Ever since midnight the ghouls her father had left behind to guard them had been restless. Like children left alone at a dark house by their parents. They skulked around and would occasionally claw at the windows terrifying everyone inside. But eventually dawn came and with it, something Elysa hadn’t seen in years.

A sunrise.

For the briefest moment Elysa felt kinship with the ghouls and they all stared shocked when they realized that her father’s power had been broken. The storm clouds were torn apart, and the sun showed itself. The ghouls screamed and cried and began digging their way to safety, but the sun had been denied for too long and from her window, Elysa saw the ghouls burst into pillars of fire. The sun’s unrelenting gaze turned every undead it saw into ash and bone.

Then there were none, and Elysa could only stare at the piles of ash in the yard in numb silence.

“Elysa?”

Francesca was standing by the door, looking ruffled and shocked. They stared at each other and tried to come to terms with what had just happened. With what it could mean.

“… they… they did it. My father… he is… gone.” Elysa said.

Gone… he was gone… father was gone… gone, gone, gone…

It started as shaking and Elysa hugged herself as she shivered like a baby left to die in the snow. Then she burst out laughing. She laughed like a criminal being dragged to the gallows after hearing one last joke. The laughter gave way to tears. Next thing she knew, Francesca was holding her and whispering comforting words into her ear.

“… gone… he’s gone… gone forever…” Elysa sobbed.

It had been so long she had dared to cry that she had wondered if she would even know how to do it if she got the chance. Some things you never really forgot. So she cried. Long and loud. She cried the way she had never been allowed to in her father’s house. Father had needed to give her something else to cry about only once for Elysa to learn her lesson.

When she finally calmed down, a weight that she had been living with for years was gone. A weight she had gotten so used to; she hadn’t even known it was there until it had been lifted.

But that didn’t mean it was over yet.

“Mom!”

The thought of mom drove her into a frenzy and Elysa ran to the viscount’s office. She was greeted by her father’s portrait and… it was a like a sneer from beyond the grave. Elysa picked the closest blade that decorated the wall, a cutlass, and started slashing at the painting until her father’s visage had been reduced to tatters. After admiring her handiwork with a smile, she put down the cutlass and picked up the phone. She dialed the number to the grey house and waited. And waited.

“Come on, come on. Pick up the phone.” Elysa prayed and then bit her lip: “Someone pick up the fucking phone!”

No one ever did.

“Goddamn it!”

Elysa slammed down the receiver and looked at Francesca who had followed her into the office.

“Francesca, take the other girls and get out of here. Then get in touch with the viscount’s uncle and aunt. Tell them everything. If they can think for themselves again, they should have some questions.”

“I… Yes. I will do that. What about you?”

The other car was still in the front yard. Ready and waiting.

“I am going home. I need to find my mother and brother.”

Her words were enough to shake the unflappable Francesca.

“My lady… Elysa. Listen. We are safe now. We shouldn’t rush into things. We will get everyone and…”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Elysa picked up the cutlass and pointed it at Francesca.

“I have waited for years! I am not waiting for one more goddamn second longer!” Elysa yelled and lowered the cutlass: “So, please. Don’t try to stop me.”

Francesca studied her and an odd thought came over Elysa. Even armed with a cutlass, she wasn’t sure that she could handle Francesca if she decided to stop her from going.

“Elysa.” Francesca said.

“Yes?”

“Blessing of the Mountain upon your journey.” Francesca said.

Blessing… Elysa bit her lip confused when she heard a Wyrding saying that Nuncio had taught her about. The blessing of Scholomance. The school of magic.

“… what?”

Francesca winked at her.

“First tenet of the Mountain. Path of adversity births knowledge. You have faced more of that than I have. I’ll trust that you know what you’re doing. Just promise to be careful.”

“Who… are you?” Elysa asked.

“I wish I could tell you but… I am your friend who prays that you find your family.”

Elysa nodded slowly.

“I’ll take it. Look after Emilia and the others.”

Francesca smiled.

“I have been looking after children long before the viscount started paying me for it.” Francesca said and took a pistol off the wall and bullets from a drawer: “I hope you don’t need this.”

Elysa took the pistol.

“I hope so too but… Thank you.”

After finding the car keys, Elysa jumped on the driver’s seat and made the engine roar. The cutlass and pistol laid on the seat next to her as she drove. She wasn’t as good of a driver as Nuncio, but her brother had been an excellent teacher and right now… no one had wanted to be somewhere as badly as she did, and she drove like a lunatic. Her heart hammered in her chest and her veins were full of lighting.

Hope and terror fought for her soul when she wondered what she would find at the grey house. Even if Nuncio and the others had managed to bring down their father… how many had been lost? Would she find Nuncio or mother dead? Both? Father’s one last act of cruelty from beyond the grave?

