Reverto ex Abyssus Prologue

The castle was as dark and forbidding as it had always been, only now, now it was empty. All that remained of it’s previous inhabitant was a pile of chard bones lying askew on the floor of the shattered lab high in one of it’s two towers. Three had months had passed in the quiet hamlet nestled near the hidden fortress. Three months since the terror that had plagued them for four centuries had been vanquished by Van Helsing. However, they had paid a terrible price for the peace they now enjoyed. Their princess, Anna Valerious, had died in the final battle. Van Helsing had carried her through town at dawn, his little friar tagging along behind with tears streaking his pale face. A crowd had gathered in the center of town to see the pair off and give a final salute to their fallen leader.

Then the town had moved on, believing that Anna, and all her family, had entered heaven and were now happy. They had elected a new leader, a rather gangly, balding man by the name of Edgar. He was a good leader, fair, honest, and ready to take on most challenges. The town prospered while he lead them, forgetting in short order the terror that had once gripped their hearts. They even ventured into Valerious Manor, made it into a shrine for the family that had given up its existence to ensure the safety of the people. The gypsy kings. It was a scared place and people were only allowed in certain rooms. The weapons room, for certain, was off-limits to all. That’s probably why the young gypsy child, Michael, was dared to go into the room. It was his incitation into the gang of children that ran rampant in the village. So, late one snowy October evening, he ventured forth across the river and snuck into the old house.

He was a strapping young boy of about 15, with stringy brown hair that fell just past his shoulder and piercing blue eyes. He also claimed to be fearless. So it was with little worry that he climbed in through a shattered window, into the armory where the entrance to Dracula’s hidden fortress was said the be. His task was to stay the night in the armory and see if the story was true. He pulled his little lantern inside with him and looked about. The entire room was coated in a layer of fresh dust, the weapons of all sorts, lined the walls and floors in cases of varying kinds.

Michael picked up one of the maces and swung it around in his hands, as if he was testing the weight. He really had no idea how to handle a mace, but he was an adventurous young boy in a room full of weapons and no adult in sight. Bad things were bound to happen. He began swinging the mace in earnest, fighting some imaginary foe as he danced backwards, and now forwards, along the hall in his mock battle. Then he stumbled, and lost grip on the mace. It flew backwards, sailing towards a mirror that lined one part of the armory. He gaped in shock expecting to hear the loud crash of glass breaking, but instead the mace connected with the mirror and traveled straight through. Michael stared, bug-eyed at the mirror, with a mute fear, and unbridled curiosity.

He stepped towards the mirror, clutching his lantern with one hand, and reaching the other one out to touch the surface. A shiver ran through him as his hand came in contact with, then passed through, the surface of the mirror. He pushed through, closing his eyes, feeling a brief freezing sensation, then he felt snow on his face. He opened his eyes and found himself staring up at the imposing structure of a castle built into the side, or maybe from, the peak of a mountain. Skeleton’s lined the walkway leading to the castle, hanging suspended from strange poles. The entire place reeked of death and decay, but when Michael turned to flee, he found the strange portal he had entered through to be utterly solid.

He gulped as he turned to face the castle, the only way out had to be through there. He started forward, grabbing up the mace as he did, and made his way to the steps of the castle. The gigantic wooden door loomed over him as he stopped, reached a shaky hand out, and pushed. Surprisingly, the door swung open with ease, Michael swallowed nervously as he stepped into the large foyer area. There was a row of gigantic torch-like devices in the center and at the far end of the gigantic cavern were two sets of stairs. Michael started in that direction, pulled as if by an unknown force. He made his way up the long spiraling staircase into the top of one of the two spires he had seen from outside.

The room at the top of this tower was in shambles, the shattered remains of all sorts of scientific equipment was scattered about. Michael stepped quickly into this room looking around for something he knew should be there although he didn’t know how. He found it near the broken remains of a once beautiful couch. A chard skeleton. He stopped near the couch as he spotted the skeleton, a quiet awe filling him. This was what he had been searching for. This was why he had come to the tower. This was his sole purpose for being here. He knew instantly what the remains were of, they were all that was left of Dracula. The once fearsome vampire that had lorded over Transylvania for over 400 years.

