Vampyre Lore

The Darker Side of the Abyss

Dracula's Account

Moonlight trickled in through the stonework of the window, forming strange patterns on the thick carpet and providing the sole light in the darkened chamber to which I returned. It was not the largest suite in the castle, nor was it intended to accommodate the proprietor. With its grand casement facing the vast expanse, the room was isolated from the other chambers, suiting my purpose and gratifying my exertions. I could conduct my affairs without disturbing the repose of my young guest upstairs. Her words had confounded me, but I would not review them until I was again in my own room.

Perplexity had been stirred, equaled only by an escalating revelation. My guest, who so adamantly rejected conventions of society, was still very much entrenched in its precincts. The relieved expression that crossed her face briefly as I spoke of the church confirmed that she had felt its restrictive talons immobilize her endeavors, as I had once been immobilized. She was exceptionally focused, intent on her purpose, but for all her fortitude, she was not certain how to reach what had so long been denied. Under her firm resolve there was candid potential, for her precocious nature led to natural inquisitiveness and a desire for explanations. It thrilled me to think of what I could do with the allotted time, at once short and sufficient. Things forgotten, worlds unshared, depths unexplored�I saw so clearly what could be achieved, despite the remonstrates of fate and centuries of seclusion. Anything beyond the subtlest guidance would cause my vision to flee abruptly, for in her delicate features I read an indomitable zeal. Vigilance was drawn about her like an imposing veil, yet she was beautiful. Youthful and graceful without pretense, her visage was shadowed with reluctance as she sipped her tea, unwilling to contradict what she knew in her heart to be true.

Another consciousness outweighed my musings as I approached the window. The night, rich in its propensities, beckoned persuasively. Opening the pane, I began the descent down the stony walls, where the abyss waited in silent promise. The snowfall had ceased, and most of the villagers were prudently indoors, but there were always those whose wills were easily swayed. Theirs was a sacrificial existence, quickly encompassed by an influence beyond mortal ability to assuage. Of course the initial reaction to my winged silhouette descending among them was a panic; screams were the natural response to my presence among their multitude. But once my victim had been singled out, their terror silenced by the sheer force of my will, resistance dissolved into compliance. Mortal dread may freeze their faculties but not their veins; the flow of vivacity pulsating within them responds to my lips on their throat, releasing a torrent of life that I claim as my own, savoring the pouring flood and tasting the energies that rush through me.

Each morning after this nightly ritual bears hardly any testimony to the transaction. The peasants go on with their menial tasks, of which the most important is never to discuss their fears. No explanation is given for the disappearance of their neighbor, not even when the lifeless body is discovered later. The sun that rises discloses no information. The only visible proof is the sight that none have witnessed. When I re-enter the castle before dawn, returning to my sanctum for my rest, the life drained away from the hapless victim is not lost�it remains. It remains to animate one whom neither heaven nor death could quench, and whose heart does not beat.

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