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Violet Belmont is fucking tired.
A deep sigh escapes her as she drains the last of the mug, staring helplessly into the now empty vessel. A glance at the bar, and she weighs the options of sobering up against the possibility of being recognized by one of the bastards currently cursing her family name.
It's a short process.
“-Scuse me.” She mumbles as she shoulders her way against the counter. “Could’I get another ale? Just the last one for the road.” The bartender rolls his eyes.
“Lets see some coin first.” Grumbling, Vi beings to search under her cloak for her coin purse.
Where did I- “Ah, there we go.” She raises the little bag and shakes it helpfully. The bartender gives a small shrug and reaches out to snatch the money.
“Hol-on.” Fucking hell. Vi glances to her right to find one of the drunkards shuffling towards her. He points a fat finger at her. “Wassat on your chest?”
“My tits.” Vi deadpans. She keeps her eyes on the bartender. “Look, here's the coin. Just one more tankard, somethin’ to keep me warm while I find a tree to sleep under.”
“Thas a family crest, innit?” The drunkard persists, words slurred slightly. “I’d recognize that anywhere. Thas the Belmont crest.”
“Is it?” Vi does her best to sound surprised. She sighs, debating if she should just cut her losses. “Look, just one more drink and I’ll go.”
“Like hell you will.” The drunkard pushes past his companions and gives her a shove. Vi stumbles back, slipping her coin purse back into her belt. “You're a Belmont aren't you?” He says the name with venom, like it's some sort of slur. “House of Belmont. Family Belmont.”
“Never met them.” She ignores the pain in her chest when she says that, and decides she's had enough. “Listen, just forget it. I’ll just go.” She waves her hand and turns to leave. But, much to her frustration, the man grabs her by the arm, trying to keep her in place.
“NO!” He shouts, and gets up in her face. “You're a Belmont! This is all your bloody fault!”
Oh for fucks sake. Vi groans internally. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Yes. You. Do.” The man jabs at her with each word. “Everyone knows that the Belmonts dealt in black magic, that they dealt with monsters. ” Rage bubbles up in the back of her throat, and before she can stop herself–
“The Belmonts fought monsters, son–” she cuts off, realizing what she said, tries to backtrack, “–er, so I’m told.” The drunk man ignores her, and keeps ranting.
“The Belmonts were excommunicated, banished, disowned , because they were evil. ” He growls. “The Belmonts dealt in black magic, and now, Leira’s monsters roam the land, and black magic is all over Wallachia.” He gets up in her face again. “You know exactly whose fault it is.”
“Well, it ain't mine.” She tries one last time. “I’m leaving.”
“So you can lead your monster friends back ‘ere?” The man accuses. Vi is amazed at her patience. Maybe I’m not as sober as I thought.
“So I can find somewhere to piss and somewhere else to sleep, alright?” She rolls her eyes.
“No…you can sleep right here.” The man’s voice drops. Vi feels herself snap. She straightens, and steps forward, the shorter man cowering just a little at her sudden presence.
“You haven't got your shovel.” She growls back. The man’s eyes widen for just a moment, then– WHAM! Vi’s vision goes white as a fist slams into her face, and she stumbles back, feeling blood drip from her nose.
“I don't need it.” The man cracks his knuckles. “Confess, and I’ll make it quick. Whas your name?”
“Jesus of Nazareth.” She coughs, pulling her now stained red palm away from her face. She looks up at the man, then moves her arms to give a view under her cloak. “Look, I’m carrying a short sword and a whip. Do you really want– FUCK! ” She cries out as the man swings a kick into her crotch, sending her down to her knees. Fuckin bastard .
“Try again.”
“Violet Belmont.” Vi finally admits. “House of Belmont. Last scion of the Belmont family.” She glances up at the man. “Happy now?” He gives the answer she expects.
“No.”
When he goes to kick her again, Vi is ready. She grabs his leg with one hand, and slowly stands, tilting him back, until he falls to the ground with a thud. A stop on his face returns the bloody nose.