The young boy moved towards the skeleton slowly, as if his body was resisting. Which it was, it knew better to be in a place of such evil where the mind was easily overthrown. But the body could not win over the mind and in the end, he dropped to his knees near the bones. Gingerly, he reached out a hand and picked up the skull, half expecting it to crumble away to dust in his hand. It was solid, firm, and Michael found himself fascinated with it. He turned it over in his hands, gently, toying with the idea of bringing it back to show his friends. One of the long canines cut the palm his hand and he dropped the skull with a yelp of surprise. It skittered across the floor until it hit the raised dais where the couch was before dropping down to stare at the boy. Michael clutched his injured appendage sucking it at the bloody cut the tooth had caused.

‘I need blood…’ The thought came unbidden to the boys mind, and he whipped his head around in fear. It wasn’t he who said that, where did the voice come from. ‘Bring me blood…’

Michael slowly turned to stare at the skull, into the eye sockets which seemed to bored down into his very soul. He stared at the skull for a long while, the blood draining from his face as a cruel, wicked smile crept across his youthful face. He stood and made his way out of the room quickly. He needed to get blood for his master. A certain type of blood, the blood of one who had been present in the castle at the time of Dracula’s death. Yes, he needed blood, but first, he would bring his friends to look at the skull. Then they would all go to Rome.

~ Five Months Later~

Carl fell backwards into the waiting bed with a long suffering sigh. There was a slight twinge of pain at the movement that he decided to ignore. It had been eight months since Dracula’s defeat, five months since he and Van Helsing had had that little chat, four months since he was injured, and little more than a month since he was declared fully recovered. Even now, when the wound was little more than a fading scar, he felt slight pain at doing certain movements. Apparently falling was one of them, but he couldn’t worry about that now, he had more important things to deal with.

For instance, some time during his coma he had received a letter from that barmaid he had met in Transylvania, one he only just recently got around to opening. In it she told him of what had been happening since he and Van Helsing had left, including the appearance of a gypsy cult. They had arrived about a month after Dracula‘s defeat and had been quiet for awhile. Then several visitors to the town disappeared. Their bodies were found days later drained of all blood from wounds in their arms.

It was strange indeed, and somehow Carl felt he should know what the signs meant. He had spent the last four days in the library researching anything he could on rituals that required human blood sacrifices and, so far, had come up empty. Yet there was a gnawing at the edge of his senses, he needed to find out what it meant, it was important. He knew the answer lay somewhere in the gigantic stacks of the library, he just didn’t know exactly where. To help in his search he had grabbed several ancient books and took them to his rooms for study.

“Guess it’s time to get on with this search.” He sighed getting off his bed and dodging around stacks of books as he moved to his cluttered desk. He set himself down for several hours of boring study.

"Ooooh…what's this?" Carl muttered to himself as he pored over one of the many books that littered his cell. It was just getting dark outside and his candle was almost to the end of it's life, he would need to getting a new one soon. There was a scraping sound outside and Carl turned from the book he had been studying to look at the door of his cell. What was that? It was dinner time, most of the other friars in the friary would be in the cafeteria, maybe it was just his imagination. The blonde turned back to the book scanning for his lost place.

"Yes…this is interesting…very interesting…" He nodded to himself as he moved that book off to one side of his small desk so he could cross-reference the text with another. "If I could just confirm this one way or another…"

He pulled one of the ancient tomes from off the floor and laid it out on the desk. He flipped rapidly through the pages until he found what he was looking for. His face lit up as he read what was inscribed on the page. “Of course! I’ve got it now!” Then his face darkened as he comprehended what the pages meant. “Oh no…I must warn Van Helsing!”

He leapt out of his seat and turned to the door ready to find Van Helsing and tell him his news only to bounce off the chest of something tall and dark that managed to sneak into his room. He shrieked, backing up quickly until his legs hit his chair sending it and himself tumbling backwards. He collided into the desk knocking his candle to the ground as he himself hit the wall, still screaming.

The dark figure approached him slowly the friar cringed fumbling with the cross within his robes. “St-stay back foul demon!”

