Tyson.

Kai held her brother tightly by the throat, lifting him off of the ground. The blond vampyre was making choking noises, fighting for breath as he tried to pry the Prince's hands from his throat. Unlike days ago when the Prince had had her in the exact position, Max was fighting. She felt a lump in her throat begin to stopper her breathing and felt the revolver shake in her hands.

"Well, huntress? In your goal to destroy me, will you be heartless enough to sacrifice your own flesh and blood?" he asked her, his voice almost childishly simplistic. "Because if you do not go quietly to the dungeons with my guards, I will have no choice but to sever the life from your last family member. I would hate to have to do so…"

"You bastard," she choked, almost wincing along with her brother as the Prince's grip tightened. "What's stopping you, you've already taken my entire family and now you'll taunt me one last time?"

His voice was cold. "You're mistaken. I have never had the blood of your family on my hands. That is a lie planted in your head by Dante, who blinded you to his whims." Max's eyes rolled back into his head. "Now, decide quickly because I'm seconds away from ripping his head from his body. Go and stand your trial like a good girl."

She snarled in rage, ignoring the pleas from Tyson for her to just give in and for the Prince to release Max. The guise of her brother was suffering, and whether it truly was him or not, she felt an enormous heaviness in her heart. She was moments away from killing the Prince, though…his concentration was on her brother and before he could do anything she could easily take a swing at him…

But she would have to watch Max die yet again, and this time he wouldn't return fifty-odd years later…

Her hands shook as she weighed her option, trying to find a third way out, but none came to her. She could once again sense the other vampyres as they closed in around her, but found herself unable to move.

'_Max…'_

But she had to kill the Prince…she had waited for this chance for so many…for so many years, would she just…

'_Please, not Max!'_

His eyes were upon her again, although not in mocking contempt, more in calculation, as though trying to understand her thoughts despite the block he couldn't get passed.

'_Can you really let him kill your own brother?'_

"Max!" she breathed weakly, hearing the silenced weapon clatter to the ground. Barely a second passed before she was attacked from all sides, her arms and legs bound by the others as they wrestled her into a submissive position.

The Prince let out a cold laugh and released the neck of her twin, who collapsed to the ground, rubbing his throat thankfully. Tyson broke from the crowd and was immediately surrounding her brother in his arms, glaring at Kai through angry eyes. The Prince ignored him, gliding forward toward Chaya, a look of condescension in his eyes.

He approached her motionless form and cupped her chin between two pale fingers, regarding her silently. A wan smile appeared on his face. "And you really believed I would have killed him?"

Muffled anger, hatred and a sick feeling rose up within her and she let out a moan of rage. The Prince laughed and waved her away, signifying his guards to bring her away. She screamed in furious agony, although not from real pain, as they dragged her down the concrete stairs.

The last she could see was her brother watching her with tear-filled eyes from his lovers' embrace, an apology in his eyes.

* * *

TBC 


	12. Chapter Eleven

_**Aeternum Vale – Farewell Forever**  
By KuriQuinn_

* * *

The dungeons were dark and filled with shadows that painted sinister pictures across the stone walls despite the lack of light. The place had been built deep beneath the castle where not even the most intrusive ray of sunlight could reach and where instead of a floor there was merely dirt. The stones that constructed the walls of the place were damp and moss-covered in some places, spiders spinning stubborn, thick webs in the corners and across the ceiling.

All around her she could make out the rotting skeletons and corpses of mortals from thousands of years earlier, long before the vampires has taken this castle as their own. Even more disturbing were the few corpses that were not corpses at all but vampires that had been imprisoned in the chilly depths of the dungeon for centuries without blood to keep them awake. They must have spent hundreds of years suffering from agonizing hunger, before slowly turning into living carcasses.

She didn't mind this knowledge so much as the smell that wafted through the dome-shaped stone chamber. The decaying flesh, and in the cases of the mortal corpses remnants of their bodily fluids, had left a distinct, staining tang to the air that was especially strong to her sensitive nose. She felt herself wishing that she could move her hands at the moment, just to cover her nose.

Upon her arrival in the dungeon the night before, she had been chained to the wall with steel that was so strongly fastened into the wall that even all of her strength refused to budge it. Lord Tala had told her with that aggravating smirk of his that there was no way of her escaping it, considering how much trouble the Prince had had his vassals go through to construct her confines specifically for her. He had bragged to her about how the metal that built it was a special alloy that was like titanium even to vampires, coated with a diamond hard substance to keep it strong.

She hadn't needed him to tell her that it was also completely planted into the wall behind her, what with her constant attempts at pulling free after the vampire forces had left. She was more than a little surprised that they had not decided to take out their frustrations or vengeances upon her as she had many times endured. They had not laid one finger on her, which meant they were either not so much affected by her capture, which was highly unlikely, or that her trial, punishment and execution were to be more painful than what mere torture could describe.

She was sure of the latter, personally.

Every once in a while one of the living corpses nearby giving a cracking sigh or moan. Above her she could detect the slow awakening of all who dwelled in the castle. No doubt they were all being informed as to her capture and the bastard prince was preparing to give a very eloquent speech on the matter.

Anger bubbled through her for the umpteenth time over the past twenty-four hours, not only with her hatred for him and what he had done to her, using the gala to lure her and her brother to contemn her, but in her stupidity in trusting him. She knew now that the single drop of blood he had consumed during that stolen kiss had told him more of her plans than any other. And of her. He had known exactly what she reacted to.

She hissed into the darkness, feeling her nails scratch at the clasps and cuffs that were keeping her trapped to the wall, the sound of the scratch against the metal harsh even to her ears. She could feel the skin of her wrists becoming raw as they rubbed against the cuffs.

This was bound to be another painful venture, she was sure.

The ripple of excited feelings above her began to slowly grow and she could follow the pattern or those hearing of her capture. She could sense the petty feelings of gratefulness and triumph throughout the masses, and when she concentrated, she could feel the emotions of individuals. The vampire Riley seemed confused and angry, while the other one, Mellanie was indifferent. She could not sense the vampire with the guise of her twin, although she could feel his emotions being channelled by his vampire lover, and it disturbed her to feel the pain.

As for the Prince, she found herself horribly jarred when she felt his great sense of loss. Then, almost as though he could feel her probing mind, the thoughts cut off – this too was a little disturbing, considering he had never been able to hide his feelings from her.

Confusion turned to anger; anger that he had dared to tell her that she had her intentions confused. He just didn't understand pain the way she did, or the way Dante had. He was above that, safe and protected by his cult of personality, where any of his orders were carried out without question and with brutal passion. He did not understand that pain of watching those you loved die in front of you, brutally and bathed in blood.

Her immense pain and hatred for the Prince grew just as quickly as the growing excitement in the castle above. They awaited her downfall there, the mounting tensions and feelings of expectance. They were drowning themselves on their cheer and triumph.

"Bastards," she hissed, her eyes turning black. There was no way she would go into this without a fight. And that was a promise.

Straining against her chains, she tried to see if she had any of her weapons on her. The vampire forces had been thorough in taking all of the weapons on her – the revolver, the wires, the knives, the poison – everything, it seemed, but the dagger that she could still feel nestled safely between her breasts. They hadn't noticed it nor had they been able to sense that it was even there.

But where it was currently placed, she wouldn't be able to do much about it.

She swore, ready to continue on with finding her escape, when she stopped. 'Wait a minute…the dagger might be useful after all.'

She glanced down at her feet, which despite being void of her boots, a measure they had wished to keep her from running far, were unchained. With a grim smile she decided that the Prince's men believed her incapable of breaking out of the chains.

With a grunt, she kicked upwards, curling herself into a ball as she tried to gain footing on the wall. She could feel her back cracking under the strain but ignored it, busy trying to nudge the dagger that was encased beneath her shirt slowly back out and free. Before it could even move, she had fallen back down, her bare ankles smacking against the groaned painfully, hitting a sharp rock in the dirt as they did so. She swore at the slight pain, before breathing in sharply and kicking her feet over her head again, this time catching her knees in her chained hands and trying to flex her shoulders and chest painfully. The dagger slowly moved forward, and she gasped for breath, her lungs pushed painfully tight against her knees, her chin jutting into her chest.

Just as it was almost in contact with her lips, her legs gave out and fell painfully to the ground again, relinquishing the dagger back into her shirt – although this time, it caught itself on the hem and remained close enough that her next attempts might be more fruitful.

With a half grunt, have snarl, she folded upwards one last time, breathing harshly and practically smacking her head back against the stones as she forced the dagger all the way back down to her. With a triumphant noise she opened her mouth to encase the hilt in her lips, and allowed herself to unfold. Her feet landed on to floor, hitting the sharp rock a second time, but she didn't care. She had what she needed.

Her shoulders heaving in effort, she pulled herself as far from the wall as she could and opened her mouth, dropping the knife into the dirt. Even in the darkness she could make out its shape with ease and found it with her feet. If she was going to use the dagger, she needed to clean off all, or as much as she could, of the poison coating.

Setting all of the strain on her arms once again, she shuffled around with her feet, pressing them together as she picked up the knife with her toes and forced it into the ground after countless attempts. Her breath was caught in her throat and she could feel her muscles screaming in protest. Ignoring the pain, she positioned her feet on both sides, trapping the knife between them. The tip of the blade was encased in the ground, and with a few forced pushes, she had buried it to the hilt in the dirt.

She paused a moment, relaxing and using her feet as an anchor, before tensing again and using her feet to pull the weapon out of the ground slightly. Moments later, she was shoving it back into the ground. She repeated the process again and again, hearing the grating sound of the dirt soil against the blade of the knife. A few more scrapes would get the densest of the poison off of the blade, enough that she could use it without worrying about hurting herself.

