Poison Mind

He's moving about the castle, you think.

 

It must be true. Alucard said he encountered him in the coliseum. You checked, and he was no longer there.

 

Unless Alucard was lying, of course.

 

He did say that Richter had proclaimed himself the castle's lord. What a farce... You know your brother in law, and know him well. He has a passionate heart, and he was born and raised for heroism. A Belmont ruling Dracula's castle sounds like a particularly bad joke.

 

Alucard doesn't seem like he tells jokes that often. You know the type: stoics who fancy themselves dark and mysterious. All too serious. You can sort of see what dwells beneath the surface, though: the dhampir is moreso shy than truly antisocial. He is polite, but distant.

 

But still... he said what he said.

 

It can't be true. Richter is a good man. Alucard doesn't know him like I do. He doesn't know him at all!

 

You make your way up the great staircase in the Royal Chapel. It's odd, how both times you've been in the castle, there's always a great chapel. You didn't think Dracula had the highest opinion of any deities, not that you care for his thoughts. You have been here before, of course, when you watched Alucard tussle with a hippogryph, which was pretty entertaining. There is something amusing about seeing him getting his feathers ruffled, so to speak. Richter wasn’t in the chapel back then, but you keep returning to that thought: he’s moving about the castle. So many times you might have encountered each other, but didn’t, like two parallel lines, never meeting.

 

Maybe Alucard misinterpreted what he said, or the intention behind it, or something. I’m going to find him, and we’ll probably laugh it off, and then we’ll go home and tell Annette all about it.

 

It’s not hard to ascend the stairs now that all the monsters have been cleared out. For how strange Alucard is, he’s certainly efficient at emptying a castle. You shiver a bit. At least it makes things easier for you, even though it’s a bit creepy how quiet it is here. Just soft, echoey footsteps, and your own breathing. You think you heard a choir here, before, but now there is nothing, and you doubt your own memory. Castlevania is a veritable maze; Alucard once explained to you that it changed every time it resurfaced from this cursed old country, like Dracula himself, but even just tonight it feels like everything is shifting.

 

...Has it really been only a night? You haven’t seen the sun in some time, after all, but it feels longer somehow. You’re overthinking it, surely. After all, it only took a night for you and Richter to storm the castle five years ago.

 

You shiver again, involuntarily. It’s awfully drafty here, and you are near a doorway... It makes sense that you’d be so cold, and yet this feels like something more supernatural. Best not to overthink it... The entrance to the largest hall in the silent church awaits. In any other situation, in any other place, it would be beautiful, rainbow-colored lights prisming through the massive stained glass panes onto the center of the room and between every reverent pew. Were it sculpted by human hands, it would be art.

 

This place is not art; this is not a church; this is only another room in an endless winding place full of rooms; this is chaos twisted and gnarled into something you think you recognize. You don’t. All it is, is the heart of a creature.

 

And within this creature’s heart stands Richter Belmont.

 

He’s at the center of it all, staring blankly across the room at an engraving of a cross. He’s all wild, unruly chestnut hair and gentle strength and everything you remember from before he disappeared. He’s your brother. Why do you expect that, in the back of your mind, to change?

 

He hasn’t noticed your arrival. He’s smirking slightly, a strange, cruel smile, something too unlike his usual toothy grin. It feels odd to approach him, but why should it? He’s your brother.

 

You walk forward, waving a leather-gloved hand, leather scratched and torn by owl talons but still reliable. “Richter, is it really you? We must have kept missing each other.” He turns to face you, and the look in his eyes is one of amusement. He isn’t laughing, though. You shiver again, but not because of the draftiness.

 

“It’s me,” you manage after a gulp. “Maria.”

 

You see no recognition in his body language. He’s tense, but he looks a bit like a bird that’s puffed up its feathers to look larger. It’s weird.

 

“A lamb in a den of wolves,” he laughs, chillingly.

 

"Oh, Richter, it is you! Can we go home now? I'm frightened," you say, and for that moment you sound like a child again. You weren’t frightened then, the first time you stormed the castle, but perhaps you should have been.

 

You are now, however.

 

"And why have you come here?" You open your mouth to respond, before he continues: "You want my glory. You want me to waste away, forgotten. Isn't that right, fellow hunter?"

 

"What? That's not true!" You sputter. "Why would I-"

 

"You are my second challenger, then." He mused. "The second one who wants to dethrone me, to force me to take their petty offers of purposelessness, and rot, and die like a little, insignificant dog. Know that you won't be successful."

 

His words horrify you. It's like something bubbling up from hell, something that was always there yet invisible.

 

"I... I had no idea you felt that way." Despite your fear, you move to grab his hand, a comforting gesture, one that he flinches away from. "You truly feel insignificant? But... You're a Belmont!"

