Chapter 61 - Blood Flows Through The Crevice

But it never came.

Instead, he felt a shadow protecting him from the ax, enveloping his tied-up body. The arms were warm..... So warm that it felt like it would burn his cold dead skin beath the layers of rope. The Vampire Lord was already dying and losing consciousness, so the figure was hazy. But he knows that sweet-smelling yet toxic blood.

Rothfir blinked as he had driven the ax to Sangfroid's back. It made a large gash, but Sangfroid never screamed nor reacted. Instead, he quickly took Vladstin with him.....

And jumped.

Splash!

Both of them, gone into the deep blue waters of a large fountain that is much deeper than it looks. 

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Lero had walked past the people and faced a labyrinthian maze. The hedge walls had grown thicker, and some were burned by cannons years ago, making it into a big mess instead of a maze with one correct path. 

But the prince prepared to run barefoot, leaving the wolves behind and entering the thicket only manageable by one, thin person. 

He tried to remember well. He tried and tried. But he has taken a part of his brain after all, and though he had claimed to regenerate it, his memories are still hazy. Most of the time in this second life without conscience, he relied on inference and his extraordinary acting skills to show the proper reaction.

But thanks to the visions in the Looking Glass, the hazy and distant memories are starting to grow clearer on the back of his mind. It was a domino effect ever since he first saw Vladstin. The night when he was bitten must be the trigger for his missing part to return to him. 

Vladstin. He must not let him die again. Because now...

The feelings he cannot reciprocate in their childhood years now fill his once empty heart. 

"Ack... Hnnn.... Huff.... Huff..." This thought kept him going even as he stumbled and fall, and have thorns all over his poor feet. He winced and managed to get past by pushing over the leaves and continue running and running until he gets to the end of the maze.

There it was, miraculously still standing tall amidst the wreckage. A yellow arch made of flowers and fuzz. The old memory of them dancing and wishing to be together for years to come like specters. He could really see the ghosts of his younger self and the Crescentian prince below that arch, hands together and chest to chest. 

The Dandelion Archway that healed the Queen Vanesda from her endless bleeding wounds.

Prince Leron slowly approached it, and with his bloody feet, he started to dance. 

The gash on his forehead reopened when he tripped and fall, but Leron paid it no mind. This is actually a good thing. Because he now realizes what activates the Three Relics, something that had always been with them all along and became the central theme to their whole lives. 

Blood means life. Without it running in our arteries and veins, we could not live. It is the Essence. For the same reason, blood is also death. Because once spilled, we lose our essence. Once tarnished, once dirtied, our body grows cold and weaker. 

Blood is sacrifice. It is so precious to every human being that willingly letting it go is a form of sacrifice. In exchange for a life, give life, give blood. How can they not realize it before?

Leron swayed with his hands in position to hold to an invisible partner, sluggish and faltering from his bruised and battered state.

"There is a myth that two lovers built this archway so that they could marry and make vows with each other. The traditional marriage was done by dancing and making a promise of forever under an arch of flowers. Apparently, one of the lover's parents was a deity, and did not approve of their love. The deity cursed them to not be able to be married by causing all the flowers that they approach to wilt. But somehow, dandelions don't wilt around them. That's why it became a symbol of hope and miracles."

Droplets of crimson red fell into these dandelions, these symbols of hope and miracles. They absorbed it quickly like morning dew. 

"We are technically married, Vladstin." Leron laughed shallowly to himself. "You tricked me into marrying you according to the ancient traditions, didn't you? Using the excuse of trying out a miracle that you witnessed.... I don't mind it, though. You would have made a great husband to anyone."

"I wish it had never been me. If only it was not me that you loved. Not before I could learn to love you. Then you would not have to resolve to such things.... Would not have...."

Blood and tears mixed together, falling to the fertile soil. 

"What have you ever even found in me? How can you see something that I could never see for myself? How can I...." Leron choked in sobs, but did not stop dancing. "How can I compare what I feel for you now to what you had for me? How could I still wish that you would still feel the same once you have turned human, to the person you once were?"

"Do not die." Leron said. "That is all I could truly wish for. Do not die! Vladstin! Do not go before I could even say these things to you!"

His vision went worse and he realized that it had started to rain. It was so blurry that he could almost clearly and vividly see the younger Vladstin smiling at him, holding him in his arms as he said:

"I would love you no matter what you look like, no matter who you are." 

