Human

1476

 

Dracula is dead. It is over.

 

The story has begun.

 

The sun was rising over the horizon, pale yellow painting itself across the once pitch black skies. The horrible night had come to an end.

 

Alucard shielded the light from his squinting eyes, as though seeing it for the first time. It was beautiful, and overwhelming.

 

The tightly-knit group of four- Alucard, Trevor C. Belmont, Sypha Belnades, and Grant Danasty- huddled there on the edge of the cliff in stunned silence.

 

Trevor was the first to speak.

 

“What will we do now?”

 

He seemed to be shaking, clutching a wound on his chest that the demon lord had dealt him, though it wasn’t the only one. He had gained a deep cut over his left eye as well, and it would surely scar, no matter what efforts Sypha took at healing it.

 

The visions they had seen in that accursed castle would make any man’s blood run cold, and Trevor had come face to face with Dracula himself. Though his companions had assisted in the fight, it was Trevor who had to face that devil head-on. Dracula’s evil energy could cause horrible visions in those who dared approach him, and while Trevor had withstood them stalwartly, he seemed obviously shaken by whatever he had seen.

 

“My village was left in ruins. We need to... we need to rebuild.” Grant spoke, slowly and with a mournful tone. “There are people in Wallachia who still need us. They need heroes, and hope.”

 

Alucard wished he could call himself a hero without terror clouding his mind. What hero was born to a vampire? What hero was constantly trying to sheathe his fangs, eyes brought to pained tears by sunlight?

 

Sypha clutched his hand, as though sensing his thoughts, and that was worrisome.

 

“Your village is not far, is it?” Trevor asked Grant, his voice gentle.

 

“It is not. Jova is just across the woods, though there is little that remains.” He pointed to the west. “We shall arrive within a day’s journey.”

 

“And they shall welcome us...?” Sypha’s eyes shone with worry, and it was certainly a justified one. Their party of travellers were all outcasts. A thief who was once a monster, a warrior from a banished family, a witch, and a vicious, terrifying vampire.

 

Not exactly how society would imagine a group of celebrated heroes.

 

“Of course they’ll welcome us.” Trevor insisted. “We have fought Dracula and emerged from the ruins victorious. We shall be hailed as champions.”

 

“The village knows me, and they trust me. Friends of mine are theirs as well.” Grant explained. “It shall be a safe place.”

 

“I’m not sure if Trevor can travel in that state.” Alucard pointed out.

 

“I’m quite alright,” he brushed some blood off of his hand, seemingly unconcerned. “We cannot stay here forever.”

 

“Trevor, please.” Sypha frowned, brushing away her long golden bangs from her eyes. “Please let me apply a remedy to the cut...?”

 

Trevor acquiesced, and removed his heavily bloodstained tunic. Sypha pulled a vial of blue liquid from her satchel, a healing salve. Trevor cringed as Sypha applied it to the wound; it clearly stung a bit, but the wound was clearly bleeding much less as the potion took its effect. Sypha seemed relieved. Trevor took a moment to let the substance close the gash. Potions held almost miraculous magic in their vials, and Alucard wondered how mortal men were not taken aback with wonder at the power they had.

 

The wound had been sealed, as though it had never been there at all. Trevor moved to redress himself, but looking at the state of his tunic, torn to near tatters by the vampire lord and covered with drying blood, he decided against it.

 

The Belmont then descended from the cliff where he stood, pointing towards a path through the forest. “Come with me, friends. I have stayed in that town before, we shall arrive before sunset if we are quick.”

 

Sunset... Alucard never wanted to part with the sun’s light again. He spent a moment looking up at it in wonder, then turned to follow.

 

~

 

Trevor was right. The evening had just set in when they walked into the charred ruins of Jova, what once was surely a welcoming home. Grant, Sypha and Trevor had talked hurriedly together on the way, but Alucard had remained mostly silent. Thinking, thinking.

 

An older woman was the first to welcome them. “Have you heard the news of what happened last night?! Some are saying the Dark Lord is dead! Even the castle is gone.” The woman was filled with ecstatic awe. “Fallen into dust!”

 

“Yes, we’ve heard... mother.” Grant winked. His voice had a playful affect, as though he could hardly restrain himself from revealing the news: that they were the ones victorious.

 

"Grant! Oh, Grant, my son, it's you... You looked so strange, I could hardly tell." she fretted. "But that voice is unmistakable."

 

Grant had indeed changed. Being turned into a demon by Dracula himself is not so impermanent: even when the spell was broken, some peculiarities remained.

 

"It’s quite alright, mother." Grant replied, only barely disguising his resignation. "I wouldn't recognize myself either."

 

“We've just returned from Castlevania.” Trevor said with a self satisfied smile.

 

Sypha laughed at the noble pride in his voice. “He means to say that we’re responsible.”

 

“It is such an honor to meet you... My name is Clara. I thank you for what you’ve done.” The old woman, Clara, bowed respectfully to the strangers, but seemed to shudder when she met Alucard's cold gaze. “But what could kill an immortal man?”

 

“His immortality was ill-gotten. The powers of light and goodness are what has slain him.” Alucard explained.

 

"You must all be very brave... Surely I must repay you for what you've done- all of Wallachia thanks you." Clara insisted.

 

"I'm merely honoring an old family oath. That's all." Trevor dipped his head, with humility, clutching his whip, the Vampire Killer. “The house of Belmont made a promise to hunt the night for eternity- one I have always intended on keeping.”

 

Alucard wished his lineage held the same goodwill, that he too was born for heroism. Assisting in slaying Dracula was merely repenting for the hideous origins he could not run from. But he supposed that was a "family oath" too, in its own way.

 

"At least stay for dinner. It's the least I can do," she indicated Trevor, Sypha and Grant towards a small house that remained mostly intact, but she didn’t dare meet Alucard’s gaze. "The survivors of the Dark Lord's attacks are keeping refuge there."

 

"I'll help you all get back on your feet. This is my home, too." Grant looked out upon the wreckage pensively. "’Tis a shame to see it like this... When I left with the rebel group everyone was in good spirits to see us off." His eyes were mournful. “How is father? And my dear little sister Diana...?”

 

Clara shook her head sadly. "Almost everyone perished... I am sorry."

 

My father did this , Alucard thought. My own blood.

 

If honor ran through Trevor's veins, then surely bloodlust could run through his. It chilled him to imagine, as Grant wept for his family, that he was a predator, a beast, leashing himself. How long would that leash hold?

 

The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the night began anew.

 

With it came worsening thoughts.

 

~

 

Alucard stood outside, on the outskirts of town. The few people who remained there were amicable, and having warm food in his stomach was a welcome comfort. Despite that, he had still been disgraced with a few frightened looks, at his pale skin, his long needle-sharp fangs, and his yellow wolf-like eyes. However, there was no outright hostility.

 

But he couldn't stay. He didn't quite know why. In the relieved, joyous revelry, he found an opportunity to leave, and he had taken it. He could slip through the trees so easily if he wished to, though he wasn't sure where he was escaping to.

 

From himself? That was a foolish concept. He would always follow.

 

Sypha touched his hand, and he startled.

 

"So that's where you ran off to..." she muttered. "Trevor wanted to know where you went. He thought you might be struggling, seeing as your father-"

 

"I am not saddened by his death." Alucard interjected sharply. Indeed, the father who raised him, who loved his mother dearly and spent his days reading him stories occupied a separate part of his mind from Dracula, Dark Lord of Wallachia, ruler of Chaos. The father he loved had died long ago; in a way, he had lost both his parents on the same night.

 

"I see..." Sypha looked skywards. "The stars are beautiful tonight."

 

"Indeed." Alucard said, and huddled close to her in the cold night air. 

 

His undead heart stirred, beating silently for his friend. They spent a few of those heartbeats in blissful quietude.

 

"Why did you run off in the first place?" Sypha finally asked. “Surely there is a reason.”

 

"I shouldn't be celebrating alongside them. I'm exactly what nearly destroyed them; what slaughtered their families." Alucard shrugged. 

 

"And what have you possibly done to indicate that? You seem like you're punishing yourself for... for nothing ."

 

"My father-"

 

"I asked what you've done."

 

Why must she cut through his defenses so easily?

 

Alucard couldn't respond, for he had no answer. Thus, he relented.

 

"You're right. It's nothing."

 

He would stay for now.

 

~

 

A few months had passed uneventfully. The village was now quite idyllic, buildings restored to former glory with Grant's careful design. Life goes on in the face of tragedy. Alucard admired that about humanity.

 

And yet, they still feared him.

 

...Theirs is already a hard lot. His mother's words echoed in his head.

 

Do them no harm.

 

He had awoken from a dreadful dream that morning, or perhaps an omen, where blood spilled across the ground in streams and rivers, all leading in wretched red trails back to him. Wherever he walked, his blood would follow.

 

He had to leave. He had let this doubt fester for months.

 

This may not remain a dream.

 

Everything felt so hollow, he couldn’t bear to speak to his friends.

 

Like he was pretending...

 

Pretending to be human?

 

He knew the people here held some fear of him, so much he could smell it sometimes. He couldn’t say he didn’t sympathize. He saw mothers hurry their children inside when he walked down the street to the market, and he saw men at the tavern converse in hushed whispers at his appearance. This all bore a heavy weight upon his soul.

