The cottages were abandoned, and people gathered along the stone-paved paths, gazing at the moon as they awaited their fate. Dark clouds wandered around the moon but dared not cover it until the promised time. The wind howled through the people's white hair, playing and weaving through their locks, and a bone-deep cold danced on their skin, yet it no longer chilled them, for a bloody night was ahead; there would be enough time left for fear.
In a storm of silence that had sprinkled over the townsfolk like dead dust, the only sound that could be heard was an old man's murmuring. His hands clasped firmly as he called for help from a God he had never known.
Anthony stared at the stone coffin before him. Small clouds of breath froze as they escaped his mouth. He clenched his cold hands beneath his long sleeves, which trailed on the ground. The sewn crystals on the thin silk robe trembled like a countdown echoing in his ears. He stood still. With each passing second, he felt like he was being driven rapidly to an inevitable, sorrowful end. Time seemed to be pushing him closer to a tragic finale.
The weight of a pair of eyes bore down upon him, but he gave no response. This was an opportunity. It was a chance to offer his people the eternal peace he had always believed in. A chance to embrace victory and an everlasting sleep.
Deafening horns shattered the silence. Black clouds rushed over the moon like the heavens had begun their final judgment. Thunder roared as if the world were ending. As the hidden crows shrieked and took to the sky, their thunderstruck corpses rained down on the villagers.
Terrified eyes followed the Ultras family as they encircled the coffin, and just as the ground beneath them was shaking from the marching steps of the Shadow Army, a trembling voice began to whisper among the crowd: "Aeternum... Aeternum... Aeternum..."
Something twisted in Anthony's gut, rising to his throat, but he forced it down.
The Shadow Army now stood before them, its hoods obscuring its faces. Legends said it had no faces, but the truth would remain unknown until someone dared to look.
Klaus knelt before Anthony, raising his son's hand to kiss it.
"Aeternum... Aeternum... Aeternum..."
The whispers grew louder and more synchronized.
Klaus stood and gazed into Anthony's eyes, needing no words. Anthony knew he was begging for forgiveness. Beneath the blue gems of Anthony's eyes, a glassy layer of frost formed, and his raspy voice trembled with fear, "Aeternum... Aeternum... Aeternum..."
Klaus took the robe from his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. The cold now fully embraced the boy's unprotected body, and his uncle Lucas helped Klaus lift him into their arms.
The coffin was already open, the silk mattress within awaiting Anthony's cold body. Oliver, his grandfather, was the last to take hold of his feet. It was as if he were blessing them or fearing the curse for not doing so.
Lifted in the arms of his family, closer to the heavens than ever before, Anthony let his terror slip away. Their fingers pierced his heart like arrows from a bow, and he felt himself drift. Then, he was released amid Camilla's wails and settled into the coffin.
Oliver opened a carved box. His forefathers said it was passed down through the generations. He took out a jeweled dagger, the same one he had carried with him like his shadow all his life. He handed it to Klaus. Though the dagger was light, Klaus's shoulders were too weak to hold it. As he nearly dropped it, Oliver rushed to take it back and placed it in Anthony's hands, folded across his chest. The dagger glowed brighter each moment, indicating that Anthony was indeed the chosen sacrifice.
"aeternum... aeternum... aeternum..."
The chants echoed, growing louder and unwavering.
Klaus kissed Anthony's forehead. Tears welled in his eyes, falling on Anthony's snow-white face.
Anthony had now fully surrendered, and to calm his fear, he repeated, "Aeternum... Aeternum... Aeternum..."
Klaus stepped back. Just before the coffin lid closed, Anthony finally met the gaze that had been on him all along. Something lodged in his throat released, and a warm glow spread across his face, especially his eyes. A tear slipped out, tracing through his hair. Just before the coffin shut and he saw the first snowflakes, he offered a faint, final smile.
"aeternum... aeternum... aeternum..."
Klaus, Lucas, and Oliver lifted the coffin. Icy winds coiled around Klaus's legs, holding him back from taking the steps that would lead to Anthony's death. But before he could stop, the same haunting voice that had instilled his traditions roared in his ear, "Aeternum... Aeternum... Aeternum..."
His father's voice, Oliver, injected duty into Klaus's frozen legs. He placed one side of the coffin on his shoulder and trudged forward, unwilling to miss the honor of partaking in the
sacrifice.
"aeternum... aeternum... aeternum..."
The Shadow Army parted. They stood on either side of the path leading to the Castle of Death, awaiting Anthony.
