Sweet Dreams to Nightmares - Chapter 20, Part 2
A Time of Innocence.
Lust stirred deep inside his core and tormented his focus. She stirred in her sleep. Every move she made was like a shock through his being. He clasped his eyes together until a pressure built-in between them. All he had been his passages. He remembered them by heart from years of study at his father's side. He knew his faith was strong. Now he needed it more than ever. But it seemed as if it would break. The passion was immense. He needed to hold it back. He needed to fend it off. It was a battle he feared he would lose. He prayed that God's hand did not leave him. He needed His grace more than anything. "You prepare a table for me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." Was he forsaken? Had he been ripped from the path of eternal light? He wished it not. He had devoted his life entirely unto Him and yet... no.
That was a lie. He was devoted but his heart did not bleed for Him. Not like how it bled for her. Was this punishment? Was it his fate to devour what he prized, so dearly over others until he was left with nothing? His body shook against his need to go to her. He felt her stir once more, her pulse reverberating through his foundation. "Then I acknowledge my sin to you and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, 'I confess my transgressions to the Lord.' And you forgave the guilt of my sin." That's right. His God was an all-knowing God, an Almighty God, a benevolent God. There was no way he would turn from him this way. He was His child, one of His most sacred children. He would not forsake him so. "'Because he loves me,' says the Lord, 'I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call on me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. With long life I will satisfy him and show him my salvation.'"
Yes. He never left him. This was a mere test. A test of his strength. A test of his will. A test of his soul. He would not give in to his cravings. He would not bring harm unto her. Though his thoughts were tainted his heart, his spirit, remained pure. "No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it." His love for her... his love for her was what could save them both. He would not let himself fall so easily into temptation because she embodied everything worth living for. If he could succumb to temptations and destroy what he claimed to value the most, then he no longer deserved to be in the Kingdom of God.
She was his sanctuary. She was his rod. "The Lord will rescue me from every evil attack and will bring me safely to his heavenly kingdom. To him be glory forever and ever." He could sense every move she made. Her breathing fluctuated steadily, rising and falling in such a haunting, rhythmic pattern until her heart skipped a beat. Such a cruel, harrowing, beat. "Amen."
Randolph abandoned his position. He turned his gaze upon Trista who seemed to waver clumsily in out of consciousness. She fell over onto her stomach and drowsily struggled to push herself up. From the erratic way her heart raced he knew that she had taken notice of him. Her heartbeat played like a drum against his skin. It was the only melody he could hear. It was all that he could get himself to focus on. He bit his lip, drawing blood and lapping quickly at the wound that spilled such an unsatisfying liquor. "Trista?" He called softly.
At the sound of his voice she flinched. It was difficult to reorient her state of mind. Her head seemed as if it was filled with needles that prickled incessantly. Every time she moved her body protested screaming to immobilize her. But the wound in her neck stabbed with a burning sensation of one thousand suns. It was his doing. It was his fault. "Stay away!" She shrieked, stumbling onto her back and shuffling away as quickly as her body would allow.
"Trista." Randolph called. He understood her apprehension but it still pained him to see her look upon him in such a way. It still pained him to see her once gentle eyes now callous and filled with dread. "It's okay." He soothed, ignoring his lust that drilled against his nerves. "There's no need to be alarmed. I am of the calmest composure." It was a lie, he thought. Even he could not comprehend whether or not he would move to strike her once more. But his small remnant hold of his sanity had to be enough. He could not allow himself to inflict more pain upon her.
"H-how can I believe you?" Her voice shivered. As she spoke, she withdrew into herself, readying to flee at a moment's notice. Tears eddied up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. "You were crazed last night. You even bit me." When the words left her lips the memories of the night before plundered into her thoughts. Randolph wasn't Randolph any more. He had attacked her mercilessly. If she hadn't escaped from his grasp, he could have devoured her. If she hadn't escaped she could have died. The wound on her neck throbbed relentlessly. "You bit me!" Her hand shot up to her wound. Her hand came down upon something ragged. She ran her fingers over it and felt a jagged piece of cloth tied neatly over her wound.
