The Vampyre Bride

Kelantha's Diary

 

This utter darkness was like none before experienced, transfixed in the recesses of my mind as I battled between the threshold of death and immortality. In the coma of my obscurity, a war was waged between reasoning and desire, fierceness never before experienced in the tremor of my mind. All had faded from knowledge, plunging me into complete and utter submission to forces over which I held no control. I plaintively attempted to tame them, but they were wild and as bitterly cold as the wind. Whether my form moved in that endless swirling darkness or remained as silent as the grave against the pillows, I was ensnared in a grip stronger than my own. It was not of any mortal man�s power or even that of the gods, for I was divided from light as a child is torn from his mother�s breast. At first it was all around me, absorbing the weakness of my thoughts with consuming power, but constantly grew fainter, and strangely I had no compulsion to reach out for it.

 

I knew that I lay dying without the will to perish, and in me sparked an enduring flame of perseverance. Had the count known my will to fight, he might not have sat in endless wait, for I clung stubbornly to mortality until the coming of light. It crept across the floor in a jaded pattern, making me vaguely aware of my surroundings; it was as if I dwelled in a secondary parallel, present in the world but not of it, strangely withdrawn from normality. When the dawn came, the draperies were drawn violently closed and he resumed his ritual of observation. In those hours my lids fluttered, fixed constantly on the constellations above. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to breathe and when night came, I drew my last shuddering breath. Mortality slipped from my fragile form as easily as a glass ornament was shattered; but strangely I did not abandon this world for another but remained within it.

 

While the shadows grew long and I lay dead on the silken coverlet, my skin turned to pallor and hair vibrant against the pillows, the count ritually lit the candles until they surrounded me in an ethereal glow. He opened the windows and allowed the breath of his first mistress to permeate the room, awakening my soul from its deep slumber. My flesh no longer was waxen with frost, the hue of death, but slowly warmed until it embraced a pale but rosy countenance. Lips I�d never touched with color became as scarlet as the blood that had pulsed through my veins into his, and my eyes when they were open were of the deepest black. My mortal beauty was nothing akin to the sensuous attraction I now possessed, but was unknown in the moments prior to my awakening.

 

I was unaware of the practice observed while I perished, only of the touch of his hand as it drew up mine, slid an ornament onto my finger, and touched his lips to mine. It was that which awakened me, the bitter cold of his mouth against mine, a kiss I hungered for and drove me forth from madness into existence. The life I had lead was but a vague memory as my hand entwined in his dark hair and I gazed into his bottomless, ever-changing eyes. I did not understand but felt comforted by the deepening pride and pleasure in his aspect. �Born from light,� said he, �and now entering the wonders of darkness. Fair Kelantha, you shall be my bride.�

   

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