 

He stood on the outskirts of town again, sunlight dappling the forest floor; streaming through the trees’ tall spires and needled branches. The forest was calling him: it seemed appropriate to enact a self-imposed banishment from where the mortals thronged, in the heart of the town. Aimlessly, he walked down the path. The motion of his gait was enough to distract him for some time. He picked up a pinecone and observed it... How strange that this immobile object was more alive than he, housing fertile new seeds.

 

He arrived in a clearing- he remembered briefly stopping to eat some dried meat with Trevor, Sypha and Grant on the morning after Dracula’s death- and he paused there, standing in the unfiltered sunlight, letting it bear down upon his pallid skin. The heavenly rays were golden, golden and fair like Lisa's elegant waves of hair.

 

He missed his mother dearly. He remembered with a pang of grief, how she had shown him how to use her heirloom sword.

 

"No, Adrian. You have to put your waist into it. It's light for a sword, but it still has weight to it, and you need to support that weight. Do you understand?" Lisa instructed.

 

"It seems to come so easily to you!" He shook his head, attempting another swing.

 

"It most certainly did not! The difference is that I've been using this sword for years. I was just as clumsy as you are, when I was just a young little thing." She ruffled his raven-colored hair affectionately. "We all learn with enough time, I promise... I only hope that if I die one day, this blade will give you the protection I cannot."

 

"I'll try my best, mother."

 

“My dear son...” Her voice was warm.

 

Warm...

 

Warm, the scent of it...

 

The scent of warm blood!

 

He heard a high pitched noise from the undergrowth not too far away, and his reminiscence screeched to a halt.

 

His instincts flared at the stench: an injured deer wobbled forward on weak, limping legs, a large bleeding gash on its side. It was so stained with blood, the color of its hide was scarcely recognizable. And he could smell it . He felt a pang of hunger.

 

He had no desire or need to feed upon blood, he could subsist on the same foods as any mortal, but this cursed instinct still clung to him like a parasite.

 

Yet again, his mind turned to his chilling nightmare.

 

Blood leads back to me, and every part of me leads back to blood. My blood, his blood, blood from which I was born. Blood is blood is blood, and no matter what you do, it will follow.

This farce had gone on long enough. This had only reinforced his fears.

 

He started down the forest path, worn by the footsteps of his friends in the months before but still a barely defined trail.

 

It felt fitting to return to the ruins of Castlevania, or at least a short distance from it. It was where his cursed life had begun, and it was where it shall end, passing into deep slumber.

 

Vampires slept in coffins, after all. If he could not die (and he knew he could not), a dormant undeath was suitable.

 

Yes... That was what he wanted.

 

"Goodbye, Trevor; Sypha; Grant," he spoke to no one, as he was much too far for them to hear even a whisper of his farewell. "You were all so kind to me... But I must put an end to this, and let my father's cursed legacy be banished to mere legend." Speaking his fate let him chase away any doubts to this decision. He never went back on his word.

 

It was this finality that drove his every footstep towards the old mausoleum where his dear mother rested. One coffin held her decayed remains, and by its side one lay empty, as if waiting for him.

 

He supposed he took comfort in his father's lack of a true grave. Someone so evil did not deserve a true burial, nor to be laid with honor alongside Lisa. Lisa would never have approved of the carnage spread in her name, she told him that much mere moments before her crucifixion.

 

This coffin was his now, and he would sleep in his father’s place. He opened the lid with a loud creak.

 

"Alucard!"

 

Must he be interrupted at such a moment?

 

"Grant," Alucard replied. "How did you find me?"

 

"I've been following you all day. You really couldn’t hear me...? Dracula’s magic must have made me quite stealthy."

 

"Leave me be," he sighed. "Do not let me lead you into the unforgiving night."

 

"I had to... I knew something was wrong, Alucard. You'd been looking like a frightened rabbit all morning, and Sypha’s always been worried sick about you since we came to Jova. Our doubts were confirmed when you spoke your farewell in the woods." Grant shook his head. "I don't want you to do anything impulsive. Sypha and Trevor love you, you know. They care immensely, as do I. You're our friend, I-"

 

"Give them my fondest farewells, then." Alucard said harshly.

 

"You frighten me, Alucard.” Grant’s voice shook with conviction. “I can’t lose another person I love... Whatever it is you’re planning.”

 

Alucard stared at him for a few seconds, his sharp yellow eyes holding a fiendish gaze. “Dracula slaughtered your family, and everyone you loved. Dracula razed your home to the ground, and Dracula turned you into a horrible creature and locked you in that cursed clock tower. Don’t you see him when you look at me?! You of all people should fear me, just like all the others in Jova!” His voice cracked as he spoke his fears, tears threatening to spill.

 

Grant looked incredulous. “I- Of course not!? Did something happen?”

 

Alucard didn’t answer.

 

Blood is blood is blood.

 

He hissed, baring his teeth like a frightened cat. He was cornered. “Just get away from me before something does.”

 

Grant gave him a sorrowful look. He did not move.

 

Unholy magic surged through Alucard's body, and he glowed with fierce red hunger: a Dark Metamorphosis. This was what he was at his rawest, closest to the image of his father- tall, terrifying, and shadows crowded around his glowing form. And oh God, the hunger...! It gnawed at him. He could smell Grant’s blood as it moved swiftly through his veins. It was only this intense when he called upon his Dark Metamorphosis, but the fact that he could feel it at all... Swarming around him like a scarlet cloud of evil...

 

"Don't you see that this is what I am...?" Alucard said softly, yet also so... coldly. “I’m overwhelmed by the warm stench of your blood. That is proof enough.”

 

"I know what it's like to be a monster, Alucard, and you aren't one, no matter what you've told yourself." Grant was unwavering, reaching out to him- both physically and emotionally. But Alucard was guarded, so guarded. “Please, just listen to me.”

 

“I’m sorry, Grant.” Alucard lowered himself into the coffin. “Nothing you say will convince me. I wish we could have met under kinder circumstances. I wish I hadn’t been born to kill.”

 

The lid slammed shut, Grant screamed in horror, and the darkness closed around him forever.

 

Presumably.

 

1797

 

Dracula is dead, again. It’s not over, and it never will be.

 

Alucard is standing on the cliff again. The sun rises, pale in the stale morning air. His heart thrums silently in his chest as he remembers that morning with Sypha, Trevor and Grant. Three very brave people, all dead. He abandoned them to rot in his absence over the three centuries, a vast sea of time between them. 

 

One stranger and a friend now stand before him: Richter Belmont and Maria Renard.

 

Maria was a sweet girl; Richter was an enigma.

 

The Belmont: both his mirror and his opposite. He was contradictory in all senses of the word... A Belmont who served the Dark Lord, dethroned by a vampire. It was almost laughable, had it not nearly resulted in the resurrection of his father Count Dracula. Alucard had faced him in a transient realm, destroying him before he could take physical form and exact his terrible revenge.

 

“So you made it.” Alucard spoke matter-of-factly. The two had escaped Castlevania soon after it became apparent that Richter’s mind was being altered by a Dark Priest, and the spell broken, but they had returned to the cliffside to see the twin castles disintegrate- for closure.

 

“Alucard! I’m glad you’re alright!” Maria said warmly, and moved forward to embrace her companion. Alucard flinched away from her touch.

 

“I’m sorry... ‘Tis my fault you had to face your own father.” Richter’s voice was shrouded in guilt- guilt that he was the key in Shaft’s terrible design.

 

Alucard shook his head. “Fear not. I had my own reasons for destroying him.” Dracula’s death held no more emotional weight the second time. How dare this fool assume he was saddened by the death of evil?! Hadn’t he known the pain Dracula had caused, and been turned into a mere pawn at his behest?!

 

“It must have been painful for you.” Richter’s voice was soft with compassion, and that was odd. You are my enemy .

 

“Only the pain of knowing what he did... You must understand that the only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing .” Alucard stared at Richter, with ice in his gaze.

 

“I... I understand.” Richter bowed his head in shame at Alucard’s scolding.

 

Maria’s eyes held sorrow, and she clutched the vampire’s sleeve. “Alucard,” she spoke her friend’s name in a near whisper. “What will you do now?”

 

Alucard looked up at the sky, letting himself enjoy the sunbeams one last time. He knew what he must do- he must return to the death-like slumber that Richter’s folly had awoken him from.

 

“The blood that flows in my veins is cursed. ‘Twould be best for the world if I were to disappear again,” yet again he flinched away from Maria’s comfort.

 

“Wait, Alucard...!” Maria exclaimed with worry clouding her gaze. “Whatever do you mean?!”

 

“Farewell. We’ll not meet again.” Alucard shook his head, turning away from Richter and Maria.

 

“Alucard!” she cried, but it was too late.

 

His duty was over. He wanted to rest.

 

The path to the mausoleum was a short one; though now overgrown and indistinguishable from the rest of the castle grounds, Alucard knew it by heart. He left no footprints, which was ideal- he was immensely difficult to track, and he was still shocked Grant had managed it three hundred years prior. In the heart of the woods, he found his mother’s resting place once again, and entered; he let the stone door slam shut behind him with a loud but dull thud.

 

He looked around in the darkness, and placed a hand on his mother’s coffin.

 

“I am sorry, mother. Father is gone, and he always has been. I know you wished for him to... to forgive. But rage is hard to let go, it seems...” He muttered with grief. “You had more faith in him than I did.”

