Zoé tensed as her Childe took a step forward, her eyes narrowing when he missed a step and staggered. He stood still, looking past her, the crimson glow in his eyes flickering erratically. His frown deepened, eyes blinking rapidly as if searching for answers. Suddenly, he froze, veins standing out against his skin and corded neck, his irises flashing red before becoming solid, crimson orbs.
Zoé's gaze sharpened, carefully observing the unsettling scene. As she prepared to lunge, he collapsed heavily to his knees.
His mouth opened in a silent scream, hands clutching his head, before a guttural scream tore from his throat. His eyes looked demonic.
Thousands of indistinct images, ambiguous voices, and fleeting emotions flooded his mind like an unstoppable tide, overwhelming his senses.
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A universe of darkness.
An infinite excess of nothingness.
Somewhere, yet nowhere.
Emerson's naked consciousness was drowning.
He was frantically treading a rising swell of churning water, an apocalyptic lightning storm gathering above the waters- lightning flashes so bright they seared his eyes; thunder booming so loudly the dark watery depths felt safer than the surface; rain poured in heavy sheets from the overcast, black clouds as though angels wept.
The water was freezing, yet warm- a combination that had him shivering one moment and boiling in his skin the next, and yet he couldn't feel the water.
A massive wave suddenly loomed overhead- a flash of blinding white light, the roar of thunder, dense droplets of rain pelting his face numb... the wave crashed over him.
He was submerged entirely- engulfed beneath the waves, spinning, tumbling, directionless. The icy hot water poured into his mouth, filled his lungs, got into his eyes, and blasted up his nose- simultaneously burning and freezing his brain. His limbs flailed around him as water pressure mercilessly bore down on him.
He tried screaming- but his mouth wouldn't move. He tried to see something- anything, but the salty water burned his eyes raw.
A flash of white!
Aurelia/Emerson stood atop crumbling stone battlements overlooking miles of green, windswept plains while the sweltering afternoon sun hung far above in the clear, blue sky.
The distant city of Csanád sat just below the horizon.
She/He turned to the sounds of exuberant shouting and pointing as fully armored men-at-arms ushered the disorganized, armed peasantry on horseback through the fortress gates. And amongst those on horseback was the uprising general himself, György Dózsa- an aged man with tanned skin, receding hairline, and a full, dark beard.
He issued additional commands to a small following of men-at-arms, who either nudged their horses and took off or smoothly dismounted and ran over to help some men and women reload their muskets. The general squinted against the sun as he looked up at the battlements- locking gazes with Aurelia/Emerson.
The bloody corpses of the fortresses' defenders littered the courtyard around him. He smiled.
The vision distorted around that smile- the stone walls warping, twisting- Rumble!
Emerson's head burst through the surface of the dark waters!
The sound of thunder boomed in his ears, and lightning forked across the 'sky,’ illuminating the interior of an endless bank of churning, roiling clouds. The rain beat down- trying to push him beneath the waves. He desperately paddled and kicked, trying to keep himself afloat as his body was burned and frozen; thrown and beaten against the waves, his mouth barely staying above the water level.
He felt like his head was about to explode- there was so much pressure and pain. He was confused, distraught, scared- so many emotions he couldn't understand!
A massive wave loomed. Emerson's consciousness soundlessly screamed, and then he was utterly submerged- engulfed beneath the waves, spinning, tumbling, directionless.
A flash of white!
Aurelia/Emerson was crouching just outside the entrance to a large canvas tent, the bodies of two guardsmen laid on their backs in the grass.
The night's crescent moon illuminated their horrified, wide-eyed expressions and shredded throats.
Aurelia/Emerson crept closer, grabbing the tent flap and opening it to reveal a warmly lit interior with all the trappings and amenities a hardened soldier required during arduous campaigns.
Mihai Viteazul sat at a small wooden table in the center of the tent, a quill pen in his right hand dancing across a rectangular, linen rag by dim candlelight as he dealt with the hundreds of minutia involved with organizing an army of tens of thousands.
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The tent flap made a noise.
Aurelia/Emerson instantly blurred inside, quickly hiding in the shadows behind the seated man.
The quill pen stopped as he looked up at the tent's entrance, his thick brows knitted together in a frown.
The slightly opened canvas covering gently flapped in the cool breeze.
Aurelia/Emerson silently emerged from the shadows, short sword raised- swish!
There was practically no resistance as the blade's sharpened edge, combined with her/his supernatural strength, cleanly passed through the man's neck. A second passed.
The severed head tumbled from his shoulders, grotesquely smacking onto the table as the body went limp in the chair, its chest leaning against the table's edge. Bright, ruby-red blood spurted across the table from a severed artery.
Aurelia/Emerson held up the blade, examining it with bloodthirsty glee before running her/his tongue across the metal, lapping up a small mouthful of warm, delicious blood.
Her/His eyes glanced at the thin candle, its small, orange flame flickering dangerously. She/He pinched the candle wick with pale, dainty fingers, snuffing out the flame.