She glanced upwards at her hands, realizing that what she was about to do was going to hurt immensely – and not in the usual backbreaking way, but the way her enemies died.

With a whimper that she tried to muffle, she pulled the knife from the ground, using her feet to turn it around so that it pointed towards her, the metal scraping the dirt as it turned. With painstaking effort, she propped it up between her feet, studying the tip carefully. After a moment, she shifted her left foot so that the sharpest side was horizontal with her body, and then stopped to breathe.

There was a long moment where there was no movement or noise, save another cracking sigh from one of the undead corpses.

And then without warning, she muffled a scream and flipped her legs over her head, her feet hitting the side to her left, before slicing to the right with preternatural speed and force.

Pain blossomed through her senses as she felt the shower of her own blood rain down on her, even as she fell free of the cuffs and rolled into the dirt below. She turned and bit into her shoulder to muffle her screaming cries, even as her eyes roved upwards to the two disembodied hands that were still locked into the clasps, and then back down to the two bloodied stumps that were the remnants of her forearms and hands.

The knife lay in the dirt nearby, blood that had never been meant for it staining its blade.

Weak and wracked with pain, she fought off the shock that was trying to ensnare her and hobbled towards her former prison, moaning painfully as she felt the blood leaving her body, she worked furiously, using her elbows to free both the entrapped hands. They landed in her mangled arms after a few painful moments of tricking them out of the small clasps, and she slid down the wall, panting and moaning in effort and agony.

Quickly, she repositioned her hands near the tips of her bleeding forearms and pushed forward, letting out a yell at the contact between the severed bones and skin.

For the longest time she gritted her teeth, swearing and shivering, not from cold but from the pain. It intensified when she felt the skin cells and muscles begin to regenerate, the severed bones attaching themselves to the ripped ligaments. She felt weakened, mostly by the immense quantity of blood that she had just lost, but also because of the slight pricking burn of the poison.

In her weakened state, it might be enough to kill her.

As she huddled into herself, waiting for her limbs to heal, she noticed for the first time that the cracking sighs and moans from the undead had intensified.

When she looked up she realized that the not only had the vampire corpses begun to make noise, they had begun to move. To the point that at least four of them had strained against their chains to look over to her.

She understood why immediately. She could smell her blood all around her, the scent strong and tangy. If she could sense what she could, she was sure that for those who had been imprisoned within these walls for all the years, it was a maddening, strong scent to send them into a frenzy.

Their groaning continued in earnest, and she narrowed her eyes, slowly and shakily standing.

"You long for blood do you?" she whispered into the darkness. The wretched creatures moaned and hissed in reply, one of them even going so far as to reach out towards her. "If I give you what you wish for, will you serve me but briefly?"

Their eyes glowed red with hunger and desire.

She walked forward, her shaking diminishing somewhat the closer she got, the angrier her eyes became. "I will give you blood, enough to move and feed, but no more. You will do as I say and if you do not – I will destroy your wretched bodies so that your souls never find peace. Do not mistake my injuries for a handicap – I have killed more of your kind without the use of my hands than can be counted, is that clear?"

More groans, louder this time.

Slowly and deliberately she moved forward, stretching her bleeding hands over the corpses, whose faces were upturned, mouths open to catch even the smallest drop of blood. As the droplets hit the corpses, they sizzled almost like acid, and the vampires hissed and moaned in pleasure. They began to rattle against their chains and with a hurried movement she grabbed the knife, using it to pick the locks of their chains and cuffs. The monsters moaned in pleasure, crawling free of their confines and she turned to examine the door.

It was thick and only able to be opened from the outside.

'Not a problem,' she smirked, looking at the walls that surrounded the large, high-tech door. They were centuries of years old, reinforced only by minimal attempts with cement. It would be no problem to break through the doorframes.

A hand landed on her shoulder, its claws drawing blood as it turned her around.

She gazed impassively up into the leering, decaying skull that hissed at her, its canines elongated to an impossible length and it eyes as red as the blood she had just fed it. With a snarl it grabbed her throat with its other hand, ready to rip into her.

She made one quick movement, kicking out beneath her and knocking the cursed vampire to the ground. Just as it was about to hit the floor she stepped downwards heavily, her foot crushing through the thing's chest and breaking its brittle heart filled with dried blood. It screamed in agony, its clawed fingers reaching for her in an almost pleading manner.

Her expression not changing, she bent over with the dagger and sliced through the rotting joints that were keeping the skull connected. The body twitched, before going still.

Her eyes flashing, she glared up at the remaining vampires, challenge evident on her features. "Alright, who's next?"

* * *

TBC 


	13. Chapter Twelve

_**Aeternum Vale – Farewell Forever**  
By KuriQuinn_

* * *

The warning seemed to hold for the rest of the emaciated vampires. Instead of approaching her, they mulled about in the darkness of the gaol, their wheezing breaths sounding like metal scraping across stone. Her hands hurt, her head throbbed and she could feel the poison working its way through her body. Each second was using up precious time.

Again she surveyed the high-security door and the locks, her eyes falling on the walls. Centuries worth of dust in the chinks would make it easier to push out – as well as the help from the starved walking corpses. And if that didn't do anything, they would be a nice distraction once the guards actually showed up.

She crept forward to the wall, running her shaking fingers over the stones and cement, trying to sense within the wall a chink or a weak spot. After several minutes she gave up, acknowledging that the workers who had built this gaol had been intent on keeping it impregnable. At least by hand.

Turning back so that she was now facing the angrily muttering and gasping vampire corpses, sensing their bitter thoughts and the apparent desire to attack her, she ignored them and turned to the clasps that had held her to the wall. She knew that she could not pull them free of the wall, considering she had attempted it before and failed, and that ended her second plan before it even began.

Her attention turned back to her now blood-stained knife. It had aided her escape the first time, there was no excuse for it not to help another time. The corpses were becoming restless and she could feel her warning to them ebbing from the memory just as fast as the minute amounts of blood pumped through their system.

The knife once again clutched tightly in her hands, she took a few steps back, before launching herself at the frame surrounding the steel door, burying the knife to the hilt in the crumbling cement. She smirked. It was just as she had thought. The place may seem impregnable to the prisoners within when they had no weapons…but to the one that did have one…

She studied the small split that the dagger was now embedded in, pulling it out and once again repeating the action in various places around the door. When the hunger of her cellmates seemed to reach its highest point, she finally turned to them, her eyes cold and the smile on her lips frozen in place.

"There are your marks where the wall is weak – you want blood? It's beyond those stones and cracks. Go ahead."

She stepped back, waiting for them to move. She barely blinked before the dozens of half-starved vampires were clawing at the walls, snarls and desperate cries as they used their fingers and whatever limbs they could to create weaker points in the walls. Although their fingers could not bleed as they fought their way against the stone, Chaya could hear the scrape and tearing of flesh against rock as they worked. She faltered for a moment, leaning her head back against the wall, a burning sensation attacking her organs from the inside.

A potent poison indeed, she thought with a labouring breath.

One of the corpses near her seemed to sense her weakness and made to reach for her. With a snarl she lashed out, breaking his arm. The beast screamed at her, cradling its now broken limb, but went back to work, throwing itself at the wall.

Even later, she was not sure what happened. Had they broken the wall down first or had the prince's guard come for her? All she knew was at the same time as the great holes in the wall were being made and the stone shattered to the ground, the high security door was being opened and there was screaming all around them.

Driven by their hunger the corpses suddenly seemed stronger and desperate, vaulting towards the vampire forces and attaching their fangs to their necks. The mightier vampires fought them off easily, but they were unable to keep them off for long before the corpses were upon them again. The blood scent was in the air and on the lips of almost every corpse. Their eyes were red with bloodlust, but just as their forms were becoming stronger with the smallest drink, she could sense their thoughts becoming more rational.

When she ordered them to keep the guards busy, she could tell that this time they understood and would obey her, now that their hunger was being quenched.

As she hurried through the underground network of caves, her bare feet scratching against every out of place rock and jagged stone, she could feel that she had just liberated notorious vampire killers and beasts that the prince had had incarcerated because they had broken more than his laws but the laws of man. At the moment, she didn't care. She would kill the prince and when she had done that she would be able to deal with each and every vampire alive, including the miscreants from the prison.

The world above her was a mess of mixed thoughts and emotions, although to her anger all of the personages that she sought out were completely blank. As though they didn't exist; the way she was sure her thoughts or lack there of seemed to enemies who attempted to get past her strange mind-block.

It was easy to sneak past the guests of the gala, considering their preoccupation with the news that she had been captured. No one noticed her sliver past the gates and into the cloistered chambers. The guards and vampires she met along the way were reduced to bodies the closer she came to the prince's chamber and the more she realized that she was experiencing her own type of blood lust.

She heard the shouts and yells from way below as the vampire prisoners made their way into the gala and began their tiny rebellion in earnest, attacking the guests for blood and fighting against the guards that still remained. The vampire forces were being called in and she felt all of them leave their posts, save the few that guarded the Prince's chamber.

Not a problem, she thought feeling the monster that was her hunger fill her being and erase any doubts or judgements from her mind. She didn't bother treading carefully even though she might be approached by her non-scent bearing brother. After having betrayed her twice for the vampires…she didn't know if she would let him live a third time.

It was Tala and the icy eyed vampire she had seen on her first night at the gala that guarded the last door in the hallway where she had been captured. Although it seemed a simple door, she knew that behind it lay not only the prince, but a series of iron-clad securities to keep the origin of their species from harm. From what she could read in the mind of Lord Tala, it could only be opened and closed from the inside in time of peril. And right now, it was open.

