Bloodstains and Betrayal

February 25th 1850: Nizhnevartovsk Russia

It was all over, wasn't it? I had failed everyone... I had my chance to kill him, and I didn't. And honestly, even if I did know how to kill him... I don't think I could've.

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I woke up gagged and alone, in a prison cell by the looks of it. My skeletal hand was the only source of light in the room, aside from a small grate that hung above the door. I looked around, making one large observation. The floor was caked with blood.

"Mother of Russia..." I mumbled, brushing my hand along the bloodied floor. Multiple words were written in blood along the walls also, including: 'Save me...' 'Suicide.' and 'Why me?'... But the worst one was definitely 'Red eyed demons.' It dragged my thoughts back to my Imperialism again, Leo's previous words ringing in my skull.

'You think they'll want an Imperial? What a joke. They figure you out, and you're done. They won't want you.'

"What if he's right? What if they hate me for it?" I said to myself, looking down at my flaming hand. The bones shimmered like pearls, a mystical luster to them.

'That's what he wants you to think.'

'Kirill, could you just shut up?' I snapped. 'I didn't ask for any of this. I don't appreciate you having to put your opinion in ever five seconds.'

'I'm only helping. You realize if you would've taken my word for half the things I've told you, you probably wouldn't be rotting in here...'

'Thanks.' I said gruffly. I wasn't exactly digging this whole 'heir of Kirill' thing if you hadn't caught that already.

I blocked out any further words he spoke, turning onto my side. a small pool of blood proved to be reflective, showing me my damned red eyes. I splashed the blood away, growing angry.

"Arragh!" I shouted, slamming my demon hand against the wall repeatedly. "Why! Can't! I! Just! Be! Dead!"

"What are you saying?"

"V-Vlad?"

My attention snapped to the corner of the cell, where Vlad stared at me with a fearful look in his eyes.

"I-I didn't know you w-were here..." I stammered, looking away from him. "So I guess you know..."

"That you're imperial." He finished, coming a little closer to me. "I don't hate you for it..."

"I'm just... Afraid... That everyone else will."

"They won't, but if you don't want them to know... I won't tell anyone."

"How the hell are we going to hide a flaming hand?" I quivered, watching the flame wisp brightly.

"We'll find a way." He sighed, reaching out for my hand. I jerked it back, afraid I would burn him.

"I d-don't want to h-hurt you."

"You won't, I know it." He reassured. I hesitantly reached back out to him, allowing him to take my hand this time. I flinched, waiting for the flames to burn him. They never did. Instead, they curled around his hand, gently flickering back and forth.

"See?"

I mutely nodded, watching the fire intently.

"I'll help you through this, but please..." He whispered, squeezing my hand tightly. "Never say you want to kill yourself, or that you'd rather be dead."

"I'm sorry, I just get overwhelmed..." I said shakily, on the verge of tears. "W-why am I so d-damn weak?"

"That's not true. You've lived this long, and most people couldn't do that, let alone fight as well as you do. You're anything but weak."