“Is that anyway to greet a friend Carl?” Van Helsing replied picking up the dying candle and casting a dull glow across his features. Carl stared at him for several seconds before remembering to breathe.

“Oh…Van Helsing!” He gasped finally, attempting to regain some of his composure. “You should know better than to sneak up on people.”

“Should I?” Van Helsing smirked, easily avoiding the half-hearted smack thrown his way by the irritated friar as he put the candle back on the desk. “Relax Carl, I just came by to see how you were doing, you haven’t been in your lab all day.”

“Well of course not!” Carl replied testily pushing himself to his feet. “I’ve been researching something extremely important.”

“And what’s that?” Van Helsing leaned against the desk raising a brow inquisitively.

“Well…I’ve received several interesting reports out of Transylvania…” He noticed Van Helsing tense at the name and cringed inwardly. “It seems there’s been several murders there recently, with the victims all completely drained of their blood.”

Van Helsing pushed away from the desk his eyes intense as he watched Carl fidget. “Vampires?”

“No…not yet anyway.” Carl answered turning away from the hunter. “It seems to be a gypsy cult that’s responsible for the deaths. So far the death toll is only 27.”

“Only 27?” Van Helsing asked turning to study the book Carl had left open on the desk. “You expect more?”

“Yes. Yes I do.” Carl nodded motioning to the countless books littering the room. “According to several of these books, there is a way to resurrect the dead.”

“What?!” Van Helsing cried turning to give the blonde an incredulous look. “Bring back the dead?”

Carl winced knowing what the taller man was thinking. “Let me rephrase that, it’s a spell of resurrection. It’s like what a necromancer does.”

“A necromancer?” Van Helsing frowned scratching his chin. “So you mean, they’re raised as a zombie?”

“Unless they were dead when they died.” Carl replied quietly, avoiding looking at the older man, he felt Van Helsing’s gaze on him and continued. “There was a prophecy based on the ritual…”

“Well, what is it?” Van Helsing demanded when Carl trailed off and began shuffling through the papers on his desk.

“Ah..here it is.” Carl triumphantly held up a sheet of paper before reading. “Et eum, quae eram prognatus in mors mortis, mos iterum orior. Cruorem insons insontis mos tribuo eum aedificium edificium. Cruorem virgo mos tribuo eum forma. Cruorem incorruptus quae testis eum nex mos tribuo eum aevum…” He took a breath before translating it to English. “And he, who was born in death, shall rise again. The blood of the innocent shall give him structure. The blood of the virgins shall give him form. The blood of the untainted who witnessed his death shall give him life.”

“So what does it mean?” Van Helsing asked crossing his arms.

“I-I’m not sure what the last line of the prophecy means but the first one seems to be a reference to Dracula. The middle two, as I said, indicate the Blood Ritual.” Carl explained bracing himself for the outburst he knew was to come.

“Dracula?!” Van Helsing shouted the anger in his voice unmistakable. “I thought you said he was dead!”

“He is dead.” Carl replied, he thought it was obvious. “It’s just that the Blood Ritual that the ancient gypsy manuscript refers to can raise a person from the dead to a state of undead.”

“So you’re saying he can be brought back?” Van Helsing’s voice was a low growl, Carl nodded. “What do these gypsies need to complete this ritual?”

“Ummm…” Carl shuffled through some more papers. “According to the manuscript they need the blood of 66 people. 52 innocent people. 13 virgins. And the untainted who witnessed the death. I’m not sure who that would be though.”

Van Helsing was silent for a several minutes, obviously deep in thought, his hat pulled over his eyes. Carl moved over to the bed, sat down and waited. Van Helsing would talk to him when he was ready, until then, well it was his room.

“It’s me.” When the brunet finally answered it was so quiet that Carl wasn’t sure he actually heard it.

“What?”

“It’s me. I’m the one who was there when he died.” Van Helsing explained readjusting his hat so as to look at the friar better. “It’s my blood they need. Gets your bags packed Carl, we’ve got to stop this ritual from taking place.”

He left the room so fast that Carl didn’t have a chance to argue. He followed the hunter out into the hallway shouting after him. “But Van Helsing, I’ve told you at least a hundred times! I’m not a field man! Van Helsing?! Van Helsing!”