The vision distorted around that singular moment as the tent plunged into darkness- Rumble!
Emerson's head burst through the surface of the dark waters!
Gagging and coughing, he spat water as he trod the water's surface. His movements were slower, weaker. And sooner than before, another shadow covered the seas.
A vast tidal wave rising so high that Emerson had to crane his neck to see its curved pinnacle. Its size was so beyond comprehension that the suction force at its base immediately yanked him beneath the dark, roaring waters before he even had a chance to register what was happening.
Spinning... tumbling... darkness... directionless.
A flash of white!
Emerson's consciousness clung to the edge of sanity as it was dragged beneath the waves again and again—dozens, hundreds of times. Each thunderclap and lightning flash marked the dreaded transition to another reality, another time, another place. The experiences were distinctly alien, confusing, uncontrollable.
His sense of self deteriorated under the strain of hundreds of other perspectives, days, and ages.
Flash!
She/He was a Transylvanian assassin in the Thirty Years' War—brutally mutilating, hunting, stalking, and torturing those under Gabriel Bethlen's command during his invasion of Hungary.
Flash!
She/He secretly advised the war efforts of the Wallachian general Matei Basarab against Moldavia—manipulating, murdering, and usurping in no specific order.
Flash!
She/He sabotaged the second war between Wallachia and Moldavia—cunningly maneuvering manpower and resources and disseminating incriminating information, leading to Gheorghe Ştefan's rise to the Moldavian throne.
Flash!
She/He viciously gutted, tortured, and mutilated hundreds of Ottomans during the Battle of Vienna and slaughtered entire churches of Roman Catholic Inquisition forces in Transylvania.
Flash!
She/He desperately fought against the Habsburg Empire's invasion of Wallachia—smoke rising over the horizon, fires raging across the land as endless waves of soldiers, horses, and artillery crews trampled crop fields and demolished farm homes.
Flash!
She/He quietly stalked the cobblestone streets of Russian-occupied Wallachian cities—feasting and experimenting on unsuspecting Russian soldiers.
Flash! Flash! Flash! Flash! Flash! Flash! Flash! Flash! Flash! Flash!
It was too much.
Emerson's consciousness strained to its breaking point. The pressure in his head reached such painful heights that the reprieve found in the memories became the antidote. Only, it was a lie. The antidote was the poison. Each flash of lightning and roar of thunder further tore at his mind.
It was like a sailor stranded at sea without fresh water, surrounded by water. Every refreshing, salty sip furthered one's descent into madness. Another relentless wave rose above him, lightning flashed, and thunder boomed.
Beneath the torrent of emotions and memories threatening to overwhelm him, beneath the indescribable pain coursing through his body, he knew. This was it. The final wave. He was going to die.
The knowledge of his impending death was oddly liberating. Soon, he would be free of this inescapable, torturous purgatory. He gazed placidly upon the rising wave, not even trying to paddle, yet somehow staying afloat.
But then, the dark water in front of him frothed and bubbled.
A head of soaking wet raven-black hair plastered around an unnaturally beautiful woman's face rose out of the water. Droplets of shining water clung to flawless skin that glistened under the moonlight. Eyes of deep obsidian shone nearly as bright as the slight smile stretching her small, red lips.
She rose until the nape of her neck and lithe shoulders were above the water.
The large swell of her breasts cresting above the murky water's surface just enough to reveal a maddeningly tantalizing sight. Then, before he could do anything, the woman effortlessly passed through the water separating them and raised her arms, draping them over his shoulders. Her soft, luscious breasts pushed up against his chest, their noses almost touching.
It was her...
He knew her...
She stared deeply into his eyes, then reached up to caress his face and let a cold finger gently trail down his cheek and over his lips- parting them.
She guided him close, arching her back and exposing her neck to him so he could nestle there, one of her hands moving up to gently hold the back of his head.
"It'll be okay," she coed, rubbing a hand through his hair as her other arm tightened around his upper back.
She was growing more intense and possessive with the weight and feeling of his large frame against her body.
The area around them was suddenly calm, the waves only lapping at their bodies.
The tumultuous, chaotic rumbling and booming of the lightning storm faded into the background until it was only white noise.
He absently watched over her soft shoulder as the massive wave loomed directly overhead. Only they remained still, two souls unaffected by the raging storm and violent currents.
The roar of the approaching wave crescendoed to a heart-stopping degree and- CRASH!
The pair was pulled beneath the dark, rumbling waves. Plummeting deeper, and deeper still, beneath the surface. The abyss grew darker around them.
The lightning storm's reflections against the water's surface grew distant... Ever so distant...
The woman pulled his face back from her neck and held him before her. Their prolonged, heated stares deepening.
Then, their lips met.
His hand roughly cradled the back of her head and brought her close as she moaned into his mouth, letting herself be pressed to his large chest.
And so they sank.
The frigid waters steaming with the feverish heat of their naked bodies, melded to each other’s curves as their tongues passionately fought for dominance.
Sinking.
Flash!
Sinking..
Flash!
Sinking...
Into the sea's cold, empty embrace.