“Oi!” The bartender cries, and another fist connects with Vi’s face. The next few minutes are a blur of trading drunken blows and shouting. When the world finally stops spinning, it's when Vi finished puking her guts out in the street outside the tavern.
“Fuckin bastards.” She growls, wiping her mouth. “I hope you all bleed out…through your asses!” She shouts at no one. “Every last rat bastard one o’ you.”
And with that, she stumbles off into the night.
-----
When Vi, splitting hangover headache and all, finally stumbles out of the treeline and into view of Gresit, the last town for nearly forty miles, the first thing she spots is the trio of winged night creatures scapering around the town's walls. When their heads snap up to look at her, she can see the gore dripping from their maws.
Fuck.
The demons quickly abscond, but Vi has a feeling they’ll be back by nightfall. As she descends down the hill, she spots the central gate, and the massive pile of rubble and broken wood barring it shut.
“Pretty sure they wouldn't do that just to deny me breakfast.” She mutters, glancing around for another option. Spotting a waste pipe with the grate torn off, she grins. Picking up her tattered cloak in one hand, Vi runs forward and jumps, her right foot touching down on a rock for only an instant as she hops to the pipe. Glancing inside, she dodges the remains of someone’s breakfast, before crawling in, planting her feet on the side. Never thought the day would come where I would be crawling up a shit pipe in search of breakfast.
Once she's out of the pipe and slips past the sleeping guard, it's a short walk to the center of the ruined town. From a vantage point, she can see the weight that's settled down on it like a suffocating blanket. Bodies line the alleys, guts and blood stain the streets and walls. Roofs are caved in and the few market stalls that still stand are torn and crooked.
She nabs a bit of dried goat from one of the remaining vendors, listening as the townsfolk ramble on about the problems.
“Leira’s monsters come at night, but it's the Bishop's men who come during the day.”
“I bet it's the Speakers who are making the Sleeping Soldier ill.”
“We have no defenses, of course Leira’s monsters come over the walls every night.”
“The bishop will sort things out.If the others will just do as he says when he tells us to do it, then all will be in order.”
Vi rolls her eyes at the last one. Priests, sorting things out. Yeah right. Speaking of…
Out of the corner of her eye, Vi spots a pair of black robed thugs shoving an old man in a Speaker’s lavender cloak down an alley. She slows as she hears shouting echo off the walls. Just keep walking, Vi… she watches as the priest raises his stave, poised to strike– ah, fuck it. Her cloak flutters as she throws it aside and grabs the handle of her whip–
CRACK!
Blood and the stave go flying, and Vi realizes with a wince that she missed. Fuck. I’m more out of practice than I thought. Still. Could be worse. Could've hit the Speaker.
“Oh hell, I’m sorry.” She puts on a mocking tone. “I was trying to snatch the stave out of your hand, how's your finger?” She smirks when he raises the bloody stump.
“What fuckin finger?!?”
“That's no way for a man of the cloth to talk.” She taunts. “Why don't you go and get that looked at?” The wounded man glares at his companion.
“Kill the bitch!” The second priest glances between the two, before flicking his wrist and sliding a knife into his palm, making Vi raise her eyebrow.
“Now that's a funny thing for a priest to be carrying. That's a thief's knife.” She smirks as the priest spins the weapon in his hand and charges.
Moments later, he's staggering away with his companion, blood dripping from his face where his eye once was. Vi sighs as she winds up the whip and returns it to her belt, turning to the speaker as she does.
“The violence was unnecessary, ma’am.” He says, but before she can fire off a retort– “but it is appreciated.” He finishes with a chuckle, earning a smile from Vi. “I am the Elder of the Zaunite Speakers. I thank you for your aid. And, I think, your restraint.” Vi chuckles at that.
“You're welcome, Elder.” She nods. “Let me walk you back to your caravan.” She insists with a forward motion. The man nods, but talks as they walk.
