A far land. Covered in ice. Eternal winter dwells forever. He's running. Running faster than wind. His face covered in his cloak, dirty with his own blood. His bright eyes look behind constantly, for anybody, or anything, to follow him. His arm holds tight what seems a faded parchment, also covered in blood.
Behind him, armed figures follow, chasing him. Longbows and swords, dark armours, dark horses with red flaming eyes, their faces hidden by helmets.
The army swiftly reaches the thief, surrounding him with swords and longbows pointing at his heart.
The breath of the horses is heavy, their hoof hit the ground like hammers.
-Leave it. Or die! - The voice like a sharp hiss, deep and evil.
The thief draws his sword, stained in blood and consumed by untold battles. The wind blows his cloak violently, showing random fragments of his face. Annoyed by the flowing fabric, he tears the cloak away revealing his face.
Raven hair fly around his shoulders, eyes bright like the full moon on a winter night, hidden in those is a warrior soul, his face carries many scars of a restless life. Or better said.... un-life.
A demon from Hell in a frozen hell.
-I'm already dead.- The thief smiles, revealing sharp fags, his eyes shine with desire of battle.
Raising his sword, both his fists tightened, his eyes turning into fire. And his fangs smiling at those who for him are only preys going to be his nourishment.
-Come and get it!-
Swords vibrate in the air, like a knocker on a bell. Cutting its enemy's heads, tearing their hearts with bear hands, digging his fangs into their throats, feeding his fury.
But one demon's fury cannot fight a whole army, as more and more soldiers summon the battle, earlier watching from afar.
He's outnumbered.
A spear stabs his chest deeply, his dead blood flowing without control.
One second of weakness. One fatal second.
He grabs the spears, his bony fingers wrapping it, while the enemy is laughing.
The laugh soon stops and turns into wander, as his angry glance turns into a mocking smile.
-Told you...I'm already dead. -
He pulls the spear out of his chest.His injury quickly vanishes, as if it had never been there.
The warrior looks at his enemies, glaring at every single one of them.
-Who's the next to die?-
His glance challenges them all to come forth, even if he knows he cannot defeat a whole army.
He will die trying.
Wind blows stronger and stronger into the cold land, making every bone freeze.
It's not a natural wind, it doesn't have a direction. It wraps every creature, sweeping them away into a twister, higher and higher in the sky.
The army is flown away, higher and higher until no eye can see on the top of the sky.
A few seconds of silence, only the sound of cold wind.
A rain of soldiers falls to the ground with rhythmic thuds, crushing every single bone in their bodies.
Then it's silence again.
Looking around him, the warrior sees figures far from him, looking at him with scarves covering their faces, only bright piercing eyes.
Running to him, the warrior raises the sword in his grip, looking directly in the eyes of the new enemies.
Once again surrounded, the warrior stares at them with the same icy glance of challenge.
-You shall always have us behind you. Always your shadows. Always your back.-
One by one, the figures take their scarves off their faces revealing the same warrior glance, as bright as the moon, and untold scars of untold battles. One of them walks closer to the warrior. Once in front of him, the warrior lifts his sword up to the middle of his face and slowly he stretches up his arm, without leaving each other's eyes.
-Always brothers. In the end of the darkness and further!-
-You have it!-
-Of course. Did you doubt?-
-Doubt? You? Never, brother.-
-This map shall lead us to the final goal of our journey. The end for our journey is at hand.-
-We shall go back and fight.-
-At the other end of this land, the keeper of the Heart lies in silence waiting for the right successor. He shall give us the power to be free from our curse.-
-What are we waiting for? Somebody awaits for us. More precisely, someone very special awaits for you!-
The thought of Ariel fills Mefistofel with drive. If he had a heart, her name would be its every single beat.
-The sunset is close. We shall take some rest. And leave at the sunrise.-
-"Where are you, Ariel? Are you safe? Are you fighting? Will you still be there waiting for me? Will you have forgotten me for someone with a heart?"-
All those thoughts fill his mind. He loved her until the end of eternity. But humans change.
Will she change and forget him?
At the far North of this land, a cave lies behind iced falls, whose waters stopped falling since the Last War. What once was a land of green, now it's just a land of ice.
In the deep of the cave, deep darkness does not allow human eyes to see, but vampires' eyes can see the darkness humans fear.