He wiped his tears away in panic, and he can even feel that warm and intimate touch over his face. 

"Why are you crying!? Did you get upset by what I said? I take it back, okay, I meant it as a friend---"

"I do not want to be friends anymore. I do not deserve to claim to be 'friends' with you." Leron said to this ghost of the past. "From the start, our relationship had always been a blur of the in-between. Almost like family, almost like friends, almost like lovers, almost like enemies. It is because I am an untrustworthy person that even I could not trust on my perception of you and what we truly are to each other."

"I push and pull you. I accept and deny. But now one thing is clear: I don't want it to end this way. Please, don't let this be the end!" 

The apparition of the past Vladstin was startled and then his face softened. He rest his head on Leron's forehead and said, with a gentle smile. " Then.... Let us wish for it together. What you wish for will be mine as well." 

Leron gave one final hoarse shout, before he fully collapsed, finishing the dance full of blood and wishes. 

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The waters were stained by blood. Red and blue, mixing together under the velvet twilight sky. 

Vladstin had dreamed of it again. He never dreams, because he never truly sleeps. The last sleep he had.....

Was when he killed a black-haired boy with blue eyes, and got shot in the heart for it. 

Hie did not die back then because there was still enough blood circulating in his system and it was a single wound that he could focus on healing. But achieving a thousand would really end the life of a monster like him. All it takes is his heart or his mind to be destroyed. 

Everyone thought it must be physically. But his existence has always been symbolic. He himself is a symbol, a symbol of wrath and revenge, the reckoning from the past. Therefore, there must be a poetic justice behind killing a vampire by piercing through the heart or beheading. 

It is not enough to break them physically. You must break their metaphorical mind and heart. But how is that possible, if they don't have one in the first place? If their humanity is lacking?

Vampires with a heart and a stable mind.... Is it possible?

These ponderings did not last long, because Vladstin dreamed of it again. But this time, he could somehow understand the foreign language. 

A man stood at the edge of the cliff, staring at the wide blue sea. His canines were long and sharp, and a mischievous glint made his bright eyes the color of the setting sun even brighter. Maybe even brighter than the full moon that night, at the black mountains that were almost jagged obsidian. 

The obsidian mountains.... They look quite familiar. Could it be the Libitinous Mountains where the so-called 'Hermit' resides?

Soon, this glint disappeared when he sensed something. 

"Hast thee cometh to consider mine offer?" He turned and asked the shadows behind him in a foreign language. 

There was nothing but freezing air and mist, but he knew better. He can always sense it. 

He can always sense him.

This person's unnatural senses are similar to Vladstin's. So it would not be wrong to assume that he is a Vampire Lord.

He looked above at the mountains dotted by the stars in the sky. He knew better. Those were not stars.

Those were the reflective shine from the moon of a thousand arrows aimed at him. Arrows made of glass and people in dark cloaks and masks to blend into the night. 

"Xen." The man said. "Is this thy final decision?"

A deep voice answered him from the woods beyond in another language. "Aye. I can never leave mine people for thee."

"I refuse to speaketh in Ilvedian." The man shrugged. "Speaketh to me in mine own tongue."

The person from the shadows did not answer for a while and merely revealed himself. He was holding a bow and an arrow as well. 

"Ah, I see, I see." The man with gold eyes and sharp teeth nodded. "Xen. Thou hast made an unwise choice as always."

He spread his arms wide like a bird ready to soar, and face the cliff again. Wind blowing on his hair, the calm seas now raging and restless, and a bright smile on his face. 

This gesture is easy to interpret of any person regardless of language. It is a sign of submission, of surrendering, of acceptance. 

'Go ahead. Kill me.'

As a thousand cuts were made to him. The last one was straight to the heart by the person behind him, and he fell into the deep blue waters, never to be seen again.

But another hazy memory followed. The man who shot him at the heart....

Also followed him to the cliff as he fell, taking him in his arms as his fellow companions shot him too. 

Vladstin slowly awakened from this dream as he continued to float in the water, the ropes that binded him untangling and letting his blood flow freely.

Two bodies with crimson flowing from the crevice, intertwining into the cold blue like paint mixing into a beautiful purple.

"I like your purple eyes the most."