The world shaped around me, flickering between light and dark—the still air smacking me across the face before finally turning into a sharp, freezing cold.
One moment, I was in Umbra Academy. The next, I wasn't. I was in a place I'd never been to before.
I was in Boston.
Valerius accompanied me, just as he said he was.
We didn't arrive at a port, nor a place of significance. Instead, we were in front of an old dilapidated church, tall and gray. Shattered glass laid about, an iron fence encompassing alongside the edges of the church grounds.
This place looked as if it was swallowed by the city itself, long lost and forgotten—the air pulsed. It felt like something I'd never felt before.
"These grounds used to be holy," he said. "As you can tell, it's long been abandoned by our ancestors."
When he started walking, I followed shortly behind, even if my body was screaming at me to translocate back to the academy.
"How far are we away from…where we're going?" I grudgingly asked, not mentally prepared for what was about to come.
"A five-minute walk at most, Mr. Lavua," he replied, calm as ever. "I suggest you ready yourself. Taking a life doesn't come easily—or you may not take one at all. I could do all the work. Entirely up to you…and your bloodlust."
My bloodlust?
"I thought vampires didn't need to consume the blood of humans to survive."
"Not that kind of bloodlust, Mr. Lavua," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm talking about your murderous intent. Every vampire has it… You just need the right scenario to manifest it."
The more this conversation went on, the more I realized what I was walking into.
He wouldn't give me much information other than that we were in Boston, but from the secrecy and the way he kept talking about killing…it couldn't be good.
Maybe an opposing family? No, that's stupid.
Valerius stopped in front of the reserved church doors. They were tall and solid white, and looked as if a day hadn't passed.
He placed his hand on the left-hand side of the door, and for a second, I thought he was just going to push it open.
However, instead of just pushing it, he began to mutter. It wasn't any words I knew, or any that I knew the language to.
Once finished, the door bent forward, as if it was being kicked in from the inside. The air around us started distorting for a moment before resting.
The door opened slowly, creaking as it went.
"What is this place?" I said as I peered inside.
Inside resembled nothing of a church. Where pillars should have stood, there were none, with only crumbled stone bumping out sparsely around the cracked and dirty floor. Long seats were placed, all facing toward one thing.
A statue.
Not a statue of Jesus, nor was it of anything resembling Christianity in the slightest. It was of a creature resembling that of a demon.
It was humanoid, with two horns peeking out the top of his head. They held a sword that was coated in dragon-scale on the hilt.
"Ugh…" Valerius groaned, his voice low and grim. "He's no idol. That statue is him—evil incarnated… Aeshma."
"Aeshma…huh," I muttered. I took a step toward the figure.
"Don't touch it, Mr. Lavua," he warned.
I didn't hear him. Or maybe I did, but I couldn't listen. Something about the statue pulled me. Maybe it was its aura, maybe something else entirely. I was like a moth to a flame, and this flame burned brightly.
As I grew closer, my vision blurred—everything but the statue, still clear as when I was at the door.
A few meters away, I saw writing inscribed into a stone. It wasn't any I'd ever seen before.
I stopped, squinting. "What is it?"
"I don't know," he said, his voice tight. "It's written in the tongue of the Veil. No mortal from this world can read it. Not even someone as powerful as me could."
I stepped closer, within arm's reach of the statue. "Something is…drawing me in."
Valerius put his hand on my shoulder firmly. "Don't touch it."
I shrugged him off. Raised my hand.
"I said don't—!"
My palm brushed the base of the cold stone.
And then it happened.
The world vanished.
The church, the statue, even the air—gone.
I stood in a field, under a sky the color of dying embers. Ruins stretched around me, shattered and half-sunken. A path of red grass slithered its way through the wreckage, crimson as blood.
No, not just as blood.
It was blood.
Scattered across the ground were bodies. Hundreds. Thousands. Human. Inhuman. Faces mangled beyond recognition. Piled together, left to linger until creatures came to feast on their remaining flesh.
And at the top of them all stood a man.
One single man.
Two horns curled from his head. The same sword—now buried in the chest of one of the fallen—dripped flesh blood. His eyes burned like coals. His flesh was no longer just stone.
The stone lived.
Aeshma.
Beyond him, a thing stood, piercing the clouds from how massive they were. They looked intimidating only from the chest down. I couldn't see the head, nor could I tell if it had a gender.
"You," a low grumble called to me. I pulled my attention back down to Aeshma, his sword now pointing at me. "Come. You're next."
