52Hi guys! I've always been fascinated by the idea of the Lord of the Shadows, so I decided to do a story about him. What would have happened if Darren's nightmares became reality? What if he really became the Ruler of the Crimson Night, The Lord of the Shadows?
Rated T for violence and language
Disclaimer: I disclaim. This disclaimer is for the whole story, because I think it would be superfluous to put it in all of my chapters.
Enjoy!
The Dusk of the Crimson Night
Chapter One:
"Death Changes the Living"
I put my trust in the gods of the vampires and thrust my knife forward. I brought it around and down in a savage arc, and by the luck or fate drove it into the center of Steve's chest –clean through his shriveled forgery of a heart!
Steve's eyes and mouth popped wide with shock. His expression was comical, but I was in no mood to laugh. There was no recovery from a strike like that. Steve was finished. But he could take me with him if I wasn't careful. I pulled his knife out of his right hand and threw it to the ground, where it rolled gently.
Steve's gaze slid to the handle of the knife sticking out of his chest. "Oh," he said tonelessly. Then blood trickled from the sides of his mouth. His chest heaved up and down, the handle rising and falling with it. Oh, how I longed to pull that knife out. My hand itched with the urge to shorten his life further. I obeyed the urge, despite the fact that I was giving him an open window to attack, and grasped the slippery handle and yanked. I winced when his life blood began pouring from his chest freely.
He was too shocked to use his –now free– hand to attack me. He simply sputtered and then choked on the blood caught in his throat. I pinned his hand down again and looked into his eyes. Hurt, betrayal, and hatred stared back at me. I watched as the light drained from his eyes, and at the last moment, a spark of something appeared in his eyes. Regret. He spent his last seconds staring into my eyes, remembering our childhood as his life passed in front of his.
I stood up once I was sure Steve was dead. I turned to walk away from this cruel place, but the sound of applause stopped me. I turned back around and faced Mr. Tiny. Fat red tears of joy streamed behind his glasses, dripping down his cheeks.
"What valor!" he boomed proudly. "What a never-say-die spirit! My money was always on you, Darren. It could have gone either way, but if I was a betting man, I'd have bet big on you. I said as much beforehand, didn't I, Evanna?"
"Yes, father," Evanna said quietly. Her lips moved silently, but even though she muttered no sounds, I was able to make out what she said. "To the victor, the spoils."
"Come, Darren," Mr. Tiny said. "We must tend to your wounds. They're not immediately life-threatening, but you should have a doctor see them. Your friends in the stadium are almost done with their foes. They can take you to the hospital."
I nodded absentmindedly and trudged my way back into the stadium. I passed Vancha on my way in, but I wouldn't have been able to carry him in my state –and he was probably safer there anyways. The fighting stopped when I walked into the room.
"The Lord of the Vampaneze is dead," I announced. "For those who are on his side; I give you the chance to flee. If you are still here in fifteen minutes, we will slaughter you."
A few of the vampaneze's eyes narrowed. The choice I presented to them now was very similar to the one they gave me two years ago. Most vampaneze only stayed active in the war because their doom was predicted if they did not obey their Lord, so they had no qualms with leaving. Nearly all the purple skinned creatures of the night cleared out immediately. The ones who remained were those who were, either close to Steve or too injured to move. Most of the vampets (the few that were still alive) remained. They wanted power. They were not noble beings of self-sacrifice, who stayed to stand up for their clan. And they disgusted me.
"Last chance!" I bellowed at them.
None moved.
"Harkat!" I shouted to the little person, who was eying the vampets warily.
"Yes… Darren?" he asked in reply.
"Get rid of that mess for me."
