The Marcaba
Sarai sprung up from her sleep. Her eyes were heavy as it ran around the place.
Confusion was all she felt.
The place was like a house of roots, coiled and making up swirls and intertwines to form a shed. It felt cold and deadly, yet a sinister kind of positive energy reeked in the depth of the place. There was only one place that came into her mind.
'Marcaba.'
Her eyes gazed at the roots again. 'It must belong to the olive tree.' she thought.
Even though it's somehow strange and unbelievable that such an olive tree that could have been easily ignored, has so many roots that it formed a shed beneath the tree, it's the truth.
Awe. She was awestruck when she realized this. Then she clenched her fists. There must be something here.
"You must be okay by now."
Her neck snapped to the direction the voice was coming from and was surprised to see a man that looked so young, almost like teenager, nineteen at most. But as she stared deeply at the young man, she knew at once what he's.
He's a vampire. The immortal life vampires have made him look so young. It also shows that he became a vampire in his early age. Unlike Kylian who became a vampire at the age of 27, he now looks like a 21 years old young man. Heald was turned at the age of 30. He now looked like a 24 years old man.
Sarai sized him in seconds.
The vampire smiled at this. 'As expected of a witch' he thought.
"Hector." The vampire introduced with a slight grin. There was a large old book in his grip. Hector returned his gaze to the book as he started. "You came here. You did the right thing."
Sarai's eyes went down to her arm, the injured one. On it was a white, clean bandage, carefully wrapped around it. But there's one thing that's bothering her the most.
"Where is he now?" Sarai asked.
"Right beside you."
Sarai turned and her eyes flashed to the mat on the floor, beside her's. On it was Kylian. Bloody, impossibly pale and as time went, became dessicated.
When Sarai saw him, she felt her blood run cold. It was as though she'd lost something. Hope.
Yes, she lost hope. In all the learnings she's had about vampires, she knows very vividly that not all vampires can survive dessication. Once they are dessicated, it's hard, if not impossible to bring them back.
Not to mention that Kylian's heart is almost gone. Aro's attack scorched it and caused quite a lot of damage. Even though it's still intact, it's getting dry. It's the reason his body is drying up, thus getting dessicated.
Sarai sighed as her shoulders dropped and she turned away from the body. She hugged her knees tightly and hid her face in in-between her knees.
She tried. She fought well, yet she wasn't able to save him.
"You shouldn't feel wasted yet," Hector said.
"His heart was scorched and he's getting dessicated already." Sarai muttered.
"Yes. And I think you should check out his skin as well."
Sarai flashed his eyes to Hector. A lopsided grin was etched at the corner of his lips. It annoyed her. She wondered what was going on in his mind that's provoking a smile. Considering the situation, he shouldn't be smiling at all.
Hector nodded at her, telling her to go ahead.
Sarai turned to look at the body again. She looked closely and then she saw it. There are black spots on Kylian's pale skin.
"Do you know what that is?" Hector asked.
Sarai flinched as the thought crossed her mind. She closed her eyes and gulped as she said, "I gave him a powerful potion but it backfired. It worsened his situation, I guess."
"He shouldn't survive this. But he's a Skull vampire." Hector said with a sort of reverence as he advanced towards Sarai, the large book still in his grip.
Sarai didn't fail to see the look in his eyes. It reflected faith as he mentioned the words 'skull vampires'. A faith so much that it could be a blind one. A faith that must have been built on a belief so strong about the Skull vampires, that it made him seem convinced Kylian would survive.
"He was turned by one, not born." Sarai noted.
"It doesn't matter. Even though a born Vampire is stronger than a turned one, a turned skull can never be compared to a turned Vampire." Hector dropped the book before Kylian.
"So are you saying he can still be saved?" Sarai asked.
Hector's pallid finger pointed to an image on the opened page of the large book.
Sarai looked down to it but she didn't understand the image.
"Yes. The olive tree that made up the Marcaba is not just any tree, it's over a thousand years old. It served as a point of redemption and resuscitation for the Skulls in the past." Hector added. "And this book was used by the Skulls."
Sarai tilted her head to look at the book.
Hector clenched his teeths as he said, "there's a way to save him."
"And what's it?" Sarai asked, trying to conceal her anxiety and impatience.
"We drown him in ice cold water and watch."
Sarai scoffed. Her eyes flickering as anger brewed in it. "So we save a dessicated vampire by staring at him?"
"We'll submerge him in the water then stand watch. That's what the book says. Or do you have another way?" Hector asked.
Sarai shrank. Her eyes coiled inwards and her shoulders dropped. Even though she feels that idea sucks, she doesn't have any other means to save him, just as Hector had said. She's helpless in this kind of situation.
