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Little Thean and Sol were in the Sanguiris mansion, reading books to each other about the A thousand year slave wars. A memory that entertains the present Thean to glow her eyes orange. Sol wanted to read the history book to her as a bedtime story but Thean knew that history books as bedtime stories!? That called for a revolution and the girl suggested a book about a short story book collection of the Unyan valley. Telling Sol about the spirits that inhabit the valley and causing it to become so mysterious that a mist covers it.
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Sol had beautiful wide eyes, and her intrigue made Thean take the chance to open the book until Sol pressed her hand against Thean’s lips. Said, “No, that sounds boring.”
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“Your history books are more boring!” Thean argued, took a bite of an apple, “If we want bedtime stories, mother said that spirits are better! It calls them to look after your sleep”
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“That is hardly a truth though,” Sol debated, “Those…Nautrents” she tried to remember but at least she got the sound right, “Nautrens…they are not real.”
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“But they are, we even have a celebration for them called the Mægfæge” she smiled with a chin up in proudful standing, “That’s right the Mægfæge!”
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“That…is for oldies!”
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“Gah! Stop, don’t grab my hair,”
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“You do not have grey hair!”
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“What’s that got to do with Mægfæge?”
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Their argued rolling and playful tumbling shake the bookshelf. Pushing a book out from the highest rack and thud it hits the carpet. The girls did not notice at first but a howling wind blew the garlic windchimes from the window in and rattles in rolling towards the dark book. Sol intended to grab only the windchime and since the book also fell, she also wanted to place it back to the bookshelf. But—it is too high. “I am too short!” She complained and Thean laughed at her height.
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Thean who teased Sol for being short—eventually noticed the cursive title, “How about that book? Maybe we can read that?”
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Sol decided to give up on reaching for the highest rack and turned her attention down to the book she holds, “Count Mothers? It sounds scary though…”
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“That’s fine! Plus, it fell from the top rack! That just means a spirit wants us to read it!”
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“…ugh, I still do not believe you with the Nautrens but fine.” Sol made her way to the bed, so did Thean and both girls find themselves side to side. Thean reads the right-side pages while Sol reads the left. Words starting with, “These are some historic accounts of the Count Mothers throughout history. Oh wow, it Is a history book!”
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And Thean gave up at that, “Ugh, just read it”
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“The Count Mothers are pregnant women who are suspected to be bestial with creatures and monsters. They give birth to the monsters that haunt us now today…wait first of, what is bestial?”
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“I don’t even know what that means but go on”
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“Many of the Count Mothers are mortal, but some have been recorded throughout different eons leading us to this book. Accounts of Count Dramescula, Count Yralla, Count Ymalla, and Count Unyanna, written by Ober Avanhawk. Woah, the writer’s name sounds familiar.”
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“It sounds like our lord magister, Ober Vanderhawk. That is indeed woah.”
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“Your turn”
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“Right…” The memory fades, distinctly lining with the words present Thean murmurs, “Count Dramescula is the mother of all Sanguin. Her children are classified under Vampires, Albyles, volkins, and gargoyles. These classification holds to many types of her children—read more on my book ‘Children of Dramescula’” The darkness of the prison cell hiding her lips,
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“I tell you, there is something wrong with this princess!” Dramescula’s split says, “She is murmuring something and look at her!”
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Thean’s eye is glowing orange with an occasional flicker of orange.
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“You yourself being in the princess is already wrong”
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“At least I am showing you that something is wrong with this person! No, I do not even think she is a person.”
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“The problem here is you. And you’ve already killed many of my mates.” Growls Tywin whose fingers scratch the pale skin’s belly red, “You will pay for everything, Dramescula”
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As Tywin and the other mates approach Thean, Gordon hesitates, his instincts warning him to keep his distance. But curiosity gets the better of him, and he steps forward, his voice soft and concerned. "Princess, how are you doing?"
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Thean's response is a simple "Fine," but it comes as two voices speaking in unison, a discordant echo that sends chills down the spines of the Whiteblood Knights and even Dramescula herself. Gordon, undeterred, asks again, his hand reaching out to touch Thean's. "Are you sure you are okay, Princess?"
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The moment his fingers brush against her skin, Gordon stumbles back, his eyes wide with horror. The others crowd around him, their voices rising in concern. "What did you see, Gordon?" they demand, their faces pale and drawn.
