Scientific Methods

He awoke, like every morning, to candlelight.

 

Albus was always a bit of a heavy sleeper, nothing like his sister who rose with the sun. Shanoa always said it was because he spent all night locked up in that stuffy old library (her words, not his), but this was necessary. His research was important. That was what Master Barlowe always said, he who stood outside his sleeping quarters with a candelabra in his hand.

 

"Good morning, my disciple." The old man spoke warmly, just as he always did. "You must not have slept very well last night."

 

Just like every morning, he woke to candlelight.

 

"Good morning, sir. Is Shanoa coming back today?" Albus asked thoughtfully as he yawned, blinking groggily. The adjacent bed had laid empty for a few days in her absence.

 

"If she's completed her mission, yes." Barlowe said. Shanoa was an adept magical warrior, and often went on excursions for their Order. Albus went on his own share of missions, too, but he much preferred using his skills where they were needed- as Chief Researcher of Ecclesia.

 

“Well, that’s good.” The news that she would return was happy indeed. Since a young age, the two had been inseparable. It followed a sound logic: neither of them had any family left when they were brought to the Order’s cathedral, so they became each other’s family instead. There were other children in the Order’s care, of course, but Shanoa and Albus were the outcasts of the group. They had a shared ‘oddness’ that even fellow Ecclesia members couldn’t exactly understand.

 

And thus, they were brother and sister.

 

“Don’t be late for breakfast. The other disciples have already awoken.” Barlowe said authoritatively, like every morning, and walked away with a steady pace.

 

Albus pulled his clothes on haphazardly, and rushed along to the dining hall. The members of the Order always ate at the same time, which was why Barlowe always woke him so early. It was supposedly to engender a sense of community within Ecclesia, but Albus was always quite the introvert. He thrived working on his own terms, alone, and if he wanted to speak to someone, it wouldn’t be during scheduled mealtimes. Being surrounded with so many people made him nervous, anyway, and he always felt like he was wasting time. He tended to feel weird when he wasn’t being productive, planning ahead and working on things.

 

He scarfed down spoonfuls of porridge as fast as he could manage, bowed wordlessly to a few of his peers who he had sat next to, and hurried off to the library. He could hear a few hushed words trailing after him, from one of the older priests. Something about being antisocial, which wasn’t exactly news.

 

He liked it here in the library, with its bookshelves towering above him, closed off from the usual distractions of the Order. It smelled like old paper, comforting in its familiarity. He was dedicated to his work, something his master always respected greatly. He thought, with a sense of pleased superiority, about when he was made Chief Researcher. The other members who had been vying for the position seemed a bit miffed that such a young Ecclesia member was apparently the most qualified. Albus smirked. No matter their objections, they didn’t know the ins and outs of Glyph magic like he did.

 

Albus cleared the ever-present layer of dust off of his favorite desk, and slouched over in his chair. He knew his posture was terrible; Barlowe scolded him for it and Shanoa wasn’t any different. The witch’s training had necessitated peak physical condition, and she had the habit of sitting straight as a board drilled into her. “It’s better for your back, Albus,” she would always say, as though reciting it.

 

He was continuing to test a certain hypothesis regarding blood- supposedly, according to some old mythologies, it could be used to subdue some dangerous spells and curses, and all blood did indeed hold magic. As morbid as the subject matter was, it was worth a try. Dominus was untamed, unpredictable dark magic. It was dangerous. It needed to be contained, and used. For the good of mankind.

 

So, yes. His work was most important indeed.

 

Albus remembered when he discovered the spell’s true origins: that it was made from Dracula’s remains. He still wondered why Barlowe had made so many efforts to hide that from him, but he was sure his master had his reasons. It was that discovery that had motivated Barlowe to promote him, after all. He had been impressed by his curiosity, though he still asked the boy to not share this forbidden knowledge. And forbidden indeed... Barlowe himself didn't seem to understand what exactly it was he had created. Dominus was beyond mortal ken.

 

The magical tomes that contained the Dominus Glyphs were piled neatly on the desk, unlike most of Albus’s disheveled possessions, and he selected Hatred. Referencing closely from the sigil inscribed on the page, he drew his own copy of Hatred on a neat piece of parchment, as experimenting directly with the tomes was too risky. The symbol gave the mundane object power, enchanted it. With one exception, every magician needed an object of some sort, a conduit, to call upon Glyphs, be it a magically enchanted weapon, a staff, tomes containing the sigils, or just an inscription of the Glyph on paper, though that was the “weakest” option. (Had he not been in the library, he would have used his own conduit, a gorgeous handmade flintlock called Agartha. Of course, it was unwise to fire a gun indoors.)

 

The one exception was Shanoa.

 

The tattooed runes engraved on her skin were an anomaly. She was a blade- what Barlowe called a “perfect specimen” (terminology Albus found objectionable), and could call on any Glyph without any conduit but her own flesh. The master had attempted the process on some of the other disciples of Ecclesia, but none took to the potency of the magic or the painful process the way Shanoa had. Only her flesh could host a Glyph, though no one was certain what had made her so different, and so attuned to this magic.