Hector began. "This book belongs to a Skull vampire healer. It contains a lot about the skulls and it is over a thousand years old and I don't doubt anything written in it. If you don't want to save him then walk out of here because I'm not letting him die."
Sarai was shocked by that. She didn't expect such commitment. Even though she wants him alive badly enough to be this committed, she's afraid that the little time they might have left to save Kylian will be wasted, staring.
But then her eyes moved to the old book in Hector's grip. Her heart clenched knowing herself that a dessicated vampire is gone and it's only a matter of time before the body turns crisp.
Heald will be disappointed. The book of Malmon won't be hers anymore and that will be a great loss to her, because she might not get such an opportunity again in her lifetime.
Hector sighed and began. "When he's submerged into the ice water, his consciousness will flow and he'll be able to get to a realm between life and death. The Oasis." His eyes sparkled with that unusual faith again as he said, "once he's in the Oasis, he'll find a way to live."
Sarai exhaled. Her eyes gazed directly at Hector's. Even though none of this seems to reach her, there are two things she's totally sure of.
The fact that the wizard that directed her here, the man that has lived, wouldn't have done it if the place is going to be a failure. And secondly, the faith and confidence in Hector's word. It's rare and convincing. She could have sworn she hadn't seen that before.
'I'll have to believe in what the book says.' she thought as she lowered her gaze to Kylian's body on the mat on the ground. "Then let's do it."
********
Lanes Street.
John the Wolf stood right by the door to Christa's house. The grim look on his face spoke of what his intentions are as he glared at the approaching figures emerging from the end of the street.
As the figures approached, the streetlights exploded and darkness thrived. The darkness formed a way for the approaching figures as they seemed to be in their numbers.
Nothing could be seen of the figures except for their eyes, which were burning red. At the head of the approaching figure was one with a sapphire blue eyes.
It's Hellsong. He's coming with the army Akotal gave to him, the hind legged creatures. They were over a dozen and their silent growls sent shivers down the cold walls of the building in the street as they advanced under the shadow of the night.
John's eyes glowed red as he looked back over his shoulder at the two men behind him. Part of his pack, his betas. They were Mac and Bren, the werewolf with an intimidating broad chest.
The others are hanging around Christa's house and the surroundings. They all have one sole purpose, to protect the human lady, Christa.
The look in John's red alpha eyes were both tender and fierce as he gazed at the two men over his shoulder.
Even though he feels the strong animal instincts of being superior to them, he still feels a kind of deep love for them. They are his pack, his strength, his families. They are his brothers. They've fought shoulder to shoulder several times and he trusts them, even with his life.
"Be careful," he said, simply before turning back to face the approaching armies.
Sounds of snapping bones could be heard as he began to shift to his first werewolf form. Thick, black hairs grew on his cheeks, fangs sprouted from his mouth and claws elongated from his fingers. His ears became pointy and his nose flattened.
The two betas behind him did the same and their yellow glowing eyes gazed at Hellsong's sapphire blue eyes as he and his armies finally got to the front of the building. They stopped about fifteen meters away from the house, keeping a distance with the werewolves.
The Mutilator grinned, mischievously from behind Hellsong. He's the only human among the squad but he could be the most dangerous. Even John sensed it as his eyes flashed warily at him.
Hellsong bought his hands together and clapped with an amused smile at the corner of his lips as he gazed at John.
"What a determination, John. You are so passionate." Hellsong's amusement only grew as he grinned more.
John glanced over his shoulder back at the front door of Christa's house. Then he faced the front, to Hellsong and his army, as he said through gnashed teeths, "you're not getting through this door."
"Even if you wanted to die, why don't you die alone. I don't see any reason why you should take along bodyguards to Hades," Hellsong sneered.
"Pft!" John scoffed. Then he said through gnashed fangs, "Let's see, Hellsong."
"Since you decided to do it this way, you have no other choice but to die, John," Hellsong said, the seriousness in his blue eyes was as much as his assurance.
This puzzled John as he frowned. His red eyes flashed and his pointy ears corked. He twitched his flat animalistic nose as he tried to focus on the emotions floating in the air.
His eyes widened when he smelled what's really going on, but it was too late.
A piercing sound permeated the air as something sharp went into John's back. His face morphed into a painful look as the sound of a crushing bone resonated. A painful roar of agony escaped his lips as he was lifted off his feets. Blood gushed outta his lips as he felt his spine being pulverized to dust.
His eyes were filled with agony as he strained his neck to look back at who had stabbed him in the back. His eyes glistened with tears when he saw the broad chest of his beta. It was Bren.
"Goodbye, John."
************