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Gordon shakes his head, his voice trembling as he speaks. "The princess needs to rest. She should not be disturbed." But even as he says the words, he knows that something far more sinister lurks beneath the surface. His lips as tight and dry as a well without water.
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Thean's voice cuts through the tension, her words measured and calm. "I can answer the question Zera had earlier, about how Dramescula was able to transfer and possess me so quickly." She reaches up, brushing aside her hair to reveal delicately pointed ears. "I am a Heshape more specifically, an elf."
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The revelation hangs in the air, a moment of stunned silence before the implications sinks in. “An elf?” Zera repeats in disbelief, “P-Princess Thean you are na elf?”
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“That I am,” opening her palms as if laying them on surrender, “I apologize for not telling sooner. It was all a rush.”
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“But…” asking again to be sure, “Can you be trusted? Have your ‘sights’ been seen once or many atimes?”
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“Many atimes, so you need not worry. And,” softening her voice with a hint of sadness, "I'm telling you this because I don't want to add to Tywin's grief. He has suffered enough, in both the past and the future. And, no matter how many ways I try to see a different path, your presence being here, along with everyone in the white blood knights, end miserably so."
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Every mate is taken aback, listening to Thean talking about how one by one they would die.
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“You mean to say,” Tywin grits his teeth, his breath shaking but his eyes are as pinpointed as a dire wolf to its prey, “We should not have been here.”
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“…But it is your fate to be here…Being hunters of Dramescula.”
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“HAHAHAHA!” Laughs Dramescula’s split, “HILARIOUS, ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS! TO THINK YOU ALL CAME AGAIN TO YOUR GRAVES. How many times do I have to keep telling you lot that you cannot kill me. My defeat is merely your fantasies that is never real~”
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Dori stumbles back, catching everyone’s attention to her shaking legs. Hubert and Zera quickly rush to their youngest mate, trying to comfort her.
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Tywin’s own eyes bury itself to their sockets. A mix of grief and guilt in their glint and acid tears that he holds back."I've always been an unlucky man," he agrees gruffly and resigned.
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“And yet you always find a way to survive. You will not back down without a fight. You will not die without a rage. And you will not leave Dramescula until she is dead. Even in the Necropholis, I know that the Lady Goddess of strings will pull your fates to any path under your name and purpose. I simply hope that you all would be ready for it, and reminded about it.” Sharpening her gaze, "Tonightt—”
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“When—” his intruding words sulks his chin fully down, “S-sorry”
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“kukuku HE IS NERVOUS. MANY TIMES, HE IS NERVOUS BUT NOW IT IS REAL, YOU WILL DIE!”
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“Shut up” Thean says and the split’s mouth turns into an apple. Keeping it mumbling, “Please, do not fret. I know that telling one of their future burdens them with concern but, this is the only way for you all to remain together. Tonight,” declaring bluntly, “The white blood knights will all die valiantly like heroes. Feel Death’s scythe at their souls and hopefully, please hope yourself if you are a true white blood knight, that the lady Goddess of strings will help you. I am telling you as a friend, as a guide and as a high princess who is fond of your name. Take pride in it.”
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“…What do we have to do?” Tywin asks quietly,
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“Do what you always have been doing from the start. I can feel what Dramescula’s split possessing Sol is feeling. They're on the run."
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Dramescula's split on Thean's body begins to writhe and scream through her apple mouth, desperate to silence the princess. But to everyone's shock, Thean's muscles begin to move of their own accord, detaching the monstrous split from her body. The split shrieks in agony, its flesh shriveling and withering like a dried husk even as it begs for Thean to stop speaking.
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Thean's voice remains steady, her words precise and urgent. "Sol and the other Dramescula split are fleeing through a pipe behind the fort, one that leads out to the dome of mist. They are to feast on the hiding slaves and criminal communities, relinquish their Sanguin Mother’s strength. Tywin, Zera, Gordon, and Dori, you must go after them. Hubert can stay here with me."
