Finvarra, Primeveire, and Edmund aren't oblivious to the rumors flying around them. A pair of elven twins, one a former paladin, and his infamous fox of a sister; accompanied by a pastel weirdo wizard as the new adventurers of the local guild definitely caught the attention of many. It hasn't been long since they arrived in town and they already caused trouble left and right. How on earth does their group remain functional?

They don't. They're as dysfunctional as they could get. And still, somehow work. Somehow. It also puzzles Primeveire. Who else would take initiative in investigating the sudden appearance of a tower a hundred miles away and its difficulty unknown? Surely not the fairly new team around town. However, much to Primeveire's dismay, she never really cared about those details and now her legs are suffering from the consequences.

"When. Will. These. Stairs. End!?" Primeveire's shout echoed throughout the never-ending tower. Three hours had passed since they decided to ascend upwards, but the stairs seemed endless and other means to reach the top were barred. The tower has nullified flight and teleportation magic, and their wizard told them it would take a few hours to a day or two of studying to fully understand the puzzling ancient teleportation circle on the first floor. Due to her insistence, they came to an agreement that it'd be faster if they just took the stairs than wait for Edmund to activate the circle, and now that decision is added to her long list of regrets.

"Edmund! Can you cast the spell now?" Primeveire, who is usually the image of beauty and grace, let out a string of murmurs and curses. Her proud sword has once again met disgrace, for it was turned into a mere walking cane to assist its shameless master.

"Ding-ding-ding! Congratulations! You have asked that question for the 100th time! A round of applause for our persistent winner please!" The cheery-looking fellow clapped his hands enthusiastically. But it would take no expert to draw a conclusion that from his pale complexion and the immediate wheezing after the applause, he is exhausted. Among the three of them, he was the one with the worst stamina, so he decided to argue no more with his insufferable friend.

"Cool! Is the prize me getting the hell out of this tower?"

"No."

"Fuck you then." Primeveire slung her expensive, baroque black coat on her shoulder and unbuttoned her maroon shirt, revealing a rather ample amount of cleavage. She was sweating too much to not loosen her clothes. Her body dropped down and laid uncomfortably on the stairs. She removed her hair tie and let her scraggly mess of black hair splash across the stairs.

"Ugh. My hair's all slick and sweaty. It's disgusting. If I had known this was less of an exciting battle and more of a torturous excursion, I would've visited the bathhouse beforehand."

Edmund used his feet to move her a bit more to the side and continued climbing one step at a time, at a painfully slow pace. But despite his fatigue, he couldn't help but act like an asshole anyway. "Exclusive news! Everdale's Primadonna. The Black Rose of High Society, Primeveire Vulpes Boreas, caught looking like a mangy cat! Is this the end of her illustrious image as the prime lady of interest?"

"You wish you could get as much pussy as I do you virgin."

"Really? That's all you could think of? You count seducing that failure of an assassin as part of your count? Damn. Your desperation sure stinks."

"Alright!" Almost as if her stamina wasn't spent climbing, Primeveire immediately stood up and pointed her sword to Edmund. "That's it. You're being an annoying nitwit again. Need I remind you how I got your ass handed to you, you fucking masochist."

Edmund drew out his wand too, a devilish smirk appearing on his otherwise innocent, childlike face. Why are they doing this? Boredom. "Fine. I've been wanting to try out the new shocking spell I've learned anyway. You'll like this, with your fondness for shaking beds and all."

"Shh!"

The two's quarrel was abruptly shut down by Finvarra, his finger placed on his lips as he glared at the two. They scowled, but placed down their weapons and gave each other glowering looks before following their leader. The torch they carried cast their large shadows upon the bleak walls, yet no enemy had taken notice of them. The whole tower was eerily quiet save for his two companions who were anything but silent. Yet now as they drew closer, a low blare of a trumpet could be heard.

"Do you hear that?" Finvarra whispered.

The two nodded. Finvarra gestured to them to keep quiet as they began to climb once more, Edmund casting a spell for their group to be able to walk stealthily. As they drew nearer and nearer, the music grew clearer. The blare of the trumpet was prominent, but now they could hear other instruments accompanying it, making an ominous yet unifying tune. Not far was a ubiquitous-looking door, soft light peeking through its crevices.