 

Albus silently began working, unscrewing the top of a small vial of blood, helpfully provided by the nun Sister Adina. He let a single drop of the blood fall onto the page. With a quill, he carefully spread the blood along the pattern of the sigil, tracing it. It would enhance, refine and subdue the magic, if his hypothesis was correct. As he traced over the sigil, it began to glow, as though being awakened. The blood was having an effect!

 

...Ah, curses. The red liquid thinned out before he could complete the symbol, and as he reached for the vial again, he clumsily knocked it down from the wooden stand he had placed it in. The glass shattered, and the dark crimson spread across the paper.

 

"Damn it!" Albus swore, despite how the Order discouraged it, moving the Dominus' tomes out of the way hurriedly. If their pages were stained it would be unspeakably disastrous. He ought to be more careful.

 

"Don't speak of hell so lightly, Albus." The librarian scolded from across the room. Albus had a feeling that he would go very pale if he heard any of the other swear words he knew.

 

"Sorry, sir." Once he had retrieved them from the bloodsoaked desk, he frantically looked for somewhere safe to place them. Maybe the librarian would know...?

 

"Can you hold onto these for a bit? There's been a mishap with the blood samples." He supposed there was no harm in letting the old man near the all-important tomes. He had no knowledge of Glyph magic himself, only archival, so their contents would be nigh-incomprehensible. Besides, if anyone had any plans to steal the ultimate Glyph or disrupt the Order's purpose, they would be expelled from their ranks. Barlowe had made that very clear. (Albus was fortunate the same methods did not extend to those who stole sweets and other treats from the kitchens, as he often did.)

 

"Of course." The librarian nodded sagely, placing a wrinkled hand over their leatherbound covers. "All books are safe with me, magical or otherwise."

 

"Thank you, sir." Albus said, then rushed back to his desk to assess the damage. The blood had completely obscured the carefully scrawled Hatred sigil, thus making the paper useless. The shape and design was what gave it power. However, what really caught Albus's attention was the blood itself; upon contact with the enchanted conduit it had dried instantly, and turned from a bright scarlet to pitch black.

 

"Huh... Do all Glyph sigils do that? Or just Dominus? I’ve never experimented extensively with blood before... I should ask the master." He wondered aloud. It was... odd. He would have to test this further, he thought as he scrawled his observations in his notebook, in his always-messy handwriting. He rummaged through his satchel, to no avail: he had run out of the samples he had been using for experiments.

 

He somehow doubted Adina would be willing to provide more, he thought as he gathered his things and shoved them into his satchel. He hadn’t provided much information on its purpose, as per Barlowe’s request. It was a bit bothersome, knowing all these things that he couldn’t tell anyone else- even his own sister. There was much he wanted to tell Shanoa, beyond the vague sentiment of “I’ve made a bit of a breakthrough”. Barlowe knew best, however, so he trusted his judgment.

 

"You wouldn't mind wiping down the desk while I get more supplies, would you?" Albus asked absentmindedly. "The blood..."

 

"I would mind," The irritated librarian cocked an eyebrow at the researcher. "But I will do it. Hmm... I imagine Master Barlowe won't be pleased with you."

 

"Thank you, sir!" Albus said, ignoring the warning, rushing to the exit with the bloodsoaked page in hand. This could be crucial to understanding Dominus- and commanding it.

 

Suppose, since it's made of Dracula's body parts, you have to offer blood to it... To let it drink again! That would be oddly poetic. Magic seems to enjoy metaphor and riddles. Yes, that could be it...

 

Albus paced through the corridors, surrounded by old marble statues, a particular habit of his. Walking made it easier to collect his thoughts. He clutched the paper carefully, though, as he passed by one of the older priests.

 

"D'you know where the old man's at?" Albus asked. "I have to ask him something."

 

"Speak of your elders more respectfully, young boy. Your master is a man of great esteem." The priest spoke slowly, his voice thinned and weakened with age.

 

Albus furrowed his brow. He really couldn't stand how obsessed with rules and order Ecclesia members could be sometimes. Barlowe would understand his urgency, though, he was certain of it. "Just tell me where he is, will you? Don't be difficult. It's important."

 

"He's tending to the vessel, last I heard." The priest finally relented.

 

Albus didn't bother to thank him. He made his way to the forbidden room, where Barlowe housed the vessel. That taunting, onyx-black statue contained Dracula's soul, and it was the goal of Ecclesia to destroy it- and the Dark Lord himself.

 

Barlowe was indeed waiting there, arranging candles in a circle around the structure.

 

“Sir, I have to ask you something. When I was using the blood samples-” Albus started, his voice coming out in a rush of jumbled words.

 

“Slow down, my disciple.” Barlowe shook his head, then turned to look at the bloodsoaked conduit page. “Did you spill your ink...?”