 

After a moment, he turned to look at the coffin he had been sleeping in. Curiously, it was surrounded with old rotten plants- the remains of long forgotten flowers, not entirely decomposed, presumably preserved all this time by the cold air of the sealed tomb. He had thought nothing of it when he had awoken but... Who would dare honor the grave of a vampire?

 

He suddenly remembered Trevor’s smiling face as he helped Sypha pick flowers around the village to honor their fallen, a short time before he had left them. Would he have...?

 

He felt regret bubble up in his throat, salty as tears, salty as blood, but then swallowed it back down. This was the right decision, for all of mankind. Yet again, Dracula’s cursed bloodline would be expunged into the annals of history, no longer preying upon the innocent.

 

Before he could form any more second thoughts, he opened the lid of the coffin, and lowered himself in once again, letting the shadows consume him.

 

~

He was awakened shortly after, blinking to adjust to the darkness as a young woman forcefully shook him awake in the open coffin. He shook his head groggily, still clinging to the sleepiness that had overtaken him.

 

The woman’s silhouette was familiar, hair cascading down her back in golden-blonde curls and tied back with a forest green ribbon. It was Maria.

 

“Oh, Alucard! Never do that again, you had me so worried...!” Maria fretted, hugging him tightly.

 

“Maria...?” he seemed confused. “How did you find me?”

 

“I had Osca follow you. I just had to... I couldn’t let you disappear from my life, after all we’ve been through together.” Osca, her snowy white owl, flew through the open stone door and perched on her gloved hand. “You didn’t seem asleep, you seemed almost dead! It’s been three days since the castles disappeared, so I feared I was too late.”

 

Three days? He felt like he had only been asleep a brief moment.

 

He wished he wasn’t so glad Maria had awoken him, and that he could truly commit to his tragic fate. But he was happy to see his friend again, despite the finality of their last conversation. He leaned his head against her... She truly did care for him, just as Sypha, Trevor and Grant had.

 

“Richter told me to follow you, and that you’d probably listen to what he had to say if you heard it from me instead.” Maria recited. “So... now I think you should.”

 

He was loathe to admit that Richter’s judgment had been right. He had a soft spot for his best friend. “Then I shall.”

 

“Richter wished to tell you that he’s sorry, and that he hopes you’ll come with us to his village to thank you for all you’ve done. You saved his life, you know...” Maria’s voice was soft with emotion. “You have a good heart.”

“I merely did what I needed to. If I hadn’t, Dracula would have returned... That’s why I was awoken when the castle came into being once more.”

 

“Surely it must have been for a different reason... You disappeared three centuries ago, and Dracula has come into being several times since,” she seemed confused. “And yet you did not awaken.”

 

“He has?” Alucard felt light-headed.

 

“Other men of Richter’s clan have always risen to the occasion: Christopher, Simon, Juste...” Maria said. “‘Tis the destiny of a Belmont.”

 

“Dracula is my father. It should be my cursed destiny to face him... But why was I awoken now, of all times?!” Alucard pleaded, seemingly to no-one. “Why was I allowed to lay dormant while he wreaked havoc!? Why now ?”

 

“Hush.” Maria held him comfortingly. “Maybe there was no reason behind it... Purely happenstance. But I’m glad you did awaken. I would not have been able to face Richter on my own, or... or recognize what Shaft had done to him.”

 

Alucard nodded. Maria had silently acknowledged that it was likely she would have killed Richter without him there to help her figure out the nature of his evil... however, Alucard would have done the same without her guidance. He was prepared to sink his blade into the heart of the Belmont, had Maria not talked him down, and helped him unravel the mystery.

 

They truly did all need each other.

 

“Perhaps that is why I was awoken,” Alucard realized suddenly. “Belmont required my assistance.... And without me, his bloodline would have perished... or reigned .”

 

“Perhaps...” Maria repeated. “Please do come back with us, though... If not for Richter’s sake, then for mine. I want you to be happy, Alucard.”

 

Alucard relented. He would simply hate to see his friend upset... And the idea of being dormant, should Dracula return yet again, was awful to imagine. He had to be there... It had to be his fate alone.

 

But there was another reason, too. As he followed Maria out of his resting place (with a final glance towards his mother’s grave), he recalled, with chilling detail, how he had come face to face with his regret in the most awful way:

In the Inverted Coliseum, he had stumbled into a vast stadium, with rows upon rows of empty seats pointed towards the floor. In the stadium there stood three ornate coffins. Alucard tensed, expecting some horrible creatures to lurch forward from their prisons.

 

The coffins opened near silently, and three dishevelled skeletons stumbled into the glowering torchlight as the coffins disappeared. Surely this was a joke.

 

It wasn’t, or at least if it was, it was a cruel one: the skeletons ignited with necromantic fire, as flesh was returned to their undead forms in three very familiar, haunting visages...

 

Trevor, Grant and Sypha stood before him once more: the embodiment of his regrets, what he had left behind.

 

“Sypha, I never thought I’d-” He acknowledged her first, but the witch alighted into the air laughing madly, her hands aglow with magic and her long blonde hair floating in the open air as though she was submerged underwater. Icy wind swept across the stadium in thick foggy mist, chilling Alucard to the bone and knocking him to his knees, unable to see his surroundings, even with his keen yellow eyes. As he struggled to get up, Trevor’s whip struck him with immense fervor, and he fell to the ground again, his body wracked with pain. It was a pale imitation of the Vampire Killer’s true might, as it was currently in the possession of Richter, but it still carried immense holy power. ‘Twas the power that could banish a monster like himself.

 

“Forgive me...” Alucard murmured weakly as the three fallen warriors swarmed around him. Grant leapt upon him from the ceiling, brandishing his gleaming dagger with a ghastly glee. If anyone deserved to punish him, it was Grant, who had seen him at his most monstrous and still cared for him. And yet Alucard had refused his compassion...! Kind, sweet Grant had not deserved his disdain.

 

He lay there, helpless, as Grant carved into his flesh with that damnable knife, ice-cold blood spilling on the ground. He couldn’t fight back if he tried- every time he tried to back away, Trevor herded him back towards the other two with the crack of his whip. He felt fear on his tongue, and the salty taste of his own blood as he spit it up: that horrible, cursed blood that had made him into this detestable creature. Sypha floated above him, taunting, as lighting spread across the air in despicable lattices.

 

This was it. He could not fight these three powerful warriors on his own.

 

“Mister Alucard!” A woman’s voice resounded with clarity through the haze of violence. It was the fairy companion that had followed him out of the library for some time. He had asked her to stay behind when he went to face these dangerous foes, but she had clearly been alerted by his resigned whimpers of pain. “Those Holy Glasses Maria gave you... Put them on immediately! These visions are not real!”

 

Alucard struggled to his feet with a slash of his heirloom sword, buying him enough time to humor the fairy’s instructions. As he equipped himself with the blessed spectacles, the illusion cast over him was broken.

 

“Doppelgangers!” He hissed with hatred. He had faced some before, though they had always taken on a mockery of his form; a monsterous, feral version of himself. He took no issue in fighting them then: he had been fighting this very same creature all his life.

This was different.

 

It was true that Castlevania warped itself to test the mind of those who entered it, and any lesser man would have gone mad by now. But this was a new and grotesque low, even for the evil labyrinthine creature.

 

He slew the three imitators without remorse.

Alucard shivered as he finished reliving the nightmarish experience. He had abandoned them, and that weighed heavily upon his conscience. And he had abandoned the world too: left to fend for themselves in his absence. How many had died as a result of this selfish isolation? He realized he could not repeat this grievous sin. He would never dare lock himself away again.

 

The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.

 

“Do you know why Dracula pursued such an evil path? I was told he once loved a human woman...” Maria wondered aloud.

 

“My mother, Lisa. She was killed.” Alucard said bluntly. “She was accused of witchcraft, and the Church offered to spare her if she gave the names of other witches in her place. She refused, as she would never forsake the lives of others in exchange for her own.”

 

Maria walked forward in remorseful silence as Osca flew above them with silent wingbeats.

 

“They crucified her, and I watched. She forbade me from rescuing her.”

 

Maria squeezed his hand tightly. “I’m so sorry. So Dracula’s wrath stems from a wish for vengeance...?”

 

“He told me... that all other humans were evil and selfish. It’s the root of his very power, after all.” Alucard explained with a detached tone. "I believed that there were more people like my dear mother, unjustly treated by society... and those people are worth protecting. That is where our once intertwined paths separated forevermore, and I chose my own destiny... I met Trevor Belmont not long after, and he proved his mettle."

 

“I see...” Maria responded.

 

“It was never truly about what Lisa wanted. Dracula wanted to inflict his wrath upon whatever he could grasp like rot spreading from a festering wound. Mother would never have wished that.” Alucard shuddered with contempt for his father. “He’s defiled her name with this cycle of hatred. He never really loved her.”

 

“I think your mother would be proud of you, Alucard,” she leaned close to him.

 

“Thank you... You have no idea what that means to me,” the dhampir dipped his head.

 

Maria led Alucard to where she had tethered her horse, a pale grey mare named Snowball. Alucard reached forward to stroke her snout, but Snowball bucked her head wildly as her nostrils flared, seemingly spooked by Alucard’s mere presence. She let out a shrill whinny, ears pinned back, rearing upwards away from his hand.

