In the unfamiliar world where he awoke, reality surpassed his wildest imagination. An aged soul was encased within a youthful form, a being older than any known to humanity. Immortality had blessed him with centuries of existence, where he had forgotten to breathe and slumbered beneath the ocean's depths.
Time was a labyrinth he navigated, a silent observer of history's rise and fall. Yet, loneliness whispered in his heart as he outlived all he cherished. He carried wisdom from forgotten eras, shaping myths and legends that transcended human memory.
He strode tirelessly, moving with the urgency of a mortal sprinting to safety. Confusion engulfed him like an overwhelming storm, a sensation he had rarely experienced throughout his existence.
In this world where he had awakened, he felt like an outsider, uncertain of his purpose and place. The notion of inflicting harm upon others weighed heavily on his conscience, and the thought of causing pain to innocent beings filled him with dread.
But then, something profound happened—two lives were in peril, and his instinct was to save rather than to harm. The altruistic act of rescuing those men, instead of succumbing to the primal urge to drain them of life, jolted him into realization. Amidst the eternal turmoil of his existence, he had retained a sliver of humanity.
In the midst of desperation, he remained composed, a testament to his self-control. They say lions don't eat dead animals. As a predator, was it instinct or mercy that guided him?
For miles he walked, the rugged terrain taking its toll on his bare feet. Yet, he pressed on, relentless in his search for safety. With every step, cuts marred his skin, only to mend themselves as he journeyed onward. Despite the pain, he forged ahead, driven by an unwavering determination.
Amidst the endless expanse, a faint scent drifted towards him—the presence of fire. The aroma ignited a flicker of hope within him. It was a beacon of comfort, promising warmth and perhaps the companionship he sought. He quickened his pace, drawn towards the source like a moth to a flame, yearning for the solace it might bring to his soul.
Following the alluring scent of fire, he stumbled upon a wooden house, weathered and adorned in shades of black and brown, a testament to the passage of time. The neglect was evident, akin to the aging patina on forgotten furniture. As he drew nearer, the unmistakable aroma of cologne teased his senses, a sign that he was not alone. He hesitated, torn between his noble appearance, now stripped of its invulnerability, and the necessity to seek refuge. In this unfamiliar world, trust was a luxury he couldn't afford, yet he had no other option. With caution and uncertainty, he approached the door, knowing that the encounter behind it could alter the course of his timeless existence.
~Dang...!!! ~Dang...!!! ~Dang...!!!
In his desperate state, he knocked on the door with a force he didn't realize he possessed. The resounding knocks reverberated through the air, the hinges groaning in protest, the door on the verge of breaking. From within, an old man's voice echoed, demanding to know who had come knocking. The stranger stood there, weakened and on the brink of unconsciousness, unable to answer the call of the curious inhabitant.
The door creaked open, revealing an elderly man donning a brown cap, a red vest, and grey cotton pants. Observant blue eyes gazed out from a face adorned with the wisdom of age, the lines of experience etched like a map of time. Stepping cautiously, the old man emerged, his eyes studying the disheveled figure before him. Concern etched on his wrinkled face, he extended a helping hand, unknowingly reaching out to a being who had witnessed centuries untold, yet now stood vulnerable and in need of assistance.
Upon encountering the old man, a mix of gratitude and caution washed over him. He noticed a peculiar object in the man's hands, its faint scent of rust and wood adding to his unease. Grateful for the stranger's presence yet wary of the unfamiliar item pointed towards him, he tried to utter some words but, overwhelmed by exhaustion, he succumbed to unconsciousness.
The sudden and loud ~dang~ at the door startled the old man, filling him with both shock and terror. Alone in the woods for over a year, he was unaccustomed to unexpected visitors, and his mind raced with thoughts of bears or other wild creatures. Acting swiftly, he retrieved his rifle from the wall, ensuring it was loaded before making his way out.
~Crack...~
The almost broken door swung open, revealing a sight that left the old man bewildered. A young man stood before him, drenched from the rain, his tall figure and wide frame with pure long white hair that shimmered and reflected the thunder's light. The old man was about to inquire what had brought the young man to his door at this late hour, but before he could speak, the stranger collapsed to the ground.
Concerned and sensing the young man's vulnerability, the old man swiftly dragged him inside and covered him with a blanket to provide warmth and respite. The young man's body felt colder than the snow itself, leaving the old man to wonder about the harrowing journey he must have endured. With his rifle still within reach, the old man remained vigilant, ready to protect the enigmatic stranger.
The night passed, and morning returned, but the old man's attempts to wake the young stranger were in vain. The young man lay there, cold as ice and as pale as death. Unsure of what to do, the old man proceeded with his daily chores, hoping that the stranger might need some more time to awaken.
~Ahhh....~
The small voice startled the old man as the young stranger's hand pressed against his head, awakening instantly and scanning the surroundings. The place they were in had wooden walls and a small kitchen area. A rectangular fireplace adorned one wall, above which hung the head of a deer mounted on a wooden plaque. A wooden chair and cupboards filled the modest space, with clothes hanging on hooks along the corners of the walls.
The young man heard the chirping of morning birds and smelled the scent of blood, something he felt he hadn't experienced in years. Fueled by the familiar aroma, he whispered, "Blood...!". To his surprise, he found the old man there, carrying two fresh rabbits in his hand. Acting on instinct, the young man snatched the rabbits and headed to the woods.