"Wait." Edmund took out his wand, and the other two withdrew their weapons too. "The door's enchanted. Let me open it."

Primeveire rolled her eyes. "Oh sure. Like we didn't go to the same school and learned the same spells."

"Not now Prim." Finvarra scolded, but she just rolled her eyes and shrugged.

Edmund rolled his eyes too and made a face at Primeveire, then focused his attention on the door. Much to his surprise, it was a simple lock spell, and weakening too. Time must’ve passed for so long for a spell to erode. Despite it, he couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to this tower than the decaying facade it shows. "Okay. It's just a lock spell. Nothing complicated. But, let's be careful. There must be something dangerous waiting on the other side"

Finvarra agreed. "This tower is too eerie. Can't be anything good. Edmund, you know what to do."

The three looked at each other for affirmation and then nodded at Edmund. He counted to three, and the two knocked the door open.

What they expected did not appear. Instead, they were greeted by luxurious white walls, unlike anything from the decrepit tower's appearance. It resembled a high noble's master bedroom, but from a distant century designed with old fashioned trends that even their grandparents found too antique. The forlorn music they've heard from outside is now surrounding them but also coming from nowhere at all. It was all the more chilling when in the center of the room was a corpse lying peacefully on an altar.

Finvarra hissed at the sight of the corpse, white energy flowing through his sword. "A vampire!"

"Finn! Wait!" Before Edmund could stop him, Finvarra rushed towards the altar, not noticing the large ritual circle that covered almost the entire room. As soon as he stepped towards the circle, a white light radiated from its line. The two followed suit to try to stop him, but Finvarra's sword already plunged through the chest of the corpse. Blood splattered to his face and it dripped to the floor. The white lines of the magic circle immediately turned an ominous red and from the outermost circle, a barrier was erected.

Alarmed, Finvarra tried to stab the corpse once more, yet his own body wouldn't heed his control as his heart experienced a sudden pang of pain. His sword was thrown aside as he fell to the floor, clutching his chest with both hands.

"Finn!" Both Prim and Edmund shouted in alarm, trying their best to dispel the barrier to get through him. Finvarra coughed and vomited blood, and the sight made the two increasingly panic. Prim kept slashing her sword with more urgency, while Edmund tried bombarding the barrier with dispelling and nullifying spells and when that didn’t work, he bombarded the magic circle instead. It was all to no avail. Finvarra could feel the magic of the circle wrapping around him. It was strong, stronger than any he has encountered, and it compelled him to do things he would've never done. He stood up and tried to retain the control he has over his body, but it was no use. Intrusive thoughts flooded his mind.

Feed the Mother blood. That was the phrase repeated to him over and over again. His eyes flickered to the sword, and a brief thought of sacrificing his companions passed. Fear rushed through his veins, yet with sheer will, he quickly dragged himself to the body and decided it must be fed with his own blood instead. Once again, his blind judgment has placed him in an inescapable predicament. He knew that the corpse should never be fed blood, yet his body did not heed his commands. All he could do was avoid his companions' demise.

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There was a brief moment of pause as he gazed at the corpse's body. The long, flowing white hair that draped down the altar matched the blood-stained old century fashioned white dress the cadaver wore. The long white lashes that rested, and its small, porcelain face. If it weren't for her pale, dead lips, it would've truly seemed that she was just peacefully asleep. Truly she is eternally asleep. However, her beauty was preserved, so much so that even an elf like him felt deference.

'A vampire's beauty truly captures the heart. This is why they are deadly to the easily fooled and the weak-willed.' Finvarra thought. He snapped out of the trance as the spell's insistence for blood grew louder in his head. There was too much pain to be able to grab his sword, but blood was continuously dripping from his mouth. As disgusting as it sounded, his lips touched the chapped, cold ones of the corpse and he vomited blood into its mouth.

Nothing could explain the emotion that goes through him right now. It felt like a violation of his own dignity. To have lost control of his own body and be pushed to do something humiliating, it was something he wished for his friend and sister to have never seen. And all of a sudden, a surge of magic was spread all over his body. An unknown strength was bestowed upon him. He could feel a searing burn as a magic circle was tattooed on his chest. The corpse in front of him is no longer just a corpse. But his master. A contract has been made.

