Nine years have passed…
All Kendaris remembers from that certain bloody night is the purple light that engulfed him from Orien the knight's helm.
Growing up with an adventurous knight as an adoptive father was not as adventure-filled as some might expect but it brought Kendaris knowledge about the world, he thinks as he leans back on a chair. His finger deliberately moving across the pages of the book in his hands. His eyes keenly focused on the words as he reads, "Bloodsuckers can not be harmed by ordinary weapons that is why hunters must use holy magic refined weapons in order to hunt the creatures. Fire holy magic is the most effective as Bloodsuckers are vulnerable to sun and such heat however it might not be the case for half-bloodsuckers due to their human properties."
Kendaris exhales softly and closes the book, setting it aside on a table before him. He stands up and steps over to a window that shines sunlight into his room. He leans closer to hear noises from the town right besides the forest this nice wooden house of theirs is. He can hear all sorts of voices but none of them are clear enough to be understood from such distance.
The warm sensation of the sunlight finding its way onto Kendaris's pale skin makes him feel a little discomfort. With a discomforted murmur, "Doesn't burn, yes. Still hate it."
He pulls the curtain of the windows, blocking off the sun. He then looks down at his own feet, lost in his own thoughts. He glances at the bookshelf in his room. These books didn't just comfort him when he was all alone, too scared to go outside but made him wonder about himself. He recalls Orien saying something about him needing help in the next mission he is heading before he left to get needed tools and resources from the town. Then Kendaris hears knocks on the main door of the house. Could this be it? The time he finally gets to explore more of himself? He swallows and steps out of his room. His thin pale figure heading towards the door he heard knocks coming from. His hands move to fix his hair that nearly flowed down to his shoulders, a soft smile plays on his lips as he opens the door to see Orien's tall, completely armored in black figure blocking off the sun from shining through the door.
"Take care of the cabin. And yourself." Orien says. His tone is straightforward as always. Commanding and unwavering.
Kendaris tilts his head, raising an eyebrow as he asks, "You said you need help."
Orien immediately replies, "This is no mission for a child, Kendaris Val'Taka."
Kendaris sigh, with an expression of dissatisfaction, he reaches behind his back to pull out a dagger and says, "Orien Violethorn…"
Orien crosses his arms, his helm not moving the slightest, almost unimpressed.
Kendaris clears his throat and says, "I have been sharpening this blade for three years and I will not let our training sessions go to waste." He pauses. He knows there are more words that needs to be said but he feels a burden on his shoulders that whispers to his ears that he's pushing his luck with Orien a little too much.
Orien slowly turns away from Kendaris after he hears his words. Moment of silence, then, He breaks it by saying, "I never asked you to prove your bravery to me, Val'Taka."
Kendaris nods, he feels as if he knows what Orien meant so he quickly shuts the door and heads towards his room. First, he puts a black shirt on himself that he thinks is very appealing due to his pale skin. Then he rushes into Orien's room to look for something certain, a black cloak he saw a while ago which he really thinks would make him look perfect if he could find it and wear it. He notices it hanging on a wall so without any hesitation he takes the cloak and puts it around his shoulders, with a final glance back at the near empty room of the adventurous man, he leaves and shuts the door and heads to leave the house.
Immediately after stepping into the sun, he feels a little uncomfortable so he quickly pulls the cape of the cloak over his head and follows Orien who is already walking into the woods.
With one final glance back at the wonderful wooden house, Kendaris starts walking behind Orien. The forest engulfs them both into its vastness and tree filled scenery.
Kendaris looks around while walking. The trees, some tall, some short but filled with green leaves that welcomes them in this journey, mission… adventure? Conquest?
Kendaris then glances at Orien who seems to be too focused on the direction he walks.
Kendaris sighs and rubs his own chin as he says, "You didn't tell me anything about where we are going."
After a moment of nothing but only their footsteps crunching on the leaves, "A plague spreads," Orien says. "Slow, then all at once. A kingdom has already fallen."
Kendaris raises his head with a curious look on his face, "A plague?"
Orien's helm tilts slightly indicating a nod as he replies, "I have sensed countless powers, energies, evils and goods. However, this one has the traits of nightmares. Something malice we must investigate and we are on our way to worthy people who agreed to help."
Kendaris nods and doesn't ask anything further. He knows or at least he's slightly aware not to question someone like Orien who was part of countless adventures.
Every few steps, Kendaris's foot snaps dried branches. The wind whispers warnings through the leaves and grasses. A contrast from what he felt when stepping into the forest. Morning stretches into afternoon as they walk miles, passing by hundreds of trees. Kendaris's body refuses to rest, while Orien seems to be like some sort of unyielding force. The wind tightens, carrying a scent of wet stone. Then, Kendaris hears distant hiss threading through the trees, water grinding over rocks. As they approach the source of the noise, the churning of water grows louder.