 

“No! It's nothing like that. I knocked over the blood onto the sigil that I drew, and it turned black. I've never seen anything like it. This proves my hypothesis has some merit- that blood magic and Dominus could be linked in some way!” Albus excitedly paced around the room, making wild gesticulations with his hands to emphasize what he said. “I need to test this further, and I need more blood samples.”

 

"Well, that is odd." Barlowe didn’t look impressed. "Were the tomes damaged?"

 

"No, sir." Albus shook his head.

 

“Regardless, do not be so reckless next time.”

 

"But surely you agree, that this requires more-"

 

"I asked you to get it into a state where it can be absorbed into the flesh."

 

"Just think," Albus said with a flourish. "If I refine the magic enough, I could revolutionize a method for Glyph absorption that doesn't require conduits or runes! I know it can be controlled to that extent- and blood is the key. I just need to know how-"

 

"I asked you to make it suitable for absorption with runes. Nothing more." Barlowe seemed oddly insistent. He was usually quite enthused when Albus had made significant progress.

 

"That would make Shanoa the only one qualified to be the bearer. Are you sure that's wise...?"

 

"You wouldn't afford her the honor of being the world's savior? I'm surprised at you, Albus."

 

"According to the scientific method, every experiment needs to be replicated for consistent, valid results." Albus's eyes narrowed. "This magic always comes at a price. If it has side effects or is otherwise unsafe, I want to test it further. I will make it safe."

 

Barlowe's gaze met his, surprising in its intensity. "This is Dracula's magic, boy. It is borne of Chaos. It is, by nature, resistant to consistency, and thus your scientific method has no value to it. Do you understand?"

 

"That's horrible."

 

"It's beautiful."

 

Albus shuddered.

 

"Refine it to the point where it can be absorbed completely. Do you understand?" Barlowe repeated, a slight growl edging his voice.

 

"Yes, sir, I understand." Albus said, with a hint of sarcasm. I understand that you don't hold my theories in high regard, at least.

 

"Very good, Albus. You may go." Barlowe nodded, his gaze softening.

 

"Good day, sir! " Albus exited the room with a flourish, the decorative blue and gold doors slamming behind him.

 

He stormed down the cathedral halls. It would be lunch-time soon, anyway. He just knew he was onto something. If only the Order's leader could be more cooperative!

 

If only he could tell Shanoa. She'd understand. Still, forbidden knowledge was forbidden for a reason...

 

He passed by one of the nuns, Sister Grace, hardly noticing her as he stewed in his frustrated thoughts.

 

"Ah, good Albus. I saw your sister heading up the grounds just now." She spoke casually.

 

Albus whirled around to face her. "Oh, excellent! I've missed her company for the past few days."

 

"I had a feeling you'd be happy to hear that." Grace smiled.

 

"Fair warning, I'm going to teleport." Albus clicked the flint on Agartha into place, snapped his fingers, and with a small burst of white magic, he opened his eyes to the entrance hall of the cathedral.

 

Teleporting felt a bit like being dipped into icy water. Magic always felt cold, to Albus at least, which was perhaps why he had so easily mastered the ice Glyph Torpor.

 

He hurried behind one of the extravagant marble statues, this one being of an old scholar, and he waited. He always liked scaring Shanoa when she came back home, and no matter how many times he played the same trick, she was almost always startled. It was kind of adorable, but she was learning to detect him more easily, though Albus was good at staying silent, and good at hiding. Before he came to Ecclesia he had to do that often, though his early childhood was a distant memory now.

 

The large stone doors swung open, echoing throughout the halls. Shanoa, dressed in dark azure, walked forth, with sunlight streaming behind her like a halo. Her armored metal boots clicked against the stone floors, just as they always did. Before Albus could leap from behind the old statue, she turned around to face his hiding place.

 

“Hello, Albus.” The witch said, with amusement.

 

“Damn it,” Albus said, though he smiled. “You’re getting better at that.”

 

“I had to sharpen my instincts for combat. This is just an extra benefit.” She said mirthfully, wiping some blood from her breastplate with a bemused snort.

 

“Did the mission go well?” He asked, walking alongside her.

 

“It was alright. Lizardmen are nothing I can’t handle, but I took a nasty fall while using Magnes.” Albus noticed a large bruise on her arm.

 

“Barlowe won’t be pleased,” he muttered, more to himself.

 

“Oh, but I saw something amazing out there! I need to tell you!” His little sister’s bright blue eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “I saw a cat near the inn I was staying at. It had those cute little ears and whiskers and everything.”

 

Albus felt a swell of affection when he saw her happy smile. “That’s nice. Did you get to pet it?”

 

“It was too scared to let me close enough to stroke it, and it ran off.” Shanoa shook her head. “But I’ve never seen one in real life before!” Barlowe didn’t allow pets in the cathedral. He saw them as a distraction from the Order’s purpose. “How are things here? I know Ecclesia just falls apart without me.” Shanoa said with a hint of sarcasm.

 

“I’ve made a bit of a breakthrough,” Albus recited, but then continued: “Actually, a pretty significant one, but the master isn’t being cooperative in letting me research it further. I think I’m onto something, though.”