Randolph studied her wavering expression. He would have to choose his words carefully. If he wanted to regain her trust, he would have to show her that he was no monster. He was still the same Randolph that she cherished. "Do not worry. I patched it up. You will not change. Only if you are bitten by an elite is when you change." He hoped that this would cure her of her uncertainties. He hoped that it would ease her woes. But as he continued to look upon her, her emotions still ran wild... fear, agony, hatred, mistrust.
"I... I see." She dropped her eyes to the ground. She could no longer look upon him. To do so was sickening. "I can't believe this." She breathed unsteadily. "You are... you are a vampire now. You are a vampire now and it's all my fault. All those people..." her voice cracked as the memories of the night before trickled in. She remembered their flight into the city. She recalled how she stumbled over the corpse of an old woman. She recollected how she hid behind the massive pile of bodies. "All those dead bodies... and mother..." her voice came out in an inaudible quiver.
"Trista." Randolph called once more. He wished so much that he could go to her. He craved to touch her and comfort her but with every selfish desire he felt the wicked temptations he had yet to tame.
Trista did not hear him. Her eyes remained fixed on the blades of grass before her. "And mother..." her voice filled with tears as a pristine image of her mother's dismembered body formed anew before her eyes. "...she was ripped in half."
Randolph clenched his teeth and clasped his eyes shut. Her pain was excruciating and it only made him think of how he lost his own mother. He prayed that both of their deaths were quick and painless. "Trista that's enough." He whispered dejectedly.
"My mother was ripped apart right in front of my eyes Randolph!" Trista erupted. "It will never be enough! I...I watched her die!" Tears poured down her cheeks as the flood gates of misery opened upon her heart. She had failed. She had failed in her promise to her father. She had brought evil into their home. She had single-handedly brought death upon her mother. She sickened herself. She loathed her existence. She was a sinner of the worst kind. "I...I even landed on top of her!" The confession had left her lips. She hadn't even thought about it until then. Even at the end she still sullied her mother. Even in the end, she could not care for her. Her blood was on her hands. Her death was her fault. She had bathed in her blood like a cold-hearted murderer. "I landed...on top -" Upon her realization she looked at her hands. Her stomach lurched. "Oh god." She clasped her hand over her mouth and in a flourish she dashed to the river's edge.
"Trista, you need to calm down." Randolph instructed in a smooth tone. It was no good. His words couldn't reach her. He could do nothing for her as long as he was confined to the shadows of the tree.
Trista did not hear him. Clean! She had to get clean! She had to erase it! All of it! She wasn't a murderer! She wasn't a sinner! It wasn't her fault! It wasn't her fault! She grunted and cried hysterically as she splashed herself violently with water. She scrubbed at her skin viciously. She had to get it all! She had to get clean! No matter how hard she tried she was stained. No matter how hard she scoured the blood would not lift. She scrubbed hard and harder, dousing herself with water until her hands ached and her skin grew raw. She could no longer go on. She was forever marked. She was forever stained. She brought her hands into view and watched as they trembled. Murderer! Sinner! Criminal! It was all on her hands. "It's all my fault." She shuddered. "All those people died because of me."
Randolph didn't like this. In her voice he heard something that sent a shiver down his spine. He hated not being able to see her eyes. He needed to face her. He needed to look deep into her. "Trista, you couldn't have predicted that those vampires were going to attack the village."
"No, but I could have prevented it." Her hands before her seemed different. They turned to look like that of a stranger's. "If only I hadn't gone... if I listened to mother... they would all be alive right now. And you..." She turned her gaze upon him. There he sat as he always had, listening, attentive, filled with such heart wrenching love that it made her sick. All of it was gone. She was alone. She was so utterly alone in the world she didn't know what to do. Mother... Father... Randolph... she lamented their names deep in her core. But it was futile. They were no more. She rose to her feet and walked towards the tree where Randolph sat. Cautiously she stepped to the edge where the shadow met the light. She fell to her knees, distancing herself to what she felt was a safe area. "...you would still be human." Tears fell from her eyes. She had destroyed everything. Nothing was left. "Such a fitting fate for a selfish sinner. God's wrath knows no bounds, but who could blame him."