Before I could take in another moment, I felt myself being aggressively yanked backward.
And then I was back.
In the church.
I was panting, my heart racing faster than I thought it could ever go. Even though air was entering my body, I still couldn't breathe. It was a new experience I was not fond of.
"What happened?" Valerius asked, giving a worried look on his face. "What did you see, Mr. Lavua?"
I stumbled for my words. "I…I saw death."
"By whom?"
I pointed toward the statue, my finger trembling, "Him."
"Oh."
I looked back down to the writing that I glanced at before the vision. I could read it now, however I did not know how I could.
"He returns through the ruins of blood," I said aloud without realizing.
Valerius looked at me with surprise. "What?"
"That's what the text reads."
"…You can read the Veil-tongue…? How?" He looked confused with a hint of anger, and I could see his fist clenching.
"I don't know how I can… I just—it just came to me after I saw his face."
Valerius stepped backward, rubbing his temples with a hardy sigh. It was unlike anything I'd heard from him. "How much do you know about the Caldrith?"
Caldrith?
"What is that?"
"Your ignorance amazes me sometimes, Mr. Lavua…" he muttered to himself. "Caldrith refers to the day that the King of Wrath, Aeshma, returns to life and destroys the entire world—think of it as Ragnorok."
"How is this relevant, Valerius?"
His eyes turned red, and let out a commanding "Listen."
Instinctively, I stopped talking. It felt like I dazed, in a trance.
What is happening? Are there more abilities vampires have other than shapeshift and translocate?
Valerius spoke, his words full of anger and confusion. "That word, that accursed word—it has been said to start when Aeshma's Heir spoke with the resurrected body of Aeshma…and, if what you're saying is correct, even in a vision…those words have been spoken. To you. The heir of Aeshma."
My throat grew dry. "I'm…I'm not his heir," I said slightly above a whisper.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he groaned, a disgruntled sound mixed with anger and confusion. His eyes were locked with mine—judging, almost accusatory.
"As much as this pains me to say, you don't get to choose your destiny, Jacob Lavua." His voice was sharp…raw, as if each word pained him to say.
I swallowed, feeling nothing but hot saliva stream down my dried throat. "I'm no heir to Aeshma…" I stammered once more. "You said it yourself, you knew of my parents—killed publicly. Heretics. Members of the Apostles of Wrath… Sorry, but there's absolutely no way that I, a lowly vampire who just recently started gaining experience, am anyway related to this hell-spawn!"
Tears streamed down my face. They hurt coming out. I couldn't remember the last time I cried. Was it when I first got avoided? When I got rejected by my first crush?
While it wasn't a new feeling, it was one I was not fond of. I hated that emotion. I hated loneliness.
I heard the sound of Valerius's footsteps coming my way. He put his hand on my shoulder, his grip gentle, yet firm. "You think I wanted this for you either, Mr. Lavua? Before becoming acquainted with you, I did my fair bit of research. In your heritage. What stuff your parents did when you were but a fetus." He paused, his usually professional voice breaking down. "All that I've said until now has been true."
I froze.
I can't be. I won't allow it.
"No…"
"Yes, Mr. Lavua."
Valerius's grip tightened, not allowing me to move a muscle. It felt like a ton-weight had been placed on my shoulder.
"You were born into this," he said in a quiet voice, almost breaching that of a whisper. "Not made. Born. You were chosen by the gallons of blood spilled by innocents." He exhaled sharply, as though he hated the truth. "For the past ten years, I tried and tried to prove the records wrong, with each and every one of them failing. I prayed to Typhon themself that your blood was just…tainted, not cursed. But the vision confirmed every one of my fears."
His words echoed throughout my mind. The weight was unbearable…
*********************************************************************************
Far beneath the ruined church, in the blackened stone halls of the hidden Apostle base, a circle of robed figures sat in eerie silence. Candles flickered at their feet, casting long shadows on the cracked stone walls. The air was thick with incense, rot, and something far older.
Then a woman gasped—a sound not of fear, but complete ecstasy. She convulsed once, her spine arching as if it was touched by flames.
"He's back…" she moaned, her breathing rapid and erratic. Her eyes rolled back in bliss, white and wild, with blood dripping from her grin. "Aeshma's heir."
One man dropped his hands that were just in a prayer. Another began to cry.
The woman stood slowly, her legs trembling. Her robe that was just white now clung to her skin, stained and shining.
"Let's go meet him," the woman said through a bloodstained smile. "We all know how long we've waited."