 

“Whoa! Whoa there, girl!” Maria ran to her horse’s side. “Easy, easy! ...I’m sorry, she can be such a skittish thing.”

 

“I do not blame her.” Alucard shook his head. “Animals distrust the undead on instinct.”

 

"Well, that complicates things... I know you can't keep up on foot, even with your speed." Maria shook her head, soothing her steed.

 

"Not... on foot." Alucard couldn't hide a small grin. Maria's eyes glimmered with recognition, understanding his intention.

 

Alucard pulsed with magical blue energy, falling to all fours as his form twisted effortlessly to something more animalistic: a lithe but powerful wolf with soft lilac and gold fur, and eyes the color of rubies. The wolf shook with adrenaline as Alucard's once-dead blood roared to life, suddenly flaring in heat, as though he was a live, mortal creature. It was not a painful transformation, but it took immense energy.

 

"Ah, Awoocard," Maria enunciated with feigned elegance. "So kind of you to make an appearance this morning." She made an exaggerated curtsy. Alucard let out a sharp, amused exhale from his snout in response.

 

He trotted forward on light pawsteps, and bowed his head to Snowball, willing the horse to understand his gesture of friendship. Snowball snorted, but did not spook when he came near. It seems they had come to an agreement.

 

Maria untied Snowball from the fence, where Osca now perched, and pulled herself up onto her saddle with a bit of a struggle, as the mare was much taller than she. She pulled the reins, and Snowball stood to attention, ears flicking.

 

"We'll be quick; Aljiba is only a few hours' travel on horseback." Maria said. She lifted her arm, beckoning Osca, who landed on her glove once more.

 

"Take a message to Richter, won't you?" She handed a rolled up envelope to the owl, and it clutched the letter in its sharp talons. It let out a screech, and alighted into the air with great beats of its wings.

 

With that, they were off.

 

“Yah, yah!” Maria said, squeezing her legs around her horse’s midsection, and Snowball began to gallop forth at her instruction. Alucard swiftly followed, leaping forward with agile strength.

 

Maria was adept at steering Snowball through the surrounding woodland, weaving between the trees with a natural ease. The wolf bounded after her, light on his paws, and he felt a sudden sense of immense joy.

This was what it meant to truly be alive, he thought: pure movement and glee; the sounds in the trees above him; the littered dead leaves below his paws that billowed out behind him as he kicked them into the air, and all the illuminating scents; rather than overwhelming his senses, he was brought to awe by how vivid it all was- how alive the world could be, and that he was a part of it. That I am alive...? His paws thudded against the forest floor and he realized he had overtaken the pace of Snowball and Maria (fast as their pace was), and circled back, leaping joyously around the horse and rider as the wind swept his silky lavender fur.

 

While on their journey, they passed by a strangely familiar valley in the distance. Alucard barked, stopping to look across the romantic landscape, where he fondly gazed at the architecture of the small, sleepy town that lay abreast the hills. He knew this place; had called it home for a short few months.

 

“Whoa.” Maria pulled on Snowball’s reins, slowing to a jaunty canter, and steered her to where the wolf was standing attentively before stopping. Snowball flicked her long white tail into the air with a snort. “Alucard, that’s Jova. We’re going to Aljiba.”

 

Alucard’s tail wagged, thumping against the ground. He barked again. Of course it was Jova...! Grant’s home, and where they had celebrated their victory and honored their losses. It was easier to swallow his regret now, though he still wondered what had become of them. He looked up at Maria, imploring her to understand he was just reminiscing.

 

“If you need to pause for a while, please do.” Maria said, dismounting. “I think Snowball has grown a little tired.” The mare dipped her head to graze on the lush grass that had cushioned her powerful hoofbeats on the way to this clearing. Alucard could have sworn he stopped in this exact spot briefly before, but the layout of the trees had become unfamiliar. Time truly did march on in his absence...

 

He howled, still watching the small town from afar, half-mourning and half-calling to people who would never answer, for they had long fallen to dust.

 

Do you watch me from the stars, my dear friends...? Mother?

 

After their brief respite, they resumed their travels. Aljiba would not be much further.

 

~

 

Aljiba was not unlike Jova, though certainly larger. The people who populated it seemed jovial, and children ran through the cobbled streets with an innocent joy. Alucard, now in human-like form, walked briskly with a somewhat stiffened stride by Maria’s side.

 

“I remember being that young.” Maria said sadly as she returned her steed to a decently-sized stable. There were a few different horses there, and the stall next to Snowball’s belonged to a dark brown horse, apparently named Cocoa, as indicated on a brass plaque. (Richter’s? Alucard wasn’t sure, but it seemed a safe bet.)

 

“I think everything changed when Shaft took Annette, Iris, Tera and I... I’ve always put on a brave face for everyone, but it’s hard to remain a normal child after seeing such horrors as I did then.” Maria murmured.

 

“It’s too much for any child, and too much for you even now, I’d expect.” Alucard replied. “Seventeen is quite young.”

 

“ I’m not that young. Richter fought Dracula when he was nineteen... five years ago.” Maria responded.

 

“That’s very young too!” Alucard was aghast. Despite his cold treatment of the Belmont warrior, he still felt immense sympathy for him, being forced to fight for humanity’s sins at such an age. Could his own presence have prevented this, had he been awake?

 

“It’s the responsibility of a vampire hunter, and it is what it is. And it was my responsibility to follow after Richter when he disappeared, and when Castlevania beckoned on the darkening horizon. He's my brother-in-law, after all. Now, enough talk of such morbid things... we’re nearly to Annette’s cottage.” Maria pointed to a charming house a short distance away. “Do make sure you’re polite.” A smile illuminated the young woman’s face.

 

“I’m always polite.” Alucard protested.

 

“True, but... You’re not exactly much for conversation.” Maria laughed. “Go on inside, heaven knows you need some friends after spending however-many-years in a stuffy old coffin.”

 

The heavy wooden door had a brass door-knocker in the shape of a lion's head, with a heavy metal ring held in its maw. Alucard reached for it gingerly, then knocked three times.

After a brief pause, a woman with straight violet-colored hair opened the door. She wore a lovely golden-yellow dress with a dark green skirt, and her bright, emerald colored eyes held an inquisitive look- however it soon twisted into that of fear. She was staring at his teeth.

 

“Annette! Richter! We’ve returned!” Maria rushed to Alucard’s side. Immediately the woman’s gaze softened.

 

“You’re a friend of Maria’s...?” The woman asked, and her tense posture became more relaxed.

 

“You must be Annette.” Alucard offered his hand. She hesitated before taking it, and her handshake was stiff. Noticing this, he added, “I am sorry if I have frightened you.”

 

“This is my friend Alucard. Did Richter tell you about him...?” Maria added, making her way inside without needing to ask permission.

 

“Oh! Yes, yes he has.” Annette said. “You’re truly the Alucard who allied with Trevor Belmont?”

 

“Indeed.” How odd... Richter had reacted much the same way after being freed from his curse.

 

“Astonishing...” Annette said. “Then I am looking in the eyes of history.”

 

History? That intrigued him.

 

“Please,” Alucard said with a hushed tone. “Invite me inside.”

 

Annette nodded. “Do come in... I have a feeling we have much to discuss.”

 

~

Alucard and Annette had been only talking for about an hour while Maria had hurried upstairs, but he already felt like he was conversing with an old friend.

 

The woman was a historian and an archivist, which explained her initial interest in Alucard’s connection to Trevor. She asked him many things about what it was like to face his father, with particular fascination with his potent magical abilities, but Alucard still had lingering questions about that bygone era of his undeath. Though, if anyone could give him the closure he seeked, Annette probably could with her vast histories.

 

“As you know, I disappeared shortly after destroying my father. I would like to learn the outcomes of my companions, however tragic they may be.” He explained carefully. “I never learned what became of my dearest friends, Grant, Trevor and Sypha... But you may hold that knowledge in your tomes.”

 

“Worry not... This story is no tragedy.” Annette placed a hand on his. “Danasty went on to be an honored name; the thief has been a folk hero ever since, the subject of many legends and stories. He lived a long life, and his former crimes were famously pardoned for his bravery, and crucial assistance in helping the country recover. He died old, happy, and surrounded by friends.”

 

“Grant... That’s wonderful...” Alucard closed his eyes in relief. “And what of Trevor and Sypha?”

 

“Trevor C. Belmont and Sypha Belnades were wed a few years after their victory,” Annette recited. “They continued hunting the monsters that plagued the countryside, and they did it together. After the battle, the Belmonts were no longer forced into exile, and the witch’s notoriety was eventually used as a vital argument for the cessation of the witch trials.”

 

Alucard was pleased to know that. Trevor, though stoic and proud, was a man with a kind and gentle heart, he would have treated Sypha with the respect and devotion she so deserved. And it was because of Sypha that no one would ever again die like his mother had.

 

He opened his mouth to speak, but the woman interrupted him.

 

“I think you’ll like this detail, it always struck me as rather poetic...” She plucked from her shelves an aged book with yellowing pages, prying open the covers to a page about one-fourth of the way through. She flipped through them quickly, then landed on the one she was seeking.

 

She read verbatim: “Though the rebellious son had disappeared into his tomb not long after, the three remaining heroes often left bouquets of flowers on his coffin, hoping he would one day awaken. They held no hatred in their hearts for the tragic prince, for they knew how he had suffered to free them from his father’s torment.”