She shrugged in a limp manner. A small smile played at the corner of her lips. "Selfish people deserve nothing." Her vision of Randolph blurred and her chest began to tighten. "I have nothing." She buried her face in her hands and surrendered herself into a fit of weeping.
Randolph watched helplessly as Trista's body shook like a small child. Was there anything he could do? There had to be. There had to be something he could say, something he could do to remove even just a small portion of her pain. He reached out for her. He reached out to take her up in his arms and hold her close... but all that he could think of was the ecstasy of her blood pouring through his vein. All he could think of was how effortless it would be to hold her down and rip her apart until he writhed in her sweet tonic. He dropped his hand and with so much despondency, he dropped his eyes to the shadow's edge.
*With those last words you abandoned me and I became your enemy. Just like every other creature of the night. Hate, anger, revenge, and rage became the main component of your vocabulary and consumed you whole. I no longer could reach you, touch you. You forever hated me for what I had become and I was only an object in your scheme to rid the world of all not human.*
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A phoenix. It was the only thing Randolph could come to remember about his family. No. It was the only thing he would allow himself to remember. It was the fifth anniversary of his mother's demise and yet somehow he managed to find a way to go on. It was amazing to him how things worked out that way. He always thought he would never be able to move on his own if any of his parents were to pass away. He always imagined a life of solitary stillness. Unmoving, unfaltering, walking death. But from the ashes he rose. A specter of what used to be. A shell of a past life. Images of his father possessed him. He wondered how he lived. If he ever knew the truth of his mother's demise...if he ever wondered if his son still walked amongst the world...if he bit his hands and spat at the heavens for destroying his life so. He prayed not. He knew somewhere in his heart his father poured himself into his prayers for his family's sake. It was he himself who found himself cursing the skies above. For forsaking him...for abandoning him in his most troubling time of need... and most of all for letting thousands of innocent lives sully in deep-rooted rage and rotten contempt.
As he marched through the small camp of what once was the thriving town of Everendai he could feel the acidic burn of disgust swell in his chest. In the ashes of bloody blades of grass brethren from neighboring towns trampled over the memories of years before. He cringed as they raised their sharpened blades his way as a salute of honor. Stained...tainted...they were all marked with such hatred. Their hands once pure now covered in blood that could never wash away. As they moved to battle against the beasts of the moon most perished and few survived and yet they still craved the futile battlefield. They could not win. They could not smite such a powerful enemy. He had to stop them before more senseless fighting would end more lives.
He gritted his teeth as he watched a small child kneel at her father's side before their tent. Her hands tinged red placed a dingy piece of wet cloth on his head as he shivered and groaned from his tremendous wounds. Legs broken, arms torn, face scarred, he barely seemed human. As tears ran from her eyes she lifted her gaze upon Randolph not with hatred but with reverence. She placed her hand to her heart and bowed her head. He hated it. He deserved no such worship. Such worship was misguided. He dropped his head and balled his fists tightly as he walked past her. He couldn't stomach such a place. His stride quickened as he came upon a small wooden hut. A scorched figure of Jesus hung above the door. His eyes wandered from the statue until they rested on the tattered sheets which hung in the doorway. He ripped them open and advanced into the small confines of the hut. A stark odor of incense and blood fused together turning the contents of his stomach.
"Trista, how could you be so foolish to conduct these people under such matters?" Randolph erupted. He took little heed to her prayers. Matters of greater importance were at hand.
As he spoke wild chanting struck his eardrums. Hymns of victory, battle, and vengeance stifled him so much that it was hard to breathe. Blood. Blood was in the air, drenching the dirt with innocent life. He did his best to keep his composure.
Trista did not move. She sat on her knees before a small, makeshift altar. Two candles burned on either side of an offering before a tattered portrait of Jesus and the Virgin Mary. With her eyes closed her head was lowered to her clasped hands before her chest. "Randolph, lower your voice. You are disturbing the sanctuary." She spoke softly.