“No caravan, actually. We’ve settled in the city for the time being.” He explains. Vi blinks in surprise.
“First I’ve ever heard of Speakers staying in one place.”
“It's a recent development.” He admits. “But one, I think, this place sorely needs.” Vi scoffs under her breath, rolling her eyes.
“How many are you?” She asks. The Speaker stills for a moment before answering.
“I insist we are counted as twelve.” He says. “One of us is currently missing.”
Fuck.
When the Elder ushers her inside, they're immediately accosted by one of the younger Speakers. Vi only pays half attention to their conversation, at least until the younger man glares at her, angry for attacking the priests.
“Look, can you just tell me why you're still here?” She asks. “You’re being harassed in the streets and your name dragged through the mud. It seems like it’d be safer to just move on.” She waves her hand in emphasis.
“The blame is the Church’s doing,” the Speaker says, “To divert people from the truth, that it was the church itself responsible for bringing down Leira’s hoards upon the land.” Vi blinks in surprise.
“Really?” The Elder nods.
“There were Speakers at Targoviste one year ago who witnessed the burning of Leira’s husband at the stake as a black magician.”
“...Shit.” The Elder chuckles.
“That is indeed one way of putting it.”
“You still haven't answered my question though.” Vi leans against the wall, arms crossed. “Why stay? Why risk your lives to help when these people clearly don't want it?” The younger man turns to the Elder.
“You may as well tell her the rest.” The Elder sighs, then slumps.
“In Speaker tradition, there is a story of a savior that sleeps beneath Gresit, who rests until a hero is needed when darkness falls upon the land.” Vi scoffs.
“Right, the local legend. ‘The Sleeping Soldier.’” She shakes her head. “They're blaming you for that one too.” The Elder sighs again.
“Regardless, one of our number descended the city’s catacombs in search of this legend, and has yet to return. My grandson.” Vi frowns.
“So you’re staying for a kid who’s probably dead?” She asks. The Speakers gathered glance around uncomfortably, but the young one steps up into her face.
“It is not our way to abandon anyone. Alive or dead.” He growls. Vi rolls her eyes, and pushes past him, moving towards the door, before pausing.
“If I were to find the kid and bring him back,” she says, “would you leave?”
“Why do you care?” The young man asks. “It is our decision to stay, not yours.” Vi hesitates, then turns, moving her cloak out of the way and revealing the crest emblazoned on her tunic.
“Because I know what it’s like to be persecuted for the accident of your birth.” She says, watching as the Speakers’ eyes all go wide as they recognize the Belmont crest, then letting her cloak fall back once more. “Stay inside. I’ll be back before sundown.”
And she sweeps out of the house, only to find the priest from earlier grinning evilly, long knife in hand.
-----
Storming from the Church, Vi ignores the rage settling within her chest. The Bishop’s voice, the way he moved, the words he spoke… He sounded like Silco. The memory of blue hair standing outside the house as black robed men swarmed the building with torches in hand stings, and she shoves it away as she turns to the eastern end of town.
Once she’s in the graveyard, Vi glances around the empty tomb at its center, watching the back wall and stepping to the side, smiling with the depth changes. Gotcha. Pulling herself up, she heaves herself into the chute on the other side, sliding down and landing on her feet. To her surprise, torches line the walls of the passage she ends up in, and she grabs one before striking the stone wall with her knife, sending sparks into the fresh oil. Weird.
The light from the torch doesn’t last long, however, as the ground beneath her collapses as she walks. She hits a metal pipe as she falls, the break causing steam to hiss, and the torch is knocked from her hand. She rolls as she lands in the pile of rubble that broke free from above, then stays still for a moment as an ache settles into her body. Fuck.