 

Alucard stared in silence, tears welling in his eyes. He had not permitted himself to cry in centuries, but now seemed a suitable moment. He didn’t pay much heed to the embarrassment of crying in front of a mere stranger as he wept. Annette inched closer, and embraced him tightly. Alucard did not back away from her comforting touch.

Closure.

 

Alucard allowed himself to regain his composure after that brief moment.

 

“I thank you, my lady Annette,” he dipped his head. “You have relieved a great burden of mine.”

 

“I thank you as well, Alucard.” Annette leaned against him. “Speaking with you has taken my mind off some tragic matters. I’ve been worrying for Richter ever since he disappeared a year ago, and to find out he had been claimed by Dracula is... It’s upsetting. I have no other word for it.” Sorrow clouded her gaze.

 

“I understand.” Alucard murmured.

 

“Long ago, Dracula held me, and some other women from Aljiba, prisoner. He attempted to transform me into a creature of the night, offering eternal youth, but I refused... so I pulled a knife on him.”

 

“You made the right choice. Immortality is a curse... Though, to resist him requires great strength of will.” Alucard placed a hand on the book clutched in her grip. “You are a brave woman, Annette.”

 

“But knowing that Richter suffered the fate I came close to experiencing... Twisted into evil by Dracula’s whims...” Annette looked away. “It’s upsetting , like I said before. Thank you for returning him in one piece.” That intense sympathetic feeling Alucard had for the man returned, burning like fire in his heart. All four of us were hurt by my father...

 

“Is that why you looked upon me with fear...? Because of how closely I resemble my father?” Alucard asked. His expression tried not to show the pain that caused him.

 

Annette nodded with regret. “I am sorry.”

 

“I suppose I’m quite used to it... Where is Richter now? And Maria?”

 

“He retired to our room. He was exhausted by his time spent in Castlevania, it seems. He’s been sleeping more often.” Annette explained, pointing up a wooden staircase. “He’s always pushed himself so hard... Because he’s overflowing with the blood of the Vampire Killer, as he’s always told me. I just wish he didn’t have to shoulder such a responsibility.”

 

“Indeed... Thank you.” Alucard bowed, then walked up the stairs as she instructed.

 

Just as she had said, Richter was aslumber on a soft bed upstairs, dressed in a nightgown, thick blankets pulled around him like a nest. His thick brown curls of hair spilled out over his pillow. Osca was perched on a chair near the bed, chirring happily. Maria sat on the foot of the bed in silence.

 

“Maria.” Alucard got her attention, and she looked up.

 

“Oh my God, you've been crying..." Maria fretted, noticing his bleary eyes. "Annette hasn't upset you, has she?"

 

"I'm alright. I'm not upset." Alucard shook his head. "I'm... better than I've ever been."

 

Richter stirred in his bed, awoken by the dhampir’s presence, his eyes widened with wonder as the light from the window radiated behind the golden-haired man.

 

“Oh, it’s you, Alucard... In my exhaustion, I thought I had seen an angel.” He let out a beleaguered sigh and chuckled. “It reminds me of when Sister Tera thought the same of me.”

 

“I am no angel.” Alucard said with a detached tone.

 

Richter nodded. “You certainly were my salvation, however.” His soulful brown eyes were filled with remorse for his attempted resurrection of Dracula. “I don’t know how to thank you adequately.”

 

The way the Belmont looked upon him, with immense respect and longing, was a curious thing to the dhampir. What was it Maria had said...? That Richter was the one who had told her to follow after him... And the concern he had felt for him after being forced to face Dracula once more... What was that? Richter cared for him, somehow, despite their blades being crossed throughout the horrible night.

 

And Annette spoke so affectionately of him. Perhaps Alucard had been too quick to judge.

 

“If you feel as though I am owed something from you, please don’t.” Alucard looked Richter in the eyes, trying to comfort him somewhat. “Your life has been a tragic one, ensnared by destiny from birth. You’ve already had enough taken from you.”

 

“I understand.” Richter nodded. “I hope we can be friends, despite my weakness.”

 

Something in Alucard’s heart stirred.

 

“Perhaps we can... Richter.”

 

~

 

Half a year had passed, and Alucard had become glad to call Aljiba his home. He was greeted by everyone as a friend, and he frequently helped Annette tend the archives and accompanied Maria and Richter on hunting trips.

 

 The local children would often ask him for stories about his past adventures- though he always spared them the bloodier details. He enjoyed being a ‘local hero’ of sorts, but something didn’t exactly feel right about being tied to his past so heavily in the eyes of the mortal men.

 

Yet again his mind turned to how Maria had told him that he seemed human. Now that he was living the life of a mortal, he realized how true it really was. He had the same kindness, doubts, and compassion. He had come to realize that he had never been anything like his father at all. He hoped one day he could leave that legacy behind entirely, but as long as Dracula continued to return, their fates were tied for all eternity.

 

But for all Alucard was pulled to the light once more, Richter’s conscience seemed to be haunted by something. What it was, Alucard could not say.

 

It was a particularly gloomy day to-day, and Alucard had been learning how to ride from Maria as of late. As the steeds in town had grown used to his presence, Snowball had become less and less skittish, eventually allowing him to mount. He was on a short ride through the nearby marsh, accompanied by Richter, atop his own mare, Cocoa.

 

“It looks like rain.” Alucard looked up at the grey skies as Snowball trotted along.

 

“Indeed it does...” Richter replied, and something about his voice seemed hollow and sad.

 

“I quite like the rain.” Alucard said, and his heart swelled with nostalgia. “Mother would always teach me about healing on rainy days... She was a good doctor. We picked herbs together, ones that only grew in such weather- like Mandragora root.”

 

“It gets muddy around here when it rains.” Richter made a face of disgust. His seeming sadness had fled him.

 

Alucard laughed. “The legendary vampire hunter, Richter Belmont, concerned about getting his coat dirty? I was not expecting that.”

 

“Vampire hunter.” Richter echoed, and that hollow tone returned. Alucard steered Snowball closer to his companion, so they were riding side by side. Richter turned away from his gaze.

 

“Is something wrong?” Alucard asked.

 

Richter did not answer. Small drops of rain started to fall from the skies, a light drizzle.

 

“Answer me, Richter.”

 

“It’s the whip.”

 

Alucard was startled.

 

“What about the whip?” He inquired.

 

“It won’t respond to me. The holy power it once held is... still present, but closed off. Like there’s this barrier.” Richter shook his head in distress. “I... I didn’t want to tell Maria and Annette... But I felt like I could tell you. You know things, and I’m not sure what to do. If it’s just me, or if my bloodline has been tainted.”

 

“How peculiar... When did this begin?”

 

“Since I returned from Castlevania. It was remarkably less effective in my hands, though I had assumed it was due to the fatigue that had overtaken me... It’s a good thing I haven’t needed to use it.” Richter’s voice was shaky and uncertain. “And now, what hurts the most is that I know exactly why.”

 

Alucard pulled Snowball to a stop and dismounted, his high heeled boots squishing against the mud. Richter mirrored Alucard’s actions.

 

“Tell me why, Richter.”

 

“Because I was weak . Because I am wicked at the core.” Richter spat.

 

“Because of Shaft’s spell...? That is not your fault.” Alucard shook his head.

 

“Because of the doubts in my heart he brought to the surface.” Alucard could see tears welling in his eyes. “Because all he did was bring me to my worst possible conclusion... It was still me . Every thought I harbored was my own. That has to be why the whip has rejected me: because I am unworthy, as unworthy as Soleiyu before me. I am as evil as your father!”

 

“Richter... Don’t talk that way.” Alucard held him in his arms. Thunder rumbled across the sky, and in their hearts. “We all have our doubts and vices. To err is to be human, and to be human is a wonderful thing.”

 

“It just feels so inescapable! This cycle of violence I was born into... I was raised to fight and kill and use the Vampire Killer. Now there is nothing to fight, no Dark Lord to kill, and now the whip is no longer mine. What’s left for me?” Richter sobbed against Alucard’s chest. “What’s left for a weapon with no war? It’s all I’ve ever known. I was only ever raised for this .”

 

Alucard wasn’t sure what to say, as he stroked his thick waves of hair. The rain was still light.

 

“And to pass on this awful burden to my sons... would be an unforgivable thing. I’ve thought of leaving Annette to spare my family that fate, but I love her too much.” Richter admitted. “Even thinking of abandoning her feels pure evil.”

 

“I want you to promise to never leave her behind," Alucard said with conviction. "Else you will live with bitter regret."

 

“I couldn’t. I could never! She means the world to me.” He shook his head vigorously. “But imagine if something like this ever happens again! I met Maria a few times in the castle and I couldn’t recognize her in that state as anything but prey for my Lord. My own sister-in-law...!”

 

“If you ever do fall to evil again, I will be there. I am your redeemer, Richter Belmont. I will be there .”

 

The former hunter was silent for a moment.

 

Richter responded with a few more sobs, tears pouring with equal parts relief and regret. “I just wanted to be remembered as a hero like my ancestors, but my quest for relevance has despoiled our family's memory. I... It’s just hard. Being a Belmont is supposed to be an honorable thing, but I can’t help but feel like.. Like...”

“Like your blood is cursed?” Alucard asked, his voice warm with recognition.