'Perfect,'

She turned the corner allowing them to glimpse her. Just as they move she ran forward, as though intent to attack them, watching as though in slow motion as they bent forward, fangs bared and their intent to finally dispose of her painfully evident in their eyes and minds. Moments before they caught hold of her, she ducked low, jutting her leg out and shattering the wood of the door as she went through.

Before they could recover, she had stood and was throwing the safe-like titanium door closed. The locking mechanism clicked shut and she could hear the subtle beeping of a computer recognizing the door was closed.

Her pulse raced and burned as she looked up, staring around the bedchamber where her final obstacle was to be found.

Dark enough to rival even her prison, it was none the less a room of grandeur, the furnishings and décor as dark as their owner. Everything seemed to have died and just hung lifeless and stiffly in the wake. The blood loss and poison was taking its toll. If she didn't move quickly…

There was a loud pounding on the doors outside, probably the guards. There was no way into this room, she realized, other than the door. The walls, although at first had seemed merely dark and lifeless, she now realized were made of reinforced steel all around. The air did not come from any crack in the room but from tiny holes from which oxygen was fed through pipes.

The prince not only lived in captivity, it seemed, but in a solitary confinement of massive proportions.

All of a sudden she was finally able to feel the presence of her prey.

Looking over, it was almost as though he had materialized out of thin air. At the same time, everything around her appeared to fade. All sound and movement that she might have been able to perceive disappeared and for one moment, it was just her and the prince existing in a faceless continuum.

He was kneeling by his bed, his head bowed and didn't make a move to indicate that he knew that she was there. He was murmuring almost too silent for her to hear but when she finally caught his words she was surprised for a moment.

"Pater noster, qui es in coelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum, adveniat regnum tuum, fiat voluntas tua…" his words echoed despite their silence and for a moment she thought he was trapped in a memory. The sight of the Prince of Darkness, demon and evil kneeling and praying to a mortally conceived god stopped her intentions for a moment, "…sicut in coelo et in terra, panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie…"

The feeling disappeared as soon as it had come and she brandished the knife that had been in her hand since her escape from the prison. "Do you think the mortal god will keep you from dying?" she asked quietly, approaching him. "When you have been on this earth long before such a thing was conceived?"

"…et dimitte nobis debita nostra…"

"What makes you think that you have the right to pray to any god after everything you've done?" she asked angrily, coming closer with each word. "Living a life that brings death to even the innocent – how can you be forgiven for that?" The pounding on the door was ebbing away, although the voices were louder and more distressed.

"…sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris et ne nos inducasin tentationem…"

"You can't!" she cried. "And you won't be! Not for what you've done!"

She launched herself at him, knife raised and poised for his neck.

The blow came faster than she could ever have expected and before she knew it, she was blinking over at him, her spine broken as she hit the steel wall, the knife lying somewhere a few yards away. She hadn't even seen him move.

And still he continued to pray, "…sed libera nos a malo. Amen."

He was silent. She didn't move as she watched him slowly and deliberately get to his feet, still not acknowledging her.

"I hope you know how rude it is to interrupt the prayers of the faithful."

"You of all people don't deserve to be called that," she hissed, picking herself up off of the ground and cracking her spine into place. Her bones slowly began to heal, stunted because of the poison and her own blood loss. Anger spurred her on and she barely glanced at the sorrow that he sent through his eyes.

Not bothering with a weapon this time, she attacked him. This time she was ready when he attempted to stave her off, ducking the crushing blow of his hand and lashing out with her foot, tripping him so that he fell back onto his four-poster bed.

Reaching over and breaking the post off of the bed, she poised herself above him, the sharper and splintered tip inches above his heart. His cold red eyes were still filled with that pitying sorrow that made her stomach feel like it was being riddled with holes.

"Why do you so wish destroy your own kind," he asked her simply, the grave voice striking down to the very roots of her blackened soul. "You and everyone in this castle has been given a gift – and not only do you spurn it, you wish to take it from them to."

"They are monsters – and so are you," she growled. "And if you don't know why, you'll die not knowing." Intent to finish the job she thrust downward with the piece of wood, almost hitting him.

But he sighed, as though by preventing his death it was a bother and easily pried her up with one hand, lifting her off of him as he stood. He dangled her in the air by her bloodied and painful hand so that her feet didn't reach the floor. She couldn't hold back the whimper in her throat, but to make up for it, lashed out at him with a kick. He caught her foot easily, making her unable to move for the moment.

"So stubborn," he sighed, meeting her angry, loathing glare head-on. "And more trouble than you're worth to most, let me tell you." She struggled again, intent not to die without a fight. The effort was taxing and she could feel herself sweating in pain. A flicker of concern entered his eyes. "You're dying, you know? Even now I sense the poison sifting through your veins. And yet you still refuse to tell me why you hate me with such a passion."

She spat in his face.

He didn't register the action. Instead his eyes glowed a more sinister red, changing for the attack. "As you once said, 'you're blood will tell me anything I need to know now'."

Her eyes widened and she cried out in pain as she felt his dagger-like teeth rip into her throat. The feelings were immediate. Try as she might, she couldn't keep a strong hold on the surge of memories that seemed to spiral out of her mind and connect to his waiting one. Instances such as from the first years of her life swirled about before her eyes as she felt the pull of her blood entering his mouth.

He seemed to drink in her life greedily, and despite her fighting him she knew she was getting weaker. The sudden realization of what it must have felt like for all of her victims hit her and the tiniest form of regret surfaced – before the bitterness took over. She pushed all thoughts of sympathy aside and tried to fight the Prince off, intent that she either free herself or die before he made her relive that night so long ago.

Too late.

Her mind was awash with images and echoes of the screaming as the night she lost everything exploded in her mind. She could physically feel herself hitting the wall the way she had when her husband had thrown her out of the way – the feel of the cold stone of the cellar scraping her knees. The images of her family's blood spattering the walls and the scent reeking in the air. She screamed, refusing to see more and somehow found the strength to pull away from him.

She fell onto the ground, weak and shivering, her eyes large. There was a large gash in her throat from where she had ripped herself away from the prince's teeth. She barely had enough strength to hold herself up now. The blood that had been keeping her going was almost completely gone. Like any vampiric victim, she would soon die.

The Prince was looking down at her without sympathy, his chin and collar stained with her blood.

"The loss of your family is regrettable," he told her simply. "However."

Again he leaned forward, the hungry look in her eyes and for the first time since arriving at the castle she felt her bravery and attitude completely abandon her. A sudden nauseating fear bubbled up in her heart the closer he got.

Gently and almost toying with her, he caught her up in his arms again and leaned towards her neck. "You should know the truth before you die."

And then there was nothing but pain.

* * *

TBC 


	14. Chapter Thirteen

_**Aeternum Vale – Farewell Forever**  
By KuriQuinn_

* * *

He drained her to the point of paralysis, leaving her broken for a moment on the floor and wishing she was dead. She could barely make out his form above her, could barely hear the sound of flesh being slit open – could barely taste the drops of blood that fell upon her face and lips, sliding down her throat without her having the strength to reject it.

All she could see was blood and fire. Her lungs felt as though they were being sucked out of her and all of her organs seemed to be collapsing. The darkened chamber and the hard stone floor beneath her ceased to exist and for a moment she wondered if she was really dying. Screams echoed in her ears and images rushed through her, almost as though she was walking in a see of memories. She couldn't feel the Prince's fangs any more but she knew them to be there – she could feel her slowing heartbeat and could almost smell her death approaching, but was so distracted by the sensations and imprints on the back of her eyes.

'Do you know why your family was massacred?'

'Because you ordered it.'

_The vortex of blood and fire cleared and she found herself staring at a very familiar scene. A burning cesspool of death and despair was illuminated all around her, the remnants of a gory battle clear before her. It was night. Corpses strewed the streets, being devoured by animals and stepped over by the living that continued to run for their lives. The elegant remnants of a Roman town fleeing from the barbarians who laid siege to it._

_A burning home, the smouldering corpses of three young children and a woman lying mutilated and showing signs of torture. Nearby a hastily dug pit, within it a man, pale and staring lifelessly up as though waiting for the gods to take him from his misery._

'Dante…'

'Yes. The ideals and beliefs of his time demanded that he die stoically – already dishonoured, his mind wanted to die and join his family in death. His body, however…'

_His hand was still unconsciously reaching out as though grasping for a lifeline that only he could see. It happened so fast she jumped, almost breaking out of the dreamlike trance and feeling the scent of his blood closer to her now, still holding his hand far above her. She was still too weak to pull away from the blood and the memories kept coming. _His memories.

