Ferdinand's eyes widened in shock, while Mark's head snapped up from his sword, his eyes fixed intently on the lady.
"What do you mean she's dead?" Ferdinand demanded, his voice firm but controlled.
The lady, seemingly unfazed by their reaction, nodded calmly. "Yes, she passed away a few moons ago"
"Someone saw her in Heidenfeld about a week ago"
Mark stood up, his sword still in hand, his mind racing with questions.
The lady hesitated, glancing around the hut nervously. "So even now she refuses to rest. I...I suppose it's too late now. She left behind her research, her notes...and a warning."
Ferdinand's eyes lit up with intrigue. "A warning? About what?"
The lady leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. "About the prophecy.....and the darkness that's coming."
She took out an old book of her mother's from a little box beneath her table. She opened up to a page. It was the last thing old Lyorne wrote.
"The threads of fate have been set in motion.
Only the Stained One can release the Risen Blade. If he finds this he must head for Ostyx. The boy's life is in danger"
Ferdinand had his hand on his face. It seemed like they were at a dead end.
"That old lady is a real piece of work!"
"At least now you have a lead," she added.
"What are your names?" She asked.
"I'll tell mine if you tell yours" replied Ferdinand.
"Name's Elena"
"Ferdinand. And this right here..." He said pointing to Mark.
"Is Mark...Father Mark"
She came leaning closer to where Mark was sitting.
"You're a priest. I thought you guys were completely gone".
Mark didn't react. He just looked at her.
"Is there anything else I can...."
"Shhhh...."
Mark could hear something lurking.
Immediately, a screecher tore through the roof and was headed straight to Mark.
Mark grabbed it by the throat as it was struggling and ripped out its head from its body.
"We need to leave, more are coming"
They hurried quickly while they and the house were completely covered in blood.
......................
Fynn's mind was racing as he followed Ms. Maroon to the dining hall. He couldn't shake off Kael's words: "I doubt the screecher attacks are random." What did Kael know that he didn't? He made a mental note to ask Kael more questions later.
As they sat down for breakfast, Fynn noticed Kael sitting across from him, his eyes fixed on his plate. Fynn tried to catch his eye, but Kael didn't look up.
"Why are you eating like that?"
"Hmmm"
Vynella noticed Fynn was distracted by the boy. She wondered what they had been up to that morning.
"I asked why you were eating like that," She asked with a stern face.
"Eating like what?"
"You're not chewing. You seem interested in this Kael"
"He's a great kid," Fynn quickly answered.
Vynella didn't feel comfortable.
"Is there something you're not telling me?"
She leaned in closer, determined to get an answer out of him.
"Nothing"
Kael had just finished his breakfast. As he stood up to leave, Fynn stood up to leave as well.
Vynella caught him sharply.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Outside...." Fynn replied to her like it was the most obvious answer to give.
"You didn't finish eating. Sit down I'll be back"
Fynn waited for her to leave. He was planning to meet up with Kael again.
"Leaving so soon," Lysera said, blocking his path. She motioned to the food with her chin.
Fynn quietly went back to his food.
"Girls..." He whispered to himself.
Vynella walked outside, her eyes looking for Kael. It didn't take long before she found her prey.
"Hey, new kid" She beckoned Kael to come to her. She put her hand on his shoulder and bent to his height.
"Hi, umm...my name is Vynella..."
"I know" Kael quickly chipped in.
"So....you and Fynn seem awfully close"
"Yeah"
"You mind letting me in on your little secret?"
"That's not my story to tell". Kael sharply replied her.
"I'm at a loss here" She thought.
"He doesn't talk to you much about his problems does he?"
She couldn't reply that. But Vynella knew he was right. If there's one thing Fynn is good at, it's hiding his problems.
"May I go now?"
She permitted him with a nod.
Fynn reluctantly sat back down, his eyes restless. Lysera's sudden appearance had thwarted his plan to meet up with him again. He wondered what Kael knew about the screecher attacks and why he seemed so secretive.
As he forced himself to eat, Fynn noticed Lysera watching him with an intensity that made him uncomfortable.
"Lysera!"
One of the kids called her from the end of the hall. It was virtually empty.
"Coming!" She sounded back.
"Do not move an inch, you hear me"
Fynn nodded, fully ready to disobey her order.
He needed to find a way to slip away and meet up with Kael again. As he glanced around the hall, he caught Kael's eye, and they exchanged a brief, secret nod.
After finishing his meal, Fynn pretended to relax, waiting for the perfect moment to make his escape. Lysera was engaged in conversation with another student, and Vynella was nowhere to be seen. Seizing the opportunity, Fynn casually got up and walked out of the dining hall, trying not to draw attention to himself.
Once outside, he quickly scanned the area, spotting Kael leaning against a nearby wall. "What did you find out?" Fynn asked, hurrying over to him.
Kael's expression was serious. "I think I know why the screechers are attacking. It's not random. They're targeting specific locations, and I think I know what they're looking for."
Fynn's curiosity was piqued. "What is it?"
