Before I can ask what he means by that, a cry of terror rings out from the assembly.
It sounds too familiar.
My head snaps in that direction and this is when I see them emerge from invisible walls, just like Damian did.
Witch magic.
Black magic.
"The witches are here!" someone yells, and everyone runs amok like scattered soldier ants.
I turn to look back at Damian, disappointed. "You saw this!"
But he is gone.
My eyes roam around, looking for a glimpse of the robe of his. But all I see are vampires running.
I hear heavy footsteps approaching from behind me. I brace myself for what is coming, but when I turn around, I see my father taking huge strides toward me.
"Get inside!" He orders. "Now."
"No," I bite back. "Let me fight."
"You are not yet transformed, Ruzena. This will be bigger than you."
"This is bigger than all of us and we need every fighting hand we can get. I want to fight."
My father looks at me hard. I see that he is torn in a state of indecision. He doesn't know if letting me fight will be a faux pas or a triumph in disguise. Behind us, the cries become intense, and I hear growls. The werewolves are here.
My father sees this latest addition to the chess board. "Alright. But you stay by my side. Is this acceptable to you?"
"Acceptable."
"Arm yourself, then."
I run towards the threshold and into the edifice. Grab a silver sword from its sheath on the wall and rush back outside. I see Klaus at the entrance. He wields twin knives in both hands. He looks at me in a surprised manner and asks, "What are you doing, Ruz?"
"What does it look like? Joining the fight, of course."
"You should concern yourself with staying safe."
"I am really not your concern at the moment, Klaus. Anyway, Father approves."
He shakes his head. "This is foolish of you."
"Says a concierge who perpetually gets fooled by his lady," I say, as a parting shot, and run to defend my family.
As the daughter of an Elder Supremo, more specifically the only daughter, I have been taught how to defend myself in a fight. And this training began a year ago. I have two trainers. My father, and Klaus, his concierge. They teach me to fight with honor. And most importantly, how to not fight.
They make me read scripts on fighting. One I remember is the thirteen laws of the Art of War originally written by an Oriental whose name I have forgotten. Like my life depends on it. Maybe it does. But what about theirs?
If they really think these principles are so important, how come we still lose? I was so confused that I asked this once.
It was Klaus who replied, "What you learn with us are honorable ways of fighting, Ruzena."
"Well, they sound so evil when put into practice."
He laughed. "War, itself, is evil. So don't judge. The fight those witches and werewolves bring to our tables is laced with the stench and protection of the supernatural. There is nothing honorable in that if they don't fight us on our own terms and conditions."
"Then why do we learn strategy instead of supernatural manipulations?"
"Because we do have honor, Ruzena."
But this need to have honor is what led to my multiple reincarnations.
"Is this a fight we will ever win?" I asked.
Deep within me, this is a war I know we won't win. It is one we are unprepared for. I learned that whoever is first in the field and awaits the coming of the enemy, will be fresh for the fight, but whoever is second in the field and has to hasten to battle will arrive exhausted.
Technically, we are first to this ground, but we aren't waiting for the coming of any enemy. So this doesn't make us fresh for this fight. Instead, this sudden assail makes us erratic and random in our movements. It makes me feel like we are second in this field, and what we are doing at the moment is just making haste to save our lives.
The werewolves appear from the ether with the help of black magic. O hear someone whispering to another that we should target the witches first. But I know that this is a bad idea. It is more difficult to get close to them than it is to get close to the wolves.
A wolfman lunges at me from the right. This is where my weapon is. I perform a forward breakfall, rise, turn, and lose my sword. It goes right through the heart of the wolfman and it goes down permanently.
Around me, there is blood everywhere. Most vampires are down. I notice the bias in the fight. When we try to kill an enemy, there is an illusion that moves it out of reality. We see nothing until it is too late.
I pick up my sword and keep cutting as many limbs as I can. Under the eerie glow of the moon, this calamity falls on the whole vampires of Manstandia, like a dark blanket.
I look around for Damian but he is nowhere to be seen. I cannot blame him. Neither can I blame any of the gods for what is happening to us. They are only there to place judgment on us. And this happens only after we die.
I sense a change in the air around me. The cries come out louder now. When I spy, I see that most of us are standing on a spot, faces turned towards the moon looking distorted like a muddy ditch. Steam begins to erupt from their bodies like they are on fire.