_Dante grasped upwards and was lifted with great ease from the pit, before being splayed down on the ground. The moonlight and flamed illuminated the pale faces of the Prince._

'No…you couldn't…I saw it! Dante's maker was killed in a blaze, he – '

_Dante was dying before her, just as she had watched so long ago when he made her. He reached out, his eyes rolling back in his head._

"_You're strength of will is intriguing," the Prince of then said quietly, in Latin although she could understand his every word. His eyes gleaming red with the usual blood-lust. He motioned to someone behind him. "Bring him around."_

_The vampire she had seen make Dante stepped forward, revealing a short, grotesque looking man. Within moments the ritual was complete and Dante was sitting up, staring at them in horror._

"_What have you done," he rasped, looking wildly about. "What have you done?!"_

"_You have been given the immortality of your silly gods," Kai said simply, sounding more amused with himself than anything. "Embrace it."_

"_But my family…my honour! How can I live through the ages knowing I died when they lived? You have taken away my – "_

_He was cuffed across the face by his maker. "You serve one greater than Roma now. Do as he wishes and you will live long and be immortal."_

_Feelings of discontent and resentment floated around her with the dizzying blood and fire, but the scene was gone. There was a whir, almost as though she was watching time flash forward at a light speed – she saw the death of Dante's maker in the fire as she had long ago, but this time the Prince was still there. Vaguely, she could feel herself being lifted somewhere, but her body was twitching for weakness too harshly. _

_There was a sound of screaming and the harsh thrust of a door being shut there._

'_My Lord…what are they?" a bloodied Dante, wearing chain mail and trying to pull a leaden arrow from his right arm asked, following the presence of the Prince from then._

"_They are those who hunt our kind," was Kai's cool reply, this time in Medieval Rus, sounding as though he didn't want to be bothered answering such a question. "They are the only other danger to us than sunlight. Never attempt to engage one for you will die just as soon." _

"_But they are mortal – can we not just – "_

"_Be my guest if you wish to die – they have no scent to us, nor can their thoughts be discerned by ours. They always hold the element of surprise and can walk in the light. If you truly believe you can take them on, go ahead."_

_Dante glared at the Prince's back and those same feelings of resentment boiled up again, so potent that Chaya could feel them herself._

She cried out as though in and once again found herself flying through time and memories.

"_Sire, why have you forbidden me to make another? Is it not my due?"_

_Dante, clad in fashions from the Renaissance peered angrily at the Prince who was drinking blood from a goblet. The first vampire regarded Dante for a long moment, before sighing and looking away. "I have given you everything and still you wish for more. That is why I have forbidden you."_

"_But my lord – "_

"_So many of us clumsily sire fledglings and only death comes of it. It is a privilege that must be exercised sparingly. Besides, as one who resides so close to me, sired by my first child and who frequently receives of my blood, you are too powerful to be given that privilege. Can you imagine the strength that would come from a child of your blood? The strength would drive it mad and destroy it, weakening you."_

_Dante looked away, cold as usual. "As you wish, my Lord."_

'I don't understand,' she thought wildly. 'What does this have to do with?'

'Patience is one of life's greatest virtues, even in death.'

She tried to fight him again, but it was as though her arms and legs were strapped to the bed beneath her and even when they moved, her blood was like lead, refusing to let her move.

_Eighteenth century. Once again in the presence of the Prince, surrounded by his guards and Ray, who seemed more interested in the human girl he was toting than anything else. Dante seemed bored and calculating, his eyes flying back and forth to Kai._

"_What is it?" the irritated voice of the Prince asked, without looking up. From his tone it was almost as though he was growing tired of Dante and whatever it was that he wanted._

"_What…what would happen if a vampire were to sire a fledgling…who in life was a vampire hunter?"_

_Kai slowly and ever so haltingly turned towards Dante, his eyes chilly. It was as though the air all around seemed to freeze, and even the other vampires had noticed. A long, bone-chilling silence filled the place. "The fledgling would be killed immediately. Such a danger to our kind would not be permitted. As to the vampire who turned the hunter, should there ever be such a thing, he would be tortured and punished for his due and then destroyed for such a betrayal. Do you have a reason for asking such a treasonous thing, Dante?"_

"_No sire, I was merely curious," Dante said, looking down. _

_She could sense a calculating air emanating from him though, as it seemed, could the Prince. Kai continued to watch Dante with a frown on his face, as though trying to read his mind but unable to do so._

'As you can see, he was plotting my downfall long before he recruited you. His true genius was keeping it hidden from me.'

'You're supposed to be all-knowing, how couldn't you have noticed?'

'He had been with me so long that he learned to hide it well.'

_Twentieth century, an alleyway somewhere in Russia; the sound of warfare all around. Whimpers from a human being that was being fed off of; Dante's pleasure-filled groans as he gorged himself on the blood of a human. The girl was still fighting him despite her weakening state._

_He pulled away from her, cocking his head to one side for a moment. She was bleeding heavily from the throat and in her last seconds. Watching him with fearful eyes and still pleading in Russian, she shrank as he came closer. Dante's eyes were haunted as he moved forward, slowly raising his wrist to his mouth and biting into the flesh. Blood bubbled forth, so strong that Chaya could smell it even though it was but a memory. The girl winced but was beginning to lag in her fighting._

_Dante brought his wrist to her mouth, urging her to drink, almost the way a mother would urge an infant to drink. The dying girl looked up, hopeful and dazed, opened her mouth to accept the blood – _

_There was a sudden explosion of yelling voices and Dante was thrown from the girl, landing against a brick wall somewhere. The glaring eyes of the Prince were there, although now they held the same depth of sadness that Chaya had seen in them during the present. Loss and suffering, coupled with something else: hatred._

"_You dare to disobey my wishes?" Kai hissed to a moaning Dante, who stood just in time to watch Kai hold the girl in front of him and then knee upwards, breaking her back. He tossed her to the side without a thought. "And now it has cost yet another life."_

"_I'm tired of living under your scrutiny – you might as well kill me now, I'm sick of your laws and of you," Dante snarled, eyes flashing and canines gleaming in the moonlight._

_The Prince truly looked as though he wanted to do just that, but turned away after a moment. "I believe in second chances. I believe a man can redeem himself."_

"_What man," Dante spat. "I'm a monster – as are you!"_

_Kai didn't reply, but continued into the shadows. Dante watched, the look on his face promising that this little interlude did not mean the argument was finished. _

'I don't understand…'

'You will.'

_Time again flying forward, Dante standing surrounded by nameless vampires. All of them looked as though they would fulfill every mortal belief in monsters. They were all young, the youngest made within the past week. Dante walked among them, dressed immaculately and poised as though organizing an invasion somewhere. "The Prince's laws have become out-of-date – he wastes his life as a hermit and expects you all to follow in his stead. Since the affair of the Revolution he has become weak, which in turn has made us all weak. We must put a stop to this."_

_There were shouts of affirmation, but one female called up, "But if we go against him he will kill us! He has the power to do that!"_

"_My dear, if he had the power you seem to think he does, you would already be dead," Dante smirked, his canines lengthening to make the look seem more feral. "Now, those of you who wish to leave, do so. But at your own risk – I can't risk our being found out, so if you decide to leave I hope you can fight to the death."_

_No one moved._

"_Good. Now, our targets have long since become obsolete, but there is still a note of danger in our mission," Dante told them. "Vampire hunters still have no scent and can still block their thoughts from us. But we are a superior race, stronger and in numbers can overtake them. And we can tell them apart from the average mortal easily."_

"_But – "_

"_You all wish for your freedom to drink at no cost and to not abide by the laws of the Prince, do you not?" Dante's eyes flashed the same furious red, cold and darker than she remembered. "And I desire something more. Together we can bring this about."_

_Silence._

_Finally, the all nodded and there was a general feeling of assent. Dante looked heavenward for a moment as though thinking of something, before his eyes seemed to meet hers. "Go forth and destroy the Mizuhara clan – so that not one remains alive."_

Pain, a stabbing, wrenching pain in her heart with these words and the feeling as though walls were crashing down all around her. 'No! That…that can not be!'

She vaulted upwards, ripping herself away from the tortuous memories that the Prince had been showing her. The dark, stone-filled room was around her again, the feeling of silk sheets beneath her and the pounding on the door by the guards. They still couldn't get in.

"Lies!" she screamed at him, at his emotionless face and calm stance, feeling tears of blood drip down her cheeks. Her limbs felt leaden and her mind was dizzying with all the thoughts, playing over the forced memories. "You lying filth, how dare you try to alter my mind?! I know what I have lived and what I have endured for all these years, and that you dare – "

"I can only show the truth," his words echoed, simple but awe inspiring.

"No – he wouldn't have – he _saved_ me! And even if he had been plotting such a thing, you could have stopped him!" she launched herself at him, trying to throw him over, trying to grab the sharp and broken post of the bed, hitting him. "But you didn't, you let him massacre my family – !"

He let her beat upon him, not moving, merely watching her tire herself out more. The poison still burned what was left of the blood in her veins, both her own and the precious, memory-bearing drops had fed her.

When she fell weakly against his chest, her blood tears drenching his clothing, he pried her off of him, holding her limply in his arms, her eyes trying to focus. He held her chin in his hands as though on the pretext of keeping her head in his line of vision. "I did not let him do anything – I knew and as soon as I could I sent the proper forces after him. But my guards arrived almost too late to save you or your brother."

"They killed him – "

"Saved him," Kai shook his head, the gesture almost final as though he was telling her this for the last time. "And it is time for you to see what truly happened that night."

She couldn't even protest or fight this time, although her mind screamed at her to try. He was trying to torture her for all that she had done, bringing her back so many times to the night she had lost everything. The torn wrist was offered to her lips again and though she tried to refuse it, she still felt the tangy, metallic taste of blood in her mouth. It was not long before the images came.