 

"Oh, but I am one of many; nothing but Leon's vow given flesh; a continued cycle. They will remember the Belmonts forever, little lamb, but they will not remember me." He shook his head, and his whole body shuddered as he then proclaimed: "Just another Belmont who did what he had to! I am more oath than man. But no longer..."

 

"But we will remember you! Annette will remember you, too..." It's all you can think to say. He isn't talking any sense. "I promise."

 

"Another empty vow. But I don't need your platitudes." He chuckled. "I'll make sure they venerate me. I'll make sure; I'll be known as the one who took Dracula's throne for himself; the one who brought him to life only to rip him limb from limb once more, over and over and over, like the prey he is!" He pauses to clear his throat, then spits, "I, the greatest hunter, the new lord of Castlevania!"

 

You feel something crawling up your spine as you remember what Alucard told you. Everything lines up just so, arranging itself into something so awful, like a mosaic; like the shards of multicolored glass shimmering with light in the windows.

 

This is not art.

 

“You can’t resurrect Dracula. Is that what you’re saying? That you wish his return...?” You ask. “Isn’t that what the Belmont clan has fought against for eternity?”

 

“You misunderstand! By bringing him back, I will destroy him. I will subdue him. I’m doing my duty. Efficiently... Powerfully.” He raises his hands reverently. “If I am born to kill the Dark Lord, then that is what I will do. The battle I am bred for... will be eternal.”

 

You can’t see the logic. He’s clearly gone mad! “Richter. Please, come home with me. This is... It’s insane! I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

 

“So I was right... You do want to dethrone me, Maria,” he growls, something animalistic, and he brandishes the Vampire Killer, gleaming silver in the light, and you realize in horror that every little thing you said has pushed him to this confrontation.

 

Or, more horrifyingly, was this a foregone conclusion...?

 

He’s closing the distance between you, and you realize that you must act, or meet your end by the holy whip. You jump, agile as you can muster, and summon two red birds, manifestations of Suzaku. They dutifully dart through the air towards Richter, or whoever he is, since you still don’t quite believe in it, and you run, fast as you can manage.

 

You desperately don’t want to hurt him. You know he can’t really be thinking such awful things! It must be a spell, or a curse, or a doppelganger, or... anything but such a terrible fate. You know him, or maybe you knew him, and he’s kindhearted and passionate and would never stoop so low for petty glory.

 

Is this not also passion, you ask yourself. ...At its worst conclusion?

 

The cardinals don’t distract him for very long, but this gives you enough time to put some distance between you and him. You race through the halls, down the massive staircase, trying not to stumble over the steps. You squint in the streams of multicolored light, and hear the stomping of his heeled boots, far too close behind you. You are fast but he is faster, all strength and agility, catching up to you.

 

You summon your owl, letting its talons grab onto your leather gloves and lift you out of reach, and jumping downward into the room below the foot of the stairs, somersaulting in the air and struggling onto your feet again as quickly as you can manage.

 

I’ll... go to the Marble Gallery. And the caves. There are plenty of places to hide in the caves. I think.

 

The winding corridors and staircases that lead through the Alchemy Lab are a double edged sword. Confusing to navigate, yes, but the same must be true to your pursuer. You both run, struggling to keep a hold on your endurance. You stumble into a small alcove, opened by a crumbling wall, and that was perhaps a mistake- a dead end.

 

You’re backed against the wall, and Richter blocks the exit to the main passageway.

 

“Have you finally let me catch you...? Or will you stand and fight?” He taunts, and clutches the Vampire Killer with a terrifyingly intense grip. “What a delightful hunt this has been, little fox. I’d hate if you ruined it.”

 

“I thought I am supposed to be a lamb. You’re not very consistent with your analogies.” You retort on instinct. This thing did wear the face of your brother, after all, and you had grown used to teasing him. Maybe this isn’t the best time... You curse, inaudibly.

 

“A fox is more apt, isn’t it, Renard? The hunter becomes hunted, and the shepherd howls with laughter, for he too has become a wolf in the chase.”

 

He laughs, a loud, triumphant sound, at his own nonsensical joke. It unnerves you, but this at least gives you time to crouch to the floor and slide behind him, in his brief moment of distraction.

 

You’re not far from the Marble Gallery, at least, and the entrance to the caves. The gallery has no twists and turns, only a straight run down the diameter of the castle, a welcome relief. You stumble past the tiny hallway that connects the two areas, and continue to sprint. The walls of red and grey marble and the columns of polished stone herald your arrival in the gallery.