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Dori once again cuts her own breath, clutching her head and muttering about the thought of dying. Being the youngest already is hard and has her teeth clicking madly. Her restless eyes being lost in the torture room and she wants to leave. She wants to run away. But then, a large hand rests on her shoulder, with another leading her tiny hand against a madly beating chest that is already seeing death. Tywin’s low and calm voice asks for her to raise her head. Taking a deep breath in and out. She does so with lingering fear. An expression of ‘what should I do’ that has Tywin’s lips purse back and wet themselves youthful.
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“Eyes on mine and take deep breaths.” He says before his silver irises tighten to that of a wolf in anger, feeling the girl shudder under his grip. “Dori Eizenwarht. Now tell me, what is your name?”
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A memory surges through Dori, pressuring her head against the leader’s as he sees a grey sky of the past. A kingdom burning. With a throne left unharmed by a pale, bald lady in a dark dress walking towards her with two monsters beside. The scene shifts to when the rubble burying her is parted by a younger Tywin. Whose scars on the face are bloodied fresh and silver eyes that are as bright as the Hemos moon. A hand offererd, A lost kingdom in ashes. Shown to be flooded with sanguine monsters and vampires. No one survived in the onslaught, only “Dori” She replies to her leader, baring with tearful anger and tightening her hand to a fist as they hold on to Tywin’s bearing, “Dori Eizenwarht, your only mate whose come, and wanted, and needed, to revenge.”
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And it is true, the rest of the mates have their own personal reasons but they all know that Dori’s reason is only for revenge. An evil one but it kept her alive in the rubble. They all remember in the rubble still as as a statue she was and already with a knife in hand, pointed at whoever comes to her. Her lips mouthing Dramescula, Dramescula, Dramescula, over and over again before Tywin took her in his arms. Letting himself get stabbed multiple times.
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“That is right and I never see myself taking her out with revenge. Only justice. And we have seen what she is, and fought against her children together. Being told of a certain future is easier to handle compared to facing death every single night, and every single day on the road.”
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“But…I will really die today…” her chin holding against tears,
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“You will, not just as Dori Eizenwarht, but as a White Blood Knight. Your fight with Dramescula is our fight as well. You will not die alone, you will not die feeling overwhelmed, and certainly, have faith in your mates, and to the future.”
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Zera turns to the high princess, saying that she is cruel for telling them their future.
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“My sin, but also your path for the Lady Goddess.”
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“How sure are you about the Lady Goddess helping us, even in Necroxia?” Gordon asks smartly,
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“I will not tell” Thean answers, “There must be some words withdrawn”
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“To keep us on the best possible future,” Zera fixes her hair to a pony tail, her red hair swaying eagerly, “What was the worst?”
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“You will all be turned with Tywin being kept immortally alive to feed the children with his blood and force copulate with the mother and presently living children. Creating hybrids that can withstand the great sun.”
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“Ugh…Princess,” Gordon sits on a chair, with Hubert massaging his back, “You did not have to tell us that”
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“Zera asked,”
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"Princess,” The leader stands, patting on Dori’s shoulder who is slowly gripping herself together, “We trust you"
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"And I trust you all too. You have contributed much for everyone in Kinguin and the Mægfæge. You must go. Stop Dramescula before it's too late."
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As the Whiteblood Knights prepare to depart, Thean's mind drifts back to a distant memory, a moment of innocence and joy shared with Sol in the Sanguiris mansion. She remembers the warmth of Sol's laughter, the playful tumble of their argument, and the mysterious book that fell from the highest shelf, a tome that spoke of the Count Mothers and the monsters they birthed.
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The memory fades, replaced by the cold reality of the present. Thean's eye glows a fierce orange, a flickering light in the darkness of the prison cell. She murmurs the words she once read, her voice a haunting whisper. "Count Dramescula is the mother of all Sanguin. Fifth most vile of the Count Mothers.” Sighing, “Truly a problematic world to live in"
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As the Whiteblood Knights vanish into the night, their footsteps echoing through the twisting corridors of the fort, Thean is left alone with her thoughts and the shriveled remains of Dramescula's split. She knows that the battle ahead will be hard-fought and bloody, but she also knows that they have no choice. For the sake of Kinguin, for the sake of all those she holds dear, Dramescula must be stopped.
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“Uhm, so can you fix yourself?” Asks Hubert who feels forgotten and freaked out by a well-recognized high princess being half a body,
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“If you can get me another half of a body that resemble my figure, Better.”