_Blood and fire. Screams echoed all around her and she tried to block them out. All she saw around her was carnage, the home where she had grown up shattered. Parents lay on the ground, dead and her husband being fed off of by the same fiends she had seen in the memory of Dante's admission of betrayal. _

_She was in the cellar and could hear her shrieks in her ears, begging for her husband to let her out. __Screaming she threw herself at the wall, scraping her hands against the concrete door. Her fingers bled as she pulled away, trying to find a way out. The window was stuck and angrily she crushed her hand through it, desperate to get out. She didn't feel the glass cut into her skin as she watched her husband dragged out and murdered before her eyes. Some wetness dripped to the floor, and just as she realized it was her blood, everything went black._

_Both from the point of view of the victim and as an observer she watched the red-eyed fiend appear behind her, drawn by the scent of her blood. Dante's fangs sunk into her neck with great relish and she could once again feel herself being drained._

_There were shouts outside._

_Just moment before her death Dante jerked and pulled away, glaring outside. Dawn was approaching, and with her a slew of forms outside. There were sirens all about and when she looked she could make out the form of her brother, being leaned over by the hulking form of a vampire._

_It didn't take her long to realize that it was Tyson._

_When she passed out, Dante was gone. Upon awaking, she was in the hospital, staring up with empty eyes at the medics who pumped her through with transfusions._

He had pulled away, now looking down at her with pity. She couldn't move, feeling as empty as she had the day they told her that her family was gone. Massacred.

"Do you understand now?" he asked her quietly, his voice void of any feeling. Almost exactly how she felt.

She couldn't reply, still experiencing the memories. She wanted to ask about how come Max couldn't find her or how Dante had escaped both suns rays and the justice of the Prince. She answered her own questions seconds later. Vampire hunters – as the Prince had explained in the memory, they had no scent; coupled with Dante's ability to cloak his thoughts he was as good as gone.

It now made sense why other vampires couldn't sense her. It made sense why she hadn't been able to sense anyone during her first attempt on the Prince's life and her escape from the dungeon. They had taken Max's blood into them and it had given them a temporary cloak against her.

It made sense that Max had been saved by Tyson moments before his death. It made sense that he had known the truth while she had been kept in the dark by Dante for so long. It made sense…it all just made sense…

And she had been such a fool, trusting blindly and falling right into his hands…

She felt the Prince reach for her, holding her limp body in his arms. The knowledge that he was going to kill her didn't seem such a burden now. After all that she had suffered and been led astray…after everything she had done, she deserved to be killed.

Not even waiting for him to do so, she tilted her head to one side and waited for him to finish her off.

* * *

TBC 


	15. Chapter Fourteen

_**Aeternum Vale – Farewell Forever**  
By KuriQuinn_

* * *

She didn't feel anything at first. Only the light touches as he held her limp body in his arms, a sinister embrace. She couldn't look him in the eye as he killed her, which she had so long believed herself capable of. The truth tore apart her mind, shredding her confidence as though with a knife.

She didn't even feel him move her, nor did she feel his teeth in her neck. All she knew was that all of a sudden the world was swirling and she was falling, the darkness closing in on her from all sides. The last thing she felt was dizziness before the world went black.

The time passed by, even though it felt like she had only closed her eyes for a moment.

She was slowly pulled from her unconscious state by the feeling of something on her lips. Droplets of what she could identify as blood balanced on her lips for a moment before sliding down past her teeth and tongue, winding down her throat. A feeling like a jolt of electricity, returning her to the land to the living and she was squinting up through the darkness that for the first time in seventy-five years refused to lift.

Crimson eyes in the darkness and words in her head, although not spoken.

'Drink. You will need your strength.'

'Strength for what? Who…I don't understand,' she thought wildly, not strong enough to pull away from the slowly dripping blood or weak enough that she couldn't tell that it was the Prince. She didn't understand, not at all…

The room swerved again and she was flying through the air, the world around her a breeze of colors and a softness under her. And finally darkness.

_Ten fingers, ten toes. Skin like silk and the few strands of hair were a fuzzy down._

_The infant in her arms was beautiful, and even as she marveled at the beauty and perfection something rose up in warning at the back of her mind. She couldn't remember what was wrong, and the most pure feeling of joy that she had experienced in so long entered her being just looking at the child._

_She was being led to the car, holding the car seat and looking down at her child at every moment. Tired, happy, spent, peaceful…so many things described what she was feeling, but the sense that something was wrong wouldn't go away_

'No…not this…please, not this…!'

_Wrapped in the car seat, the infant was lost among the folds, dozing lightly. She looked like a China doll. Her button nose and crinkling eyes, and when she cried it was like the bleating of a lamb._

'…no…'

_Driving, on the way home to start their new life together; she was still sure that there was something wrong. Moments before it happened, she all of a sudden remembered. The car…the crash, her baby dying…_

_The impact jolted her – _

She screamed, a half-sob, half-plea, throwing herself upwards to take herself out of the nightmare. The room was still dark, but her internal clock told her that it was a few hours until daybreak.

She had sat up to fast, and the small amount of blood that circulated her body rushed to her head. She fell back again, staring up at the ceiling.

This time the presence of the Prince was not a surprise. The rational part, the apathetic part that wanted to give up, told her that if he wanted to kill her she would already be dead. There was something he wanted – and then he would probably decide whether he would kill her or not.

"You are awake at last."

She didn't answer his echoing drawl. She just continued to stare up at the ceiling.

There was the sound of clothing rustling, and the feeling of the mattress bending under the weight of his body. She knew that she was in pain, but for some reason just couldn't feel it. She felt nothing but complete emptiness, as though her body was a shell.

She could sense him close to her, just sitting there watching her. A part of her mind wondered vaguely what he wanted. She had tried to kill him – an offence punishable by a tortuous execution of burning – and yet she was still alive. Lying in his bed, no less.

She didn't know what to feel for this being; this vampire whom she hated with all of her being, every fiber of her existence and yet the one who had shown her the truth. All of a sudden, the entire world didn't seem as secondary as she had believed for so many years. All of a sudden her revenge no longer drove her onward and she felt a grating pain in her heart.

"I was born more than ten thousand years ago."

His voice was quiet, but shattered the still of the room as though it had thundered from within a canon. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that he was looking off into the distance, a faraway look in his eyes. Lost in a memory, all she could do was listen to him.

"My mother was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, a child of a farming settlement," he continued. "And she was raped by a hideous creature that her people believed to be a demon or a malevolent god. Not that it mattered what it was, she still ended up with child. Still ended up giving birth to an unnatural _thing_ – one that could not live in the light and that needed blood to be sustained." His voice was cold again, with each moment spent remembering. "Her people tried to get rid of me, leave me exposed on a hill to burn and die, a helpless infant. But my mother saved me – she took me from the hill and hid me in a cave, killing small animals to nourish me on.

"I grew quickly, reaching the form of an adolescent within months. I could still only walk during the night and live on blood, but I was no different from any other human – or so I believed at the time. Without words, my mother taught me the ways of her people and what little laws that they had. She was my only link to the human world that had been denied of me – I loved her, and mourned her loss when she was suddenly taken from my life.

"I thought something had happened to her and after many seasons without seeing her I tried to find her. It was relatively simple in view of the fact that I knew her blood-scent. I suffered many burns in the weeks I searched for her and didn't get out of the sun in time. But my love for my mother drove me farther than any overseer's whip might.

"Imagine my pain when I found her – given to another man as wife and nourishing her new children as though she had forgotten me. That primitive hunger that I had suffered from since birth – that which she had tried to satiate with the blood of rodents and small animals, broke through.

"I massacred the entire small village until the only ones left alive were myself, my mother and the eldest of her children, a weak and sickly female. I would have killed her as well if my mother hadn't stopped me. She begged me to spare my sister and when I wouldn't she dove in front of her body and took the blow that was meant for her, bathing the both of us in our mother's blood.

"I was horrified. I had truly become the animal that my mother had tried to keep me from becoming. While I held the corpse of my mother, the girl took a sharpened spear and stabbed me through the heart."

He paused for a moment, closing his eyes tightly as if the act of remembering burned his very soul. For a few fleeting seconds Chaya felt pity for the vampire Prince.

"I should have died that day but somehow I managed to remove the spear and return the blow. I left my sister in the dirt and ruin of her village, impaled with the same weapon she had used to try to kill me. I didn't know then that this would be the one move I would rue for the rest of my life.

"I returned to the darkness of the forest. I stayed there many years; centuries even, living among wild animals that would have me and killing for my food. I became a savage demon, killing whoever challenged me for their blood. I was an animal, and a threat to the developing race of men.

"And then, into my midst, appeared a woman who has followed me throughout the ages, even into this time," he gazed at Chaya levelly and she felt him reach forward and caress her cheeks. She shivered at the cold in his touch. "Her name was Shamhat and she had seen me in the forest many times destroying the traps her people set out for myself and the other animals. She was an intelligent woman, probably more so than any of the men of her time. She recognized that there was some humanity within me and sought to bring it out. Against the will and without the consent of her people, she ventured into the forest to find me and remained there for six years, teaching me. I nearly killed her on several occasions, but that part of me that had once had the capacity to love my mother now loved Shamhat. I wished to obey her every wish – and once again, I held a link to the human world.

"It was not to remain so, however. Her people believed that I was a demon that had kidnapped her and by the time the story spread further across the lands, they believed I was a monster that kidnapped women to consume them as I saw fit. They sent their greatest warriors into the forest to kill me – including two that would become the greatest influences in my life.

"The first was a king from a city called Uruk, who came to me to test his strength. When we first clashed, his wish was for competition and mine was to kill him. But as long as we battled, the more we recognized each other. I could see that despite his feeble human life, this man was strong and held the spirit of a god. In turn, he recognized my human heart within my demonic body. Instead of killing each other, we became allies. But that did not solve the problem for Shamhat's people. They sent another warrior into my forest – a man named Mirza, through whom the blood of my mother and me flowed. My sister survived, you see, saved by another clan and nursed back to health with their medicines. But my blood had seeped into the spear that had wounded her and mingled with her blood, making hers a tarnished blood as well. Her offspring held inherent hatred for all unnatural things and an uncanny ability to discover them. These were first vampire hunters.