Before Kendaris realizes it, he is already at the bank of a river that splits the forest like a blade wound. He glances at Orien, who stands there silently for a moment. Then he glances down at the river, his eyes admiring the strong stream of water.
Suddenly, one of Orien's hands reaches back and Kendaris immediately glances at him but before he could even say anything or even process what is happening. Orien's longsword howls as it leaves its sheath. As the knight steps forward, trailing streaks of violet light radiate from his longsword. He lifts his blade skyward and cleaves it earthward with impossible speed. With an unholy loud roar of the river, the river split. Water erupted into the sky in twin walls, held apart by the raw strength of the strike for less than a blink of an eye. Before Kendaris can react, Orien's cold, blackened gauntlet clamps around his wrist, pressing against his pale skin as he gets pulled. With a living bolt of purple lightning across the exposed riverbed, faster than sound, faster than thought, they emerge on the far bank.
Kendaris, in slight shock, looks back to see the river already restored. As if, nothing happened. He mutters, "That… was unnecessary."
Orien, slides his longsword back into the sheath on his back, without saying anything, he proceeds to walk off. Kendaris sighs and starts following Orien, ignoring what he just witnessed or at least attempting to do so.
The forest greets them yet again with a hush. Gone are the encoes of rushing water. The distant call of a raven accompanying their steps, soft crunch of leaves beneath their boots. With each mile deeper, the sunlight that slants through the high canopy in fractured golden beams grows thinner and weaker.
Kendaris walks behind Orien, eyes flickering between the gnarled trunks. The air grows colder, not harsh but noticeable and heavier somehow. Tendrils of pale mist between roots and stones, brushing against armor and cloak. The mist only thickens as they move forward. They don't stop walking, but the path behind them is already gone.
The mist then thins, but it doesn't vanish. It parts just enough for the trail to reveal itself, winding, narrow and ancient. Two mountains rise before them, immediate and towering. Their presence is so vast that the sky itself seems cleaved between them.
A violet glow dims from Orien's armor before he says, "To your right stands Mount Mortifex, a mountain that refuses to bend, a mountain that buries rebellion. And to your left waits Mount Sanguinaris, the mountain itself remembers every uprising carved in its bones."
Kendaris says nothing, only a nod. He walks behind Orien, his eyes half-lidded beneath his dark lashes unreadable.
The mist lingers like a shroud left behind. Evening comes slowly and the deeper they go, the more the world behind Kendaris feels like a memory left to acknowledge.
As the evening deepens, slow and inevitable, the last light fades behind the jagged teeth of the mountains. In the thick darkness of the forest, Kendaris follows close behind Orien, his cloak trailing behind him like a shadow reborn.
Something flickers between the trees ahead, a pulse of orange. Kendaris squints his eyes, sharp eyes narrowing. A subtle glow of firelight is what he sees. He then glances at Orien. The knight has already stopped. Neither of the two speaks. Without saying anything, Orien steps forward. And Kendaris follows.
The fire hisses softly as they cross into its ring of light. Orien steps first, silence and deliberate. Kendaris moves to Orien's side from his back and sees two figures sitting across each other, the fire flickering between them.
A female-looking figure sitting on a tree log, tawny brown hair streaked with burnt orange falling over her shoulder as she reaches up to cover her twitching pointy ears. Opposite her sits an old man draped in black robe, his grey hair spilling down to his shoulders. In his withered hand rests a dark scroll case, published and cold as obsidian.
The woman gazes at the two men and immediately stands up, rushing closer to them and with a tingle of her whiskers, "We were waiting for hours!" She says as her gaze drifts from Orien to Kendaris, for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable crosses her face before she looks away and murmurs, "You didn't come alone."
Then the old man walks up to them, his hand swiftly moving to put the scroll case inside his robe's inner pocket. He speaks, his tone is rough like stone but smoothly delivered, "I hope you are ready, Orien. This journey might be unlike any other we have ever been through."
Then the old man glances at Kendaris, with a smirk of amusement, Morvaine Veshtar says, "You must be Kendaris."
Kendaris feels slightly surprised at the fact that this person who he has never met before already knows his name, might be a close friend of Orien he assumes. Then, he quickly replies, "Yes. I'm Kendaris… Kendaris Val'Taka." He tries to keep a formal tone, not certain deep down.
In reply the old man introduces himself, "I am Morvaine Veshtar."