Actually, they are.
My father comes to stand before me, obstructing my view. He is covered in cuts and blood. I cannot tell if most of it is his or not. The bronze staff in his hand is now chipped in places.
"What is happening, father?" I ask.
"The witches," he grunts, and it comes out as if he is about to lay a curse. "They are boiling their blood."
"What?"
I watch in horror. This is something I have never seen before. Someone's blood gets boiled by black magic. The pain resonates across my flesh, making it crawl.
"Do something!" I yell, in the manner of complaining.
My father shakes his head.
I look around for Damian again. Don't find him. My heart begins to beat. In desperation.
"Surrender yourselves, while you still have the chance!" This statement comes from one of the witches. He walks out from behind the line of wizards. Seems he has been there a while watching the debacle ensue.
I look at my father. He isn't even looking at the witch but focused on the vampires who are now writhing in pain. Once again, he is torn in a state of indecision.
"What do we do?" I ask him.
The answer comes quickly the moment another family screams rips through the air like a whiplash.
"Mother," I hear myself say, as I run to her.
Behind me, Father tries to restrain me by calling me back, but I throw caution to the wind and skedaddle.
I didn't reach my mother.
Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain flood inside me, and it isn't the feeling of cutis anserina. My body turns into a geyser, and the next thing that comes out of my mouth is hot, burning blood. The need to spit it all out is immense. My fangs emerge against my will. Painfully. The tears that form in my eyes are an added torture. Every fluid in me is boiling.
"Do you want to lose your daughter too?" I hear the demand from that witch, and I know that this question is directed at my father.
As I lie on the ground, I turn to his direction. Slowly, Father drops his weapon and raises his hands above his head.
"I have surrendered," he states. "Stop it now."
"Make the rest surrender too," the witch demands.
My father makes the call, and every vampire still standing stops fighting. The werewolves round them all up in one place. Make them line up like a firing squad. This is when the burning sensation in me stops.
"What do you want with us?" my father says.
"Why attack us?"
"We do not need to answer to you, Elder Supremo. Rather it is you that should answer to us."
"We are very distinct creatures. Why can't we live with separate governments?"
"We want a united body, Elder Supremo. The witches and the werewolves have agreed to this. You are the only ones who feel... formidable, you are taking in the footsteps of your ancestors.
"We are not a threat to your alliance. If you just leave us alone, there will be no need for a war like this one."
"Whatever you see here tonight, Elder, is as a result of your decisions. You can put an end to all of it. The bloodshed, the hunting, the dying, and the losses. You just have one thing to do. Agree to sovereignty by the werewolves.
"There is no prestige in this, witch."
"Which I am pretty sure your people have. But don't talk to me about morals. I have forgotten what that even means. Do we have an agreement, Elder Supremo? Or do we start killing the lovely children?"
As I struggle to my feet, the old vampires surrender their children. Father comes to help me and tells me what we must do, for the sake of us all.
I find this hard to believe. I have reasoned that the cause of our minority role in all these is mostly because we prefer to act honorable when no one else even reads the script.
"I will not surrender," I blurt out. "I am not afraid to die, Father."
"But we are afraid of losing you, daughter," my mother implores.
"We cannot win this war today," the Elder Supremo reveals.
"So what becomes of us?" I ask.
He looks at me and says, "Fate."
I know the feeling of death. I am not afraid of it. Let it come. Someone has to stand up for freedom.
My fangs still out, I move with the quickest speed my form can allow, and sink them into the neck of an unsuspecting wolfman.
He cries out in pain. I cut it off by ripping out his throat.
I'm on my way to the next enemy when the pain resurfaces. And this time, I lose all the strength inside of me as the pain swallows it all.
My body drops, now among the fallen vampires on the floor.
The incident leading to the death in each of my past lives all replay before my eyes. They remind me of my failures. A loser that I am. And will keep on being. After years of ardent training and experience in dying, I still cannot find a way to stay alive and defeat the enemy.
Tears trickle down my cheeks. Tears of immense sorrow and failure. The screams of pain echo as death comes with its full power.
The troubles that seek me always find me, and this time, the whole vampires of Manstandia are included.
I close my eyes, shutting myself from the outside world, ready to embrace infinite darkness and go on a ride with death.
I want to say something before I'm finally gone. One thing that might make a difference. But all I utter is, "We shall meet again."