"I will lower my voice when I receive an explanation!" He spat. "Trista, what do you be thinking? You can't lead these people under false pretensions!"
Upon his last word Trista opened her eyes, resting her gaze on the portrait before her. The sing-song melody of her people's plight was the sweetest sound of all. It ignited a strength within her that beckoned her on. It was her duty to lead them and they were calling to her, crying for her guidance that she alone could bestow upon them. Slowly she crossed herself and rose to her feet. "False pretensions?" She replied as if such an accusation made little sense. She turned to a small fire which burned in a furnace to her right. She grabbed a torch from the wall and laid its head into the flame. "What false pretensions?" Once the torch was aflame she turned towards him, finally resting her eyes upon him. Her gaze made him stiffen. It was hard and seemed as if she were possessed with abhorrence. "I know of no such thing to which you speak." Her words were hard and steady. As she inched towards him languidly, her manner was menacing. "Everything I do, everything I say is for the sake of those people and nothing more."
Randolph didn't falter. He couldn't falter. He had to remain firm on his ground to get her to see reason. If not, the repercussions would be detrimental. "You lead them on lies Trista! You're not leading them to help them on their pilgrimage to salvation! You're leading them with intent to use them in your savage plot to erase what you fear! Think about all the lives that will be lost if you keep going to battle with those things! Those people don't stand a chance against them! You're being impulsive and selfish!"
Suddenly Trista was before him. She took hold of him by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall. "I'm not being selfish!" She hollered at the top of her lungs. Such animosity and revulsion rang within his ears. He gazed upon her with disbelief. Her chest heaved from the exertion of her cry. Her hold trembled against him as she tightly clutched onto his shirt. Their eyes stared back into one another's, seeing what they did not know to be one another. "I am merely a motivator." She spoke after a moment's silence. Her words were rigid and callous. "I'm just the little push that was needed to open the flood gates of motion. These people have always had these emotions of hatred for their fate.
Always!" she growled. "I gave them the courage they needed to finally stand and fight! These people suffered just as much as I have suffered! We have suffered! They're tired of being stepped on and pushed around in their own homes! I'm here to relinquish them of this pain and suffering and I'm not going to quit! So you can either join me or step aside and stay the hell out of my way !"
Randolph dropped his gaze for a brief moment upon the torch in her hand as she lowered it towards him. He did not move. He dared not to. Something had changed within her. She could no longer see reason. And as he gazed with dread into her eyes he could see only darkness. In a swift motion Trista snatched away from him and walked out into the night without another word. There was nothing more to be said. He could no longer reach her. He stood alone with nothing more to be done.
*Of course, like an obedient little dog, I followed you in silence. Only offering knowledge when called for and words when needed. Slowly I watched you drift from me and slip into a consuming madness.*
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Upon his summons Randolph always abandoned his private studies and always walked down the corridors of the Everendai Church to attend to his call. It seemed as if a millennia had passed since the war had started. Within the countless years their congregation managed to grow and their once crude town no longer stood as ragged tents but flourishing buildings. Everendai was now the heart of commerce and the leader of the human world.
They stood as reigning sovereign of a thriving city. Their numbers had grown and their army grew more powerful. Fairly peaceful days had come in the mist of battle and it seemed to promise a future when they could finally lay down their arms. As Randolph neared a set of great mahogany doors he dreamed of the day he would finally leave this place, to abandon the cold stones of wall and never look back. But a dream so sweet...could it ever truly come into existence? His hand rested on the knob and he stepped inside. As he glanced upon her pacing back and forth about the room in an erratic stride he knew it could never come to pass. He could never bring himself to leave her side, nor would she ever abandon such senseless fighting. He closed his eyes and shut the door softly behind him. Reality was too cruel.