 

“Clearly I can’t catch up to you alone...” he says, stopping in his tracks, and though you briefly hope he is conceding, there is a darkness in his voice that dashes that hope immediately. “Come forth, my servants!” The pride in his voice, something once recognizable as confidence, had become something dripping with pure poison. From the scattered remains of bone-slinging skeletons on the floor, they rise back to undeath, surrounding you on all sides. Richter is approaching you again, and you must think quickly. Your death awaits on all sides, and you hope your summoned dragon- Seiryuu- can destroy all of the skeletons before you meet the wrong end of the Vampire Killer. On verdant wing, it crashes through each ribcage, and the sound of smashing, cracking bones causes a wrenching feeling in your gut. The way forward is clear, at least, and you make a break for it; Seiryuu follows close behind with frantic scaly wingbeats. Your boots slide on the overly-polished stone floors, and you silently pray you won’t slip, until you find yourself, several feet ahead of Richter, in that old clock in the center of the castle, where you first met Alucard.

 

You hear the clock chime, thirteen times, and the hands on its face spin wildly as you step into the room’s center. There’s an awful sound of stone scraping, until...!

 

If the Royal Chapel is Castlevania’s heart, this must be its stomach. On the thirteenth chime, the stone floor opens up beneath you like hungry maws, and close once more as you plummet into the inky darkness with a loud, echoey thump.It is so dark, so dark you can’t see your own hand, and you can hear Richter stop in the room above you. His voice is barely audible past the stone passageway.

 

“So you’ve called the hunt off after all... No matter. I will find your burrow, little fox. You’ll not escape me for long.”

 

Footsteps, growing quieter and quieter as he strides down the hall...

 

Now’s a better time than ever to get a feel for your surroundings, so you gingerly touch the walls- smooth stone. You lower yourself down, and there’s a steel cage. You think briefly it must be a birdcage, but as you squint in the darkness you realize that it is instead an elevator.

 

Maybe it’s a trap. Or maybe it isn’t. You might as well try it, if you’re stuck down here...

 

The elevator ascends, raising you into yet another, dark, stone room. The most peculiar carving embellishes the wall, a clawed, gnarly hand clutching an amulet of some sort. You’re not sure what to make of it, but at least you’re probably safe here, for now. You have a few provisions stashed away, enough to keep yourself fed for a few days, if it comes to that.

 

So, you wait, trying not to think about how Richter must have become this way; trying not to think that you may be forced to slay him.

 

You wait a while, the massive ticking clock above you sounding as though it were a death-knell. You wait, until waiting feels like eternity, here in this chaotic beast unburdened by time or space.

 

You wait.

 

You hear a sudden, muffled movement.

 

Someone else is in the elevator shaft.

 

That long-haired silhouette, the familiar thump of heeled boots... He’s found you, even in this hidden place, he must have...?!

 

You turn around to face him in the darkness, and the sight of his cascading platinum blonde hair makes relief flood you to your fingertips.

 

“Alucard?” You speak his name, and regret gnaws at you, knowing that you doubted his word. But... who wouldn’t have?

 

“That voice... Maria?” The look in his golden eyes is just as relieved as yours must be, as though glad to see an old friend again.

 

Are you friends? Maybe so. You hope so, at least, despite his stoic exterior. After the horrors you witnessed, after seeing what became of Richter, a familiar face feels like the most wonderful thing in the world.

 

"I'm sorry. You were right. He has joined forces with the enemy..." You speak, and unexpectedly, Alucard comes close and hugs you tightly. His embrace is stiff, as though he hasn’t hugged anyone in centuries (knowing him, he probably hasn’t), but the awkward attempt to comfort you is appreciated. “So it was a Belmont after all.”

 

“But someone must be controlling him! Whatever we do, we can’t harm Richter.” You shake your head, and push him away. It can’t be real, you know it.

 

“But he must be stopped.” You recognize the euphemistic tone of his cold words.

 

He must be slain.

 

“I know.” You concede after a moment of solemn silence. “Well... here. Take these with you.” You rummage through your satchel, for that one last, desperate hope. They’re a gift from Annette, something she had given you before you had begun this cursed journey. You wrote it off as superstition at the time, but now...

 

“What are these?” He stares at the holy glasses incredulously.

 

“If you wear them, you can see beyond evil illusions.” You explain, hopefully, and implore him to understand the part left unspoken: Please, save Richter.

 

The look he gives you as he turns to leave is grave. As he prepares to descend from that strange, dark room, his cape trails behind him, the soft, silky material floating behind him in the air. He gives you one last glance, those twin pools of golden fire the only thing visible in the shadows, completely unreadable.

 

“Thank you. 'Tis best then, if you pray for the soul of your friend.”

 

You do.