Had it not been for the recklessness of my escort, I would surely have perished that day. Ignoring the snowstorm, Raziel spurred his steed directly into it, causing us to be enveloped in dense mists and blanketed by angry, dark clouds. They refused the hazardous sunlight entry. Even within my cocoon of cloth and the sanctuary of my closed eyes, the cold found me. It was only fortunate the snow itself did not.
The sound of Raziel’s shouts barely penetrated the intense cacophony of swirling winds and crashes of thunder surrounding us. The stallion beneath me laboured ahead with intense speed. I feared its heart may give out at its efforts, but my rider pressed on, leaning into my back and holding me tight. Fear kept my eyes clenched shut for the duration of the chase against the elements. Panic solidified my hands to Raziel’s arm to keep me secure. Until at last, the horse came to a sudden halt.
I refused to look, sure that perhaps in his blindness my escort had ridden us to a cliff’s edge. Apparently, I was wrong.
“Normally I would reprimand a fledgling for showing such fear in the presence of adventure,” he said with a low chuckle, “But for you, I shall make an exception.”
The horse beneath me gave a throaty retort, seemingly laughing in tandem at his master’s wit. I said nothing and continued to catch my breath while he dismounted. He took back his cloak from me, and that was when I first beheld his face. I was woefully unprepared.
I wasn’t sure what image I’d formed of Kain’s son, but the reality was different. His chiselled features were enough to nearly bring me to my knees. His image, much like his voice, commanded both attention and authority. The face of an Angel–not the soft delicate details of a lowly messenger, but rather the hardened strength of a ferocious angelic warrior wielding a flaming sword. A centre parted frame of black hair fell tenderly to his hollowed cheeks, just above his masculine jawline. Despite my resolve and my recovered breaths, I was aghast as I looked into his eyes, amber with a soft glow. His gaze was perfectly hypnotising. For a moment, he too appeared dumb struck as our eyes met. I know not what kind of witchcraft infiltrated our minds, but the sound of the opening of large doors abruptly broke the spell.
I stole myself away from his gaze to find myself in the shelter of multiple hanging canopies of crimson red fabric that fluttered in the light wind, hanging ceremoniously from the walls of a great bastion. The structure of dark stone extended as far away as the mists. Its impossibly high walls may have in the past housed an army of thousands, but now were empty save for perhaps the wandering spirits. As impenetrable as it appeared, the large oaken doors before me were indeed ever so slightly open to welcome us.
“This is where I leave you,” Raziel said.
I looked back at him. “You won’t even escort me through the door?” I asked, wondering where the eagerness in my voice suddenly came from and why I was so transfixed by the dark hue of his lips as they moved.
He turned away and readied his horse for another ride. “My orders were to deliver you safely to the doorstep. I will go no further. The rest of this journey is yours to take.” With that, he mounted his steed, but before he rode back into the white blindness, he turned to me.
I’m not sure if it’s possible, but I believe I may have blushed.
“Until we meet again, Raziel.”
“Until we meet again, my lady ...” He coaxed the horse around, “And the next time we meet, you will pay me what you owe.”
With a powerful kick, horse and rider disappeared into the ether, leaving me alone at the gateway.
With no distractions left to impede me, I entered the fortress. The halls were dark and dreary, riddled with dusty cobwebs and the scattered remains of what had been suits of ornamental armour and weaponry, now cast aside as scrap metal. Time and neglect caused the memory of any stationed military force to rot and decay. My every footstep on the marble echoed softly. There were no signs, no markings, and no Kain to greet me. I felt very much alone, but I proceeded down the straight, high corridors regardless, choosing to ignore the many passageways that opened up. I wondered if this was perhaps some elaborate hoax on my host’s part, a way to whittle me down to a level he would be more comfortable addressing.
I’m not sure where my pessimism came from, but in a way, I’m glad it never left me.
I continued until I entered a grand dining hall, a long dark table almost stretched its length. At both ends sat grand ornate chairs. Many dozens, if not hundreds of burning candles upon every horizontal surface, some in clusters and some standing alone, proudly illuminated the room. It was then I understood I wasn’t alone. In the instance I stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind me. I tried not to jump as they crashed closed. Feigning knowledge of the next move, I waited. I was aware of Kain’s fondness for games, but this teasing seemed beneath him.
