The Passing of the Light

Kelantha's Diary

Visions of occurrences in those final hours came to me in a whirlwind of color and sound, stemming from the scarlet on my fingertips and the screams of the villagers as the wolves set upon them from the darkness, gliding forth like black velvet ribbons on a gown of radiant moonlight. Passing among them, I�d known hatred for the first time, not that spoke of in dorms and passing glances, but true loathing of evil. Resentment beyond mankind, born of the most ancient form of good. I knew then that I was forever separated from any form of light beyond the end of a taper held to a candle, a sober beckoning from a world of endless damnation. Divided from Heaven until the ending of time itself, when demons would be cast forth into hell. He had created in me something terrible, an unforgivable force to ever lurk in darkness and abhor the sunrise.

The blood that brought a warm flush to my pale skin had drained the life from another, whose hands had relinquished all as I brought to him everlasting rest. It both fascinated and repulsed me. I stared at my hand, licking my lips and feeling sharp prongs that receded as the impulse subsided. My eyes lifted to the count�s face and in them burned a deep, vibrant shade of gold-flecked purple, wrath of which none had ever known. The alteration in my aspect must have given the count grievous concerns, for his hand stretched out toward me. I pulled back from it, loathing issuing from my lithe movement, like a cat in the shadows fleeing its master�s embrace. The Thing who had created Life in me, who transformed me into a Creature whose eternity was now mine to grasp, repulsed me. The Life of a soul touched neither by death nor light, but forever condemned to survive through the damnation of others. Surely it was not too late. I was not bound to this terrible, ungodly fate.

�What have you made me?� I asked through unshed tears, my fingertips still glistening with blood. I backed away from him, my gown rustling against the floorboards. He kept constant eye contact, never allowing me to look away, moving forward as if he glided rather than stepped.

�Kelantha,� he said; but I did not heed his voice. I felt behind me, straining for any weapon, any means of protection. The harm was already done, the action irreversible, but in my breast, in place of a heart, beat furious indignation. How dare he make me unto his image, a blasphemous alteration of Truth? �You called unto me, and I responded. It is what you wanted, what you have wanted from the beginning of time. When your lungs filled the first time, you were destined to come unto me, to be my Bride. Think what we can accomplish together. The world is at our mercy, and we answer to none. Eternity is at your fingertips, beyond the Church and all of God�s angels. It is ours, my darling, to partake of as we choose.�

His words were enticing and I felt myself giving into them as reluctantly as I fought. My hand fell on the latch of the wardrobe, clambering for the lock. It twisted and I nearly fell in among the gowns, turning my back on him. I felt him approach as I plunged my hand into the valise concealed beneath. The instant my hand closed around it, I felt as though the world was incinerated. Scorching flames enveloped my skin, originating from the very core of my being. I heard myself screaming, felt him tear me away from the object I clung to, the one thing I�d prayed would end this madness; but it had turned on me, the Thing I now was. The Church and its ornaments were no longer of value to me.

Dracula threw me to the floor and gripping my wrist, tore the crucifix from my hand. It spiraled through the stained glass window, shattering the golden and scarlet panels in a shower of sparks. I lay convulsing, though no breath passed through my lungs, deterioration networking up my slender arms. With the removal of the cross, it began to subside. �Kelantha,� he said, smoothing back the hair from my face, �you silly, stupid girl, did you not know religion is behind you evermore?�

He held me in his arms, cradling me against his breast, and I returned to consciousness. Both loathing and adoration flooded through my being, for I knew with certain sorrow that I was alone. There was no haven on earth that could conceal me, no alcove in which I could hide, nothing beyond this fatal clinging. Blood flowed through my veins, warm and soothing, but was my condemnation, and my sin. Only he knew complete understanding. We were bound together, he and I, in a bond of kinship and hatred, for I abhorred what he�d transformed me into as much as I�d loved the promise of eternity offered.

I gazed into his eyes and demanded, �What are you, Count? From when did you come?�

He smiled. �There will be time,� he reassured me, �time enough for such tales. You are tired, and the morning comes like a vapor in the east.� He held out his hand to me, beckoning. I was drawn to it but resisted, instead sliding my hands up his sleeves to grip his lapels. Drawing him to me, I said coyly, fiercely, �You will tell me�tomorrow!�

I knew he was not accustomed to being ordered into compliance, but nor was he displeased with my demand. There was the same pleasure a parent has for a child�s achievement in his eyes as he smoothed back my dark locks and promised, �Tomorrow. For now, come�� He indicated the coffin and I entered it. With a soft rumble the lid closed, sheltering in pitch-blackness. I nestled against his chest and slept, in such a deep and fulfilling slumber that mankind has never known. I did not dream, for such visions are not the gift of vampires, but ever-present was the count. Dracula, of the lore of legend, and I his bride. 

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