Groaning as she stands, Vi glances around the chamber. The ceiling above, save the new hole, is at least fifteen feet above her, and is supported by massive stone columns, on which glass lamps sit glowing and unnatural blue. This looks like… Her attention is pulled away as she notices the statues scattered around the room. Several armored figures sit broken along the edges of the room, but a single intact statue sits in the middle. A statue that looks an awful lot like…
“Either someone left a statue of a Speaker down here,” she murmurs “Or…” THUD. THUD. THUD. The lights flicker, and from the doorway on the far end of the chamber, a massive, lumbering beast steps out, its single giant eyelid cracking open and the iris beginning to glow. “Cyclops…” FUCK! Vi darts out of the way as a beam of energy fires and tracks her along the floor, rushing around one of the columns and pressing her back to it.
“Stone-Eyed Cyclops.” Vi gasps, her heart beating in her ears. “Right out of the family bestiary.” A glance–she dodges to another pillar as energy streaks along the side of the one she stands behind, drawing her sword as she does. Flipping it around, she turns and throws, the blade slamming into the monster’s chest.
“You’re dead.” She says, staring as blood drips from the wound. “Stop and notice you’re dead.” Unfortunately, the cyclops ignores her, and fires another beam. FUCK. The beam manages to catch the end of her cloak, and she flicks it to break away the stone as she grabs her whip.
She moves fluidly, unfurling the weapon and throwing the end forward, grinning as she strikes true this time, snagging and wrapping around the hilt of her blade. She yanks, then swings, the blade flying towards her. Rushing forward, she jumps off the frozen speaker and kicks the sword, and the weapon strikes the cyclops in the eye. Light flares, then dies, and the monster falls forward, shaking the ground on impact.
Almost immediately, red light sparkles as the statue of the Speaker softens, the frozen kid returning to life. Vi grabs him by the arm as he falls, keeping him upright. The kid, a young boy with dark skin and a shock of white hair, looks up at her, before turning and vomiting. Side effect of the cyclops attack, Vi realizes. Huh.
“What happened…?” The boy asks once he finishes spilling his guts, voice shaky. Vi smirks as she turns and crouches to pull her blade from the cyclops’ eye, wiping the blood off on her cloak.
“You walked into a cyclops.” She explains. “Turns you to stone and feeds on your terror.” Her sword scrapes the edges of the sheath as she returns it to her side and winds up the whip. She turns as she watches the boy–more like a young man– inspect his cloak and find a dirty footprint.
“Did you…climb on me?” He asks. Vi shrugs.
“Mm, A bit.”
“Huh.” The young man considers it before shrugging back. “I guess if you killed the cyclops, I have nothing to complain about.” Vi scoffs.
“You’re lucky. Killing a cyclops is the only way to restore their victims, didn’t think I’d manage it.”
“Who exactly are you?” He asks. “Did my grandfather send you after me?” Vi nods.
“He did, actually. Came to get your corpse so the rest of your caravan would leave the city. But,” she motions towards him. “Obviously, you can tell them yourself.”
“Except the Sleeping Soldier is still down here somewhere.” Vi groans, looking up at the ceiling before fixing her gaze on the kid.
“You really believe that?” She asks. “The story is almost certainly just a trap for people like you gullible enough to believe it.” She motions at the shattered statues slowly returning to rotting corpses.
“Honestly?” The man shrugs. “I don’t believe it. But there’s something down here worth protecting. And if we can use it against the Night Hoards, then we need to find it.”
“Look, let's just show you to your grandfather then you can come right back and get killed, alright?” The man hesitates before nodding.
“Fine.” He moves towards the exit, glancing at Vi as he does. “I’m Ekko, by the way.” Vi hesitates before responding.
“Violet Belmont.”
-----
Vi pants as she runs through the streets, angry mob at her heels, laughing internally at the irony.
When she finally finds herself surrounded in the center square, she puts her hand on her whip, ready to draw it, but–
Fire sparks and forms a circle around her, a wall between her and the mob. Tracking the way it came, Vi turns around just as the crowd does the same, pointing up at the rooftop.
“Sorcerer!”
“Witchcraft!”