 

“You have no idea.” Richter sighed. “Everywhere I go, my bloodline follows. The cycle of killing is all I have known, so I sought to continue my role in it forever... To justify myself."

 

Blood is blood is blood.

 

That old taunting echo.

 

He knew now, why Richter, as lord of the castle, had pulled him from his eternal sleep that awful night. Their souls were tied from the start.

 

They were opposites; they were the same. Twin paradoxes, weaved into one.

 

"I once thought the same thing... That because my father was so evil, my fate was prewritten, and I could not run from it." Alucard leaned close to him.

 

"But you defied him, and fought alongside my ancestor." Richter was lost in thought.

 

"You too can choose your destiny." Alucard said. "Not your forefathers... You."

 

"I have responsibilities-"

 

"Responsibilities to a useless whip?" Alucard asked.

 

"I suppose you're right." His laugh was sad and defeated.

 

Alucard realized then, that the way to alleviate his pain was to free him from its source.

 

"When I decided to accompany Maria to Aljiba, I decided that I would use my immortal life to face my father over again should the need arise. I will take this burden for you and your children."

 

"No, no, you can't..." Richter shook his head in disbelief. His heart was beating with all the fervor of the pounding rain.

 

"Let your family legends be put to rest. End the cycle, Richter." He spoke with a cold, yet gentle authority.

 

"I cannot force this upon you. I won't let myself." Richter closed his eyes, shaking. “I can’t .”

 

"Then I will. It will be out of your hands now." Alucard said, softly. "I will seek a suitable heir for the Vampire Killer. I want you- and Annette, and Maria, too- to have a joyous, peaceful life more than anything."

 

“Will... will you take the whip?”

 

“I cannot. I’m an unholy creature, after all. I’m just as ‘unworthy’ as you.”

 

“I see...”

 

“But I will find an heir. This I vow.”

 

Raindrops fell upon Richter's face, indistinguishable from the glistening tears he had shed.

 

"I would not wish my pain unto anyone, and yet you seem to suffer it- to ruinous effect." The dhampir continued. "I have often dreamed of a life unburdened by legacy. Do you share the same wish?"

 

"Well... Yes, but..." Richter acknowledged. "If I leave here with Annette and Maria... I want you to come as well. You have become dear to me, Alucard... I love you." Admiration flooded his eyes, brimming into fresh, warm tears.

 

"So be it. There will be many years before Dracula arises again." Alucard said, squeezing his gloved hand. "I love you too... You and Annette."

 

Annette, who had alleviated some of his previous hurt, and Richter, whose future he sought to heal...

 

"We'll leave together, then."

 

Richter handed the Vampire Killer to Alucard with an air of finality.

 

~

 

It was a cold, misty morning when the four finally gathered in a wooden carriage, pulled by Snowball and Cocoa. The whole village had crowded around them to see them off on their journey. Everyone was in high spirits, and the townspeople hoped their ‘maiden voyage’, so to speak, was a happy one.

 

Sister Tera, a nun, and Iris, a doctor, were among the crowd. They were close friends of Richter, Annette and Maria, and Alucard had enjoyed the brief moments of company they shared during his stay in Aljiba. Iris in particular was a wonderful friend. She often discussed healing with Alucard, who shared with her some of his mother’s unique knowledge. Iris gave Alucard a hug before he boarded the carriage.

 

“I’ll miss you all,” she said quietly.

 

“We’ll write,” Alucard replied. “Maria’s owl is an excellent messenger.”

 

“Well, it’s the principle of the thing.” Iris shrugged, and handed a bag of medicine to her friend. “If things go awry, I hope this should help you.”

 

Alucard took the gift gratefully. “Thank you, and farewell.” Iris smiled, and waved goodbye.

 

“I thought I’d see you off,” Sister Tera said to Richter. “I’ll miss you... I’m forever grateful for how you rescued me.” She bowed and kissed his hand.

 

“Hey now... I’m a married man, you know!” Richter laughed jovially.

Alucard looked down happily at the diamond ring that Richter and Annette had given him shortly after the former hunter relinquished the whip. It was so comforting, to be loved.

 

“Yes, and I’m a holy woman. Annette can breathe easy, I don’t pose much of a threat.” Tera laughed. “May the stars light your path, all of you. Farewell.”

 

"And yours as well."

 

Annette looked through the window of her carriage forlornly at her old cottage. She had to leave behind most of the books she had accumulated throughout her life, as sad as it was.

 

“Do you want to go get more of your books?” Richter asked her softly, leaning close to her face. “I’m sure you can fit a few more in the carriage...”

 

Annette shook her head, then her expression became more determined. When she spoke, it was like a declaration: “No. We must let the others learn from your family’s history. To hoard this knowledge selfishly wouldn’t be kind of me.”

 

“And we shall leave that history behind.” Richter nodded, and that felt like a declaration too. He had made his choice.

 

Where we go, blood shall not follow. 

It was a comforting thought.

 

After the crowd had said their farewells, Maria, from the coachman's seat where she perched, urged the two horses into motion, and the clopping of their hoofbeats echoed long behind them.

 

They were going home.

1999

 

Dracula is dead. It’s finally over.

 

Alucard is standing on that God-damned cliff again. He is carrying an unconscious young man in his arms, auburn hair tied back into a loose ponytail. This young man is, or was, Julius Belmont. By his side, there is a young woman named Mayumi Hakuba, a powerful sorceress and priestess of the Hakuba shrine, far away in Japan; but most importantly of all, she was his friend.

 

The castle isn’t crumbling. It’s far away, trapped in an eclipse. He had Mayumi to thank for that.

 

When Julius awakens, his memories will be gone, and they have been gone ever since he blacked out during the eclipse. Alucard knows this. Julius knew this, too.

 

Alucard felt his regret wash over him in full force. Richter broke the cycle, the Morrises took on the responsibility, but with Julius fulfilling the prophecy, a young man of the Belmont family was once again forced into this role, and forced to learn how to fight from a young age... and make the ultimate sacrifice of his memories.

 

Nineteen. Julius is nineteen . Richter was nineteen when he first faced Dracula, too. Alucard doesn’t like thinking about that.

 

This would be the last time, though, and there was some relief in that.

 

Though Julius, as he knew him, was now gone forever.

 

It was the ultimate caveat to this mission, this war: the magic now imbued in the Vampire Killer that was powerful enough to break the cycle of reincarnation was made from Dracula’s remains themselves- and that magic came at a price.

 

The dark witch who long ago, in the mid 19th century, imparted this particular spell to Alucard told him it came at the price of your very life and soul. She even said it had claimed the life of her brother... It took centuries to refine the magic to this very point, and even then, Julius’ memories, his very self, were forfeit.

 

It was a terrible price, and one Julius was aware of from the beginning- and he went forward wholeheartedly, even still. The power of the Vampire Killer, combined with the ritual sealing away the castle’s chaotic power, and the magical properties of the Dominus spell imbued within it, was all enough to destroy Dracula for good. He faced it without reservations.

 

And now it was over. Dracula was gone forever, the castle and the whip sealed away.

 

Julius was still unconscious, and probably would remain so for a while.

 

“So, it’s a victory, then? Humanity is free?” Mayumi’s congratulations were amicable, but held a hollow sadness underneath the triumphant veneer.

 

“Yes. It is over,” said Alucard, his shoulder length black hair blowing in the breeze. “The Dark Lord is no more. Your sealing ritual was crucial, and I thank you for it... Else we may still be at war now.” He felt a sense of quiet relief- he would never have to come face to face with his father again.

 

But should it have been me?

 

That doubt bubbled up to the surface. Of course, as the prophecy of 1999 willed, it must have been a Belmont to take up arms... And yet again the cycle had perpetuated itself.

 

He just wished... could he have paid the price in Julius’ place? Was that even a possibility? ...Perhaps it was foolish to try and recant what had already been done... and what had been his fate.

 

There was an unspoken sorrow at what had happened, a silent acknowledgment between the priestess and dhampir. Julius had been a close friend to both of them, of course- how could he not, after all they had been through?

 

“I’ll take him to the hospital. As we planned.” Mayumi said, clearly swallowing back her emotions, and outstretched her arms to take the sleeping teenager from Alucard.

 

“As we planned.” Alucard echoed.

 

~

 

It was late in the evening. The mood in the hospital was sterile and quiet as Mayumi and Alucard waited by the bedside. Alucard stared at the sad looking white walls. It was better than looking at his unconscious friend.

 

As they all had agreed upon before the mission had begun, Julius would be given a new name and identity. Cutting any ties to the Belmont family would give him blissful anonymity and a presumably peaceful existence, far away from the turbulent memories trapped in the castle’s spirit. Julius had wished for that. There was something of a peace in forgetting.

 

J. That was who he would become.

 

Finally, he stirred. His green-grey eyes were wide with confusion, darting around the room at those who looked upon him.

 

Alucard briefly and fervently wished for him to remain, and remember.

 

“Who... who are you people...?” J stammered deliriously, dashing that hope near immediately.

 

“I am Genya Arikado,” he spoke, which was another pseudonym the three of them had come up with before the commencement of the war. Due to Alucard’s own history, they all felt it best to hide that from J as well. “You’ve gone through a horrible accident, J, and have lost your memory.”

 

“My name is J...?”