Kael hesitated, glancing around nervously.
"Come with me"
Kael took Fynn by hand, leading him through winding corridors and hidden passages till they arrived at an unassuming door behind an old tapestry. The room was a little distant from the area commonly used by the rest of the children. Anything behind that door had not been touched in decades.
"What is this place?" Fynn asked with a piqued interest.
"Old rooms used by the children who came before us"
There were old, hole ridden beds around the room.
"How do you know so much about this place?"
Fynn was curious, at the same time cautious. He had lived half his entire life in that orphanage and yet a boy who just came a few days ago knew more about the place than he did.
"It's my Gift" Kael replied reluctantly.
"I'm a seer. I can see and hear people's thoughts. I can also see past events of certain places"
"That's why you were hunted?"
Kael gave a nod.
"They'd use me to check out old sitings for grave robbery"
Fynn was amazed as to the lengths people would use others to get what they wanted.
Kael walked straight to an old wooden box at the end of the room. It had been covered with hay and old bedsheets.
"Some kids dabbled a bit into witchcraft"
Kael broke the box and took out an old book, covered in dust. Kael blew away the dust from the book cover.
Fynn coughed as the wind took the dust to his direction.
"That's about thirty years worth of dust on that thing"
The book's cover was made with red leather. Its pages were covered in strange diagrams.
Kael quickly opened up to a page with the drawing of a sword on it. It was long. It had a winged hilt drawn at the end of the sword with a cross in the middle.
"This is a journal of a former child who used to stay here and this...." Kael continued, pointing at the sword diagram "....is what you need to find. The old lady told you to find this...and a person right?"
Fynn was curious and at the same time confused. Why would he need to find it and what would he use the sword for.
"We need to get back. Your friends might start looking for you".
Kael tucked the book in his shirt as they both hurried back, trying to create different alibis as to where they had been.
......................
They had walked through the bushes, a few meters away from the hut. They found a group of short trees with a little space in the middle.
They planned on staying there till the evening; or at least till the screechers were sure to be gone.
"We'll have to hide here a little longer"
Mark left them in their little space, keeping watch of the area to prevent other attacks.
Ferdinand and Elena were still sitting back, he on the floor and Elena on a log they found there, both around a campfire.
"Why do you walk with him; Mark? You know what they say about them" Elena asked simply out of curiosity.
"I couldn't care less about what most people think..."Ferdinand replied.
"I'm mostly here for financial reasons... killing screechers earns a lot of money, and I don't even have to do the killing"
"So you're using him?" She asked, eyes narrowed.
"He knows, or atleast doesn't care. He's looking for someone. He hopes to kill that person"
"A priest...trying to murder..."
"It was easier for people to believe they were rapists," Ferdinand cut in sharply.
"Besides, what he wants to kill isn't even human....it's a vampire"
"He doesn't seem much human to me either"
Elena said.
"Normal people can't tear off heads from monsters that easily, let alone with their bare hands".
Now that she had mentioned it, she was right. Ferdinand had not at all been thinking about how he slew the monster, with bare hands nonetheless.
Ferdinand and Elena kept chatting till it was around midnight.
Mark simply came and barged into their conversation.
"We need to move."
The two came out of their hiding place, following Mark closely behind. The moon was beautiful. It was their torch in the night sky.
Soon, the light from the moon dimmed.
Ferdinand looked up, pointing to the things which obstructed the moon's light.
"Is that....is that a horde of...of screechers?!"
"Keep your voice down" Mark hushed him.
"We need to follow them"
"Why would we do that?" Ferdinand asked, perplexed at the kind of risk Mark was willing to go through to have his revenge.
"You set me up for this and you're going to follow this through"
Mark looked up at the sky, following the trajectory of the screechers' path.
"I might have a good idea about where they're headed.... although I never I'd be back there"
......................
Kael was still awake, his eyes lit like a lantern. He sensed something had crossed the orphanage gate, four conscious minds.
"Vampires!"
He ran around the entire orphanage looking for Fynn's room.
"Where are you running to by this hour?" Asked a boy who stopped Kael in his tracks. He had woken up a few minutes ago to take a leak.
"Where's Fynn?....his room please!!" Kael was gasping for breath.
"Downstairs, the other section by the left..."
Kael started running the direction he was given.
"Please wake up the rest. If we don't start running now, none of us will be left here by morning"
"Running from what?!"
Kael was in too much of a hurry to answer. He dashed across the stairs, skipping a few stairs.
Fynn woke up to the large sound of banging on the door. The rest of his inmates had woken up as well.
"I'll go check who it is" Fynn volunteered.
"Who could it be at this hour?" One of them asked, still with sleepy eyes.
Fynn had scarcely unlocked the door when Kael forcefully opened up the door completely.
"We need to leave, now!!!"
Fynn was still confused. Leave and go where?
" All of you need to leave here now! Forget your things, run!"
"Whose this little brat?" One of them said, angrily.
Just as he left his bed, a screecher crashed into the room from the window.