Those thoughts stretched time into eternity and no matter how fast she drove, it felt like she was getting nowhere. There were nowhere near enough gears for her liking and the gas pedal should have packed so much more power. She cursed them all and hoped that her anger would force the car to go faster.

Maybe it did.

After many hours of driving… hours that felt like years, Elysa arrived at the grey house.

The grey house father had moved them to when she had been a child had been a dreary and oppressive place that she couldn’t escape even in her dreams but here… in the sun… it looked just sad and decrepit. The thick clouds were gone… as well as part of the roof. It looked like lightning had struck the house. Even the shed where father had hidden the Wyrd Stones had burned down. The grass was crushed flat in the front yard like two giants had been wrestling on it.

“Mom?! Nuncio?!”

Elysa picked her weapons and ran into the house. The sun on her back made her brave even though she didn’t completely trust her long hidden ally. The sun had let her down too many times over the years. When she got to the knocked down front doors, she saw…

“Jesus!”

Mathilde… or what was left of her, was lying in the lobby. She had been broken like a doll when an angry child had thrown her onto the ground and stomped on her. She was lying in a pool of foul blood that… looked like it was reaching out to her.

Elysa shivered and gave Mathilde’s corpse wide berth while she started going through the house. Room after room. She pulled apart the curtains and opened the windows to let the sun in. The only thing that could purify this place was sunlight. Or fire. She went through every room in the house from the kitchen to the attic until only one place was left.

The one she wished she didn’t have to go to.

Mother’s room.

Elysa steeled her resolve and gripped her weapons tightly as she started walking down the steps to the cellar. When she tried turning the lights on, she realized that the electricity had gone out. Snuffed out by the lightning that had struck the house.

“Mom?!”

One quick peek was all she needed. She would just have to see for herself that mom wasn’t here… be she alive or dead. Then she could leave this horrible place and never come back. Maybe she would burn the house into the ground before going. Yes. That sounded like a plan. Let it all burn. No one should never have to live here. Ever.

Burn, burn, burn, Elysa thought.

She pushed the door open slowly and it opened with a creaking moan. When she raised the lantern, she saw that the bed was empty, and Elysa sighed in relief. If mom wasn’t here, it meant she was somewhere safer and…

A wheezing groan came from the furthest corner in the room.

“… oh… no.”

She only caught a glimpse of the thing that had crawled into the cellar to nurture its wounds, but it was something she would take with her to the grave. It looked like a tree licked by thunder. Twisted and broken. A horror of pain and hunger.

What her father had always been under the handsome face and expensive clothes.

The red eyes flashed when the thing her father had been reduced to saw her… and smelled the warm life coursing through her veins. Reflex made her raise the gun and pull the trigger when the monster lunged at her. The bullets hit him as he was gliding through the air and then just went through him. Bullet had never been much good against a vampire. She tried to swing the cutlass but even now father was too fast. Too strong.

Far too hungry.

The second the fangs ripped into her throat; Elysa knew this wasn’t a normal feeding. There was no restraint. No self-control. No care if she lived or died. There was just a blind need and a bottomless hunger that always demanded more no matter how much you gave it. The vampire went at her throat with such terrible force that Elysa was sure her head would be ripped off. Cold hands grabbed her ankles and began pulling her into the freezing water as the life was drained from her veins.

… drowning…

… she was drowning…

Finally, the vampire pulled back and just stood there. Basking in the pleasure of a full stomach. While his wounds closed, and his injuries healed, Elysa could only gasp and gurgle while what little was left of her blood spilled out of the gaping wound in her neck.

Clarity returned slowly into the red eyes and when father looked down… there was a flicker of horror and shame when he realized what he had done to her. His own flesh and blood. His daughter. For a moment Elysa though father would touch her face to comfort her as she bled out.

… horror…

… shame…

Feelings that were snuffed out fast and father growled like this hadn’t all been his own doing.

“Fool.” Father barked and left her to bleed out in the dark cellar.

The clouds returned when father called a storm to drive away the sun and Elysa heard the flapping of powerful wings when the vampire took flight. She wheezed and groaned while her heart beat slower and slower. She would die here… in this cold place where terrible things were done for far too long.

… die…

… she would…

… die here alone…

…

… no…

No…

No!

There was a power in her. Strength without beginning or end. It had existed long before the undead and at that moment, it was hers to command. Elysa bit her lip in pain when she pressed her hand on the massive wound to slow down the bleeding. Even if only a little.

With a great effort, she forced herself to live and stand up.

No mountaineer had struggled to reach the peak the way she had when she dragged herself upstairs out of the cellar. Every time her legs were about to give out, she willed them to hold. When she finally made it upstairs, she didn’t have enough blood to even walk anymore and she had to crawl the rest of the way.

To Mathilde.

To the dark blood that smelled foul… and tasted of cancer… but she drank it all.