Deep in the dark, Mefistofel's senses are enhanced. Cold chills down his spine.
Something lives down there. Something that does not want to be awakened.
They can barely walk through the narrow corridors, the humidity wouldn't let human lungs breath, they need to walk carefully, afraid to step anything, fall into anything, or awake anything.
Something is moving, something very heavy, filling the thin air with its breath.
Stepping into a wider cave, Mefistofel and his brothers end up into what seems used to be a temple, the top so high, the rough rocks carved into ancient figures. Maybe once guardian figures, now they seem only tortured and abandoned.
Just a couple of steps inside the cave, and they realise something that seemed to be rocks, it's moving,
It's breathing like an old and heavy drum, slow and tired.
With wings on its body that could cover the whole cave, long necked, long tailed and sharp figures, its body covers the whole ground.
Mefistofel realises that there are things that vampires themselves should not challenge.
Dragons used to be the guardians of the Earth, but some of them are not to be trusted, hiding in the core of the Earth, protecting lost treasures or just ignoring the world.
Moving as light as wind, Mefistofel gets to the end of the other side of the cave, where he can see a way out.
The creature does not seem to realise the intruders inside its lair, still sudden breaks of its breath makes the warriors freeze for a few seconds and again relax as soon as the creature falls deeply into its obscure dreams.
A frail rock breaks under Beremot's feet, freezing his comrades.
The creature is awake, its yellow hourglass eyes with its black pupil getting thinner and thinner as the sight reaches the invaders of its domains.
The body is raising, full of pride and fury. Its wings open wide stretching from the slumber, its mouth stretches open, breathing smoke, threatening its enemies. It's strong enough to take the cave down and bury everyone inside.
They don't hesitate to withdraw the swords and be ready to fight, still realising the unfair match with the enemy.
Spitting fire everywhere, the dragon is struggling to compete with their speed.
Spreading up to confuse the creature, it does not know which enemy to attack first.
Dragons are clever creatures.
In the attempt to confuse it, Mefistofel pretends to attack him on one side, while Beremot is truly attacking him on the other.
Swift moves off the eyes of the dragon and the trick is over.
Fire wraps Beremot like a storm, his body sparkling with fire consuming his lifeless body, falling on the ground followed by the screams of an agonising soul, that sound so sharp even for vampire ears.
The sight of his companion brings pain to his soul.
He's only got one chance.
Only one: dragon's eyes are not covered in their thick skin.
Just one small nerve and an even smaller chance.
Mefistofel uses all his strengths and anger to throw his sword into the eye.
Throw it! now!
The sword flies in the cave, right into the eye of the dragon.
Blood flows out the socket, watering the ground like a red river.
It still moves. It still fights, it still throws fire. Its screams of pain are sharp and painful.
The sword is not long enough to penetrate the nerve in the brain.
The dragon is getting angry. He shakes his head without control, throwing fire at everything around it.
The screams of the dragon are hurting their senses and its sudden movements are making the cave shake like an earthquake.
-"We're going to be buried in here!"-
THUMP!
The fall shakes the whole mountain, making the warriors move swiftly to avoid falling rocks.
Everything is still, everything is silence.
Beremot is on the floor.
His skin has melted.
His bones are uncovered.
His blood floods the ground.
His face holds only one eye in the socket.
A weak sparkle of un-life lingers in his hand, reaching out for a friendly grip.
Mefistofel grips his hand, only bones, strong and protective. Yet so gently.
Only Beremot's eye can speak to them, through the power of their mind.
He prays for relief from this pain.
Only blood can cure a vampire's injury.
Vampires cannot heal each other.
Some pains are worse than Death.
Even demons suffer.
The brothers bow around their brother, giving tribute to the fallen warrior.
Unwillingly leaving the grip, Mefistofel stands up, his eyes wet with sadness.
He lifts his sword, stained with the dragon's blood.
Lifting it up as high as his arms could extend, Mefistofel's eyes and Beremot's stay one into the other.
Only one hit. No more pain.
The sound of the sword hitting the ground echoes in the cave like the ring of a bell.
-Be free, brother. Unlike us, alive or dead, who never will.-
A red tear falls down Mefistofel's eye.
A spark of a soul. Some say it will never inhabit their dead body.
