Vampire epic 1/2:
The Sacrifice
Each age had its decadence,
but none so than the age of the Hunter.
For centuries we had been hunted by the mortal kine of the Order.
For centuries we had eluded them.
But now the time has come,
the curtain call for the vampire.
Turning Andreus as I would come to call him,
was in the death of his mortal life,
and the infusion of his divine right.
In the blood he found his salvation.
Draining him to the point of death,
the weakened state to which all undead are reborn,
or as I call it the Rebirth,
I carefully slit my wrist,
and allowed him to feed from the blood within my veins.
The death of his mortal life,
the body but not the soul,
allowed for his transition.
When he awoke with his vampire eyes,
the sight he described was that of beauty incarnate.
In was in this beauty that granted his downfall.
In his crusade to purge the human element of the Hunter,
he focused on the simple and petty.
Killing them was not enough to satiate his thirst,
but the death of their very soul and will.
I watched as he tortured the sister.
I watched as he let her die with the knowledge of a God.
And I watched as he left her corpse to the four winds.
But in this transition he found himself.
A warrior of God, but a new God upon old streets.
The war and our time had come.
The mortal family of my line wanting my death,
and the death of my child Andreus.
They came with fire.
They came with the crucifix.
They came with their saviour.
In a moment of hesitation,
I wept tears of blood for the mortal kine,
for I had known each soul,
but these were the tears of the feeble.
Harbour the pain.
Harbour the will.
I survived the war,
but my beautiful, graceful
Andreus died at the hands of the sword.
Crucified as Christ,
his flesh burned in the sun,
crackling and turned to ash as only my mind could feel.
Harbour the pain.
Harbour my love.
