The Empty Mirror
Chapter 5: Worms of misfortune
In the dusk of the dawn, what a beautiful moment!
The vampire rises, what a charming creature!
Steadfast, with an athletic and captivating presence,
His pale complexion and blazing eyes, what envy!
Ivory and ebony, his nocturnal hair,
Flows like a waterfall, caressing the air,
Contrasting with the smooth silk of his cape,
Which shines with elegance, a rare jewel!
A purple, torn, and tattered cloak,
Reveals the silk and ebony beneath,
A loose and stained white shirt,
Hugs his figure comfortably, how attractive!
Tight black trousers, snug as an aria,
A brown leather belt with a metal buckle,
Soft leather boots with silver buckles,
Their worn soles suggest antiquity, how charming!
Metal breastplate and backplate, rusty and old,
Adorned with engravings and martial details,
While black leather gloves on his hands,
Reveal wear at the tips of his fingers, how intriguing!
A leather necklace, a metal cross,
Hang around his neck, an unparalleled mystical touch,
His attire balanced, refined, and mysterious,
Between elegance and rusticity, a grand mix!
Thus, the vampire presents himself, with his eloquent attire,
A being of prolonged existence and deep experience,
In the night, he reigns as lord, what a privilege!
A mystical and captivating figure, oh, eternal vampire!
The scene I had the privilege of witnessing metamorphosed into one of the most awe-inspiring moments I have experienced in a considerable span of time. Suddenly, in a bend of the forest, in the bosom of my sacred territory, an unknown young woman manifested herself, having managed to cunningly elude the skirmishes and impediments guarding the castle. Her unwelcome presence roused me from my slumber, and as I heard the ominous creaking at the door, I could not help but question whether that melodious voice I had earlier perceived emanated from her.
However, as I looked at the young woman, I immediately sensed that something was unbalanced. She was alone, trembling with fear, like a frightened prey thrown into the unknown abyss, unable to comprehend what lay ahead. While it may seem disdainful to equate a lady with a creature, at this particular juncture it is appropriate, for she reminded me of a vulnerable and bewildered being in the midst of oppressive darkness.
The damsel bore a peculiar appearance, as if emerging from a remote land, and her features were exotic, a departure from any form my eyes had hitherto beheld. Her dark, almond-shaped, piercing eyes, with a crease lower than the upper lid, revealed an abyss of inscrutable mysteries, while her snow-white complexion and thin, delicate lips gave her countenance an overwhelming singularity. Her dress was indescribable, defying any conventional classification of fashion known to me. Tight but delicate, with lace detailing and an extravagant belt framing her waist, she looked more like a maiden spawned in dreams than an ordinary young woman. Her intriguing and inscrutable appearance was captivating and, at the same time, disturbingly unsettling.
The young lady seemed to have an almost childlike freshness, out of place in the twisted surroundings of the castle. However, the only thing that seemed to be in harmony with the macabre scene was her hair, ashen white, lifeless and unkempt, flowing freely down past her shoulders and reaching almost to her waist.
As time passed, I also became aware that her clothing exhibited strategic tears, details that had escaped my first scrutiny, but which now revealed themselves as signs of a tangled and disturbing past. The young woman exuded an air of fatigue and desolation, as if she had gone through terrible torments to reach this place.
As for her footwear, she wore slippers that, despite their apparent fragility, seemed to cling firmly to her feet, as if they had been moulded by the thresholds themselves. Immeasurable strength emanated from that fragile appearance, as if the young woman had faced and overcome harrowing trials on her journey to this watchtower.
However, her vulnerability was palpable, as if she were trapped in an incomprehensible reality. This fact awakened my curiosity and the insatiable desire to know more about her and the events surrounding her... The scene I had the privilege of witnessing left an indelible mark on my mind, shocking and shuddering, feeding my intrigue to unsuspected limits. This unknown young woman radiated a singular appearance that was impossible to ignore.
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Her presence seemed out of place, but at the same time, she emanated a gloomy and enigmatic vigour that left me perplexed. My longing to discover her story and the secrets that enveloped her became relentless...
I wanted to unravel the enigmas that tormented her and to understand how she had come to this point, in spite of it....
In an impassive and commanding voice, I asked her: "What has led you to this sacred precinct? - as we stood in my personal seclusion, the sanctuary that houses my own demons.
Yet she maintained a funereal silence, as if fearful of the consequences of unveiling the truth hidden within the blindness.
"How did you reach this execrable spot?" - I insisted, yearning for diaphanous answers that might shed light on the enigmas that surrounded us.
In a trembling, barely audible voice, the young woman murmured, "I-I..."
Intrigue consumed me voraciously.....
"Who instructed you about this abode?" - I asked more vehemently, pursuing the source of her unsettling presence.
With a look full of dread, he answered in a whisper: "N-no one..."
The tension in the atmosphere became oppressive.
"So how did you come to this abyss?" - I asked, struggling to unravel the enigma unfolding before my eyes.
"I find myself... disoriented..." - she whispered, as if every word was imbued with abyssal suffering.
My imperturbability remained unchanged.
"That is not my concern. You must leave without delay," I replied in an icy tone, without the slightest hint of sympathy.
In desperation, she pleaded in a broken voice: "Please! Gentleman, I beg you to allow me to spend the night. If I leave this place, my fate will be death. Allow me to spend the night here...." - his plea echoed in my ears, causing a deep disturbance in my being, as hesitation took over my mind.
"This enclosure is not the right place for a damsel.... You will undoubtedly perish if you venture beyond the castle walls," I proclaimed serenely, wrapping my words in a dark and mysterious cloak.
