Lord Bloodthorne's Musings
All remains still within these ancient halls of stone. Not a single sound save for the echo of time as it continues on it's path. The ceaseless march forward to the inevitable.
How long has it been, how much of that time has passed since I had last saw fit to put ink to parchment and pen the thoughts and events within my home? And yet, I find myself doing so once again. Perhaps it was the sight of her's that has prompted me to once again adopt a similar means of kept record. Be that as it may, the question remains as to 'what'. The thoughts within my mind are limitless, where parchment and ink have their limits. Perhaps the best course would be to focus on the present and leave the past for another time.
I shall begin.
Not an hour has passed since I have left the chambers of the Rose, the ancient goblet in my grasp. I had feared such an occurrence may very well take place, and the act itself has only further proven my theories. The dormant state of the chalice has ended, the emerald hue of the once scarlet gems is enough proof. Yet I cannot but ponder the means of awakening. How is it that she has been victorious in this without a conscious thought or effort, where I have failed for centuries? I, whom have devoted the remainder of my very existence to the unraveling of this curse. Shall I be bested by a mere mortal? The very thought is nonsense.
Still, be I loathe to admit it, the change in the atmosphere is most welcoming. For too long I have been surrounded by not but death and the ever present darkness that has become second nature. She has brought light with her, or perhaps some semblance of it to my solitary confinement. I may be ruler here, Lord of this Kingdom, yet I too am a prisoner sentenced to remain within it's crypt-like walls. This tomb which so boldly masquerades itself as a castle. A vault for those long dead.
My sorrows seem to have consumed me for a moment, and I must awaken from my reverie. There is a knocking at my door and a gentle presence on the other side.
I cannot say that I was surprised to find Miss Rose as my visitor. Her aura is nearly as gentle in it's nature as her footfalls upon the stone hallway. I bade her enter into my chambers, and she acquiesced with a humble if not frightened bow. It is quite evident that she fears me, and duly so. Yet if she only knew what fate would have awaited had I not intervened earlier, I am certain she would grovel at my feet.
Before she spoke, I knew what it was that had prompted her to
seek me. The answer was clearly seen upon her features. Sleep is
a merciless entity to mortal kind, forcing obedience to it's
whims on a daily basis. She could scarce keep her gaze upon me,
and the faculties of her mind were dull with the apparent lack of
energy. Still, she was very polite in her speech. She pleaded for
a moment's reprieve as well as the chance to rest if only upon
the chamber's floor. Words were not necessary, as I gestured to a
lounging sofa nearby. A slight relaxation in her posture and a
look of relief within her eyes. She bowed once again, thanking me
and promising that it was only a moment or two needed to recover
her energy. I assured her safety in repose, taking my leave to
continue writing here. The sofa is close by, and I am keeping a
vigilant watch even now as I write.
She slipped deep into slumber nearly the instant she had closed her eyes. I doubt dreams shall hinder her rest, as she is quite still. Only the faint rising and falling of her chest, and the subtle rhythm of her heartbeat give the indication that she still lives. And yet, dreams may still occur. I wonder...what is it to dream? What flights of fancy is the mortal mind capable of? For one who has not closed his eyes in sleep for so long, not requiring nor desiring such....is it still possible?
I shall let these questions pass unanswered for the moment, and continue my watch.
Perhaps more time has passed than I first thought. If only the events that have just recently taken place were but a dream.
Yet I wish this in folly.
As my watch into the grim and abysmal night continued, I fear that once again I had slipped deep into my own mind. My inner thoughts were such that it was not until too late that I had become aware of a faint, pulsing light emanating from that accursed goblet. I rose from my seat in alarm moving closer to better examine the strange phenomenon. And what should await me in this? What horror and utter repulsion! The blood from within the cup grew old and rotted before mine eyes, the chalice shuddering as though the table beneath were collapsing in upon itself. With many a clanging and loud crash, the goblet fell from it's precarious perch, spilling the contents upon the floor. The ground beneath trembled as ripples broke out on the surface of the dead blood. Slowly a crimson soaked hand stretched forth out of the crimson liquid, sharply digging into the side. Following it, a male's body emerged from the scarlet pool covered from head to toe with the ancient lifeblood. I stepped away cautiously, keeping an eye upon the still sleeping figure of the nearby. In passing, I ponder how it is she slept on during such a commotion. Her weariness must be great indeed, for with the occurrence now in the past, she has not awoken once.
Ah, back to my thoughts...
With difficulty the figure stood, a deep cry echoing from the depths that could very well have been mistaken for the victory call of Death himself as two golden eyes snapped open. I know well of the legends, and I knew well the voice behind the raucous yell. I knew in the instant I beheld those eyes, whom it was that stood before me. Nicolae. As he observed me, a sinister grin swept over his countenance. I made no move to continue backwards, yet stood my ground in the face of his horrible appearance. The sudden silence that hung between us did not help matters, so I took the chance to speak.
"So, you have returned once again, Nicolae....but how is this? The curse still remains intact, and the statue is in the gardens even at this very moment."
A chuckle rumbled low within his throat as he responded.
"An odd greeting for thine own flesh and blood, mine brother. How long hast thou ruled mine kingdom? How many cycles hast the crimson moon showed to this land since our parting? Yet thine first words are of questioning? Ah, it has been too long."
I shuddered at his speech, glaring at the terms of endearment.
"You have sentenced my land to desolation, cursing the foundations and the crystals. Yet you wish for fond greetings? I do not consider you any kin of mine."
With these words, I readily expected anger on his behalf. Yet all that was received was laughter.
"Curse, dear brother? Nay, twas not my decree that hast condemned this land. If ye seek the being responsible, ye need look no further than to the reclining mortal at your side."
He gestured to Rose, grinning with what I gather was malicious intent. I made a deliberate move to stand in front of her, shielding her from his sight. This act served only to further amuse him, as he returned his eyes to mine.
"So, thou hast switched thine loyalties then? Thy decision is one of haste. Yet ye need not choose so swiftly. I give thee leniency and a chance to change thine all too clouded mind. Spill the maiden's blood within the garden of old; the chambers of stone where the crystals blossom and the altar of sacrifice awaits. If the results are as I predict, ye shall see the folly of thine ways, and rule this land of night at mine side. Until that time, brother..."
He made a bow, shadows consuming him to leave no trace.
With this, I hastily summoned the guards, barring and latching all doors and windows until they arrive. None shall leave nor enter without mine permission. As I wait, I pen these words. The goblet has disappeared, and the Rose slumbers still.
Yes, if only it were all a dream...