The ground was frozen solid, but they closed the distance with unyielding steps. As they approached, the voices rose to a fevered pitch. The sacred words made the naked man in the coffin tremble. He clutched the dagger meant to pierce his chest, muscles tensing as he braced himself.
When the coffin came to a stop, Anthony closed his eyes, which until then had been searching in vain for light. Encircled by frozen rose thorns, they neither could nor wanted to go closer.
They placed the coffin at the entrance of the Bloody Garden and went back to the steps they came. In perfect rows, as if rehearsed for years, they knelt. Their heads were lowered, afraid to witness what they shouldn't. Their cloaks were drawn over their faces. They blended with the Shadow Army as if they were part of it.
"aeternum... aeternum... aeternum..."
Footsteps sinking into the snow grew closer to the coffin. They were lost amid the crowd's maddening chants of eternity. Yet dark energy, heavy and palpable, weighed on each heart, announcing his approach.
He was awake. His gaze, as lifeless as a dead fish suspended in the blue depths of his eyes, was fixed on the coffin. As he drew near, the wind snapped his dark hair like a whip. His mere presence stifled all voices in their throats; even the crows dared not risk their lives disturbing his silence.
He stood before the coffin, his gaze still empty like that of a corpse. Kneeling on one knee, he motions with his hand, and the coffin lid shifts aside.
Anthony couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. Amid the frozen snowflakes settling on his body, he feels warm breaths, closer and closer, pressing against his face with growing intensity. Yet he remains motionless and rigid, like a dead cat.
A gentle touch slid across his face—elegant, slender fingers trailing a faint thrill like lightning through his entire body. Then he heard a voice, more soothing than anything his ears had ever known. It was like a river's soft flow, more beguiling than the rustling crystal beads on Vince's cloak when he waited by his bed.
Fear slipped away like a thief in the night, and Anthony opened his eyes. Moonlight broke through the clouds, illuminating a face so beautiful that darkness had failed to rival it. He smiled like the sun, and Anthony forgot every trace of dread.
Taking his hand, he pulled Anthony to his feet. Anthony no longer resisted, and as the man's lips touched his neck, he closed his eyes again, this time in pleasure. A powerful warmth surged from the bare soles of his feet, which had been chilled to numbness moments before. The warmth rose through his body, seizing his stomach, chest, and heart. His knees were weakening.
The blood in his veins spread a heat so addictive it consumed him. It was the same as when he had secretly sipped his grandmother's buried barley wine with Vince. It's like sinking into a hot bath on a snowy afternoon. There is no fear, no cold. Only a heady pleasure floods his body, and Anthony longs for it to last.
Lifting his lips to Anthony's, he intensely pressed his own against them, claiming a deep kiss. The taste of Sebastian John's lips—bitter and sweet all at once—filled his mouth, leaving him thirsting for more. Not even Vince's kisses, scattered across his body, had ever enchanted him like this.
As he gasped for air, feeling nearly breathless, John shifted. He paused only to bite Anthony's lower lip, savoring it. Then, he draws him in for more.
But without realizing it, Anthony opened the eyes he had wished to keep shut forever in that kiss. In an instant, his gaze met Sebastian John's piercing blue eyes. They now seemed like divine lights drawing him in. His pleasure ended, and he raised the dagger he had all that time but forgotten in his grip. He positioned its sharp tip at the center of his chest.
Sebastian John pulled back. His face lit up with that same miraculous smile—warmer this time, tinged with sorrow and bitterness.
Anthony whispered: "aeternum... aeternum... aeternum..."
This time, his voice brimmed with longing. A fierce desire drowned out his fear. It drove him to surrender to the spellbinding wizard before him. Tonight, at this moment, there is only one thing Anthony craves: to fulfill Sebastian John's desire.
Unable to tear his gaze from those blue eyes—eyes he believed led to another world—Anthony plunged the dagger into his chest, unflinchingly, with all his strength.
Sebastian John caught him before he collapsed, slipping a hand beneath Anthony's cooling back. From the coffin beside them, he lifted a goblet Anthony hadn't noticed. Sebastian John drew the dagger from Anthony's chest, where his last breaths rattle. Then, he held the cup beneath the wound, letting it fill with the warm, crimson flow.
As he released Anthony's body, the silence deepened. No breath rose, and not a soul dared to lift their head. Legends spoke of many things; one of them was this: anyone who dared to look into the wizard's eyes would lose their mind. No one in the crowd wished to become the next victim.
Sebastian John raised the cup. "Aeternum…"
And he drank it to the end.