Bloodlines: Dark Embrace

Prologue

© 2013 Lewis S. Ridgway. All Rights Reserved.

I never liked thinking about my childhood. It was good until I turned thirteen, I got taught how to spell and how to read, which a lot of adults don't even know how to do in the sixteenth century, so I was a proud child, also a rich one. I'd get anything I wanted, my family was rich and they treasured me. Maybe it was because of my looks, they were trying to make me feel better for looking like an outcast. I lived a happy life up until my thirteenth birthday.

On my thirteenth birthday everything went steeply downhill. My family was massacred in our home, I was out at the time, getting firewood. I wanted this to be my first priority as a man.

As I was hauling the wood home I saw our family home burning. I threw the wood to the side of me and sprinted into the house, through the already broken door. I looked to my left, into our main room which was already burning and the flames were spreading fast, not yet reaching the fireplace. I turned to the right just in time to see something roll out from the bedrooms. I couldn't make out what it was due to the flames from the ceiling so I crouched down a little to get a clear view. At first I thought it was a piece of meat rolling from one of our tables but as my eyes focused I could see the horrific view.

It was my mother's severed head. As her head rolled I could see the blood trail follow, from where her neck used to be. I tried running over to her severed head, maybe to find her body and my sisters so I could take them out of our burning home, but my legs would not move. I stood, unable to move. I looked around to see if my sisters were anywhere to be seen, but failing to see them I looked back to where my mother's head came from and saw a dark figure emerge.

A man came out after my mother's head, enjoying his violent games too much to notice me as I stood still in shock. Grabbing my mother's severed head by her hair, he threw it over his shoulder, spraying the blood from her head all over the walls. This sparked some type of adrenaline inside of me, something I couldn't control, making me able to move again and feel a rage like no other. I let out a scream that would have been able to shatter glass and turned to the fireplace, lunging towards it, ducking under the flames. I thrust my hand out and grabbed the fire iron, not being able to see it through the flames that were getting close to engulfing the whole house. I turned to attack the man, not fully in control of what I was doing, but he was already behind me. Before I could even think, my natural reactions kicked in and I struck my arm out to hit him away, but I had completely forgotten about the fire iron. I felt it pierce his skin and his organs, almost going straight through him.

I immediately lost grip of the fire iron and my jaw dropped in shock. I had just stabbed a man! I couldn't believe this. I could see him trying to gasp for air but not being able to. He tried to remove the fire iron from his chest but clearly didn't have enough power as he fell to his knees and slowly looked up at me with already dead eyes.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from his, I stayed in that exact position until one of the beams from the ceiling fell. I turned around and saw it as it spread the fire even more. I took this opportunity to run past him, tears filling my eyes as I knew I had to abandon my family and knew that I would forever have to live with the fact that I had killed a man. I ran to the forests close by and sprinted through them without even glancing back. I ran all night, trying to get as far from the house as possible.

I had stayed on the streets, begging for just over a week before I went back to that house. I didn't bother telling guards out of fear that they would find out that I killed that man and would blame the whole thing on me. But when I got there the house was completely burnt down, there was not a single thing left of it other than ash. I walked through the ruins but couldn't find any sort of remains, all was ash. In a way I was sort of relieved, what I had done would never have been found out but at the same time there were no remains of my mother or my two sisters and I would always have to live with that guilt. I was never given any money, almost no one paid their respects and I was not put into the care of another home. I was just left there, to live on the streets.

So that's what i've been doing, ever since then I've been living on the streets, completely alone for four years. I had became pretty agile and learned to become a great thief. It was nothing like what I had aspired to be but it's what had to happen. One faitful day I found myself in the market, looking for something to steal, something that could actually sell and get me food. Eyeing up the stalls, I saw something that looked rather valuable. A book, it looks expensive so I could barely stop my self from eyeing it up if I tried. I took a few deep breaths and then headed for it.