Memoirs of The Rose

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 11 (v.1) - Bloodied Altar

Submitted: March 15, 2013

Reads: 107

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Submitted: March 15, 2013




Lord Bloodthorne's Musings

May the spirits forgive me for what I have done. Or, if the gods and goddesses that rule over us all, even the ethereal beings, can show mercy. I beg of any. Let me take her place! The blood, the blood! Too much of it. I cannot stem the flow. The wound is too deep, much too deep. By God! What have I done?! Tuomas told for me to stay back, to let him work. But all was in vain. Too late, much too late. Damn him! Damn Nicolae and his lies! The blood is pure, yes, but spilled now. Too much of it and too soon. He planned this, that accursed fiend! Damn him, and damn me as well.

Even as I write, the blood is still upon my hands, my entire countenance covered in all she gave. She is gone. Moved on to the realm of the eternal.

Still, it is only right that I give an accurate account of what has transpired. If nothing else, it shall serve to remember her last moments.

I followed behind her as Tuomas led our way down the twisting staircases. All light failed us in the gloom of these stone passageways. At the last, there was only the dull glow of those infernal crystals. The same gems by whose light I now pen these final times.

She remained silent during the whole of the journey, head humbly bowed. The proverbial lamb without blemish. Ah, I should have known in that instant. I should have paused, taken her away by force if I must. Still, the time for such has long since passed.

We pressed forward, once more entering the room of crystals and the dreaded altar. It all was familiar to her, even though she had only stepped foot here once before. She followed the long path to the altar and the largest crystal rising up just beyond it. No word was said, no ceremony or processional. She simply lay down on the altar, seeming to know full well what I meant to do. What I did. God help me! I can scarce bare to pen it further. But I must continue, even if the ink be the last of the blood.

Tuomas looked about wildly, knowing yet fearing it. His blue eyes spoke volumes to me in those few moments. He pleaded silently, urging me to seek another method. Any save for this.

I could not.

Till the last, he strove against me until I glared down at him. He recalled his place. A servant. He bowed low and stepped away towards the entrance. He could not watch, and I did not blame him. If only I had listened. If only I had yielded to his wisdom. Schooled by the greats, and tutored by the stars. Yet I did not, I could not. Blame Nicolae as I might, I wanted to know if it was possible. Her blood had miraculously sprouted such crimson blossoms prior to this. Could it be done again? Perhaps the method lies in excess. Would a larger bloodletting allow the blossoms to run rampant. 'The blood is the life.' Over and over again in my mind, those words ran their course.

'The blood is the life. The blood is the life.'

I made my approach to the altar, steps matching pace with the beating of that fearful heart. She knew what was to come. She knew what I was to do. A final glance to me. Her crimson eyes betraying her knowledge, and something else. That final look, what was that emotion? It haunts me even now as the body grows colder upon the altar and the candles flicker over the still form. What did she wish me to see in those eyes? What was she telling me?

Forgiveness? I wish it. Forgiveness for my folly, my accursed actions.

I took hold of the dagger. That sharp instrument in my grasp, capable of unlocking the music of pain, agony. An orchestration of despair. Symphony of it all to weave forth this tale of tragedy. The crystal's glow and mingled firelight clearly shone upon the sharpened metal as surely as my will had grasped it. I held it aloft. Her eyes closed, the long lashes gracefully falling upon the high cheek bones. I swung it down with all my might.


God! Hades! Oh, what I have done!

The feel of the flesh giving way. The warmth of the liquid that welled up around it, spurting the lifeblood. Not a sound from her. Not even a whimper. That terrible deed. May I be condemned to the deepest pit for this. I am not better than he, my brother for my treacherous action! Damned!

And yet, the very instant the heart stopped it's feeble beating, the lungs silencing their strenuous attempts to breathe. Even as the blood still flowed around the altar and spilled into the pool of the ancients; their came a deep and angry cry that shook the very foundations of the sacrificial room. One I could only recognize as him. Nicolae! The cry continued to ring out, feverish and wrathful.

"No! It is not over! Not done with you yet, foolish girl!"

A black cloud rose up from the pool of blood, thick and menacing. I saw within the shape of my brother rearing back before plunging headlong into the still body upon the altar. Ah, what is the meaning of this?

Tuomas and I wait anxiously to see.

- Katsuto

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