"Mirza came upon the group of us – myself, Shamhat and the king from Uruk – and sought to kill me. He succeeded in killing Shamhat instead. Like my mother, she attempted to protect who she most loved – in this case, it was me.

"Needless to say that Mirza died not a moment later, but my grief was overwhelming. I nearly returned to the forest once again but the king from Uruk persuaded me on a different course. He taught me to channel my grief into anger and to follow him and be his companion. Together we braved many evils and he held me as a gift from the gods, especially in times of battle. But the difference between us became more pronounced over the years, especially as he grew older. He developed a bleeding disease where his injuries would not heal and even a tiny scratch drew blood as strongly as a sword wound– such blood awakened my hunger which had been dormant in our years together and once again I found myself taking the blood of one whom I held dear. Overcome with guilt after draining him I tried to return the blood in time…and thus I created the first vampire after myself.

"Although we two lived, we were seen as demons and unnatural ghosts; his own kingdom and people tried to kill him and we both fled. Our life was simple and for a time happy, without the threat of death. We killed to survive and became the focus of many myths and superstitions. In the years before we met Dante I made only two others, my guards, Tala and Bryan. We were a powerful band and even then they made it their mission to protect me. We discovered early on, during another hunter attach, that should harm come to my person, all of my fledglings would perish.

"Making Dante was one of the most despicable and regretful things that I have ever done, but in those years I was reckless and arrogant – I believed myself to be the Supreme Being on this planet, the god that all those pitiful humans meant to worship. It cost me my oldest friend – the king from Uruk perished in the same day that Dante was sired, as you have seen.

"But I still did not learn – and we traveled the known world, as far as we could. Death was never in sight and when I grew bored I sired another miserable child to entertain me. It is how Ray and countless others came to be. By then, my children became too many to watch over and they encompassed the globe, siring their own misbegotten offspring.

"In an attempt to keep control over this and to protect the lives of human beings, I had my close followers become my knights and protectors, who would seek out those who went against my will and dispose of them. I had long since been able to tune myself to the awareness of all of my children, it was only a matter of telling my comrades where to find them. It was around this time that I began the practice of setting a council, or gala, for every thousand years to impart my will.

"The race of man has had a great deal of influence on my own existence – my connection to the female half of humanity is especially strong, considering how much the will of my mother, my sister and Shamhat has held me in sway. Over and over in my existence I have come into contact with a descendent of my sister or the reincarnation of Shamhat – or at least, as I chose to believe. There is no other way to describe the spirit that pushed any of the women that I met over the ages.

"The most notable instance, when I felt my heart give itself fully over to her, was little over a hundred and sixty years ago. It is the same instance that I once told you of," he looked at her meaningfully and she felt her throat close up a little at the thought of the stolen kiss that might even have meant her death. "You correctly identified my feelings for her then as I'm sure you will now."

'…_she was your world, wasn't she...and when you lost her it felt as though your heart was being ripped out over and over…'_

'…'

'_Well, your highness, it looks as though you too still have a shred of humanity within.'_

"The country was in a state of war, losing power by the day," he said, cutting off the memories for her. As he spoke she felt as though she could see what was happening in his mind before her very eyes, a moving picture but with more horrific connotations. "There were those within that were planning to overthrow everything in favor of the new beliefs. She was the youngest daughter of the ruling family, a princess by birth, but a fighter at heart. It was by chance that I met her, at a boring cotillion that I entered on a whim, masquerading as a noble.

"She was sixteen when I met her and yet within her was the spirit of Shamhat, and I could tell," he said. "I loved her from the first moment she spoke to me, insolently and playful. She knew what I was immediately but accepted me regardless. I knew that she loved me as well. She asked me many times to turn her, to bring her away from the boring life of a princess, away from the politics and constant violence. But I couldn't bring myself to be responsible for killing her – and leaving such a delicate task to any of my retainers was out of the question.

"Her family knew nothing of me and I preferred it that way, especially considering as a Grand Duchess she was constantly in the public eye, as was her family. Our relationship blossomed and her family could not fail to notice the effect it was having on her. Because my visits were only ever late in the night she did not sleep and thus took ill many times.

"I had not accounted on my enemies outside or even within my circle to be watching our love blossom. Evidently some of them believed that a love to exist between myself and a mortal princess would cause too much bother and intricacies. Should anyone discover it, our kind might be in danger. An elaborate front in the guise of a war was orchestrated to cart her off somewhere before I could turn her. She was murdered with her entire family for the sake of a revolution that never truly existed."

Eyes filled with pain turned themselves upon Chaya. "She was seventeen. Not even mature to her own kind, let alone ours. I thought I had known love before then, but I had been wrong. I tried to kill myself – something that would have spelled disaster for any other vampire after myself – and was stopped by my inner circle – Dante included. They locked me away for fifty years, under guard and holding my strength, until I recovered and broke free, ascending to my role as the first once again. After the affair of the Revolution, I was changed though. Into this pitiful specimen you see before you."

She recognized that his tale had come to a close and felt as though she was channeling his spirit. Pain washed over her in droves as she felt the memories of her own horrible experiences mesh with his. If she had enough energy to do so, she knew that she would have cried.

She felt his hands on hers, lacing his fingers through her own. He was looking down on her again, the way a parent or loved one might look at her. The hurt and loss tore through her again but she couldn't cry out. "I have told you this story for two reasons – the first being to show you that you are not the only one to have experienced pain in this never ending dance we call life. The second being that you must be punished, and I want you to know the truth before that happens.

"I recognize you as that same spirit that flowed through so many women in the course of my ten thousand years. As a blood drinker your soul is eternally bound to your body. If you are destroyed, your soul will die with you and I shall never recognize it again."

She stiffened. She could sense that he wished to say something of dire importance to her. There was urgency in his voice that she had never heard before. "It is my selfish wish that you live, become my queen and rule with me over our kind." Her eyes widened both at his words and at his act of leaning down and taking her lips with his own, a soft caress of flesh that heated her blood and made the muscles behind her eyes tighten.

He pulled away, now looking grave, "But it is my responsibility to make an example of those who challenge my power and attempt to cut short so many lives for their own means." He was standing now, staring off into the blackness that was his room. "It is for this reason that you will be confined outside of the castle this night and the suns rays will cast judgment upon you. As an example to all of those who reside in these walls."

When he turned to her, she could see bloody tears in his eyes, but a hardened resolve that made her shiver. She wished her limbs were not so weakened, wished that she could at least try to fight this. But she knew that even if she had the ability, she would not be able to move. The revelations of Dante's betrayal and of her own lie-filled being had made her docile and uncaring. If Kai wished her to burn before the entire court as an example, she would go quietly.

She deserved so much worse.

* * *

TBC 


	16. Chapter Fifteen

_**Aeternum Vale – Farewell Forever**  
By KuriQuinn_

Note: Listen to _'Within Temptation – Angels' _while reading this.

* * *

They couldn't return her to the dungeon cell, considering how much damage she and the skeletal vampyres had wreaked upon the ancient stone. It wasn't their will anyhow, considering now that the entire preternatural populace beneath the prince's chambers knew that some monumental event had occurred.

She, along with Kai, could feel that the undead vampyres had been stopped, but not without decimating a number of the vampyre forces that had sought to control them. Where she might have felt triumphant and bitterly proud hours ago, she now felt nothing. The complete emptiness was one that she recognized, the same kind that had enveloped her all those years ago after the attack on her family.

Massacre.

The truth fell heavily on her heart, a searing iron that became heavier and heavier with each passing moment. She knew that he could feel it too because she was aware of his arms wrapping around her, as though comforting her, if such a thing was possible. A part of her wanted to laugh loudly, unexplainably.

When the lull in the consciousness of the vampyres outside of the Prince's quarters could be felt, she sensed his presence disappear from her, the hazy darkness of her depressed state closing in, only to be replaced by the rough hands and nails of the guards outside, bruising and scraping at her skin as they pulled from the room. She felt her head smash into the cobblestone walls more than once but despite the throbbing pain felt nothing.

The knowledge that she was to be publicly executed didn't faze her; in fact, it made more sense than anything ever had in her life.

The buzz of interest wired her brain; she could sense what everyone else knew, could feel their very steps as they moved towards the courtyard where even as she was being dragged forcefully down the steps of the turret, they were erecting the stake that would become her funeral pyre. The suns rays were many hours off but she knew that her punishment would not be as simple as the burning death that awaited her.

The rough hold left her and she reeled to the floor, hitting the stone steps painfully, her lips scraping against them so hard, blood was drawn. For a long time she merely lay there, void of any feeling or emotion. She could tell that there were people walking around her, avoiding her where she lay, but after a while some seemed to notice that she was actually conscious and that she wasn't going anywhere.

She didn't know whether it was pity or orders, but before she knew it, she was being picked up by gentle hands and guided somewhere. A part of her mind woke up enough to watch what was going on, but she still couldn't comprehend or care about what was going on around her.

Miyami and Riley's faces washed in and out of her thoughts. Her torn skin healed and water was poured over her, washing the blood from her body. The ragged clothing was removed from her person and she stood naked and shivering in the room for what seemed like eternity before cold silk slipped over her.

The white dress was simple and formless, the shroud of the soon to be dead. She wanted to search out the eyes of the Prince around her but knew with frightening certainty that he was still in his chambers, knelt in prayer.

For her soul, it seemed.

She wanted to laugh. Or maybe she wanted to cry?

Who knew?

They led her slowly, a funeral procession, through the dark and empty corridors of the castle. She knew they were only holding her wrists tightly for formality. They recognized her submission to the will of the laws as well as she did. If she didn't, would she have been fighting by now?