"Father...Father," Trista called in frenzy. Her hands rubbed one another continuously as if she were trying to rub them raw. "What should I do? I can't hang on any more." Her breathing quickened. Her words were haggard. "Those repulsive beasts mock me. Mock me and my failure !" Upon her cry she clutched a handful of her hair in distraught. "It's driving me mad. I can hear their piercing laughter as they sit high and mighty in their inevitable kingdom." She walked to the large window of her room and placed her hands upon the cold glass. She peered out beyond the city of Everendai below to the kingdom of Avertarte in the distance. The Avertarte kingdom was aglow on the horizon, shining like a beacon. "I hate them for it. They sit comfortably tormenting me.
Tormenting us !" Her hands quivered with rage. Her fingertips slid against the glass until her hands balled into fists. "I don't think I can take any more of this!" she cried as loud as she could. All at once she slammed her fists against the window, shattering the glass about her feet. She grabbed face in terror, her gaze resting on the shards of glass. Her body became limp and she dropped to her knees in dread. "Look at what I've become." Her words were a tremor of horror. "What do I do Father? What do I do?" Her voice became soft, cracking from the tears that welled in her throat. She covered her eyes with palm of her hands as if she were trying to erase the image before her. "I can't keep it together. I can still..." In a flash an image passed before her. She could see a roar of flames leap towards her. "I can still hear her screaming and the roar of the flames. This blood... this blood is drowning me... and I can't..." She cringed. Her palms pressed hard against her eyes as tears streamed down her cheeks. "And I can't move."
Randolph watched her closely. She seemed so small, so frail. It was all he could do to not rush to her side and hold her in his arms. He wanted nothing more than to pour himself into her and restore life within her. She was falling away, her misery eating her alive like a parasite. Her once vibrant glow was now pale and sallow. Her cheeks full of life were now sunken. Her hair was dull, hanging lifeless about her in messy tangles. Such a small child, he thought as he began to stride towards her warily. Such a small child that deserved peace more than anyone else. "There's only one way to release yourself from this torment." He kneeled before her, pleading through his words. "Cease this fighting. The Avertarte kingdom wishes only to bring peace."
"They don't bring peace!" She cried out. "Only death! You saw it too!" She gripped her hair as memories of her mother's mangled body flashed against her eyelids. "You saw it too." Her words became small.
"Let it go Trista. When you forgive yourself only then will you be able to be free of these bandages holding you back. Trista, end this war." He hoped that she would hear him. He hoped with everything he had that she would finally return to him. He reached out for her wanting so desperately to hold her close. "End this war and come away with me."
Suddenly Trista slapped his hand away viciously. She snatched up gaze to him and glared maliciously. "You would just love that wouldn't you? Huh?" she growled. "For me to let my guard down and abandon my people?"
The sting on his hand ripped him back into reality. Her gaze crippled him into a stupor. "That's not -"
"Your words mean nothing! Nothing !" she snarled. "You're one of them and cannot be trusted." She shot up to her feet and marched to the door as if to escape.
"Tr-Trista!" Randolph stammered as he rose to his feet. A pang in his chest wrenched through him. "How could you speak to me this way? I wasn't born like this! I was cursed! Don't you remember? It's me how I've always been! I'm Randolph!"
"No you're not!" she hollered as if her words could attack. "You're a blood thirsty fiend . Randolph died a long time ago."
In a swift movement she opened the door and slipped out of the room. As the sound of the door clicked shut Randolph felt himself sever from her never to mend again.
*With those piercing words it was finally confirmed that you lost sight of me and condemned me like any other vampire. I could no longer call out to you. You feared me like you feared them. Then, that's when they appeared with perfect timing. That girl Jizabel and that woman Maryellia. Piece by piece they began to smoother over your eyes with lies, with words, such as, alliance and unification. Piece by piece they deteriorated the sanctity of the church by letting in their foul kind saying they would help our Sregneva Namuh learn the ways and weakness of their kind. Like weeds they burst their way through making you think you were in charge when in fact they were using you as a pawn the very way you used our people. But all along I knew this and I tried warning you but my words were pushed away. I didn't try hard enough... no... I didn't want to try hard enough. Soon I found myself happy that they had shown. They would finally take over and thwart your plans and free you from your power drunkenness. In the end I wanted them to succeed. You could say that I was using them too because I was selfish just like you. No matter how hard you pushed me away or how much you hated me... I still loved you. I wanted to be with you no matter what happened and now I finally can be. I guess I should actually be thanking Jizabel instead of scorning her. So come Trista, let us selfish sinners finally leave this world and go where we should have been that time ago.*
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It was the smell of her that bothered her. Vincent could almost smell a thick, rancid smog of death covered with sweet water perfume waft before her. It was annoying. She hated her being so close. She hated the feel of her arms around her. It was all lies. It was stupid that she took such pleasure in deceit. Why couldn't she be like all her other foes and just cackle aloud and divulge her plans. It was exhausting being a player in whatever sick and twisted production she decided to perform. No more! It was time to end it now. Vincent pried herself free and drove her foot hard into Contessa's stomach. The force of her blow sent Contessa flying across the room. She collided against a column which collapsed on top of her.