“Arrived at last,” a voice whispered behind me, a voice so distinctive I could never confuse it with anyone else. I spun around to meet him head on.
I did not realise Kain was so tall. My eyes found his chest before they found his face. I gulped, hoping it wasn’t noticeable. It truly was him. The Vampire Lord himself. Self-deified, and the mightiest among his race. He was much matured and evolved when I laid eyes on him. His age was countless, reflected in the dark hardening of his once palpable, pale flesh. A shock of white hair cascaded down his back, tied loosely at the end. Had I not been so close, I would have sworn he wore a crown, he did not. The horn-like structures protruding from his skull merely acted as one.
“Your silence concerns me,” he said. “It is not like you to be lost for words.”
I straightened my back to meet his gaze: those cold, heartless, yellow eyes. “Perhaps if you had summoned me sooner, I would have more to say. Instead, you left me with your fanatics.”
“Fanatical they might be, but they did well in reviving you.”
Our eyes locked, and we regarded one another in a moment of silence. Honestly, I didn’t know what I was searching for, nor could I understand what he was looking for in my eyes.
“You look well,” he gestured towards the chair closest to us, “Come, let us talk a while. Have you fed?”
“I am satiated, thank you.” I made my way to the chair, which he pulled back graciously for me. He made his way to the other end of the dining table, and I watched. Such an elaborate display of self-importance. “Speaking of your worshippers, they asked to be remembered to you. They have waited patiently, but they miss you.”
“And they will wait further still,” he snapped sharply, as though I’d uttered an obscenity, “Your recovery does not elicit an invitation back to my bed, and they know why.”
This was a lot to take in. I decided it was best not to press the matter further.
He sat, and for a long moment we looked at one another across the great divide of wood and flame. A myriad of questions blazed through my mind. I wasn’t even sure which would be the first I would ask him.
“You must have many questions,” he spoke at last. “I have questions of my own. Let us start with the elephants in the room. Do you know what you are? What you have become?”
I nodded.
“And you know who I am, yes?” he continued.
“You…” I struggled to find the words to describe him, “… are the only thing I know. From the moment I saw you, I knew who you were, Kain. And you know me?”
“You do not ask questions of me,” he retorted.
“Quid pro quo, Kain. I have not travelled this far for you to dismiss me without answers. I answer your questions, and you will answer mine.”
He regarded me with a quizzical yet familiar look, “You are just as I remember you,” his words echoed a faint fondness, “And yet you have changed so much. Fair enough, I knew you once, in a previous life, you might say.” Kain lounged back in his seat.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“Who did this to me?” I urged, an air of desperation in my voice.
“I was about to ask you the same thing. Do you not remember?” his tone did not change.
This caught me off guard. I wondered if he was lying. “You’re saying it wasn’t you?”
“Why would I ever harm you?”
“The mark on my neck would suggest it.”
“The tattoo you refer to has nothing to do with me. You etched it upon yourself before we ever met. I assure you, of all mortals, you are the last I would bestow this upon.”
The way he maintained eye contact with me was chilling. There was no falter in his voice, no sign of manipulation or deception. He spoke truthfully, yet his truth was nonsensical.
I sank back, defeated and no closer to answers, but one question remained on my tongue: “What is my name?” I swore for a second a hint of sympathy flashed across Kain’s eyes. He quickly regained himself though, and straightened his posture to address me.
“Who you were is irrelevant. I see no benefit in revealing that information.”
“That’s not fair!” I shouted back at him. How dare he hold my name from me like some secret treasure.
He slammed his palms on the table as he rose. The candles shuddered at the sudden force of his strength, “You will learn very quickly, fledgling, that nothing in this life is ever fair. You should be grateful for my compassion towards you so far. Or would you rather I banished you?”
I gulped yet again. Although his so-called compassion was thinly spread, he wasn’t lying. “So what happens now?” I asked with a heavy heart.