 

“Hmph... Why not?” Shanoa asked. “You’re his top authority on Glyph magic.”

 

“I don’t know. He wants to just get things done quickly, I think, but I don’t think he realizes how these things work. He’s a brilliant man, but he’s no scientist. He treats me like a child, or that I don't know what I'm doing. I'm twenty-four! It's like being a muzzled dog.” Albus shook his head. “I don’t think I can say much else about this.”

 

Shanoa let out an indignant huff. “Well, he is our master. It’s best to trust his judgment, Albus.”

 

Albus scoffed, but didn't have any retort. "Welcome back, dear Shanoa. Lunch is soon."

 

~

 

It was a quiet evening, and the two siblings didn't have any duties to attend to (for the rest of the day, at least). As such, they had retired to their shared sleeping quarters.

 

Shanoa had been exhausted by her mission, as well as the long trip home. She was in bed, with the quilted blankets huddled in a bunched-up nest around her.

 

“I can’t believe he’s making you go to the training hall tomorrow,” Albus griped.

 

“I did fall while using Magnes. I must not make crucial errors like that.” Shanoa shook her head. “He just wants me to be at my best.”

 

“I don’t know how he expects you to keep concentration while being chased by chainsaw-wielding monsters.” Albus rolled his eyes.

 

“I must not make crucial errors,” Shanoa repeated. “That’s what Barlowe told me.”

 

Albus ran his fingers over the bloodsoaked parchment again. He knew he had been close to something incredible. And, of course, no one questioned when he went to the library, even at night, when the librarian was asleep...

 

“Shanoa,” he said, suddenly. “I’ve run out of blood samples today. It was a foolish mistake, really.”

 

“Are you asking me to let you draw blood?” Shanoa asked with a mirthful but accusatory tone.

 

Albus shook his head. “No, I-”

 

“I was going to say yes.” His sister laughed. “You can always ask me for that kind of thing. I know how important this is to you.”

 

“Oh... Thank you!” Albus said, enthused. "That will help."

 

“You’re using it for something approved by the master, right?” She asked.

 

“I’m using it for the sake of Ecclesia’s purpose.” Albus said. It wasn’t technically a lie, he thought. And if his breakthrough truly was that significant, the approval of his tests wasn’t going to be all that relevant...

 

“So it is approved...? Alright.” Shanoa said, and pulled up the sleeve of her nightgown.

 

Bloodletting was kind of unpleasant, regardless of its importance to this particular recent hypothesis. He rummaged through his satchel for another glass vial and a small knife. He grabbed Shanoa's forearm and prepared to make an incision, but faltered.

 

"Get on with it." Shanoa said, noticing his hesitation.

 

"It feels wrong when it's you." Albus shook his head. "I just don't want to see you hurt. You’re my little sister, after all."

 

"Didn't you draw Adina's blood? It shouldn't be any different." Shanoa's eyes narrowed. "If you think I'm not strong enough to handle a little cut, stop. I want to help. If it's for Ecclesia's-"

 

"I'll just ask Adina again. Don't worry about it." Albus said, hurriedly. Something about Shanoa's insistence was frightening him.

 

She made a grab for the knife, grasping his arm with a surprisingly strong grip.

 

Albus stared, icy fear creeping up his spine. She recognized the sudden terror in his eyes, and drew her hand away.

 

"Don't do that." Albus finally managed, as she let go of his wrist.

 

"I didn't mean to alarm you. You told me it was for Ecclesia's purpose, a purpose that Barlowe has always taught me to live for. It's my duty. I merely-" She attempted to explain, her gaze sympathetic.

 

"Don't do that!" Albus repeated, his voice firmer. He shoved the vial and the knife back into the satchel. "Listen, I'll ask Adina or Grace."

 

"I apologize for my impulsiveness." Shanoa said, her voice sounding oddly stiff, as though responding to one of Barlowe’s lectures. "I'm used to handling weapons, so I didn't realize it would frighten you."

 

“It’s... It’s fine. Don’t talk to me like I’m ordering you around. It’s just common sense not to play with knives.” Albus moved to hug her, which she reciprocated.

 

"I'm always playing with knives, in a sense." She sighed, looking down at her hands. "Isn't that in my nature, as the blade?"

 

"I just- Just be careful, alright? You scared me." Albus's tone was serious.

 

He had the suspicion that something was off. She wasn’t usually like this. The way she spoke of her duty was concerning.

 

"You know, Master Barlowe told me that he'll probably choose me as the bearer." Shanoa met his gaze. "He hasn't made a final decision, but it feels inevitable. My flesh can host Dominus."

 

That explained it.

 

"I feel like my discovery today could change things." Albus replied. "I can't get much more specific than that, but..."

 

"I understand why he wants to take the easier option. I have more control over my Glyphs than any of our other mages." Shanoa explained. "There's no sense pouring resources into making Dominus usable for others when I'm already a perfect specimen."

 

Albus still hated that phrasing.

