| "Memories of Zephon" by Demon Hunter Anamae |
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| Zephon waited, suspended in the secret chamber of his Cathedral, for Raziel to come. He held every belief that he would triumph; since his last evolution, Zephon felt himself become stronger, sharper, faster. The insect body he inhabited suited him and need no one tell him of that. Even his children had changed, becoming more that what they had been, casting off the weakness of their old bodies and taking on the forms of insects as well. Zephon could see everything that happened in Nosgoth inside his chamber; his webs spun across vast distances and nothing remained unknown to him, not even the lives of the humans in their Citadel. He plotted and weaved and spun; he paraded endless ideas in his mind on just how to conquer all of Nosgoth, to thrown down Kain and take his place. With his new body, he could do anything. Not even precious Raziel, the reject from the Abyss, could stop him. But as Zephon waited, wrapped in his own arrogance, he constantly drifted in and out of his memories. In the low moments of his life, he wondered if they were all he ever had left. Zephon viewed certain bits of his memory, wondering how he could have done anything differently, folding and refolding them over and over again. Sometimes, if this body had allowed it, Zephon would have silently wept. He only reached such a low when he thought over his most private memories; ones that he had tucked away in the far corners of his mind and rarely thought about, but when he did… Life could be so strange, he silently mused. Zephon always tried to live without regrets; they cluttered up a person’s life, made him carry a weight around that he could ill afford in this day and age. Those memories, when they arose, carried such regrets that he felt as if he was in a sea that threatened to drown him, and Zephon himself had thrown the rope in the other direction when it had been cast out to help him. Zephon tried to shake them away, but the memories poured through his mind, demanding to be remembered, screaming to be heard. The changed vampire moaned in his semi-sleep but could do nothing but remember. It had been a long time ago, but it always seemed like just yesterday. Regrets. Zephon regretted not telling her when he should of. Zephon regretted not being nicer to her as he should of. Zephon regretted ever setting that plan into motion that drove the stake through his heart in the end, making it become even more cold and black then it was before. His regrets…his memories…they swirled together and he was forced to watch once again…. “So the meeting is adjourned, “ Kain spoke. He stood from his throne, the Soul Reaver held in his hands, and left the room. His Lieutenants filed out after him with, Zephon noted, Raziel walking beside his father. Dumah and Turel were deep in conversation over something that the third-born was obviously upset about and as Zephon looked behind him, Rahab and Melchiah were talking as well. So many conversations that he was not invited to participate in, but as always that did not matter to him. Zephon always found out what was happening with the other Clans, even within the Sanctuary itself. He slowed down so he could walk in step beside Rahab and Melchiah, the weakling that he was. “May I join in,” Zephon gave a benign smile. Melchiah flinched slightly at the sound of his older brother’s voice, but Rahab nodded to Zephon. “Very well. We are all equals here, Zephon.” The three walked down the long halls of the Sanctuary, passing by fledglings that bowed respectfully to the Chosen of Kain and moved out of their way. “We were just discussing the latest raid against the humans to the south of the Citadel. Melchiah managed to reap a good portion, taking over about…how many humans did you manage to capture?” “Over fifty; 30 males and 20 females. They have already been-“ “It doesn’t matter how many you captured unless they are of good stock to be bred. And judging from you, Melchiah, I find it dubious that any are of good breeding,” Zephon quipped. Melchiah’s eyes, a few moments before shining with pride, dropped to the ground and he fell silent. “I believe that I am in charge of the breeding, Zephon, and it would be wise for you to keep your views to yourself. Unless,” Rahab gave him a cold look, “you would like to take this up with father and you feel you are better suited for the my work.” Zephon stopped and fixed his Clan flag while giving both of his younger brothers the most arrogant look possible. “Of course not. I am just concerned of the quality of the humans; they after all are food for us and it would do no good for any of the Clans should they have weak stock in their ranks. Our high blood must be maintained at all costs.” Rahab folded his arms and stood in front of Melchiah protectively, or at least Zephon thought. “Then I suggest, dear brother, that you leave my work to me and Melchiah’s to him. You are in charge of surveillance over the humans and from the fledglings we have been losing, I would think that you were slipping.” Zephon silently bristled at the insult made towards him, but all he did was narrow his eyes and give a condescending smile. “And where did you hear such things, brother Rahab?” “Like you, I have my own sources, Zephon. I bid good day to you.” Rahab nodded his head, turned and then left. Melchiah followed without even looking at Zephon. The Clan lord hissed between his clenched teeth and grinded a fist in his palm. How dare Rahab do that to him? Thankfully there had been no one else nearby to see that embarrassment, but still it ate at Zephon. His spying network, failing in their task giving to them personally by Lord Kain? Zephon would look into