“No!” Ekko shouts down at them, voice clear and concise. “I am a Speaker. I serve the people, not some devil.”
Vi chuckles as the mage jumps down from the roof, now understanding why Ekko had been the one sent into the catacombs, before turning and scanning the crowd.
“You.” She points, and the flames part to reveal the priest with the severed finger. The priest who frantically begins to look around at the mob he gathered.
“Kill them!!” He shouts, but Vi counters.
“No.” Her tone is final. “Just you and me.” The priest starts sweating, eyes of the crowd on him. “Come oooon.” Vi groans. “You telling me the priest won't back up his word? That he doesn't practice the murder he preaches for?” Murmurs begin to spread through the mod, and Vi pushes further, pointing to the knife in his hand. “You're carrying a blade. I wonder if the people of Gresit have ever seen a priest draw a knife before.” More murmurs, louder.
“Shut up!” The priest shouts, but there's no force behind the words. Vi keeps egging.
“My short sword against your knife.” She insists, hand on the hilt for emphasis. “Come on, you had no problem beating an old man this morning. This only fun when they can't fight back? Only fun when they're someone you can lie about to these people, blame them like you did the Speakers?”
“The Speakers brought this–” the priest stammers desperately, but Vi cuts him off.
“No, they didn't.” She says. “And you know it. You would've made murderers out of these people.” She waves her hand at the crowd, “but the only one here who isn't innocent, is you. ”
The crowd breaks, and less than a moment later, the priest lay dead in the streets, just as the call of Night Creatures echoes off the walls of the buildings. Right on time.
Vi starts shouting orders, the people shuffling and complying as the hoard begins to descend on the city. One of the few priests who hadn't sided with the bishop stands in the back, hands clasped as he consecrates buckets of water. As the demons fall on the line of pikes, the water is thrown, and the demons hiss as they're burned away.
Ekko erects massive walls of ice from the spilt holy water, the cold touch still lethal to the monsters. The fight isn't long. The hoard is small, unprepared for people who know how to fight back. In the end, only one remains, a massive beast with glowing blue eyes. It makes one final leap over the line of pikes, aiming for Vi, but only manages to get a few feet away before Ekko impales it on a spike of ice.
“ There's an army of us! ” It howls, clawing at the pair. “ AN ARMY- ” Vi silences it with a slash from her whip, the consecrated leather working wonders against the lesser creature, and it explodes in a ball of fire.
Unfortunately, the explosion also causes the street beneath the two to buckle, crack, and collapse, sending them tumbling into the catacombs below.
Vi swears as she falls, looking around as fast as she can. Spotting Ekko falling below her, she lashes her whip out and pulls, slowing his fall just enough for her to catch up. When they collide, Ekko spins them around and sends out a jet of fire from his palm, slowing them just enough that when they hit the ground, their bones don't shatter. Instead, a dull shock runs through them both as they roll apart, stones and dust crashing around them.
“Fuck.” Vi groans as she stands, dusting herself off and looking around. Massive gears turn overhead, machinery creaking with strain. Lights, the same unnatural blue as before, stream from a doorway off to the side. The only visible exit. And the one Ekko is already walking towards. Fuck!
“Hey.” Vi gets his attention as she comes up behind him. “Be careful. This place…” she trails off, not wanting to voice it. Ekko just rolls his eyes.
“Look, we’re deeper than we were before.” He says. “Whatever’s down here, we can use it against Leira. I don't know what you're so afraid…of…” he trails off himself as they enter a room that Vi would call a throne room, except rather than a seat, the dias at the end of it supports a gold and blue coffin.
“No…” Vi whispers, something foreign clenching in her chest, and takes a single step back. Click. Clunk. Echoes through the chamber, and with a hiss, the coffin slides open, the lid falling to the ground with a THUD. And out of the coffin, floating upwards–
–rises the most beautiful woman Vi has ever seen. Clad in only dark pants and white bandages across her chest, dark blue-black hair framed her face, her bangs covering her eyes as she leaned forward midair. Her pale skin almost shone in the lighting, and Vi could feel her gaze settle on her, even with her eyes hidden in shadows.