 

"It could still be dangerous. He's stupid if he thinks he can just harness something like that without precaution! It requires testing, even if it means I have to test the Glyph's effects on myself!" Albus spat. "It could hurt you. It's dark magic, and dark magic always has a price."

 

He had said too much.

 

He supposed, after so many years spent in secrecy for Ecclesia, it was a matter of time before he let something slip. His sister seemed undeterred by the revelation, however.

 

"It doesn't matter," Shanoa said, her voice firm with resolve. "It doesn't matter, if we can free humanity from the Dark Lord's cycle of resurrection, and bring about that new dawn. I'll be the bearer if he wishes it."

 

“Be careful, dear sister.” Albus hugged her tighter. She knew not what she vowed! He’d have to have a discussion with Barlowe about this.

 

That would wait for later, though. He had blood to draw. Approved or not, his research would continue.

 

~

 

Sister Grace had proved cooperative.

 

And so, he sat in the library again. He was skimming over a book he had plucked off the shelves without much thought. It wasn’t all that interesting, but that wasn’t the point. He was waiting to be left alone, so his real experiment could begin.

 

“Doing some light reading, eh?” The librarian said, as he prepared to leave for the night.

 

“Mhmm.” Albus muttered, absentmindedly. “I might stay overnight again.”

 

"Like every night." The librarian muttered bitterly.

 

Albus laughed sharply, sort of a forced response. He couldn't leave soon enough. The researcher was growing impatient, and a little stressed, and when he was stressed he usually ended up pulling at his hair, a nasty habit of his. The old librarian did eventually leave, however, and Albus waited a few moments more as the sound of closing doors reverberated through the empty library.

 

He was gone. It was time.

 

He rummaged through the librarian’s desk, where the Dominus tomes had still been safely kept all day. He rushed back to his desk, which had been dutifully cleaned as promised, slouched over, and began anew. Hurriedly, but still precisely, Albus drew the sigil like before. He could feel the power sparking from within the parchment.

 

Not yet.

 

He repeated the Hatred inscription, using the blood from the vial as though it were ink, careful not to spill any. The sigil glowed in recognition, and this time he watched the blood be drained of color as it happened.

 

It chilled him. Magic was always cold, but this felt like more of a psychological response.

 

Drink the offering. Be sated and subdued.

 

The room went frigid.

 

He saw the symbol, floating above the parchment, flickering blue and white, and yet he did not see it. It was there, and yet, it was not. He had never been able to bring it forth like this before. It was very promising.

 

He knew how to cast a Glyph, knew how to enchant Agartha with new “ammunition”... but absorbing a sigil into his flesh? That was different. Only Shanoa knew that. How had she described absorption...? “When you recognize a spell, some enchantment... Like after defeating a monster or seeing it be cast... It’s like seeing the sigil in your mind’s eye, as though it’s floating before you. Then you... call to it, in a sense, and the Glyph becomes a part of you, like another limb. I have many... limbs.”

 

“Call to it...? She couldn’t have been more vague.” He grumbled, but part of him knew that magic was always a little vague. He hated it. He wanted things to be consistent and easily explained, and magic by nature was not. Shanoa seemed to take the muddy nature of the craft in stride. To her, a weapon was just a weapon. Albus was a little more complicated than that, always getting caught up in the technicalities.

 

“Dominus,” He began, theatrically, but that felt a bit stupid. He had seen Shanoa absorb Glyphs before. She never spoke. She just... did it. “Ugh! Nevermind.”

 

Calling to the Glyph would be something more metaphorical. Magic liked metaphors.

 

Suppose her advice only works with regular Glyphs. Dominus is a far different beast, after all. But the format is all the same...

 

He tried to calm his always-rushing thoughts, to let his mind have room to accept the Dominus Hatred Glyph.

 

I can control you. This blood... shall let me control you.

 

Every thought in his mind, every cell in his body... He called to it. The sigil was everywhere, and yet nowhere, and it was him, and it surrounded him. He would become a dwelling for it, a vessel, just as the pitch-black structure in the forbidden room was a vessel.

 

Fight fire with fire, that's what Barlowe said. A vessel against a vessel, black magic against black magic...! Yes, this makes sense. I'm making sense of this. Oh my God, I’m a genius.

 

He was calling it, absorbing it. He was becoming Dominus.

 

It did not feel like having another limb. It felt like being torn asunder.

 

He fell to the ground, on his knees, coughing up coagulated chunks of blood. His first thought, as his body seized up in agonizing rejection of the dark magic, every muscle in his body screaming for mercy, was that he could never allow Shanoa to experience this hell.

 

His second thought was that he needed to research this further.

 

He couldn’t move, for all the pain; couldn’t scream for help as he felt the coldness around him. His throat was dry, and he just sat there, knelt on the ground, shivering. What was he doing? He could only hazily remember. His thoughts were becoming less and less comprehensible, like they were distant somehow, and that was more frightening than the physical pain. It was like something was sucking away at his soul and leaving only an icy absence in its wake. He barely managed to move his trembling hands to pull at his hair, but the habit didn't help ground him much.