"And I'm Isamu!" The woman reaches out her hand for a handshake and Kendaris hesitantly accepts it. Corners of her lips curling into a smile.
Orien steps forward and asks Morvaine, "May we share words somewhere else, Veshtar."
"Of course.", Morvaine replies immediately and they vanish into somewhere beyond the campfire's reach, into the woods, walking side by side beneath branches heavy with the weight of approaching night.
Kendaris lowers himself onto the log with a quiet breath, his gaze fixed on the gentle flickering fire before him. Isamu is already seated beside him, her legs crossed loosely and one arm lazily draped over her knee. She glances at Kendaris and whispers, "You look pale. You must be starving."
Kendaris chuckles quietly, with an half-certain tone he says, "Oh no, it's just my skin-"
Without a word, Isamu stabs a piece of grilled meat resting on a stone near the fire with a roasting stick and shoves it toward him. The charred edges glisten with fat, the scent of wild rosemary and seared game punching through the smoke. He sighs faintly, his stomach agreeing with her judgment.
The first bite is revelation. Juice bursting over his tongue, rich and iron-heavy, the fire's kiss still crackling in the crust. It's greasy, imperfect, alive. Isamu watches Kendaris take a second bite, satisfied.
Beyond them, in the woods, soft footsteps crunches leaves and then stops. Orien leans back against a trunk and says, "Val'Taka is too brave for his age but too determined for something he doesn't understand."
Morvaine leans back against the opposite side of the tree trunk, "I see something no boy of his age should have in his eyes. I see potential craving purpose none of us can define."
"Potential without purpose is deadly. I'm afraid it could lead to something none of us wants." Orien murmurs under his helm.
Morvaine chuckles and speak, his voice melancholic but dignified, "We, adventurers, conquesters, protectors and guardians so often forget that what is meant to happen, can't be stopped. It's a shadow behind one's back, the more one pursues it like a fabled treasure, the more elusive it becomes… yet the shadow never fades away, it awaits. One must gaze into their own abyss to become one with the shadow that gazes back."
Orien falls silent at Morvaine's words as a gust of wind blows through the forest, his helm tilting slightly.
Back at the fire, Kendaris chews on meat quietly as the shadows dance across his face. Isamu watches him with an amused smile, her chin resting in one palm. With a giggle she says, "You are too quiet." Kendaris glances at her and she looks away, murmuring, "I noticed your fangs."
He looks away, not knowing what to reply. Then he reaches out to touch his lips and murmurs, "It is just… natural."
"Really?" Isamu puts her palm on her lips and giggles silently.
Kendaris softly smirks, turns his face away to hide it as shoves the last bit of meat close to his lips, pretending to chew…
The fire crackles before the two, leaving a moment of silence. Something screams that the flickering noises of the flame isn't enough for this moment before Isamu clears her throat and whispers, "You know, I think you are a vampire."
Kendaris glances at her to clearly see the curiosity overwhelming her eyes that sparkles with the reflection of the campfire. He glances away and crosses his arms, saying, "What if I am? Might even be the last vampire." Deep within, he feels a path of realization that he might be right. It feels lonely to think he's the last descendent of a hated race but he pushes the thoughts aside, clutches his coat and slowly stands up.
Isamu looks up at him, now she's intrigued by him. She asks, "Where are you going?"
Kendaris doesn't answer right away. He stands quietly, brushing the dust off his cloak. Isamu rises and stretches, her silhouette stretching tall against the firelight. Then she yawns while saying, "Well, I need to sleep."
Kendaris turns to look at her and asks, "I see only one tent."
Before Kendaris could finish his sentence, Isamu steps forward and slaps his shoulder lightly, causing him to yelp a little and she murmurs, "Come with me."
Kendaris, skeptical, tilts his head and then sighs, deciding not to question her. Isamu turns around and starts walking towards the small tent and Kendaris follows behind her. His mind races with thoughts, he never been close to another person when he's sleeping. So, he decides to ask her, "Are you sure?"
Isamu, without turning around to look at him, slowly gets inside the tent while saying, "Why won't I be? You don't bite, right?"
"I won't.", Kendaris murmurs and slowly kneels down to crawl into the tent. The air in the tent is warmer than the night outside, but quieter too. Just the soft rhythm of breathing. He lies back, eyes staring at the ceiling, expression—unreadable.
After a long moment of silence, Isamu speaks, her voice low, "Do you really believe you are the last?"
"I don't know," Kendaris replies quietly. "But I've never met anyone like me since…" His voice trails off and he finishes quickly with a "Never mind."