Confused and taken aback, the old man was left blinking in disbelief. He even raised his rifle in response to the sudden action. After a while, the young man returned, having separated the skin off of the rabbits'. He looked at the old man and said in a tone far older than his appearance, "Ready to feast." The old man remained stunned, struggling to comprehend the inexplicable events that had unfolded before him, leaving him with more questions than answers.
The old man, still perplexed, shook his head and introduced himself, "I am Peter Williams." He extended his right hand, and the young man shook it in response. "Wear my son's clothes," Peter offered, pointing to the bed where the young man had slept.
With a soft smile, the young man went inside and put on the clothes left for him. Peter even offered him a pair of shoes. As he came back out, he addressed Peter, "Lord Peter, I am truly grateful for this peculiar attire, but I have nothing to reward you with at the moment," his words spoken with an ancient cadence.
"It's fine," Peter replied, already back to his work, peeling the skin off the rabbits near the crackling fire. "Young lads these days don't seem to have a clue where they're heading, do they?" he scoffed, the wrinkles on his face betraying the wisdom of age as he shared his observation.
"I am Prince Ariel Werner Aban Roth from Noble blood," he proclaimed, bowing his head slightly once more.
Peter regarded him with a momentary pause before responding, "Yea... yea... prince, you hungry? You slept for two days straight."
Ariel sensed Peter's uncertainty and understood he was indeed in foreign territory. Feeling a sense of urgency, he inquired about the way to the Royal Tower. He needed to find someone from his past, someone who had betrayed him.
Ariel's true identity was a mystery, but Peter sensed that he was unwell and urged him to stay until he fully recovered, not questioning the reason for his sudden arrival and strange behaviour. As days passed, Ariel agreed to Peter's request, realizing that staying with the old man might provide valuable insights into this foreign land. He was determined to keep his true nature as an immortal vampire hidden, for revealing such an existence would only invite more questions and uncertainties.
With time, Peter and Ariel developed a strong bond. Despite his advanced age, Peter struggled to hunt larger animals, but with Ariel's presence, they had an abundance of game, including a bear that Ariel once brought back using only a kitchen knife. The old man found immense joy in the company of the enigmatic and mentally unstable Ariel, treating him as if he were his own son.
One day, as Ariel chopped wood with an axe, he couldn't help but wonder about Peter's solitary life. "Why do you live alone, Lord?" Ariel inquired, making sure to maintain a facade of normalcy. Chopping wood with the axe seemed like child's play to him; he could easily tear apart a trunk with his bare hands if he desired. However, in the presence of the elderly Peter, he suppressed his true strength, hoping to appear like any other ordinary man.
Ariel listened intently as Peter opened up about his past, revealing the poignant story of his late son. His heart went out to the grieving old man, sensing the depth of his sorrow. "Well... son, I had my own son around your age," Peter began, his voice tinged with both nostalgia and sorrow. "He was a good lad, perfectly fit and strong like you. I mean not strong enough like you, haha, but uh... he died in the hands of terrorists with other soldiers last December, protecting his comrades." The weight of loss and pride intermingled in Peter's words, painting a vivid picture of his son's sacrifice.
Tears welled up in the old man's eyes as he continued, "We used to come here over on weekends and on vacations since he was a boy. He lost his mother when he was two. The waterfalls behind that hill were his favorite place. He would go swimming there all the time, fishing, making small dams while he was still a child." Memories of cherished moments flooded Peter's mind, interwoven with the pain of losing a beloved son. "After his death, I couldn't live in the city. Nothing made me happy. Seeing you, you look a lot like him, full of energy."
Ariel stood there in silence, his immortal heart heavy with the weight of Peter's grief. He recognized the profound impact of his presence, bearing a striking resemblance to the son Peter had lost. In the midst of concealing his own true nature, Ariel also discovered the power of connection—a bond formed not only by blood but by a shared spirit that transcended time and boundaries.
Indeed, memories can be both a bittersweet solace and a painful reminder. The happiness shared with someone who suddenly vanishes leaves an ache within the heart. The flood of memories evokes the precious moments once treasured, now etched in the depths of the soul. Each recollection stirs the realization of how much those moments meant, how profoundly they were cherished in the depths of happiness. But as life unfolds, the cruel reality sets in—those moments are now part of the past, forever inaccessible.
The heart yearns for that person, but the chance to be together again becomes an elusive dream. Even as the universe collapses into oblivion, the void left by that absence persists, a reminder of the irreplaceable connection that once existed. Memories remain as the lingering testament to a time when happiness knew no bounds, while the pain of loss casts a shadow over the possibilities that will never come to pass again.
Feeling a deep empathy for Peter's pain, Ariel recognized the echoes of loss in his own heart, having lost both his father and mother. Their memories were etched in his mind, as vivid and raw as if it had happened only yesterday. Moved by the old man's sorrow, Ariel decided to extend his stay, desiring to cherish this bond a little longer.
He engaged Peter in endless conversations, seeking to know every detail about the place they were in—the date, the current king, and every single aspect he could think of. With each answer he received, Ariel's eyes widened in fascination, as if he were hearing tales from a different realm. He feigned forgetfulness, a pretense that allowed him to delve deeper into the stories and culture that Peter shared.
Ariel continued his nocturnal rituals, discreetly drinking the blood of animals before bringing the lifeless bodies back to the house for their shared feast. Though the act served as a replacement, akin to "bean over beef," it was a tasteless sustenance compared to the vitality of human blood. Nonetheless, in the company of Peter, Ariel relished every moment, finding solace in their shared memories and experiences.
They spent days together, forming an inseparable bond. Ariel and the old man created cherished memories, their hearts intertwined in the delicate dance of friendship and understanding.