"Get up!" Vincent commanded across the room. "I know that wasn't enough to kill you!"
The sound of a soft giggle danced from below the rubble. "Oh. Look at how we finally wised up." With ease Contessa freed herself from the wreckage. She stood gracefully to her feet and proceeded to pop her shoulder back into place. "It's about time."
"Thanks to you." Vincent's voice rumbled.
Contessa grinned malevolently. "Little sister finally grew up. You wouldn't be worth killing if you hadn't."
"I'm tired of your words!"
Without a second's delay Vincent lunged to attack. Thrusting out her hand she summoned a band of demon soldiers who readied their arms at her side. Contessa did not waver. She merely stood her ground and slit the palm of her hand with her nail. She clasped her hand shut and as Vincent drew near she opened it. The pull of the hell portal opened. Contessa thrust her portal towards Vincent. Like a void the portal swallowed in Vincent's soldiers as if it were a vacuum. Vincent's soldiers vanished into the portal with ease. Vincent dug her foot into the ground gritting her teeth as she struggled to thwart the pull which engulfed her.
As she drew near she bared her nails and swung to slice into Contessa's wrist. Contessa pulled her hand into herself and side-stepped Vincent's blow. As Vincent slid past her Contessa thrust her hand out towards her and unleashed the demon soldiers, now under her control. Vincent quickly thrust her hand forward and summoned a large ogre. The ogre swung its arm out lazily, knocking some of the soldiers across the room. The rest of the soldiers the ogre snatched up with his tremendous hand and smashed them into the ground. The ogre clumsily charged after Contessa, breaking columns and ripping up cobble stone as it swung and clasped after her. Vincent unsheathed her sword and took flight after Contessa to slow her speed. As Vincent swung her sword Contessa jumped off the blade and flipped towards a wall.
She landed gracefully and pivoted. She pushed herself back towards Vincent, who swiftly bent backwards to dodge her. Contessa's path was immediately blocked by the ogre. She quickly opened her palm and pulled the ogre into her portal. Vincent cursed herself and swung her sword to thwart her efforts but her blow fell short. Contessa landed to a sliding stop and sent the ogre back out towards Vincent. Vincent dodged the ogre's blows and sliced through it until it fell in half. As Vincent landed, Contessa caught her off guard as she suddenly appeared and delivered a forceful kick to her stomach. The force of her kick sent her flying into a column. The force of the impact caused Vincent to cough up blood. Her body dipped from the pillar and collapsed to the floor. The ogre's body began to piece back together, resurrecting itself anew. Contessa smiled as Vincent writhed in pain, struggling to push herself up. Gracefully, Contessa smoothed her dress underneath her and sat in the palm of the ogre's hand as it stood to its feet.
"Foolish, silly little Vincent." Contessa shook her head gravely. "When will you learn that you'll never defeat me? What's yours will forever be mine. It's futile to resist." A tinge of hilarity rang in her words.
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Julia clutched onto her sword. It was all that she could do to keep herself from collapsing. It wasn't an illusion. It wasn't one of the girl's tricks. Imalia stood before alive and well. She began to question if whether or not the rumor of her death had been true. If for all this time when she thought she was dead Imalia was alive, suffering and crying out for her. She could feel her lips quiver as her eyes glassed over. She still had a chance. She could still rescue Imalia and be done with this place. Before she could summon the strength to move she flinched as she watched Jizabel kneel beside Imalia tenderly.