“Why are you here?” The woman’s voice is beautiful, the accent hypnotic. It sends a shiver down Vi’s spine.
“Holy shit…” Ekko murmurs, and Vi shoots him a look as his eyes widen. “The story was right. The Sleeping Soldier under Gresit is real .” Vi can see the woman stiffen ever so slightly at Ekko’s words. She knows the story then…
“And you?” Vi freezes as the full force of the woman’s attention hits her like a boulder from the top of a mountain. “Are you in search of a mythical savior ?” The woman spits the title like venom, as if the words on her tongue make her want to vomit. The hatred she says them with makes Vi’s blood run cold.
“I…fell down a hole.” Ekko uses Vi’s lackluster response as an opportunity.
“Listen miss, Leira’s hoards are terrorizing the countryside.” Ekko steps forward, waving his arms passionately. “She’s doing every damn thing in her power to wipe out all the humans she can. We need help.” The woman doesn’t turn to him, and keeps her attention fixed on Vi.
“Is that what you believe?” She asks Vi. Vi scoffs in response, seeing the woman’s game.
“That Leira’s unleashed her hoards on the world? That’s fact, no belief involved.” She narrows her eyes. “But that’s not what you’re asking. You want to know if I think you’re some sort of mythical savior .” Vi repeats the words with as much venom as she can. “And no. I don’t.”
“Belmont!” Ekko growls, but Vi ignores him, keeping her attention fixed on the woman–the creature in front of her.
“Because I know what you are,” She says, and the woman hisses, exposing a pair of fangs where her canines should be. “ Vampire. ” And the word cements the fear in her soul for the first time since…Ekko freezes beside her, so Vi keeps talking. “So I can’t help but wonder…” She waves her hand at the machinery and lighting around them. “Did we come to wake the woman who will kill Leira? Or did we wake Leira herself?” A pause, then the woman gives a bitter chuckle.
“You would call me Leira?”
“I’ll call you anything you like if you’re gonna show me your teeth.” Vi says with a wink. The woman finally straightens up to her full height, and the hair falls away from her face to reveal a pair of the most beautiful, hypnotic blue eyes Vi has seen in her life.
“He called you Belmont.” The vampire says. “House of Belmont?”
“...Violet, Belmont.” She admits. “Last scion of the Belmont Family.”
“The Belmonts hunted creatures of the night for centuries, did they not?” The vampire asks, and Vi narrows her eyes, unsure of where the conversation is going.
“Until the good people decided they didn’t want us around, yeah.” She says. “Say what you mean, vampire.”
“The people turned on you, and now Leira is carrying out an extinction order against those same people.” The vampire’s voice is oddly soft, in a way that scares Vi even more than the vampire’s presence alone “Do you care?”
“Honestly?” Vi says, “No. I didn’t. But…that’s not who I am.” She sighs, then glares. “It’s time it stops. And if that means I have to kill you, then so be it.”
“Do you think you can?” The vampire growls, a vicious grin splitting her face, sending terror down Vi’s spine. “If you’re really a Belmont and not some mutt running around with a family crest you might be able to.” She raises her finger, and from the coffin rises a thin sword almost as long as she is tall, flying into her hand. “Let’s find out.”
“Belmont, what the hell are you doing?!” Ekko shouts, walking up and shoving Vi's shoulder even as she grabs her for her whip. “This girl could be our best shot at stopping Leira!”
“No, she’s not.” Vi pushes him out of the way. “This place…it’s identical to the descriptions my family had of the inside of Leira’s castle. It can appear anywhere, at any time. And she –” she nods at the vampire “–looks like the one description of Leira I’ve ever seen.” She glares at Ekko. “Do you really want to take the chance that your floating vampire Jesus here is the real deal?”