the supposed problem and receive answers. Footsteps behind Zephon made him turn and a fledgling nearly bowled over the Lieutenant. “Watch where you are running, you insignificant idiot! Give me one very good reason why I should not slit your throat where you stand right now!” Zephon’s hand closed over the hilt of the dagger he carried with him and drew it in rage at the fledgling that was from the Melchahim Clan shook slightly as he bowed to the Lieutenant standing in front of him. Even if the young vampire was from another Clan, Zephon had every right to destroy the thing. “Milord, I was sent to escort you to the Great Lord Kain. He demanded that you come immediately to the dungeons.” Sheathing his dagger, Zephon made his face impassive as he followed the young vampire through the halls of the Sanctuary, still angry at the fledgling. Soon that anger was forgotten as the tactician’s mind began to work, why had Kain summoned him? What had he done now that was so important to the Lord? Perhaps Rahab or that sniveling Melchiah had run to Kain and told him of the recent conversation; Zephon would not of put it past them. Oh, how they would pay if they had done anything like that. Zephon finally descended into the dungeons and the Melchahim vampire led him to a part of the cells that had barely ever seen captives. The screams and the moaning of human prisoners felt like music to the Clan lord’s ears; how Zephon reveled in pain. After taking one last corner, the fledgling left him and fled back up to the higher levels of the Sanctuary. Weakling, Zephon sneered at the retreating vampire. At the end of the stone hall, looking into one cell stood Kain. The Master beckoned for his son to come closer and with a smile on his face, Zephon came. “You called for me, father?” “Yes. Zephon, your Clan has shown such unswerving loyalty to me over the decades and centuries. I am pleased by it, as I should be.” The son smiled, filled with pride that he was finally being noticed over Raziel. “And such loyalty does not go unrewarded. I have arranged a gift for you, Zephon.” This is it; this is finally it, Zephon thought. I will either receive more land, which I am of course entitled to, or I will have more vampires made for my Clan. “Father, I am honoured.” Kain smiled and extended a talon towards the cell. “Good. Your gift is inside. I knew you would be pleased by it as I chose it myself. I will see you later, Zephon.” Kain vanished in thin air, the magic he had learned being so great that he could do that. Zephon suppressed an excited giggle, rubbed his hands together and moved closer to the cell to see inside. What he did see made his step back in shock that soon turned to overwhelming anger. Inside the cell and huddled to one corner in the far back, was a young woman. Her head was bowed and she wore a red dressed with lace about the edges and a ragged black shawl that gave her little warmth in the cold cell. Zephon hissed his displeasure. Surely this was all a joke, wasn’t it? Kain would not do this to him but obviously he had. Already Zephon was considering tracking his father down and demanding if this was all a cruel joke, then stopped. A gift was a gift and once given, especially by Kain himself, you could never return it. Zephon might as well walked up to the master and punched him full in the face with every other vampire in Nosgoth watching. After much thought, the Clan lord finally opened up the cell door and marched in. The woman, she looked no older than he early twenties, did not look up. “Get up,” was all Zephon said. His voice was dangerously low, his patience thinned down to nothing. The woman’s head finally snapped up and she looked at the vampire with large eyes. Growling in anger Zephon seized the woman by her wrist and yanked her to her feet. “When I give an order human, I expect to be obeyed.” She nodded quickly, her other hand holding onto the shawl, knuckles white. Zephon dragged the woman out of the cell behind him and moved down the halls quickly. He did not want to be seen like this, carting some human around behind him. Questions would be raised that he would not want to answer. Taking the back halls and other passages that the younger vampires knew nothing about, Zephon made his way back to his own Clan Territories, to his beautiful Cathedral. Finally arriving at his innermost sanctums with only three of his vampires seeing him with the strange visitor, he tossed the woman in front of him and dropped into his ornate throne. It was made of the bones of the fallen, humans he had killed, and laced together by unseen magic. A skull gaped open near the top of the throne, jaw opened in a silent scream. It was a grotesque thing, but it suited Zephon’s taste. The woman knelt on the ground, her head bowed and trying hard and bravely to not cry. The room was small, circular with a domed ceiling; an ornate chandelier hung from a chain in the rising and seemingly infinite darkness. Frescoes of death had been painted along the walls, vampires’ horrible mutilating humans and blood sacrifices. A desk carved of dark oak was placed in a small alcove with plans and maps scattered over the surface; a shelf lined with book occupied the opposite alcove. A room that reflected the images in Zephon’s mind, a chamber that even Kain possible did not know about but the higher-ranking vampires of Zephon’s did know of. At the moment Zephon sat and looked at the woman in front of him, trying to come to terms, to make some sense from this ‘gift’. Mockery that is what it was. A mockery from Kain to Zephon, showing him that throughout his years of loyal service, of planning and making the Sanctuary, for building the war machines that had destroyed the humans and their cities, he was only