Recalled to Life

V

     Events happened in sporadic bursts, followed by long periods of boredom. Unlike my time with my Sire and Drusdell, where I had a final goal in mind and there was no lack of things to do and prepare for, now it was the opposite. I had only my meetings with Cassiel and her teachings to look forward to, but with the rising witch hunts, our time together, apart from this prison of a sanctuary for the undead, was suspended like so much else.

     I was forced to wait, wait at least until the melting of all the snow on the ground, where the roads would be easier traveled and the mortals were more likely to show their faces. We would halt their festivities of spring with death. As tempting as the idea sounded to my bored mind, I, always the pessimist, dwelt on the fact that still remained: the wait. After my venture into the dungeons, however, I had a deeper respect for where I was in life- rather, UnLife. Sitting and waiting didn't seem as bad as dying in the catacombs of the Immortal's sanctuary, my sanctuary.

     Despite that, Cassiel was quick to cure my restlessness. Unlike my mortal life where there was always had work to be done, now I lead a life of idleness.

     "It is the life of aristocracy for mortals, and with us, daily life. We control the humans, and they are tasked with the work and upkeep of this place," Cassiel told me as we roamed the echoing halls. "You no longer have to worry about such trivial things."

     "Then, what is there to do besides feed?"

     "Anything you wish, so long as you aren't foolish and brazen in showing off your powers to mortals. Nothing that ruins our existence here." She paused, and we passed over a thick foreign rug and into a room nestled into the interior depths of our castle sanctuary. "However, Tzan has tasked me with you, which will take up some time yet. It should get us through the full melting into spring."

     "And what are these tasks?"

     From the depths of her heavy fur-lined robes she pulled out a book, a rare commodity in those times, meant only for monks and priests of God. Setting it down on a small wooden table in the corner of the room, she sank down into the ornate, eastern cushions that lined it while motioning for me to do the same. I sat, and almost carelessly she opened the leather-bound tome: only to reveal that it was empty, the pages blank.

     "This is for you," she stated, and pushed the hefty volume towards me before standing.

     The room was small, with walls of the usual stone that were made softer by dark blood-red and black tapestries. No expense was to be spared for the Immortals, even in this small chamber; soft candlelight gave the place light, while plush rugs and the faint scent of sweet candles rid the would-be dungeon-like room of its potentially molded smell. It was a haven, it was our haven, and despite the horrid images the shackles on the wall produced in my mind, they were surely meant only for slaves and not for us BloodDrinkers.

     In addition to the table that we were now seated at, another, larger one took up an entire wall of the place, bedecked in yet more books, which I doubted were empty like mine, and also parchment paper and writing supplies.

     Cassiel grabbed an ink well and a quill, a blank piece of paper, and another tome. As I suspected, this one was not wordless, and she flipped open the first page of the book and pointed to a word.

     I couldn't make sense of it, but she pronounced it for me.

     "Immortal."

     So, the first word that I learned was the name of my new self. How ironic that the work of the messengers of God was now my own.

     "You must start from the beginning," I stated, her simple explanation of the word not helping my lack of knowledge.

     She nodded, and her lips curved into something resembling a smile. Nurturing- motherly. I frowned.