I was in the hospital. I had told the nurses that I had been mugged and stabbed, explaining my injuries. They had passed my wounds off as (most likely) the work of the same group that killed Tommy Jones. They didn't know how right they were…
My wounds had been stitched up –all of my organs were thankfully intact. I was sipping on a cup of tea when I remembered –the purge! I had passed out as soon as the nurses had left the room, so I had a full day's rest after the fight. I looked down at myself. I didn't feel any different. Maybe that was because I was recovering from life-threatening wounds. At least I didn't feel like my head was going to explode. But that could be because it was silent in the room. And the only light in the room came from the buttons on my headboard. I twisted my head to the side, slowly so I wouldn't put pressure on my stitches, and glanced at the small panic button.
By the Black Blood of Hanon Oan, that was bright! I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my head back around. I was definitely a full vampire. Mr. Crepsley had explained that my eyes would be sensitive for my first few decades as a full vampire, but I hadn't thought it would be this bad!
I briefly wondered who had survived the battle. I wondered if Debbie was still alive. Sure she was tough, but she was only human…
My thoughts were interrupted by the hospital door swinging open. Harkat, Vancha, and Debbie, filed in the room. How dare they interrupt my thoughts? a voice whispered in the back of my head. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the voice, but a small echo of it still remained.
"Darren!… You're awake!" Harkat exclaimed.
"Not so loud," I said, flinching. "My ears are still sensitive."
"So you're still in the purge?" Vancha boomed, ignoring my demands.
"No," I winced, rubbing my ears. "But I'm not used to my ears being so sensitive yet."
"Well," he said, just as loudly as before. "The best way to get over that is to force yourself to endure large quantities of sight, smell, and sound. Trust me," he winked, "I know from personal experience."
My anger sparked up a notch. I told him to be quiet. Why was he ignoring me? Because, a quiet voice argued back, He is trying to help you. He knows more about this than you do. Listen to him until you find your bearings again.
"So," Debbie whispered, being kind. "You're a full vampire now?"
"Yeah," I said. "I guess so. No more running around during the day for me…"
"How are… your wounds doing?" Harkat asked, switching the topic.
"To be frank with you, I'm a little afraid of what I'll find," I joked.
"Let's see those stitches," Vancha smirked.
He pulled down my bed sheet and began unraveling my bandages, which were crusted with dried blood, to reveal… completely healed wounds.
"Huh," I said, shocked. "Must be because of the purge…"
"That is a bit strange," Vancha commented thoughtfully. "But maybe your wounds just weren't as bad as you thought."
"Maybe…"
I was doubtful that either explanation was right. I was the Lord of the Shadows now. With that title came special abilities. Like speaking to dragons… It made sense in a way. If people were going to try and kill me, I'd have to have some form of defense.
"I guess that means you're free to go," Vancha said cheerfully. "We can take those stitches out at the Cirque."
I stood up and stretched, feeling some energy returning to my muscles. I was further relieved when I felt only a vague soreness in my muscles. We returned to the Cirque, where Truska removed my stitches. I was still a little tired from my ordeal, and I assumed that most of my energy had been spent repairing my damaged muscles, so I decided to turn in early. I retired to my hammock, escaping the depressed air around camp. Before I fell asleep, I counted the number of people who I had lost in the past few days.
Alexander Ribs… Gertha Teeth… Shancus… Mr. Tall... Countless more Cirque memebers… Steve…
I fell into an uneasy sleep, reliving the death of each person in my mind until…
I was soaring, high in a red night sky, just below the clouds. Below me, chaos reigned. I watched happily as a vivid green dragon set another building alight. Glass shattered and metal buckled as heat worked its way through the building. Screams could be heard from the top floors, where the fire had not yet reached. Several humans ran from the building, only to be impaled by flying debris. There was laughter from below me. I glanced down at a dragon, who was coloring was like dried blood. He saw my glance and flashed a toothless smile, baring sharp gums at me. It took me a moment to realize that I was laughing too. As if the demented scene below me amused me somehow…
Dun dun dun! *dramatic music commences*
Well guys, there's my very short introduction. But don't worry! As the story progresses, the chapters should become significantly longer. Unlike my other stories, this one is dark -unless you have a sadistic sense of humor… Hope you liked it!