 

He finally clutched on a train of thought, amidst all those internal pleas for help: that no one in Ecclesia was awake, and if he died here in the empty library, no one would find him til morning. It was the only thing he could make sense of.

 

“What the hell...” He finally stammered, his words coming out in quiet broken sobs. “What the hell did Barlowe create?”

 

The sigil was still cast, shimmering on the air. He had not successfully absorbed it, merely made some sort of awful contact in his acceptance; even this failed attempt was enough to make him suffer.

 

This is wrong. This is so, so wrong. I need to tell her. I need to tell her not to do this. I need to...

 

For a brief moment, he could hardly remember who she was.

 

And then, she was there, a bleary expression on her face, stumbling into the library, clearly having just woken up.

 

“I knew you’d be here. I got worried when I saw you weren't in bed, after you said-” Shanoa started, and then as she saw him, curled up the floor, spitting up the same pitch-black blood, her eyes went wide with horror. If she had not been completely awake before, she was now. “Albus!”

 

He could barely meet her gaze.

 

“Did you try to absorb Dominus?! Barlowe told me it’s too dangerous for others to-”

 

“I... I thought I figured something out.” He managed breathlessly, between agonized coughs. “I almost did it. I almost... I just need to...”

 

Shanoa knelt beside him, gripping his arm, which only made the pain worsen, like needles piercing through his flesh. Despite this, he leaned towards her. At least his beloved sister was there, and that was better than being left alone, presumably to die.

 

“You can’t keep doing this! You’ll destroy yourself!” Shanoa cried out in horror. “If you’re trying to make yourself into the bearer, please don’t! Let me take your place. I am the blade!”

 

“What kind of brother would I be... if I didn't protect you...? That's... my role.” Albus said, with some effort. The fear was fading away, but was still present, although as distant as his thoughts had become. He wasn’t sure why he had stopped feeling so deathly afraid, but he was certain it did not bode well. He didn’t feel any more in control of the situation, not at all. He only felt a creeping numbness, easing away the pain and replacing it with... an absence. However, it returned just as quickly.

 

“Protect me?! You can’t protect me if you die performing stupid experiments! I am ready- and Dominus is surely ready, for me to absorb, if you could almost manage it.” Tears were welling in her eyes. “Please, don’t do this. This is my role, and my duty. My flesh alone can host Dominus.”

 

“No!” Albus screamed, an anguished sound, and felt as though it was tearing his throat to bloody shreds. “You can’t be the bearer! You just can’t! You have to understand!"

 

Shanoa had begun to cry. "Wh-what are you saying?! What should I do?" She shouted in confusion.

 

"Please... don't cry. I don't want to see you upset." Albus muttered, hoarsely, still shaking. "You know I feel awful when you cry."

 

"Like when we played tag." Shanoa whispered, her voice wavering with shock. "Oh, Albus, I don't know what to do. You're in pain, and I don't know how to stop it. I could get Barlowe, but... I can't leave you, can I?!"

 

Part of him wanted to beg her to stay by his side. He didn't want to be left alone, but...

 

"Yes. Get Barlowe... He'll know what to do." Albus wasn't sure of the truth of his own words, but it would be awful to upset her further.

 

"...Yes. I'll get him. I won't be long. Are you sure you'll be alright?"

 

He wasn't sure at all.

 

"I... I think so."

 

Shanoa lightly stroked his cheek, a small comfort in this delirious nightmare, then she ran out of the library, with a panicked pace.

 

Albus was alone again. And so, he waited.

 

She said she wouldn’t be long. He repeated that phrase in his mind as he collapsed further on the floor, tugging at his hair. How long has it been?!

 

The pain and fear seemed to ebb and flow, from aching numbness to pure agony to back again, as he coughed up more and more of the cursed black blood. The glowing sigil, in his mind’s eye, remained there, taunting. The inscription of Hatred was, of course, a depiction of a blade, which made it all the more upsetting to think about, now that it took upon a new significance.

 

I am the blade, Shanoa had said. Let me take your place. I am the blade!

 

The fear came back at once, every nerve in his body firing at once, and he came to a horrible realization.

 

If mere failed contact with it does something so awful... I can’t begin to imagine the true price of using Dominus.

 

Would it kill her? Would she collapse there, before the vessel, in the name of Barlowe’s mission? Would it be worth the sacrifice?

 

Never. Never!

 

Albus gritted his teeth. He wanted, so desperately, for her to live; for her to finally get to pet all the cats in Transylvania; to see a world without Dracula looming inevitably over it; to escape the walls of this dusty old cathedral and have a peaceful life. This purpose that she fought so hard for meant nothing if the sun could never live to see the dawn.

 

I must be the bearer. I must.

 

He heard footsteps.

 

Shanoa had returned, with Barlowe at her side. Albus felt a hollow flood of relief.

 

“I don’t know what he was doing! I just found him like this.” Shanoa said, her voice trembling with worry.

 

"Albus," Barlowe spoke, his voice stern. "What is the meaning of this?"