Deep beneath the docility, she could feel the creeping burn of the hatred for these beings still exploding within. Even though her actions had been wrong, the confessions and truth had not been enough to erase the decades spent hating them. She could still only see them and herself as monsters, demons that murdered and drank the blood of others. Creatures that should only exist in the deepest pit of hell.

Perhaps she should have returned to the sun long ago, after Dante betrayed and taught her, to save herself from this world of death and deception she lived in now. Would anything have been different, she wondered?

Before they brought her into the hall that led to the ballroom, she felt her guards stop and hold back. There was a pause, a lull in the air, and through their eyes she could see the tall form up ahead. She refused to look up at Max as he slipped forward, his words whispered pleas in the darkness to the guards, for just a goodbye.

He couldn't risk this outside, with the populace of vampyres bearing down on her as she could see in her future.

Hands, cold as ice, lifeless like all the others held her cheeks, making her peer into blue depths. Like their mother. Max had always looked like their mother, she recalled dully. They used to take photographs and someone had actually had the two of them pose for a magazine cover. She had watched jealously in the corner, but her father had seen her taken her for an ice cream.

Was this what people meant when they said ones whole life flashed before their eyes when they die? She didn't think it was, but for such a useless memory to surface now?

Her brother was crying, holding her close in an embrace that should have meant something to her. Hours, days, months ago it might have. Today she was stone, unable to feel or think. His sadness hurt her, but the knowledge that he was crying for her didn't make sense. She didn't deserve tears. Not after what she had done, even if it was to a race of monsters.

"Don't watch," she could feel herself saying, but he wouldn't let go of her hand, almost as though he was thinking of walking to her death with her, perhaps throwing himself on the pyre with her. Even though she couldn't hear his thoughts, her heart was telling her what he was thinking. That her lost brother would do such a thing…

'_Sparkling angel, I believed,  
You are my savior in my time of need.  
Blinded by faith I couldn't hear  
All the whispers, the warnings so clear.'_

From the shadows she could see his dark lover watching, pain etched into his face. From his thoughts she could hear the argument they had had, reliving the words and pleas. Max wanted to die with her, as he should have.

'Stupid boy, neither of us should have died.'

'_I see the angels,  
I'll lead them to your door.  
There's no escape now,  
No mercy, no more.  
No remorse cause I still remember  
The smile when you tore me apart.'_

Her hands moved on their own accord, reaching up and encircling. He thought she was embracing him and held her close, but the only thought in her head was that he would not die and he would not watch her death either. "I won't let you."

Fingers ghosting up over his shoulders and neck, she executed the movement with practiced ease; first lightly taking hold of his neck and then twisting it abruptly. The surprised gasp from the pale vampyre in her arms seemed louder because of the expression in his eyes as she snapped his neck, watching him topple to the ground. Before he could hit the ground, Tyson was there, holding the broken body and glaring up at her as though he would kill her. She smiled apologetically. "He won't wake for a day or two. Tell him I loved him."

'_You took my heart,  
Deceived me right from the start.'_

And she was on her way, being pulled along by the guards. It was the only gift she could think of bestowing on anyone, but hoped that it would do. She couldn't let Max watch her die and experience the pain that she had felt when she watched what she had thought then was her twin brother's death.

'_You showed me dreams  
I wished they turn into real.'_

Her reception was what she expected it would be. As she was led from the cloistered area, there were shouts and jeers in her direction, encompassing her completely.

'_You broke a promise and made me realize.  
It was all just a lie.'_

Eyes sought hers and up ahead, she could see the Prince, standing in the middle of the courtyard, mournful, but resolute. Her chest felt lighter. So he would be here with her when she died. For some reason, she felt better. The knowledge that one whom she had greatly wronged would be there at her last hour comforted her.

As they fastened her to the stone column that would serve as the burning stake, she felt the jagged stones cut into her back and held back a cry of pain. She would not be so unrefined as to cry out at her death.

'_Sparkling angel, I couldn't see  
Your dark intentions, your feelings for me.'_

Kai stood and stepped forward, his back to her. She could no longer move, both from weakness and because of the tight metal bands that kept her wrists and ankles secured, almost like a hanging noose, to the stone.

'_Fallen angel, tell me why?  
What is the reason, the thorn in your eye?'_

"Today we will witness the long-overdue end of a blood traitor," his voice rang out clearly across the sky, loud only to the ethereal. Perhaps blood drinkers who had not attended the gala but were still in the area might hear his words miles away. Perhaps oceans. Her eyes were riveted on his form as she waited for him to continue with his proclamation, "One who will be punished for her crimes – the huntress."

There was a great outburst of sound around them, a deafening roar.

'_I see the angels,  
I'll lead them to your door  
There's no escape now  
No mercy no more.'_

"She will be judged by the power of the sun this day, her sins and evil burned away – but before this, the ceremony of judgment of her fellows will pass," Kai bellowed, cold and collect and the embodiment of ice. She could sense the complete lack of emotion in his voice, as though it was he that was being executed and not her.

'_No remorse because I still remember  
The smile when you tore me apart.'_

"Come forward, my children, pass judgment on this murderer."

'_You took my heart,  
Deceived me right from the start.  
You showed me dreams,  
I wished they turn into real.'_

One by one they ghosted forward and with preternatural speed swiped at her skin, inflicting tearing wounds on her flesh. Before the first score were through, the white dress was crimson red and her skin was torn. The scent of her blood heightened the cutting frenzy and she gritted her teeth in pain. She was too weak to heal herself, the wounds remaining fresh. With each deeper incision, her will power wavered.

'_You broke the promise and made me realize.  
It was all just a lie.  
Could have been forever.  
Now we have reached the end.'_

The torture seemed to go on forever, never ending, the stones below her coated with what remained over her blood, the metal bands cutting into her wrists. Finally, after an eternity, there was a general muttering of discomfort and she could sense the growing pain in the other vampyres as the first rays of sunlight berthed over the horizon.

She sighed happily, release, knowing the end was soon to come.

'_This world may have failed you,  
It doesn't give you a reason why.  
You could have chosen a different path in life.'_

The courtyard emptied over vampyres, until only the prince and his guards remained, watching her writhe from the pain of her wounds and the slow creeping forward of the sun. She followed them all with her eyes, shivering and shaking as shock began to take over her body. She supposed this death was a culmination of everything she had inflicted on her victims – but found that in most cases, she was not as remorseful as she should feel. Some of them had been murderers worse than she had been. But others…merely for being a blood drinker, she had killed them.

The burning sensation began in earnest, a searing pain like sunburn in its beginnings, before the true feeling of being burned alive began. She searched out the face of Kai, where he stood alone on the shaded part of the balcony, watching her. Their eyes met.

'_The smile when you tore me apart.'_

Flames, she supposed it was from her body, licked at her skin and hair, charring her face and the blood-soaked dress. Smoke choked her, the scent of burning flesh in the air, the pain a white haze that left her dizzy. She wouldn't scream, gritting her teeth to the point of snapping her elongated canines.

There was only bright, tortuous light in her eyes and she wondered if they were on fire as well. The tears that fell dried up the moment they left the safety of her body and the shiver of pain that ran up her spine crippled her.

'_You took my heart  
Deceived me right from the start  
You showed me dreams  
I wished they turn into real.'_

She tasted blood and salty tears, a rough blow as though she was being punched and ripped into from the inside. She couldn't hold back any longer. She screamed, her pain and agony mixing in with the smoke and flames, the air carrying her pain through the wind.

'_You broke a promise and made me realize.'_

The metal bands that cut and seared into her wrists and ankles shattered suddenly and she toppled limply forward, waiting for the impact with the floor, instead falling painfully into someone's arms. She shrieked in agony at the touch against her burnt and bleeding flesh.

'_It was all just a lie.'_

She convulsed in his arms as he leapt towards the corridor, bringing her out of the light and into the shade, the pain dulling only the smallest fraction, before bubbling up again. She knew he was taking her back to his private chambers, knew that he was doing so in front of all those around them, knew that he wanted her to live.

But she didn't know why.

And she continued to wonder as the pain became too much, sending her into a dark state where it, along with everything else, didn't exist.

* * *

TBC 


	17. Chapter Sixteen

_**Aeternum Vale – Farewell Forever**  
By KuriQuinn_

* * *

For a fortnight she lay, hovering in a gloom filled limbo of darkness, trapped by her own thoughts and pain. In those two weeks, her mind was not her own, serving only as a channel through which the emotions of every being within thousands of miles of her projected her way. Every waking moment was darkness and sleep, the only way she could distinguish between night and day being the visits of the Prince.

Kai.

He'd saved her. She knew this, and at the same time it didn't make any sense.

He'd told here himself that it was his duty, as an example to his people, to end her life.

Every night he sat next to her bleeding, scarred and unconscious form. Every night he cleaned the blood and blisters from her skin, mopped her feverish brow and caressed the skin where there was no pain. There were no words, nor emotions, but the touch was there.

When she finally forced her eyes open on the thirteenth day, he was sitting there, kneeling over her and praying. For the longest while, she could only stare, watching him with his head bowed before her, eyes closed and lips moving, sounding out every letter with defined grace. Even after everything that had happened, it amused her to think of the Lord of the Night bowing to some otherworldly force or deity.

He sensed that she was awake and abruptly broke off the paternoster. Before he could say anything, a part of her decided to diffuse the atmosphere.

"I thought you said it was terrible to interrupt prayer." Her voice was raspy from disuse and her vocal chords burned, but it reminded her that she was still alive. It was a small price to pay.

"Only when it's the interruption of an outside force."