He stood tall, and began to walk deliberately towards me, a look of satisfaction across his face at my obvious anxiety. “From this day, your name shall be Morgana. You will remain here, with me, at least until I have had time to observe you.” Upon reaching me, he delicately took my chin in his clawed hand and lifted my face to him, “And to ensure the gifts you held in your former life have not followed you into this one.”
And so I remained within the bastion, much to my disdain. Kain, true to his word, kept a watchful eye over me. Even alone, I could feel his presence. I was sure that he could transform into mist in order to watch me from the shadows. I heard his breath during my insomniatic attempts to sleep. It was truly maddening. A vampire as old as him held many advantageous traits, ones I would not hope to gain for centuries or even millennia to come. He never admitted to spying on me and I never caught him in the act, but I recognised his scent of musk and leather when I entered seemingly empty rooms.
After some considerable time, months, if I recall, Kain began temporarily leaving me in the cold solitude of my surroundings.
Do not consider me passive during these times of isolation. On the contrary, I endeavoured to escape the walls frequently. However, I encountered obstacles every time. Stepping out beyond the doors of the bastion revealed no form of transportation, and no means to traverse the white dunes of snow. My situation was like being stranded adrift in the oceans. I was still too young and unevolved to hold immunity to the elements. Kain would always return, silent as to the matter of business he’d left to attend to. Instead, he would greet me cordially and begin suggesting recreations, a way to keep my mind occupied, he put it.
Kain’s leaving was infrequent, and although his presence was constant and intimidating, it would not be long before I dropped my cautionary guards around him. He neither hurt me nor threatened to do so. The more I grew accustomed to him, the more I recalled the kindling embers of old feelings clouded by a thick veil of amnesia. This man, this vampire Lord, this God, had once been my friend; perhaps my dearest of friends. And somewhere, deep down, my heart sensed enormous trust.
Kain became my mentor, teaching me the ways of our species, and many a night we spent in each other’s company while he regaled me with the histories of the world of Nosgoth. So rare is it to meet someone so knowledgeable, let alone one as old as him, to have seen the original events play out. If he were boasting or bragging about his previous accomplishments, then I chose to believe them, regardless.
He taught me to read and write, or rather he aided my memory in recalling the alphabet. Soon I was fluent in the runic writings, those used currently and those long dead to the ages.
Kain spoke with a candid honesty. In his mature years, enlightenment led him to reminisce openly about youthful mistakes, rash decisions, and manipulation by those with ulterior motives. He’d had centuries to reflect upon his historic decisions, and yet in hindsight, he beheld no regret over his actions. Questions I had were answered in a poetic dryness that insisted on truth. I’m sure he hoped to awaken some forgotten memory within me, some spark of recognition at the mention of a name or an important event. Alas, nothing stirred. I’m not sure if this notion disappointed or delighted Kain.
I admit, it did not take me long to learn to trust him. As a mere fledgling sired by an unknown assailant, I was practically a bastard, and yet he took me in, sheltered me, and educated me. Yet I was still very much a prisoner, imprisoned within these icy walls and a new identity.
I recall little of that particular day, only that we sat by an open fireplace come the evening. The flames danced in delicate waves within the black veined marble as Kain explained once more the paradoxical history created when he assassinated the young King William the Just, long before the king could turn into the tyrant, the Nemesis.
Time travel, alternate realities, and fractured timelines. It is a wonder I kept up with what he told me.
“Am I boring you, Morgana?”
I snapped my head towards him, unaware that the roaring flames and hot embers had completely engulfed for a moment my focus. Painfully aware of how quickly I responded to the use of the name bestowed upon me.
“No,” I spoke as I shifted my weight from one hip to the other. From my lounged position on the stone floor, I looked up at him sat in the decorative armchair, his chest bare, his shoulder armour and its attached cape lay draped on the seat behind him. The fire cast deep contrasts of light and shadow across his darkened skin tones. He was no less imposing than when I’d first met him. “It is not your words that bore me, Kain. It is this place.” A heavy sigh escaped me.
He scanned the room with me, acknowledgement in his eyes, “I take it then that the library no longer holds anything to tantalise your interest?”