 

"I tried to absorb Dominus. I almost... I could have...!" Albus's voice came out as a guttural growl, something that wasn't intentional by any means. He wasn't sure if it was due to the unbearable pain, or something more... frightening.

 

"You foolish, disobedient child! Do you have any idea how much you could have compromised our mission?!" Barlowe roared, to which Shanoa visibly flinched. "There is such a thing as being too stupid!"

 

"Don't yell at him! Can't you see he's hurt?!" Shanoa protested. "Just help him, please!" She tugged on Barlowe's robes, her expression one of fury. "This isn't the time for discipline! You- You do know how to help him, right?"

 

"Of course. What do you take me for?" Barlowe snapped, pulling his arm away from the witch's grip. "Where is the conduit? I am to assume you didn't use the tomes themselves."

 

Albus pointed, with a shaking hand, towards the desk where the sigil still lay. The priest steadied himself, placed a hand on the desk, then performed a lengthy incantation. It was one wholly unfamiliar to Albus.

 

Did he ever teach me this? I don’t remember. It seems important, so he must have, but...

 

Regardless, the incantation made the pain wash away, though not to distant numbness like before. Barlowe held up the conduit parchment, and then tore it into pieces with ritualistic fervor. The sigil and its awful blue shimmering disappeared, the churning, push and pull of his feelings subsided, and Albus let out a loud exhale of relief. He felt whole again.

 

“Take him to the infirmary.” Barlowe ordered. “He’ll be fine, he just needs time to recover after being severed from the Glyph. Apparently this arrogant fool didn’t realize his body could never handle Dominus. I hesitate to imagine what it would be like if he actually succeeded!” Albus winced at his scolding.

 

“Yes, sir. I'll take him.” Shanoa obeyed, and lifted her brother from where he lay.

 

Albus clutched onto her like she was the only comfort left in the world, as though letting go would kill him.

 

~

 

Albus did not wake up to candlelight.

 

He had woken up in a bed in Ecclesia’s infirmary, as rays of sunlight illuminated the thin white bedsheets. Everything was clearer now, a crystalline clarity. He felt... fine, though a bit lightheaded. As though nothing had happened. Of course, he knew that wasn't the case.

 

Shanoa sat beside the bed, still awake, looking utterly exhausted, with dark circles underneath her eyes, dull and weary. She smiled slightly when she saw that he had awoken.

 

"You didn't stay up all night, did you...?" Albus asked. "You look like hell."

 

“I could say the same about you.” Shanoa yawned, and ruffled his disheveled dirty blonde hair. “But yes, I did. I was scared. I didn’t want to lose you.”

 

Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. If I truly become the bearer, as I plan, I may die.

 

“Don’t worry about me.” Albus shook his head. “I feel much better now.”

 

“On the bright side, the master said I don't have to complete the training hall today... But enough about me. The nurses had to draw a lot of blood; are you sure you're alright?” Shanoa muttered.

 

“Yeah, I'm okay. That does explain the lightheadedness, however... They didn’t discard the blood, did they?” Albus asked, his eyes darting around the room. “They would be unique samples to test on. I should record my obser-”

 

“God, you’re downright insufferable sometimes! You nearly died, and the first thing you can think of is more experiments?!” Shanoa replied, with a hint of agitation, and then she leaned over to give him a tight, affectionate hug. “Please don’t frighten me like that again. Promise me.”

 

“I can’t promise anything, Shanoa.” Albus muttered, looking aside to avoid meeting her icy blue eyes. “...I should talk to Barlowe. This only confirmed my belief that you should never use Dominus.”

 

“Whoever Barlowe chooses as the bearer, you have to respect that. He cares about you too, you know. He was only so furious because he was worried. You know how the master gets when he’s upset.” Shanoa said. “At least, I think so. He looked panicked when I told him you were trying to experiment without his permission.”

 

Is it because he was worried, or because I learned something I shouldn’t have...? The thought chilled Albus to the bone, a horrible feeling. He didn’t want to feel as cold as he had the previous night, ever again. No, that can’t be true. He would never obscure something like that. He probably didn’t know either. He did raise us, after all. He would care. He would! ...I think.

 

“Still, I will talk to him. If there’s any risk to your life, I can’t let you use the ultimate Glyph.” Albus said with resolve. “It was the most awful feeling in the world. It didn’t just hurt me physically. It was like it was consuming my mind... As though it were eating every part of me alive, from within my very soul.” He shuddered. “I don’t want you to ever go through that.”

 

"If it is my duty, then I will face it." Shanoa was undeterred. "So mankind can look to dawn, without need to fear the darkness. That is Ecclesia's mission."

 

"We'll see what Barlowe decides." Albus said, with some irritation, as he lifted himself from his bed. The subject matter was upsetting him.

 

As he headed towards the infirmary's exit, Sister Adina, who had evidently been assigned to nurse duties for the day, rushed to stop him. "You need more rest! You can't leave!"

 

"I feel fine, thanks." Albus scoffed.

 

"Alright then..." Adina muttered indignantly. "But make sure you don't stay up so late tonight. You already weren't getting enough sleep as it is!"