"I found her in the dungeon at Everendai." Jizabel smiled, rubbing the top of Imalia's head affectionately as if she were a doll. "Nothing but a pile of ash." Julia bit her lip, unwilling to accept such a truth. "Tragic scene. I'm just glad I found her before the wind carried her away. A sad thing, losing family that is."
"She's no family to you!" Julia growled, pointing her sword at her vengefully. In a moment of weakness Julia swung her sword, sending a blade of lightning crackling towards her.
Jizabel did not move. Instead, Imalia stepped in front, shielding her with her body. In a fluid motion, Imalia moved her arms in a circular motion before forming a claw with her hand. She drew the claw back behind her forcefully. Suddenly a vibration resounded about the room. Julia's blade slowed to a stop only a few feet away from impact. With the thrust of her hand Imalia sent the blade back towards Julia. Having little time to react against the speed of the blade Julia quickly lifted her sword before her to block, however, was sent flying into a wall. She fell limp to the ground.
Crippled with pain, Julia struggled to lift herself up. "Imalia," her voice was feeble with disbelief. "Why do you betray me? Your own flesh and blood?" she cried out in agony. Imalia did not answer. Instead, she looked upon her with indifference. Julia jabbed her sword out at Jizabel. "This is you're doing!" she snarled.
"Little sisters are so loyal." Jizabel tilted her head to the side as she placed Imalia's hair behind her ear delicately.
Julia gripped the hilt of her sword until her hand ached. "She's not your sister." She hissed through her teeth.
"Oh but she is. I sired her." Jizabel rose without giving notice to Julia. "Well, I've done all that I set out to accomplish." She sighed as she dusted the back of her dress. "Imalia, I must take my leave. I trust that you'll play nicely." She spoke as if she were a doting parent.
Imalia turned towards Jizabel and took up her hand in hers. Lovingly she placed Jizabel's hand to her cheek. "Yes sister."
Jizabel rubbed the top of Imalia's head and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. She turned her gaze upon Julia and grinned a sly grin. "Enjoy." She turned sharply on her heel and walked down a hidden corridor, leaving the two alone.
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Jizabel walked into the sanctuary more than pleased with herself. The look upon Julia's face was one she would cherish for eternity. Everything was falling into place. Soon the princess of Avertarte would be removed and her friend no more. Yet, deep inside of herself Jizabel hoped that she would survive. Somewhere inside of herself she desired to dig her nails into Julia's heart and rip it out herself. As she smiled to herself she suddenly stopped within the hall. All was silent. All was still. She gazed about the sanctuary quickly looking for signs of Father Randolph and Lady Trista. She found none. She stepped further into the room, cautiously watching her surroundings. If Father Randolph managed to survive he would most definitely try to serve a blow, even if it was futile. She stepped around a corner and abruptly came to a halt. She glanced down at her foot and saw Father Randolph's hand underneath her shoe, turning to ash from the pressure of her foot. She walked around to the front of the two and gazed down upon them. They almost seemed peaceful as their bodies feel away into each other, the sword holding them together. Jizabel couldn't help notice the smile that possessed the corners of Father Randolph's lips. He was a fool and for a moment Jizabel felt vexed.
"Well played Randolph." She said as she yanked the sword out of their chests. All at once their forms gave way, erasing their existence to ash. "Well played."
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Auhtor's Note
Hey guys!
So it's been centuries...sorry! I'll keep the apology short so enjoy!
Comment Replies
Bookworm: Hi! I'm glad you stumbled upon my story! It means a lot that you took time out to read it. Thank you for your awesome comment. I hope you keep reading!
Faith K: HEY! It's cool that you weren't able to leave a comment. It always takes me centuries to post new chapters and believe me I understand what you mean by being busy. And I wasn't sure if the romance part was too cheesy so that's why I say I'm no good. I'm glad you thought it was good because I wasn't sure. I hope you're still around... if anyone is after taking a whole decade to post.
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