“Have you nothing but insults?” The vampire growls, beginning to float towards Vi, agitation and impatience written across her face. “Tired little–”
CRACK!
The vampire flies backward as the whip strikes her, landing on her feet and hissing as blood drips from her stomach. She didn’t detonate. Vi’s eyes go wide. Fuck. She’s STRONG. Pulling the whip taut, Vi glares at the vampire before lashing it out again.
“Stone the fuck up.” She growls, and slashes outward again. The vampire leaps up, dodging and deflecting. Vi swings the whip back and forth, testing the sword’s reach, before getting an idea and drawing a dagger from her vest, throwing it forward. The moment the vampire leaps upward to avoid it, she flicks her wrist, and the whip sends her flying back to the ground, more blood splattering.
The next swing, however, sees the whip wrapped around the vampire’s sword. Realizing she can’t beat the vampire in a tug of war, Vi drops the weapon and draws her sword, rushing forward and closing the distance. A mistake. It becomes quickly clear that Vi is outmatched in close range. She’s kicked back, and only manages to land a shallow gash on the vampire’s chest, cutting through some of the bandages and exposing a long white scar, before her sword snaps near the hilt from the vampire’s counter strike.
A fist to her jaw, and Vi is laid out on the floor. The vampire drops her sword and leans down, hissing as she presses her fangs to Vi’s throat.
“Do you have a god to pray to, Belmont?”
“Dear god, please don’t let the vampire’s guts ruin my good tunic.” Vi grins as she pushes the stake concealed in her hand into the vampire’s chest, right above her heart. The vampire gives her a curious look.
“I can still rip your throat out.”
“That won’t stop me staking you.”
“You’ll still die.”
“But I don’t care.” Vi admits, a sense of finality with those words. “Killing you was the point. Living through it was just a luxury.”
“Let her go.” Ekko’s voice is accompanied by a wave of heat as a ball of fire is summoned into his hand, aimed at the vampire’s head. “You were right, Vi. She’s not a savior.” The vampire pauses, then laughs.
“A hunter and a Speaker-magician.” She says, a strangely sad smile on her face. “You’ll do.” She pulls away from Vi, the wounds on her chest already beginning to close as she picks up her sword. “My name is Caitlyn Kiramman. Known to the Walacians as Ariel. Daughter of Cassandra Leira Kiramman, and as of about a year ago…” Her face drops, and she turns away from the other two. “Her greatest enemy.”
“What do you mean?” Ekko asks as Ariel steps over to the coffin and pulls out a shirt, slipping it over her head.
“I am not here by chance.” She explains. “I retreated here after I attempted to stop my mother unleashing her armies upon the world. I failed. Now I must try again.”
“If you failed before, what makes you think you can do it now?” Vi asks. “It doesn’t look like you’ve done anything other than lick your wounds.” Ariel shoots her a glare, but her eyes don’t hold any hate.
“Speaker,” She glances at Ekko. “You know the full story of the Sleeping Soldier, yes?” The boy nods, and Ariel shrugs. “Then you know that it is said that the soldier would be met by a hunter and a scholar. And that the speakers consider the story to be knowledge from the future.” She motions to Vi and Ekko. “And now here you are. The hunter and the scholar.”
“Nobody told me that.” Vi mutters, before looking up at Ariel. “Well, what happens now?”
“I need help.” She admits as she pulls a black coat over her arms. “To stop my mother. To save Walachia. Perhaps the world.” Vi narrows her eyes as she moves to pick up her whip from the other side of the room.
“Why?”
“...it’s what my father would have wanted.” the vampire explains. “And we are all, in the end, slaves to our families’ wishes.” Vi runs her thumb over the Belmont crest emblazoned into the whip’s grip as she winds it up and returns it to her side.
“You’re really gonna help us?” Ekko asks, his voice between relief and suspicion. Ariel nods.
“My mother is gone. We three…together, I believe we can put an end to whatever is left of her.”