“Those old tomes spell nothing but the rambling thoughts of mad, old men once thought historians back in their day. Not only are they convoluted, they are repetitive regardless of the author. I wish to leave.”
“Leave?” Kain chuckled at the absurdity. “And where would you go?”
“I care not the location, simply that it is not this winter desert biome you have trapped me in.”
The expression that came over his face was... Playful? “Trapped?” he questioned as he raised an eyebrow. “My dear, you are quite mistaken. I never trapped you here.”
“I could hardly leave on my accord, could I?”
“Did you ever perhaps think to ask me? Or maybe you were too proud to ask for help?” So typical of him to play games even now.
“Fair enough,” I countered, my voice leaning into my own playful tone. “I have been here for months, and aside from haphazard hazy memories of my first day awakened, I know nothing of the world outside this bastion. If I had not stumbled upon your throne room that day, I might assume the world to be blanketed with snow.”
“Tell me truthfully, are you bored also of my company?”
“No,” I insisted, “I apologise if I made it sound so. You have been good to me, but I grow stagnant.”
“Stagnant?” he said as he rose from his seat and stepped towards me with an outstretched palm, which I took. Kain lifted me to my feet effortlessly, as though picking up a swatch of silk or lace. With a clawed hand capable of breaking men in half to snatch beating hearts from their chests, he tenderly stroked the skin on my own.
The intensity of his delicate touch brought goose bumps to my arms, and a long forgotten sensation of knotting to my gut. My breath quickened as I gazed up into his hypnotising eyes.
“Kain...” I whispered against my breathing.
Slowly, Kain brought his free hand to my chin and smiled as the static of tension surrounded us both. “Perhaps there are other ways I could stimulate you,” his deep voice rumbled softly as he leant down towards me.
His suggestion was clear to me. I couldn’t deny the chemistry our isolation had created. At that moment, I felt his body heat, and our hearts beat in rhythmic synchronicity. I felt a deep ache for a bygone era, a time lost to the mists of memory. Had I been any other vampire, I might have submitted to him and that gentler side I’d never seen.
“Kain, no.” I turned my face from his and withdrew my trembling hand. Try as I might, my fingers tingled with electric pulses of hormonal surges. I hid them from him.
“You deny me?” the tone in his voice grew menacing. “After all this time; after all we were; you still deny me?”
Without looking at him, I could not discern how enraged he was. I walked across the room with a straight back and head held high towards one of the many portraits hanging lopsided from the wall. “You say these things as though I owe you some favour. I owe you my thanks, Kain, but I do not owe you more than that. Regardless of whatever we had long ago, I am no longer the person you remember. You took that from me the day you gave me the name Morgana.” I stared ahead, taking in the detailed brushstrokes upon a portrait canvas depicting an empty suit of silver armour edged in purple and gold. I swear, I don’t know whose eyes I felt more; Kain’s boring into the back of my head, or the invisible ones of the damned Sarafan Knight immortalised in oil paints before me. Both were judgemental, but at different ends of the spectrum. I rubbed my arms to ease myself of an unsettling chill. “Were we lovers, you and I?” I asked.
I expected Kain to leave or to change the subject.
“You and I had a complicated relationship,” he began. I hadn’t realised he was standing close enough to place his hands upon my shoulders. I involuntarily drew in a sharp breath as he touched me. “You still feel it, don’t you? The surge of emotion coursing through your veins, the heat between your thighs, the pounding ache in your heart. You don’t need to tell me, I know... Our situation called for restraint; there were monumental risks to consider. First, your mortality. I could have killed you too easily. Second, even if you had survived, there was always the possibility it may have affected the gift you had. You and I were a fantasy we kept hidden, an unspoken lust we dare not act upon. A curse, neither of us could break... until now...”
I felt the honesty in his words deep down in my bones. “But to act upon those urges now would only complicate matters. I will not afford us the chance to ruin the friendship we have built together. I will never again be the person I once was. If we act, then we act upon a dead memory for the sake of its resurrection. My soul tells me this can’t be so.”
Kain withdrew his talons from the satins of my dress and stepped away. “Of course, you are right.” Then, he suggested an alternative, his voice becoming authoritative, “I think it’s time I introduced you to your brethren.”