The young woman, with a face marked by anguish, pleaded, "Could you not grant me your help?"
"Unfortunately, such a possibility is beyond my reach" - I replied in a forceful tone, resolutely establishing the limits of my influence.
"W... why...?" - she mused in a piercing, monotonous voice.
"Because we must atone for our sins, so it has been decreed by my Father" - I answered with a burden of remorse, as if I carried on my shoulders an ancestral guilt.
"Your father?" - he asked in astonishment, his eyes reflecting dismay at the revelation.
"No, our father" - I solemnly affirmed, hinting at a more abysmal and disturbing link.
"...Why, I have committed no offence.... I only long to live..." - uttered the young woman in a perplexed tone, her words imbued with a fragile innocence.
"Though your countenance may be immaculate in appearance, I am not in a position to say with certainty that you are what your features imply" - I replied shrewdly, cautiously introducing the seeds of uncertainty into her trembling mind.
"I feel... an overwhelming fatigue..." - she whispered, as her figure slumped with a leisurely cadence towards the ground.
"You may be perplexed by my apparent insensitivity to your misfortune, but nothing and no one will be able to disturb the inexorable course of your destiny. If you fail to evade the confines of this chamber before daybreak, your fortune will be irrevocably sealed" - I sentenced with an icy coldness, evoking a fatal and macabre culmination...
"My prayers will be directed towards you" - I added in a distant tone, hiding behind the mask of my indifference the dark intentions that lurked in my being. I was aware that his ears could no longer catch my words because of his fainting, but I uttered them without hesitation. I concluded by taking her body in my arms, shielding her from a violent impact against the ground, as if she were a fragile petal caught in the imminence of a maelstrom.
It is true that my figure was not confined to an imagined dimensionality, for I could superimpose my entity above and below, as well as face a sort of incomprehensible horrors. Thus, my presence unfolded all over the castle, to say the least.
I lay in a state of total unconsciousness, vulnerable to the unfathomable horrors that lurked in the shadows of that shadowy place. In an instinctive act, I gently slid my hand over her forehead, sensing the burning fever that consumed her. Yet I felt helpless in the face of her anguish, unable to alleviate her suffering as it faded to the edges of the darkness.
Then I decided to remove the cloak that had rested on my shoulders for so long, and meticulously placed it on the coffin, as if it were a sacred mantle imbued with ancestral mysteries. Carefully, I placed her under her exhausted body, longing to offer her a brief respite from the enveloping gloom, like a faint light struggling to break through the eternal darkness.
As I confirmed her condition, my attention was drawn to an opening in her skin, nestled near her right cheek. With measured steps, I cautiously approached to inspect the wound that defied the immutable laws of nature. Brushing her soft cheek with my leather gloved fingers, I witnessed with astonishment as the injury began a process of unearthly closure and healing, as if an elusive and unknown force manifested itself through her in the form of black necrophagous maggots that writhed around the wound until they entered her flesh and vanished completely.
This phenomenon transcended the limits of my comprehension and defied rational explanation. My gaze fell upon her as she sank into an uneasy sleep, as if her being was immersed in an enigmatic symphony that could only be grasped by the most subtle and perceptive of senses. Indeed, something about her awakened an eerie familiarity with my own being, a transcendental connection that transcended mere physical resemblance.
It may seem an extravagant assertion, but my unwavering priority was to watch over her momentary well-being and grant her a brief respite amidst the shadows that stalked her. However, the enigma surrounding the wound on her cheek persisted, keeping me in a constant state of alertness and expectation. Plunged in the darkness of uncertainty and fascination, I was determined to unravel the confidences hidden in that countenance marked by the inexplicable.
Nevertheless, in the inner realm of my being, there resounded with inexorable force the painful certainty that manipulating the occult forces would entail an imminent danger, capable of unleashing an unspeakable situation, the consequences of which would unleash the deepest and most execrable horror.
I was aware of the insidious presence of a warning that, like a stealthy serpent, slithered through the very folds of my mind, whispering ominously of the dire consequences that might arise from my daring incursion into these forbidden domains.
Although I was still immersed in the painful search for my own identity, I could not escape the disturbing awareness of the sinister abysses that lurked behind the nebula of my memories, like disturbing shadows that, in the mysterious gloom of the night, wrap their cloak around the darkest and most cryptic secrets.
Confusion, like a dense and inscrutable mist, loomed menacingly over my being, embracing me with its abject embrace and bringing with it the indecipherable enigma of the unknown. My mind, captive to a macabre fascination, danced in a dance of restlessness and a magnetic attraction towards the forbidden, yearning to unveil the answers that were jealously hidden behind the diaphanous veils of reality.
In that corner of the castle, a scene worthy of the most intricate foul novels unfolded. A coffin of sable wood, festooned with silver accents and veiled by a threadbare white tapestry, revealed its contents when its lid was opened. Inside rested a maiden with hair as white as milk, so long that it seemed to devour the space of the coffin. Her closed eyelids denoted a deep lethargy, adopting a posture so disturbing that it recalled the rigidity of death. Yet there was a wistful longing in her delicate features and on her lips parched with thirst. With bated breath, she held some of her influence still in the realm of dreams.
Near the door knocker, on the threshold of the night, a vampire with a delicate, emotionless face stood majestically, like a shadowy pillar. His countenance, immutable as stone, reflected the coldness of centuries lived. His crimson eyes, like embers in the gloom, remained fixed on an albino god, emanating a silent devotion. It was as if he played the role of a servant in an unfathomable dance, where the boundaries between reality and fantasy were blurred.