Isamu shifts closer to Kendaris, just enough for him to feel the warmth of her presence. She whispers, "It's okay. You don't have to tell me. I just… wanted to understand you a little better."
"I only remember one other like me," Kendaris murmurs. "Just her voice. She called me her heir… her prince."
His gaze fixed at the ceiling, his eyes tracing the fading patterns in the handmade canvas on the fabric. Isamu stays quiet, listening.
"Sometimes," he continues, "my mind rewrites the night I lost her to the flames. Just so I can pretend I still know her."
Isamu nods slowly, then leans in a little more, her voice soft and gentle, "Orien mentioned somethings to Morvaine about you the last time I saw him though I don't remember much. Guess I overheard. He is a once in a year guest who visits us." She giggles softly. "Can I call you something else from now on?"
Kendaris turns his head slightly to glance at her, her expression unreadable in the dark. With an uncertain tone, he says, "If you really want to."
Immediately he hears a soft giggle again and her saying, "Sorry. 'Kendaris just doesn't roll off my tongue. Can I call you Ken? Or maybe… Kenny?"
Kendaris sighs faintly and says, "Alright."
Isamu closes her eyes and murmurs his new nickname one time, "Ken" and slowly falls into her slumber as Kendaris stares at her for a bit with a deep curiosity building up in him. Her whiskers, her oddly shaped ears, even her hair and her eyebrows. They all resemble some sort of animal but never letting her human-like parts weaver and make him believe she's from the wilds. Kendaris inhales and closes his own eyes, darkness but no slumber.
The first light of dawn falls upon the forest, dull and grey. Birds call in the distance, and dew still clings to the tall grasses. The fire from last night burned to ash and embers. Kendaris steps out of the tent, pulling his cloak tighter around himself because the air is cold, biting at exposed skin. Behind him, Isamu yawns into the back of her hand and stretches like a cat.
Near the treeline, Orien is already dressed and armored, standing with his back to the camp. Morvaine sits on a fallen log nearby, tightening the straps on his scroll case with a ritualistic sort of care, as if what lies inside it demands respect.
"Eat something, we leave as soon as possible." Orien says, still not turning.
Kendaris absently stands near the dead fire. Isamu returns with something wrapped in cloth, two pieces of bread, their crust dusted with flour, still steaming faintly in the dawn chill. She hands him one. She says, "Here, we have a long journey ahead."
He blinks, then takes it with a quiet "thanks."
After a while, tent poles fold with quiet clinks. Orien only gives a nod and starts leading them into the trees. Morvaine is the last to rise.
The mist curls around their boots as they walk, softening each step. Kendaris walks behind Orien, eyes scanning the path ahead and his cloak drawn tightly around him. Every now and then he glances to his side to see Isamu. Isamu walks just slightly behind, arms crossed. Behind them, Morvaine walks as though he's been here before.
The forest feels too vast. They move without conversation for miles. The weather gets grimier as they travel further. Grey sky and dense forest.
After a while, Morvaine clears his throat and says from behind, "We are walking through the woods that was once feared."
Isamu immediately turns her head to look at Morvaine, her face shows visible confusion as she asks, "What are you talking about?"
Morvaine replies while his eyes glances towards Kendaris's back, something intentional lingering, "There are ruins of a castle that was once home to a vampire queen."
Isamu raises an eyebrow, and asks, "Was she… hunted down?"
Morvaine nods, the words falling slow. "Yes, that night was a big night for the hunters."
Suddenly, Kendaris stops walking. He goes still, just stopped. Something inside him recognized the words before his mind could catch up. Then he turns around, his expression unreadable as he asks, "Point me the direction… please."
Morvaine watches Kendaris in silence for a beat, then slowly raises his hand. His fingers extend outward, deliberately pointing between two crooked trees where mist hangs thick.
"Through there," He says. "You'll see blackened walls before you feel them."
Kendaris immediately turns to the direction Morvaine's finger lifted. He then starts walking, alone. His mind racing with thoughts, a sense of longing and urgency, but then, he feels a tug on his shoulder and a determined tone say, "I'm coming with you, Ken."
He glances back to see Isamu, determination burning in her eyes. Determination born from the curiosity she holds. Without any words, he nods and continues walking alongside her.
Behind them, Orien watches them silently. Morvaine steps closer to Orien and with a soft smile on his weathered lips, he murmurs, "The castle never truly vanished. It just waited to be remembered."
The trees density lessens as Kendaris and Isamu walk forward. Passing through trees faster than ever. An heavy gust of wind blows the leaves around them and moves over Kendaris and Isamu as the forest finally lets them out. Before them lies the ruins of the castle underneath the grey sky.