The magic circle that pulsed crimson now returned to its dull, white state. The barrier disappeared. Prim and Edmund ran straight to Finvarra and embraced him. They each placed Finvarra's arm around their shoulder as they supported him.

"You... You fucking moron! You could've killed us all!" Primeveire's stormy eyes raked through her brother's body, searching for a grave injury, but found none.

Edmund flicked his wand and scanned their bodies. "Found no curses on us, but you... If I'm not wrong, that's a mark of servitude. Damn. Fate’s led you to an even worse master huh."

Finvarra couldn't find it in himself to reply. He took off his coat and unbuttoned his white shirt, and on the center of his chest was the mark. The sight unsettled him, and he tried to claw it but it remained unscathed.

"Why did you do that!? Don't injure yourself further! Gods. Why do you always jump straight into trouble?"

Finvarra let out a weak smile. "Prim, that's rich coming from you-- Ouch!" His sister slapped the back of his head, huffing in anger.

"Seriously! Why did you run straight to it? We've discussed that this tower is more than it lets on, but you cast all caution into the air!"

"But it's a vampire! We must kill it before it wakes up."

"How are you even sure it's a vampire? That spell could've been worse and summoned us to our deaths!"

"I--" Finvarra wanted to argue, but he knew he was in the wrong. "I'm sorry. My instincts got the best of me."

It was difficult to blame Finvarra further when they both know the reason why he acted so reckless. Primeveire hugged her twin, while Edmund let out a sigh and gazed at the two with a wry smile.

"What do we do now? This circle underneath, the spell is written in Ancient Katha, and possibly much more accurate than the hypotheticals the school has taught us. Quite a strong barrier magic with precautions installed. This work reminds me of a certain cult." Edmund thought out loud.

The twins shifted their attention to the magic circle. When they entered the tower, it was strangely unguarded but unsurprising considering it was hidden by an invisibility barrier for God knows how long. The people at the guild concluded that the spell must have deteriorated after protecting it for a long time. The teleportation circle downstairs was written in ancient katha too, and there were traces of powerful katha spells that lingered in the tower. The twins and Edmund have studied together at St. Lyra's and Katha History was part of their curriculum. It was the age of beginnings. The rise of Gods and the end of an era of suffering. While none of them majored in it, Edmund was prodigy enough to have aced and even surpassed the history tests at school. That's why the two trust that anything Edmund can't do, must truly be beyond their league.

Finvarra's brows furrowed as his gaze returned to the corpse, his mouth turned grim. "That thing… It isn't normal either. I can't explain it well, but I wasn't in full control of my body earlier. That control spell would've turned me into a monster by sacrificing you two and feeding it your blood, but I fed it mine instead."

"This is way beyond our capabilities. Finn, Ed, I think it's for the best if we leave and inform the guild of what we've seen today." Prim stood and helped Finn up. She checked her brother for injuries once more before patting his tousled hair.

"You're right. This was a close call." Finn smiled at his sister, brushing the straying strands of her sister's hair. They both chuckled, seeing each other's messy black hair reminded them how similar they could be at times. Then, he remembered the phrase carved into the altar. "'There is no life or death in eternity’, Edmund, isn't this The Children of the Scarlet Sun's proverb?”

Edmund was about to open his mouth and answer when the creepily quiet room played music once more. It was the same blare of trumpets with varying low timbres. The slow beat of the drums echoed in their chest, and an unknown instrument chimes, coalescing into a piece of beautiful yet morbid music. The candles that lit the room dimmed drastically, only the magic circle's faint pulse of light shined soft yet intense. They were all startled, their guards up as they prepared for battle. Finvarra's brow furrowed as his eyes immediately checked the body, his frown deepening as he saw it began to emit light too.

A rich bass hummed and blended with the forbidding music, and soon other voices were heard harmonizing. They looked everywhere, yet no one was to be seen, only that the ominous choir surrounded them. In frustration, Primeveire raised her sword and prepared to strike the corpse, but much to their surprise, Finvarra blocked her attack.

"Finn! Why?"

"I have no idea either! My body just moved on its own!" Primeveire scowled and tried to move away from her brother and strike the corpse this time for sure, yet it was once again parried by her brother.

Edmund immediately pulled Primeveire away. "You dolt! Did you forget? Finn is cursed. He has a mark of servitude tattooed on to him. Anyone who attacks the master must go through the servant first."