worthy to receive a sniveling, pitiful wench. Zephon was about to speak when a knock resounded on the door and opened. Natarek, Zephon’s second-in-command, bowed before stepping across the threshold, and was only there quickly to give his Lord and father a letter. Without even looking at the woman, the Zephoniem vampire turned and left. Kain’s seal was stamped on the letter and Zephon tore it open with a slight hope that perhaps everything had been a mistake, and he could be ride of this ‘gift’ in no time. The letter read: Zephon, the woman you have received is a sorceress of the humans, a powerful one and also a high-ranking lady in their caste system. I have left her in your care, but you in turn must follow these instructions. She is to become your consort and to wear your Clan banner equally for you have no say in the matter, and her powers can be of great service to you should the need arise that your Clan should march to war. Kain, Lord and Emperor of Nosgoth Sitting back in his throne, the harsh words that we about to spill from his lips, Zephon was for once in his life speechless. How could such a thing of happened? He seemed to be asking that question a lot lately and still received no answers of any kind. His yellow eyes flicked from the letter to the woman, the sorceress, then back again to the letter to make sure what he was reading was not a trick of the mind. No such luck. Kain’s words, Kain’s orders, could not be defied unless you wished to have a quick death. To Zephon, visions of him being thrown into the Lake of the Dead filled his mind’s eye until he forced himself to stop and think rationally. There must be some reason to all of this, other than the one in the letter. For the moment, just the moment Zephon reasoned, he would humour Kain, at least until he could question in the most delicate of ways his father’s intentions. Getting up from his throne, Zephon tossed the letter onto the table and turned away from the woman in disgust. When Zephon finally spoke, his voice was harsh, like the sound of a whip. “What is your name, human?” “Zarina, my Lord. Zarina Larconquelle.” Oh, wonderful, Zephon thought. They’ll be chanting both her name and mine together like a rhyme. I detest all of this already. “Do you know what your immediate future holds, wench?” “No,” Zarina answered softly. Zephon gave her a look from the corners of his eyes and she added quickly, “my Lord.” “By orders of Lord Kain himself, you are to become my consort and wear my Clan banner. Does that surprise you at all?” He quickly whirled about to see the statement on Zarina’s face. She still had not raised her face to look at him and stalking across the room, Zephon placed his clawed hand underneath her chin and tilted her head back to look at the sorceress. He supposed by human terms she was beautiful. Her pale skin was unblemished save for a small cut on her right cheek that would heal in time; her eyes were a deep blue and if the situation had not given her so much fear, they would of appeared gentle and filled with compassion. Her hair was a deep brown and slightly wavy, drawn over one shoulder in a loose tail that fell to her waist. Zephon backed away and looked at Zarina; her eyes followed the Clan lord’s every move now. By human terms, Zephon thought to himself, she was beautiful. But he was not human. “Come with me,” he spoke. For once Zarina rose quickly, eyes downcast and hands folded in front of her as her new lord led her from the fearful chamber and down winding halls filled with pipes and contraptions of strange designs in the Cathedral. Zephon did not care if the vampires or servants looked at him now; he was trapped and in under a day the five other Clans would know of his embarrassment. How his brothers would laugh at him now. Above all the work and other details he had to attend to, Zephon also had to look after a human sorceress that might help him in battle, which also might decide to kill him in his sleep. They finally arrived at the higher levels where there were rooms that Zephon hardly ever used. This part of the Cathedral would become his consort’s chambers, but more importantly they were far away from his. Zephon already decided on having as little contact as it was possible with this wench and with an almost dramatic fling of his arm, opened up the door. The room followed the patterns of other living quarters; circular with a domed ceiling and three stone arched doorways that led into the other rooms. The place was bare, unadorned with a thin layer of dust on the floor. Zarina walked ahead of Zephon, shawl still pulled tightly around her shoulders as she entered the doorway to the left and came into the bedchamber. A canopied bed with old sheets sat under a pane of dark stainglass with a small fireplace nearby; a desk sat next to an empty wardrobe with a few inches of dust piled on top. Zarina knelt down and with a flick of her hand a flame appeared as she placed the magic in the fireplace. Now Zephon understood the meaning of her being a sorceress. “I will send up servants later to refurbish the chambers,” Zephon said as he cleared his throat. He may not like Kain’s idea of a consort, but the letter instructed that he was to take care of her or silent repercussions would follow. “And a tailor as well, as I guess that is your only article of clothing that you own.” “My humble thanks, milord,” Zarina curtsied to him. Without a word in return, Zephon left the chambers, slamming the door with enough force to shake the chamber behind him. As he stalked back down the halls to other business, he wanted to pound his fists into the walls and yell in fury. How could this of happened to me? He silently raged at the dark sky above him. How? There was no answer in return. |