He was struggling to breathe, a screecher's teeth were already buried in his skull.
Fynn didn't even want to know what happened next. He took Kael by the hand and dashed off.
"Please let them be safe..." Fynn was praying silently for both of his friends.
The orphanage was built in a way to suit the needs of all its children. The children below thirteen shared a big dorm, much bigger than the ones the adolescents stay in.
Once a child was thirteen, they were taken to the dorm for grown ups. The girls and boys would be separated, all waiting to be adopted or to grow up.
"We need to head over to their dorms" Fynn was anxious, his heart beating fast.
"They're alive, but I don't know what condition they're in".
As they came close to the female dorms, they were met with the smell of burning wood and meat.
"The whole place is burning!!!" Vynella screamed at the top of her lungs. She was very much unsure of her survival.
"We have to find a way out, the other end is blocked".
Vynella, Lysera and a number of the other girls who were living a storey atop the ground tried to find a staircase, one that would lead them safely out.
......................
"What's that fire in the distance?" Ferdinand asked, unwilling to continue in whatever endeavor Mark was embarking on.
"It's the dorms."
The three of them had finally reached their destination. They found one of the doors of the gate already ripped off from its hinges.
They were welcomed by four vampires, each sitting at the four corners of the orphanage's front yard.
"The longer I live, the more I keep wondering if humans will get any more sensible" One of the vampires said, with a snark look on his face.
One of them had been looking intently at Mark.
"I remember you....the one at the grove in Fitzheim..." He was looking closely at Ferdinand. "And the bard"
"I am not a bard"
"You sure dress like one"
......................
On one of many of Mark's travels, much earlier in his priesthood, he stumbled upon the cursed town of Fitzheim. A flickering rage simmered beneath his calm exterior, the wound of vengeance still festering fresh within him. This very place was soaked in the blood of one of his brethren—a priest burnt alive at the stake, a martyr for attempting to exorcise a young woman said to be possessed by an insidious spirit. Townspeople whispered vile rumors, some accusing him of unspeakable acts toward the woman, while others muttered dark hints of witchcraft.
It was here, in the oppressive atmosphere tinged with anguish, that Mark first crossed paths with Ferdinand. He had come to Fitzheim with a singular purpose: to pay silent tribute to his fallen brother in Christ. But it was here he completely lost hope for human salvation ; he now lived solely for the thrill of vengeance, driven to eliminate the woman who had stolen everything from him.
On that fateful day, a caravan became ensnared in the gloom of a cursed grove, their cartwheels mysteriously shattered and rendered useless. Mark, drowning his sorrows in drink, stumbled upon them, oblivious to the deadly trap that awaited. Little did the weary travelers know they had wandered into the wicked territory of vampires—hunters lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce.
The sky hung heavy with rain, a sinister curtain cloaking the impending bloodshed. When vampires struck, ambushing the stranded caravan, six lithe figures descended upon them, their eyes gleaming with hunger. Ferdinand, ever the vocal one, desperately attempted to negotiate, but Mark stood silently among the chaos, a haunting figure with a frigid gaze, suppressing the insatiable thirst for blood that churned within him.
The other vampires, sensing his unnatural composure, were taken aback. They reveled in the thrill of the hunt, yet they were blissfully ignorant of the true predator in their midst. Without warning, Mark crouched, muscles coiling like a spring, and then soared into the air—a feat impossible for any human. He seized the nearest vampire, twisting its head with a sickening crack against the roof of the cart, and in a single, brutal motion, plunged his hand into its chest. With a merciless squeeze, he shattered the heart—a gruesome display of strength that left no room for mercy.
The others should have fled in terror, but they were drawn into the fray, leaping onto the cart to overwhelm him. As they descended, Mark's hands became a whirlwind of destruction; he caught both vampires by the skull and tore their heads apart, the slick, warm blood splattering across the cart's surface and showering those below in crimson.
With visceral efficiency, he then wrenched their ribs apart, the sound of cracking bones echoing in the night air as he harvested their hearts, casting them aside like discarded refuse. Three lay lifeless, but three remained, more frantic now.
Mark leaped down, defying gravity itself as he zeroed in on the nearest foe. With every ounce of power surging through him, he struck with a ferocious blow that sent the vampire crashing into an ancient tree, the trunk splintering under its weight. Before another could react, he whirled around, producing a sacred medal from under his cloak. Elation mixed with brutality as he drove it into the vampire's chest. The emblem burned through flesh, a divine retribution etched in pain—the sign of his order as a priest igniting an inferno within the beast.
The remaining vampire trembled in terror, but escape was an illusion. Mark made swift work of her, jabbing from behind with strength that defied nature, his hand tearing through flesh as he ripped out her heart with a savage glee.
Amidst the chaos, the dim sky shrouded the savagery unfolding below. Whispers of the Stained Priest echoed through Fitzheim as the moonlight seeped through the clouds, casting shadows of the bloody aftermath. That night, six vampires fell to the hands of one—a priest whose heart had long since abandoned the path of salvation, now a merciless harbinger of death.