 

"I'll try," Albus promised halfheartedly, making his way down the corridor.

 

Barlowe would probably be waiting in his office, Albus thought, so he treaded purposefully up the old marble staircase to one of the high spires of the cathedral. Ecclesia's leader was indeed there, and despite how many years Barlowe had raised him, Albus still felt a bit intimidated by the prospect of facing him again.

 

"Sir," Albus knocked on the large wooden door. "I need to discuss my findings."

 

"Come in, then." Barlowe's tone was sharp.

 

Albus sat across from him at the desk, and hesitated to formulate his thoughts. He then began, with a stiff, clinical tone: "When I attempted to absorb Dominus Hatred, I kept feeling my thoughts and feelings being sucked away from me, for lack of a better description. It was like the push and pull of a tide. Based on this evidence I can only conclude one thing. Accepting Dominus completely is likely to interfere with one's memories and emotions."

 

"I see..." Barlowe rubbed his chin pensively.

 

"That being the case, we should assume the true price is much higher," he continued.

 

"That price being...?"

 

"I think it will require a sacrifice, one of body and soul." Albus's eyes narrowed. "There's no sense in using euphemisms. I believe that Dominus will kill its wielder."

 

Barlowe's eyebrows furrowed for a brief moment, but the moment of anger was gone as soon as Albus blinked. "Albus... I hope you're not suggesting we give up on our mission over one life."

 

"Of course not. I have but one request: name me as the bearer. I can't allow Shanoa to risk her life!" Albus exclaimed with fervor. "If I die, so be it."

 

"But you aren't able-" Barlowe started.

 

"To absorb Dominus? I had almost unraveled its secrets. This just requires further trials. There must be a way! And I'll find it." Albus declared. And maybe he would find it. Perhaps he needed a different type of blood, or to draw from the tomes themselves... This experiment had many factors.

 

"I can see there will be no convincing you otherwise. Very well then... If you're so set on this, then I shall name you the bearer." Barlowe said, his voice serious.

 

Albus lit up.

 

"However," Barlowe began.

 

Of course, there was always a catch.

 

"You've disobeyed Ecclesia in one of the most grievous ways. I need you to do something for me to prove you can handle this responsibility. Do you understand?"

 

"Yes, sir. I'll do whatever you ask." Albus nodded.

 

Barlowe got up to look out the spire's window, out at the vast expanse of lush, mountainous countryside. Ecclesia's cathedral was located in a very remote place, which made for long travel for missions but relative security.

 

"I need you to go to... Ghulash, and Fetra, too. They're historical towns, I'm sure you know. There's been overwhelming reports of zombies in that area." His mentor said, finally.

 

Albus wanted to protest, as the two towns were far across the country, an unusually long assignment. He'd likely be away from home for a month at least, and that worried him. He knew better than to complain, however, as Barlowe would likely object to any sign of insubordination. Besides, he knew what he was doing... Right? Albus had no reason to distrust the man who raised him.

 

Right?

 

"I'll do it." Albus said.

 

"Then you have my word."

 

~

 

Albus had nearly prepared to leave. Of course, he could not without a farewell to his sister beforehand; it took on special importance, now that he knew this may be one of the last times they had afforded to speak with each other.

 

He did not tell her about Barlowe’s promise. He was certain it would worry her.

 

“You’ll be careful, I hope. It hasn’t been long since the library incident.” Shanoa said, as they both stood in the entrance hall.

 

“I’ll be alright. Zombies shouldn’t be any trouble. I’ve got more to worry about from expensive carriage fares.” Albus tried to keep his tone light and jovial.

 

“I know. But you worry about me all the time, so it’s only fair.” Shanoa laughed.

 

“Fair indeed... Well, I’ll do my best.” He smiled.

 

“For Ecclesia.” She vowed.

 

“Yes. For Ecclesia. And for you, too, dear sister.”

 

“...I’ll miss you.” Her voice was unexpectedly soft with emotion, as though she somehow knew the weight of his decision.

 

“The same to you, Noa.” It was an old nickname, one that had gone unused for a few years. It felt right to recall it now.

 

For a brief moment they clasped each other's hands, a gesture of familial love, and Albus wished he could say all that consumed his thoughts: that he would be the bearer, and to ask her to never forget him in the wake of this sacrifice.

 

But he could not say this.

 

Yet more forbidden knowledge. Secrets, upon secrets, upon secrets.

 

"I should go now." Albus finally said. "Things will be alright here, I expect."

 

"Come back soon." Shanoa smiled, something subtle and worth all the pain in the world.

 

He would give anything for that sweet smile.

 

"Yes. I will. Farewell, Shanoa."

 

He stepped out of the cathedral, heart beating with pure resolve.

 

Of course, for all his wit, and scientific methods, the marksman could not predict what horrors awaited him upon his premature yet timely return, nor all the broken vows and tragedy of his Order. However, the witch would live. She would escape the grip of Ecclesia, and she would see the dawn.

 

That unspoken promise would never be broken.