She couldn't help the tugging at the tip of her mouth, which pained her even more. "Were you praying for me?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

He was sitting beside her now, reaching out and putting his hand over her own folded fingers. The warmth spread from where he touched her to the rest of her body. She blinked blearily down at the effeminate, yet masculine hands, which were completely without wrinkles. Opaque nails stroked her own creaseless skin. This…this sensation, she hadn't felt it in so long, she realized, a different type of agony rising up in her chest. Human contact, touch…these things had been forbidden to her by a ghost of what she once was.

She banished the thoughts. They no longer mattered. Gazing up at him seriously, she tried to think of something she might have said before the huntress – before she had died and gone to sleep for so long.

"Just so you know," she told him faintly, "I think I should be the one praying."

He fixed her with a semi-amused, semi shrewd glance. "You don't believe in God."

"Yeah, I didn't believe in vampires either, look where that put me," she coughed, trying to push her body up on the bed. He leaned forward to steady her, fluffing the cushions behind her and then carefully laying her back on them in a way that didn't aggravate the burns.

They sat in silence for a few moments, merely watching each other. He seemed to be expecting something and so without knowing what she was doing or what called it forth, she cleared her throat and started to speak. Her tone was quiet, careful, before becoming more confident in its pronunciation, the way she remembered her grandmother doing when she was a little girl. The words didn't hurt her as much as they had before, and flowed with a relative ease she had thought had left her long ago. _"Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha-olam, ha-gomel lahayavim tovot sheg'malani kol tov."_

"_Amen," _he finished, a bit of a crease in his brow._ "Mi sheg'malayikh kol tov hu yigmalayikh kol tov. Selah."_

They didn't speak again for the longest time. She couldn't remember the last time that she had prayed and truly meant it – no that wasn't true, she could. She had been fourteen and her dog had been sick with liver cancer. She had gotten her entire family to pray for the dog and they had and it had died the next day. When she had cried, her mother had told her that she had been praying for an end to the pain, and that's what had happened. But she hadn't seen it that way and stopped praying.

And now she had started again? She didn't understand it. It was complete pandemonium in her mind, so many new thoughts and feelings and observances. She felt as though she had been sleeping for eternity and only just woken up, but at the same time apprehensive about all of this.

He was holding her hands again, stroking the skin in comforting circular patterns. The fact that such gentleness could come from a creature capable of infinite terror scared and excited her at the same time; she had never thought that such a thing was possible, and the new knowledge – the new feelings were completely alien to her.

"She was real, wasn't she?" Chaya whispered. He glanced at her, knowing she wasn't finished. "It wasn't just parts of me, she was real. The huntress was a real entity. A real consciousness. The fire really did destroy her, right?"

"As you said, it was a part of yourself," Kai told her simply. "But yes, there was something there that made her more than a mere abstract form. She was your other self. The residue of all the tragedy and hate and anger that was in your life before she became one of us. I suppose, with your family lineage before that, it merged to create a being of such force and malignant power that it created a separate self, a mask behind which you hid for so long."

He reached for her face, stroking her cheek and jaw line as he stared into her eyes. In them, she was stunned to find that she could see endless feelings of protectiveness and care in them. She vaguely remembered that look, some long lost part of her reminded.

"I'm in love with you," he told her simply. The words had no emotion or tenor in them that would betray anything to anyone, as though it was a casual statement. But coupled with the look in his eyes, she realized the enormity of the statement. "For millennia and beyond."

"I know," she told him, just as simply. There was no denying that fact. Why else would he have done everything for her – saved her from the monster that she had turned into thanks to Dante's teachings, the huntress who had almost destroyed her?

"And you?"

She looked away, unsure of how to answer the question. Her heart was a complete maze of mess and thought, all of which clouded the truth. She closed her eyes, immersing herself in the thoughts of the other vampires in the castle manor. Hundreds had already left the estate, while others lingered on – all of them wanted to know what the Prince was thinking, saving the life of the huntress – the devils bitch that had hunted her kind like a cannibal.

"What did you tell your loyal masses?" she asked in a whispering, hollow voice. "What do they think about you saving me – besides the obvious?"

"It doesn't matter what they think," he said simply, "they believe what they are told. And I told them that the huntress is dead. She's gone, burned alive by the sun and meant to never return again. You know that as well as I do."

His saying so made her feel warm inside. She had thought her near-death experience had been just a second chance, but it was clear that he believed it to be a rebirth. Her rebirth as Chaya. Her name suddenly seemed friendlier to her now.

"You didn't answer me." She returned to the present, cocking her head to one side and waiting for the double-edged question again. He was leaning forward again, holding her face between his palms and gazing into her eyes with such imploring that she couldn't look away. "Do you love me?"

She hesitated, trying to think of the best answer. She didn't have one, she knew, but didn't want to hurt him in any way. Finally, with an almost apologetic smile she answered, "I don't know. I think so. Parts of me."

He tensed, the briefest flicker of hurt in his eyes, but it disappeared a moment later, shrouded with comprehension. "I understand. A month ago, you wanted me dead and hated my very existence. It's unfair of me to – "

"That's not it," she answered, raising her hand to hold his to her skin. The warmth was a sensation she didn't want to be rid of just yet. "Like I said. Parts of me do. Parts of me that I didn't understand – maybe residue from a previous life. Maybe the woman who died so many years ago and just woke up. Maybe me. But other parts – I know she's gone, but the memories of the huntress – of what she thought and felt – will always be with me. And she'll always blame you for what has happened in our lives. She'll always hate and want you dead – just like some part of you, some very small, basic instinctual part of you that doesn't care that I'm Shamhat's reincarnation wants any threat to its dynasty, especially a former vampire hunter, removed. It will always be there."

There was no further explanation needed. He understood, and without any reservations past a brief nod and the tightening of his hand on hers. Something about this, about this utter lack of need of communication, of him knowing everything that she was thinking without breaking into her thoughts, filled her with something great. And she hadn't seen it before, because she had been blinded.

Nimble hands stroked her arms, ghosting over the burn scars which covered her entire body. Instead of recoiling from the ache, she leaned into his touch, the ministrations strangely calming. She knew that if he hadn't given her the blood before she was sent to be executed that she would have died a quicker death. He had known all along that he was going to save her.

"No I didn't," he replied softly, pushing back a lock of her hair which had come out of place. She frowned in surprise, and he continued, "I could only save you when I knew that you were truly repentant – when I knew that the huntress had left you. And she almost didn't. If she hadn't…I would have had to leave you to die." He smiled grimly, eyes roving over her battered form. "As it is, I believe you are experiencing some form of punishment. Any normal vampire your age who by some off chance had survived the sun's ordeal would be unable to move without excruciating pain for at least two months. You should be completely healed within a few days."

She couldn't help disagreeing. Physically, yes, she would be completely sound but mentally…would that ever go away, she wondered. The anguish that had been visited upon her in such a short time. She was still reeling from Dante's betrayal and the maelstrom of feelings that the truth brought her way. That would never be alright, she realized.

Cool fingers lifted her chin until she was gazing straight into his eyes. "There's a way to forget all of that pain. You need only say the words and I'll remove the thoughts and feelings from your soul.."

She knew what he was offering, as well as what he was asking. For a long moment, she seriously considered consenting. To not feel like she was being ripped apart over and over would be a blessing, a peace she hadn't known in all of her unlife. But even as she considered this, she shook her head. "I don't deserve that. Not yet."

"Then when?" his voice was low and she could sense a note of anger that cut at her. "Will you ever stop punishing yourself or will you continue an eternal penance for something that was not your fault to begin with? Because I speak from my own experiences and know that such things do more harm than good."

"Let me discover that for myself," she told him, her voice just as steely. "People have been trying to 'save me the trip' my entire life. That makes things worse too. It's just something I'll have to work on…that is, if I'm allowed."

It was the fact that she was asking permission – something she had never done before – that had him looking at her like that. Almost as though he had never really seen her before – almost like no one had ever seen her before.

When he kissed her, it felt like the sun had gone up for her and instead of burning her alive, beckoned her to some long forgotten place where for the first time in decades, she was happy. That small part of her that had always remained the cheerful, happy woman that had lived and loved, who had been with her family, who had had everything before it was taken away. That was still there.

She didn't notice the single tear which rolled down her cheek or the hand behind her head, cradling her as though she was a fragile treasure which might break. There was no injury to her singed and scarred skin, every ghosting touch a gentle, loving caress. She could taste blood – hers or his, she wasn't sure. Maybe both – and felt breathing sighs that she soon recognized as her own. Somewhere in the haze, their garments were lost and they lay skin against skin, the barrier between touch and bond broken with tender ease. Words were whispered that she couldn't understand but which at the same time sent gooseflesh all over her body. The rolling feeling, as though something bigger than herself were trying to claw its way out of her skin from every possible direction took over, hailing a dizzying bliss that had her clawing desperately at his broad shoulders, trying to ground herself before she finally let go.

Time didn't seem to matter any longer, the blood exchange that had saved her now binding them completely. She felt his blood in her veins, mixed with hers in a deeply symbiotically union as it pumped through her heart.

Lying in his arms, she was dimly aware that her skin had changed in hue, more closely matching the ivory sheen that the Ancients took on over thousands of years. Her scars and burns remained, although far less noticeable against his pallid form than they had been before.

There was no lethargy, no weakness any longer, but all the same she remained silent, comfortably fitting into his form with an ease that scared her and thrilled her at the same time. He sensed it and hushed her comfortingly; planting soft kisses on the nape of her neck.

Reservations were there, she could feel them clamoring at the back of her head. But for now, she thought indolently with the barest trace of a smile at her lips, for now this was enough.

* * *

TBC 


End file.
