Multifandom Oneshot Book

Scene - Ressurection

He fell to his knees as soon as the concoction passed his lips, an animalistic howl of pain torn from him. The divine content in the thing seemed to be at war with the foulness of the dark power he'd accepted for Strix. 

He curled in on himself, gaunt arms wrapping around his body, around his legs as the burning spread through his bloodstream like venom. 

He felt what he swore were flames rake the underside of his skin and claws shredding his external flesh, desperately trying to burst out, to escape the holy power of Markovia. His very flesh wanted to escape, for it to stop.

Even his soul was screaming for mercy.

His voice, normally smooth and alluring and calm, now echoed around the tomb, cracking in unrestrained shrieks of agony at this unbearable pain.

He just wanted it to go away. 

Please.

Make it stop.

Make it stop.

Make it stop.

He'd happily accept death to escape this.

He became dimly aware of Evelyn wrapping her arms around him, of her words, her prayers. 

Bile, burning and foul, flowed up his gullet and spewed onto the ground in a thick, black sludge that fell to the stone floor with a horrific splatter. 

Evelyn held him tighter, rubbing his back and rocking him and memories of his mother surfaced, causing him to hold onto her for support as he continued to retch. 

His whole body shook uncontrollably as he fought to expel every last bit of this darkness. 

He felt so weak.

Make it stop.

Please, make it stop.

He was sobbing from the pain, tears flowing down his ghoulish face. He didn't know how much more he could take of this.

Strix was still panicking, he could hear her arguing with Paultin over what to do. 

Then he felt something run down his body, a healing potion he realised. That's what Strix had been shouting to Paultin about, but nothing happened, the pain didn't pass.

And he realised; this must be what it felt like to turn... 

Was he becoming something worse? 

Was this killing him?

After what felt like an eternity of pain, Diath gave a last wet belch and spat out the last of the goop, his head hanging, hair matted with sweat and dirt and blood from the ordeal and their adventure as a whole.

He still shook, breathing ragged, on his hands and knees, as he could feel the gazes of his teammates on him.

He looked up at them, fringe plastered to his brow, face pale and tired. 

But they stepped back with a gasp.

Diath was terrified; what had happened to him?

But before his mind could think up a reason, they swarmed him, all ecstatic.

"DIATH! YOU'RE YOU AGAIN!"

He gasped, pulling off a glove and staring at a smooth, human hand. 

He took his shortsword and looked at his reflection in the blade and saw his own fern eyes staring back... his human face.

His human face.

Human.

Living.

He almost cried with relief, he may still have looked eighteen but he didn't care. 

He was himself; Diath Woodrow, human, rogue.

He stood, giving Markovia's remains a respectful bow. "I thank you, Saint Markovia. Twice now, you have granted me life after I fell. I am eternally in your debt." 

All they needed was the Sun Sword that Madame Eva had prophesized Strix would find.

He looked over his party, Evelyn still marvelled at her newly empowered axe, Paultin was drinking still and Strix fiddled with her robe, clearly wanting out. 

But the bats outside, they would be a problem.

But he knew they'd solve it, they'd defeat Strahd, they'd escape.

He just didn't know how.

But even with that uncertainty, he knew his team were all more than capable. They were well equipped; they had the effigy.

He cracked his neck, lips curling into a determined smile. 

"Time to go kill us a vampire."