"Well? Get rid of it!"

"I don't know how!"

"Useless!" Primeveire huffed, her eyes smoking in anger.

"In deathsleep I find myself," An angelic, somber voice escaped the lips of the corpse. Their attention quickly shifted to the source of the melodic voice, floating inches above the altar.

"I sing for the life I lost,

And I sing for the death I found.

Yet found neither's embrace."

It was funny. Just moments ago their whole body was tensed up, raring to fight, and ready to burn the corpse in front of them. The music has sapped their will to fight, and what replaced was astonishment and undivided attention to watch a dead body sing. They recognize that she is singing in ancient katha, although only Edmund could comprehend the lyrics. The quarreling duo was in awe, but Finvarra only felt pain from the words sung. He was never the one to be sympathetic to others’ emotions. Yet it was clear this time, by magical means, he is forced to feel what the dead body feels.

"In search for my eternal sleep

On the path to abyss I descend,

To the great beyond I ascend.

But alas my soul isn’t in my hands.

Why? My fate isn't a thing

To be played and tossed away

Why? Why have I been left?

To be devoured by the hungry."

Images flashed through their minds. It was loud, bright, invasive, and certainly alien. They were shown a world foreign to them and were welcomed as spectators witnessing the brief moments of the body's life. Its eyes were their eyes, and they lived short moments of its dull life. It was a fascinating world they couldn't understand, yet it was so bleak and filled with silent despair despite the mundanity. They couldn't perceive the language, yet they felt her depression all the same.

"In deathsleep I find myself,

Screaming to the heavens

Yet all is naught,

For I fall all the same."

The last image they saw of that world was when the body took its own life, falling from a high place, her life cut off swiftly as she was impaled by a long metal pole. Their sight returned to normal, and the candles' flames turned blood red, the entire room now looked as if it was painted crimson. Finn saw the body that was once lying stood up. Eyes still closed, yet the whole face was contorting into rage. Still so, the three couldn't help but wonder how even in terrifying fury does the corpse manages to look divine. Finvarra noticed that the deathly pallor of the body was dissipating. The cheeks slowly returned to a lively color, and the lips, while still chapped, didn't look as pale anymore. Although it might be due to blood he fed her earlier.

The unknown instrument took over the song, it's beguiling solo was accompanied by the creepy choir who kept chanting the proverb. Primeveire was completely taken. Tears didn't stop coming, and she felt her brother feel an even worse emotional pain from hearing this song. The twins often find themselves having difficulty understanding others’ emotions and have often been called thoughtless and unfeeling, but they are highly empathetic to one another. So to feel such pain and empathy towards a stranger, a corpse even, was a testament to how powerful the misery in the spellsong was.

Edmund, who was entranced by the corpse's song the whole time, couldn't help but notice the glyphs that lit up at every word she sang. The glyphs connected whilst the song continued its instrumental play. The gears of his mind slowly worked as he snapped out of the trance-like state he was put in by the song.

"A resurrection spell!? But how!?" He cried out. He couldn't even think of taking out his wand and breaking the spell. His morbid curiosity showed itself once more, and greed overtook his rationality.

"I sing to keep myself awake

Carved in my soul

Is the vengeance I vowed

And damn all to emptiness,"

Her hair floated in the air as if they were living snakes, hissing in anger. The once closed eyes revealed a set of deadly cerise eyes. The three immediately turned away their gazes, but still felt the burning pain in the back of their eyes.

"All shall burn

As my fate returns

To the void you will all go

Tis I vow."

A flash of light engulfed the room for a second before it dissipated. The music ended, and the singing corpse laid limpid on the ground. Finvarra looked at it dubiously, but Edmund was quick on his feet as he scrambled his way to check the body.

"She's… She's breathing!" It was a miracle. It was the best damn miracle Edmund has ever seen in his life.

Primeveire hurried to his side, and while she knows she can't kill it, her grip on her sword hasn't loosened. There is always the option to knock it out. "I don't mind if you become her first meal."

The body gasped, her eyes fluttered open and revealed a milky white iris. She coughed up and stared at the first person she saw, which was a pink-haired, blue-eyed man looking at her with maniacal glee.

“What the fuck?” She opened her mouth and spoke, but the words were gibberish to Edmund’s and others’ ears.