Its walls cracked and caved in and the gate blackened with old fire. No grass seems to grow within. Another wind passes through as they move closer silently.
The sight grips Kendaris not like a memory, but prophecy filled. For a second, he hesitates to go closer and reawaken some memories.
Isamu glances at Kendaris and asks softly. "Is this…?" Her voice trails of before she could finish her sentence.
Kendaris nods and walks ahead slowly, past the crumbled gate. He steps carefully, leading them into a chamber where light falls through the cracked ceiling. Then, he kneels and places a hand to the ground. The stone underneath them is warped, stained with ashes of old fire.
Isamu hesitantly reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, gentle and steady. She asks, "What happened here, Ken?"
He exhales.
"They came through the gates like walking flames with blades. Fire swallowed everything they intended to perish from this world. She shielded me until the blades and fire reached her. Told me to run. So I did. I never looked back. I never said goodbye."
His voice drops.
Isamu reaches out slowly and places her hand on top of his, still pressed on the floor.
"They didn't want me either."
Ken looks at her, unsure what she means.
"Born wrong, they said. A freak of whiskers. Ears too sharp, eyes too bright." She gives a hollow laugh.
"They threw me out before I could even figure out why I was different. Called me a curse. Even called me a beast. They gave me the name Tlacoya."
Her fingers tighten just slightly around his.
Kendaris, for the first time in a long time, doesn't feel like a creature hiding from humans, or an heir to a throne of ashes. He feels seen and understood, less lonely.
"You are not cursed," He murmurs.
"Neither are you," she replies with a soft smile.
The silence between them stretches, not empty but full.
A single gust of wind rattled the broken ceiling above them.
Then, the two slowly stands up. Isamu's hand let's go of Kendaris's and he looks away from her. Then, brushes dusts off of his cloak as he softly murmurs, "Isamu, I think I need to see if I can find anything to hold onto."
Isamu nods and glances away, understanding what he needs. Then, she feels Kendaris's hand clasping around hers. As they start exploring, their eyes on the burnt, shattered portraits frames hanging crooked on the walls of the hallway. It's dark because of the burnt blackened walls, the only source of light being the light illuminating from the cracks of the ceiling. Among the shattered portraits, he notices one that's particularly less harmed. They stop to stare at it. It shows a man in dark robes holding a staff crowned with crimson crystal.
Ken stares at it and he tilts his head, then parts his lips to say, "Odd."
Isamu steps besides him, her eyes glancing between Kendaris and the man in the portrait, tracing similarities. The man in the portrait seems to have facial hair, well-taken care of and neet hair, unlike Kendaris's long messy hair and youthful features however her eyes does not fail to notice how their cheekbones and eyebrows have similar shape. She then murmurs, "I won't be surprised if you said he is your father, Ken."
Ken nods slightly, though he's slightly unsure as he doesn't remember seeing his father, only voices of his mother that tells him how mighty his father was. A fearsome necromancer.
The painting is slightly tilted, Ken notices some exposed cracks behind the painting. He carefully reaches out to take the painting off the wall, revealing a small door that remained hidden behind the painting. He carefully places portrait down on the floor. Then he slowly pushes the door, damaged and rusted. It fell back with a loud sound of steel against stone. Isamu flinches at the noise while Kendaris tries to peek inside immediately. A chamber, small but well-protected, he carefully steps into the chamber. Isamu moves in too.
Circular elegant in its ruin. Shelves of burned-out tomes, shattered glass, arcane etchings carved deep into the walls of the chamber. And at the center, set on a black pedestal of twisted metal and bone, rests a staff. Long and elegant.
Kendaris slowly steps forward and wraps his fingers around the staff and lifts it with one smooth motion. As soon as he does, the red crystal on its tip slowly starts flaring pure crimson. His eyes doesn't flinch or look away. He freezes where he stands and then he slowly closes his eyes and sighs. Then, a voice whispers in his ears, intimate but too blurry to understand, and before he figures out what's happening, a wave of vertigo washes over him, like drifting in a boundless void. Then he feels hands, dozens of them, cold but gentle, holding him up. He opens his eyes to stare into an abyss and then he turns his head to look at the hands that are holding him up in this abyss, his eyes widens as he sees, hundreds and maybe even thousands of hands, all clasped around one another to build up a mountain in this abyss to hold Kendaris's body upwards. Suddenly, his eyes snaps open and he finds himself back where he was. In a forbidden chamber with isami.
Isamu swallows and steps besides him, "Ken?"
With a soft inhale, Kendaris's nose winch at the smell of ashes, and he stares at the staff and says.
"This must have waited here for a long time."