 

“Yes, but it’s not your true name.” Mayumi spoke. “Call me Ms. Hakuba. Our time together will be short, though, so don’t worry about getting too familiar.” She forced a smile.

 

“You have a home in Texas to return to.” Alucard elaborated.

 

“Texas?! Where am I now?” J asked, with a frantic air accenting his voice.

 

“You’re in Romania.” Mayumi said.

 

“What the hell am I doing in Romania?” J shot upwards in his bed.

 

“You were... you were on vacation, when the accident happened.” Mayumi lied with a nervous laugh, and Alucard tensed. Mayumi wasn’t exactly a believable liar.

 

“Some vacation, huh...?” J shrugged.

 

“I’d imagine so. We’ll get you back to your life in no time. No need to worry.” Mayumi chuckled.

 

It was strange, to look in the eyes of someone you knew and see nothing returned to you in their gaze. There was something distant, about what had become of Julius... Like they were mere strangers... Like they hadn’t fought side by side and faced the devil together.

 

Alucard wished him well, and left, as he didn’t see much reason to stay much longer. Besides, he had a flight to Texas as well... and an old friend to meet.

 

He gave a short nod to Mayumi, and left the hospital. He needed to get out of that place. He could barely breathe as everything set in.

 

~

 

It was rather late at night when he arrived at the house of Charlotte Aulin, in the heart of Texas and not far from the Morris family ranch. The witch was an old ally of the Morris family, and a surprisingly good friend of Alucard’s. When he rang the doorbell she rushed, as fast as she was able in her old age, from her bookcase full of old spellbooks to let him in.

 

“Good evening.” Alucard bowed.

 

“Alucard! Come in!” Charlotte said, opening the door. “I didn’t expect you to arrive tonight. Was the flight ok?”

 

“The flight was pleasant enough. I seem to be developing a taste for ginger ale.” The dhampir followed her inside, and settled on her couch with comforting familiarity.

 

“So, war’s over?” Charlotte said, sitting down next to him. “It makes me kind of nostalgic for the old days. Jonathan and I celebrated for months when the second World War was over.” She let out a wistful, reminiscent sigh. 

 

Alucard chuckled. “Yes, it’s over. You saw the eclipse, didn’t you? That should be proof enough.”

“Couldn’t miss it! I would’ve been out there fighting if you let me, you know.” Charlotte said, nudging him.

 

“Nonsense. You’re seventy-one years old. You’re scarcely fit for fighting.” Alucard responded with a sense of protective authority.

 

“Hey, don’t bring a woman’s age into this!” Charlotte joked.

 

Alucard let out a sharp laugh, but it didn’t really hold any amusement.

 

“...Is something bothering you?”

 

Alucard averted her gaze.

 

“Is it because of Julius?”

 

Damn it.

 

“Well... yes,” he admitted. “He’s... gone now.”

 

“You knew that at the very start of this whole war.” Charlotte touched his hand.

 

“And yet it still hurts like a wound.”

 

“It always does,” Charlotte’s eyes brimmed with sorrow. “Jonathan... When he died. I knew it was coming, too, but it didn’t make it less painful.”

 

“The Vampire Killer.” His acknowledgment was quiet and detached.

 

“It’s what he wanted, really... He knew it would consume his soul, and yet the good it did outweighed that. To him, at least.” Charlotte explained. “And losing him was still the most pain I’ve ever experienced. Just waking up knowing my best friend wouldn’t be there anymore... You of all people would know how hard it is to outlive.”

 

The sacrifices the Morris family had made were great, as anyone who used the whip’s full power without being of Belmont blood would be one day destroyed by it. Alucard felt a piercing regret as he recalled how he had given the whip to Quincey Morris, and crafted the Alucard Spear to compliment it. He had freed Richter of his burden by shifting it unto someone else. In a way, when Alucard made the choice of the whip’s heir, and crafted the Lecardes' spear, he had written their epitaphs.

 

“Do you hate me for it... Charlotte?” Alucard asked, his voice barely a whisper.

 

“Hate you?”

 

“I chose the Morrises for the whip. ‘Tis my fault Jonathan, and his father, and Quincey, has their lives cut short. I... killed them. I dug their graves, in a metaphorical sense.” Alucard hung his head. “You know that...”

 

“If there’s anything my books have taught me, it’s that there will always be sacrifices in life.” Charlotte hugged him. “If the Morrises hadn’t taken up the role, who else would have? The Belmonts weren't able... But I’m glad to have known such brave people, and fought by his side. Besides, you’re my friend, too. Just like Jonathan was.”

 

“I see.” Alucard said. “I suppose now that Dracula is gone forever, it’s all come to a finale.”

 

“That’s what I kind of wonder about... What will life be like without that looming over our heads? It’s a relief, don’t get me wrong, but it’s so hard to imagine.” Charlotte said, looking off into the distance.

 

“I’ll be glad to have some peace and quiet... though I’ve heard speculation that it’s possible a new Dark Lord will rise in his place thirty-six years from now, according to the prophecies. So I suppose some things never change.” Alucard shrugged. “I don’t think my work is ever truly over. C'est la vie.”

 

“Thirty-six years is a pretty long time.” Charlotte mused. “We won! Now’s not the time to be worrying over things in the future. You've been fighting all your life... Why continue?”

 

“I know... I really do overthink these things. But it pays to be cautious." He pauses. "I am affording myself some respite, however.” Alucard looked down at his own hands, which clenched into fists as he announced: “I’m going to adopt a new identity.”

 

“I see... We can still be friends, right? How secret is this identity, exactly?” the elderly woman asked.

 

“Well, yes, we can. But you’ll know me as Genya Arikado from now on,” he explained. “It’s for the best this way. Julius told me he wanted to cut himself off from his previous life entirely once he lost his memories. Knowing me as Alucard may compromise that ideal.”

 

“I see... Arikado. Are you sure that’s a different enough name...?” Charlotte asked, more to herself than to Alucard. “Whatever! I should get out the champagne.”

 

“No, thank you. I never drink... wine.” Alucard shook his head. The drink’s blood-red hue always reminded him of his father’s... well, drinking habits, to put it delicately. Charlotte chuckled at this, pouring the clear red liquid into her own wine glass. She offered Alucard a can of sparkling grape juice as consolation, which he took eagerly. He sipped it with a pensive air, while leaning back. He took a moment to marvel at the convenience of such things as refrigerators and air conditioners and tasty carbonated drinks- how easy it was to take them for granted when such luxuries were in nearly every home.

 

Richter would have liked the modern era, he thought, though perhaps he would have been even more restless. He missed him terribly, and missed Annette just as much, but he would never have burdened his loved ones with the curse he bore. He outlived them, but it was no tragedy. It was the nature of life, and the beauty of mortality.

That’s what made his friendship with Charlotte come so easily, he thought.

 

You of all people would know how hard it is to outlive.

 

In a way, he had outlived young Julius, too.

 

He couldn’t help the tears as it set in once more that he would never see his ally and friend ever again, at least not as he had known him. The young man who had been like a son to him...

 

Charlotte put a hand on his shoulder sympathetically.

 

“I know it’s hard.”

 

“He was so young.” Alucard lamented. "Belmonts always have had to face the Count so young."

 

It was just like having to leave behind Grant, Trevor and Sypha, but at least that had been something he chose. He had no choice in the matter of Julius’s amnesia, and that hurt more, illogically so.

 

“He’ll be happier, I think. Not remembering all the hardship he’s been through.” Charlotte shook her head, her silver hair falling over her shoulder.

 

“But is it really him...? Memories shape who we are. I cannot ignore that.” The dhampir sighed.

 

“Of course it’s him.”

 

“It felt like talking to a stranger.” It was true. He had recognized nothing in his eyes.

 

“You told me a lot about... what was it, freeing Richter from ‘the cycle’...? Maybe it would help to think of this as freeing as well. He won’t have to remember or live up to that responsibility ever again. Isn’t that a more complete freedom?” Charlotte paced around the room, deep in quiet thought.

 

“I suppose.” And mine is a responsibility that does not and cannot ever end, so long as I draw breath.

 

“The cycle is over.”

 

“...You’re right. The Belmonts are freed from it, and even Dracula himself, curse his name, is free. How fitting that only death was his salvation.” Alucard mused.

 

“Let yourself be free too, Alucard.” The elderly witch almost sounded like how Maria used to speak to him, when he barely recognized himself, and realizing that made him feel the bitter ache of loss.

 

It was bitter, but sweet nonetheless: through all the centuries Alucard had lived, there had always been kind and gentle people who sought to understand him. Kindness was not an anomaly! Maybe if Dracula had recognized that: that Lisa was not the only goodness in this world, he wouldn't have become so blinded by grief.

 

Hatred and greed were ever present, too, but generosity and love were human . And not a day went by where Alucard wasn't surrounded by it. He would shun it no longer. His new identity... he would be known and recognized as a mortal, and that was comforting.

 

You seem human. What Maria had said that day echoed in his head.

 

Maybe he was.

 

“It’s Arikado now.” He corrected her, then took another sip of his grape juice. “But I will.”

 

They had talked all night, and the sun was beginning to rise. Shafts of light came in through the large windows in Charlotte’s house, igniting the interior with an almost heavenly glow.

 

Dracula was dead and gone, only a memory now, one destined to be forgotten and fade away as the years marched on: and to be forgotten is the most damning mortality of all. But humanity would last forever, joyous and liberated in his absence.

