The Vampire & Her Witch

Within the cold, icy world of his mind, Hauke struggled against the chains that bound him. He needed to find a way. Any way, to break free of the shackles that Eraric had placed on him. His wrists ached and blood dripped from his ankles but nothing he did produced any change in the thick chains of ice that kept him stretched between two pillars of ice as though he were a skin hung for drying.

Worse, since the ancestors were torn away from him, he’d come to a cruel, sickening realization. Eraric had used, at most, one fifth of Hauke’s own strength to bind him within his own mind, preventing him from interfering with the battle between the others and Ashlynn. But now that the ancestors were gone, Eraric’s lingering sorcery could use as much of Hauke’s energy as it needed to.

At the moment, Hauke felt like he’d been wrung out like a wet rag, leaving very little energy left within his body to power the trap. But rather than fading away with time, as his body slowly began to recover, the chains actually felt thicker. Right now, it seemed like the chains were the weakest they would ever be.

The idea that the bindings would only grow worse over time was enough to push the young Frost Walker lord well beyond his limits, thrashing about wildly in an effort to free even a single arm or leg. Just breaking one limb free would let him use more strength against the others but so far, the only thing he had accomplished was to add a thin layer of frozen blood to the links of the icy chains around his wrists and ankles.

”AAAAARGGGG! WHY. WON’T. YOU. BREAAAAK!”

Despite his cries of fury, the ice cave that had once been host to five additional minds remained completely still and silent but for the fading echoes of his own screams. The chains didn’t care for his shouting and there was no one else capable of hearing it.

As his cries faded into breathless sobs, Hauke became aware of a faint sound. More of a vibration through the floor of his mental prison than an actual sound, but carrying with it the occasional -CRUNCH- of footfalls breaking through fragile ice. The sensation grew stronger, accompanied by muffled sounds that seemed to come from impossibly far away, understandable only when he strained the limits of his hearing.

Voices! The sounds were faint and unfamiliar at first, but as they grew closer, he was certain that someone was close, perhaps examining his body while they spoke to someone else.

The far wall of his icy prison seemed to dim momentarily, as though a vast shadow had fallen across the world. Through his physical eyes, the eyes he could no longer control, a figure that was both enchanting and intimidating moved into his field of vision.

”Lady Nyrielle!” Hauke cried, instantly recognizing her pale features and imposing black wings as well as the aura of darkness that spilled from her, casting even the world within his mind into dark shadows, as if he had been enveloped by an infinitely dark abyss.

He wished she could hear his voice or sense his condition as he called her name again and again. She was famed as a powerful sorceress, so surely she could do something for him. For a moment, his heart leapt with joy as she seemed to linger above him, but rather than examining the sorcery that held him prisoner, she instead backed away from him, speaking to someone he couldn’t see.

”...Do you know the Artificer Erkembalt and the leader of the Sorcerers of Sundered Earth, Aspakos?” Hauke heard Lady Nyrielle say a few moments later, as she gave instructions to the person he couldn’t see.

The name ’Erkembalt’ sent a chill down Hauke’s spine, and his horn turned an ugly, dark purple as he trembled against the chains. Madame Zedya hadn’t hidden their intentions when they left. Erkembalt was the name of the Artificer whom they intended to recruit to turn the severed horns of Paulus and Torsten into powerful weapons.

Did everyone think he was dead already? Was she preparing to have his iridescent horn carved from his head as punishment for what the ancestors had done?

”No, no, please! Please,” he begged, even though she clearly couldn’t hear him. ”It’s not my fault! I didn’t want to harm anyone! Please,” he said with hot tears forming in his eyes. ”Please...”

”...And perhaps tools to break a curse...”

Nyrielle’s words cut through Hauke’s sobs like a knife, jolting him out of his momentary panic as he realized she had realized something was wrong. She wasn’t summoning Erkembalt to harvest his horn but to break him free!

Each moment that passed while Hauke awaited the arrival of the artificer and sorcerer felt like hours, but he forced his racing heart to still and ceased his struggle against the chains. They knew something was wrong, and they were going to do something to help him. Knowing just that much was enough to give him tremendous comfort.

Moments later, his heart leapt with joy when he heard a new voice addressing Lady Nyrielle, only to plummet moments later when he realized that not only did the voice belong to someone other than the artificer and sorcerer who were supposed to break his curse, but the news it brought was tragic beyond words.

”...Four of my progeny died tonight, your Eternity.”

A vampire had lost four of their children in the battle tonight. The number alone was shocking, but the longer Hauke listened to Tausau and Nyrielle speak, the dimmer his horn grew and the heavier his heart felt.

One vampire had lost four of their children in battle. How many of his clansmen had fallen? How many of Nyrielle’s other soldiers had died? During the battle, after the walls of ice shattered, Hauke noticed a strange human holding Heila’s bloodied figure, but was it because she had survived the attack of the ancestors?

Or was that strange man like this Tausau, holding the body of someone who had died while he tried to process his own grief?