 

A new dawn had begun.

 

2036

 

Dracula is reborn. It was over; it was like birdsong after a centuries-long night, heralding the long-awaited arrival of the sun.

 

Arikado and Soma stood on a cliffside- another cliffside- and watched a castle- not Dracula's, but a cult's- crumble to dust.

 

"It's finally over. We're finished here. Let's go." Arikado said, but Soma lingered by the cliffside. Arikado understood. The teenager was clearly unsettled by his encounter with the demon Menace- the final test for his loyalty. It was a disturbing sight to be sure, a muddled collection of corpses and bones and every angry soul that remained in Celia’s castle. A beast that could not be tamed, that destroyed its master.

 

Even beyond that... A lot had changed over the past two years. Soma and Arikado had met within the eclipse in 2035, and just as the prophecies had foretold, Soma had been the second coming of Dracula: the vampire’s soul trapped within a mortal body. Twice he had nearly been pulled to that same darkness that defined his past life, and twice over he refused it. Arikado had nothing but admiration for his strength of will. It almost reminded him of that story of how Annette refused the Dark Lord’s offers of immortality to his face.

 

He knew now that Soma had gone down a different road from his father because of all the love that surrounded him. It was grief that had changed him, and a lack of support in the face of it. Soma had so many people who loved and trusted him.

 

When he had witnessed the same loss, history had nearly repeated itself- the cycle would have repeated anew. When that damned priestess Celia tricked him into witnessing a doppelganger of Mina get murdered, Soma was nearly gone, and Arikado's father had stood in his place.

 

But he held it back.

 

Soma is not Dracula, and yet he is . He was everything Dracula could have been if he weren't so prideful, so stubbornly committed to a vengeance he barely remembered. When Alucard faced him back at the end of the millennium, at Julius's side, the maddened old vampire could barely remember who Lisa was . He had lost his mind, or maybe he had lost it long before.

 

Soma was different. Defiant to the end, and trusting in his own good nature. And he loved Mina- he loved her truly, not in the way Dracula had "loved" Lisa. And he had come so close to losing it all.

 

So, yes, Arikado understood why his gaze lingered across the water at the ruins.

 

The boy would need comfort, he decided.

 

"Soma, is there something wrong?" His voice was gentle and kind, as though like a mother speaking to her child.

 

Soma remained silent for a moment, then turned towards him, his voice firm. "Tell me. Just what is the Dark Lord?"

 

"What Celia told you wasn't necessarily wrong. The Dark Lord is an entity that exists in complete opposition to good."

 

"Then that means there will always be a need for a Dark Lord. That's what she told me. That for good to exist-" Soma's voice was hurried and uncertain. Perhaps he worried he would have to accept his role after all. "Oh, and I ducked out from being next in line! Was that a mistake?"

 

"Don't misconstrue me. If the world needs a Dark Lord, one will come. It doesn't have to be you." Arikado soothed him. "I promise."

 

"But if it weren't for me, none of this would have happened!" Soma cried. "With Light put all of you in danger... because of me. Because I refused to be their demon- their god."

 

"You're neither a god nor a demon. You're only human." Maybe the same is true for me, Arikado added inwardly. "You have no chance of achieving perfection... Or are you saying you want to be the Dark Lord?"

 

"No! Of course not!!" Soma exclaimed.

 

"Then stay true to that. Look!" Arikado turned his head and pointed to the east, where four familiar shapes were approaching. "There are people waiting for you. Don't break their hearts."

 

Soma's eyes lit up joyously as he spotted Hammer, Yoko and Julius. The hunter had regained his memory the previous year, from where it had been trapped all that time in the castle. It was nothing short of miraculous for Arikado to see his friend again.

 

"You kept your promise." Julius's eyes were lit with a proud sparkle. Of all people he would know what it is like to face your fate, and the struggles that came with it.

 

"Welcome back, Soma!" Yoko greeted him, running over to hug him. The Belnades witch, a friend of Arikado's, viewed Soma like a little brother, and they were nearly inseparable after the experience in Dracula's castle the year before. It warmed Arikado's heart to see them embrace.

 

Mina of the Hakuba clan, Mayumi's daughter, rushed to join the crowd on the cliffside, joining Yoko in the embrace.

 

"Mina? What are you doing here?" He asked once they parted; his voice was equal parts fondness and bewilderment.

 

"I was worried about you." Mina looked down at the grass on the cliffside. "It's scary to think about you being targeted by a violent cult. I just wanted to make sure you were okay- that’s why I sent the talisman, too." Though she tried to hide it, a tear was welling in her eye.

 

"I'm so sorry. Don't cry, Mina... Everything's over now." At his comforting words, Mina smiled, putting on a happier face for him.

 

Yes, indeed, Soma was surrounded by love.

 

"She'll have you wrapped around her finger, you know." Julius nudged Soma, and Yoko laughed. Arikado rolled his eyes. The last thing he wanted was for Hammer to-

 

"I'd love to be wrapped around Yoko's finger!" Hammer blushed. Ugh. Of course. The ex-soldier had been obsessed with Yoko ever since Arikado had rescued her after being stabbed by the missionary Graham Jones. Arikado wasn't sure what kind of a man fell in love with an unconscious, stabbed woman, but he knew he didn't like it one bit. Yoko seemingly ignored the comment. She didn’t like it either; Hammer wasn’t much more than a stranger to her.

 

"It's not like that!" Soma had become quite flustered by the teasing. Yoko and Julius laughed at his indignation, while Mina seemed similarly embarrassed.

 

As they continued to joke, Arikado returned to where he had stood and watched the castle fall. The sun was rising in the sky, like it always did. It was a wonderful morning.

 

"If the world needs a Dark Lord, one will emerge. Even if it's not you, Soma." He mused, and though he addressed Soma by name he was mostly talking to himself.

 

...It was time to go. These ruins were best forgotten.

 

~

 

Hammer would be arranging plane tickets back to Japan, as well as driving the group to the airport. Despite his dislike of the ex-soldier, Arikado was thankful for that kindness, and that his truck was big enough to accommodate six passengers. It was still a tight fit, however.

 

It would certainly be a long ride- Celia's castle was in a very remote location- and it would be made all the longer by the loud music blaring from the car's built-in radio. It all wasn't exactly Arikado's taste.

 

But did that matter? This was possibly the best morning of his life. Every single grudge and cycle had been laid to rest. The story of Dracula and the Belmonts' struggle had finally, unquestionably ended. Hammer had every right to play the radio at maximum volume, to shout along to every lyric.

 

In the back row, Soma was squeezed in the middle seat between Mina (fast asleep- apparently she had stayed up all night waiting for Soma's return from the castle) and Arikado. He seemed tired, but wide awake, and he held Mina's hand tightly. Arikado felt a rush of affection for the kind boy he had sometimes thought of like a son.

 

"Soma... Thank you. Of all that has happened these past two years, the best part of them was meeting you." Arikado said suddenly, his voice soft with emotion.

 

Soma met his gaze, and for a brief moment he shared the same intense familial love. Then he laughed. "Arikado, that's the sappiest thing I've ever heard. I didn't know you were like that."

 

"There is... a lot you don't know about me, Soma."

 

"Like what?" His expression was one of curiosity.

 

“Why should I reveal all my secrets to you?” Arikado gave him a knowing smile. “It’s so much easier to talk in riddles and amuse myself watching you puzzle over them.”

 

“Because I might decide it’d be more fun to be Dracula after all. Perish, mortal! Mwahahaha!” Soma laughed, then added after noticing Arikado’s expression of horror: “Don’t look at me like that, I’m kidding.”

 

“Very well, since you’re so insistent... I’m a dhampir.”

 

“Dhampir?” His face twisted in confusion, an eyebrow cocked upwards.

“Half-vampire, if you like, though it’s not the formal term.”

 

Realization dawned on him, and his eyes went very wide. “So that explains why Mina said you never seemed to grow old. And... and why you knew so much about the castle, and... Oh my God.”

 

“I assumed you would have figured out who I was by now.” Arikado's yellow eyes glistened mirthfully.

 

“ Who ...? Not what ?” Confusion returned to his gaze, followed by frustration. “Is there more you’re not telling me?”

 

“I knew you as Dracula. We were family, and kin.”

“That’s not exactly helpful. In case you’ve forgotten, I thought Dracula was a made up story before we met.” The indignant pout returned to Soma’s face. “I don’t have any memories of my past life, if that’s what you think.”

 

“I was his son.” He paused for a moment, then added, in an emotional near whisper: “You are the reconciliation with my father I never had.”

Soma’s expression was unreadable, but unwavering. Arikado took a breath.

 

“My name is- was - Alucard. I thought I was a monster then. I know now I am human.”

 

Understanding and empathy lit Soma's steady gaze. "Because you chose not to be like Dracula, right? Just like me."

 

In that moment, everything felt clear, and right. It was the same sense of clarity he felt the morning after Dracula died. Dracula was not borne of evil. He was a good man who chose to make himself a vampire and a ruthless embodiment of Chaos and evil. Alucard had also been presented with that same choice, when he had bore witness to the good and evil of humanity. 

 

So had Soma.

 

Blood may be blood, fate may be fate, but... I'm human, because I choose to be.

 

"That's right. Just like you."

 

And the story was over.