She woke up, disoriented and weak. She tried to lift her head, as heavy as it felt, but couldn’t. Her left temple was throbbing, a slight touch revealed that it was a wound but had since stopped bleeding. The remnants of blood, almost like crystals. The floor was hard and uneven, cold, and slimy to the touch. The air smelt of moss and felt damp. She coughed profusely, wheezing, and gasping for breath.
Her eyes focussed in the darkness on a single brazier burning in the distance. She tried to get up, hunched, she inched forward. As she made her 4th step towards the brazier, terror grasped her heart as a loud metallic clank sent her falling to the sharp floor. Her body crashed to the floor, she grunted in pain. As she gazed in a panic down to her feet, she saw the dim shimmer of the shackle that connected her to the chasm floor. Panic rushed through her mind as her breathless cries for help echoed towards the brazier and to nowhere else. Suddenly the chasm filled with the echo of footsteps scaling down a stairwell. The sound grew closer, she tried to focus on the brazier hoping that help has finally come.
The figure immerged from the concealed entrance, one gaze and she knew that it wasn’t there to rescue her.
Days had past filled with pain and torture. Victoria sat there, hanging on a thread between life and death, chained to the floor of a chasm that now smelt of her own blood and the murky stench of still water. Everyday the figure would come and force her to drink liquid that smelt of wine, blood and another sweet floral fragrance. This mixture grew more intoxicatingly delicious with every glass that was fed to her, at this stage she was begging for more each time. She felt like she was slowly falling into madness, the single light of the brazier at what has now become the entrance of the chasm, grew brighter as the days passed. Her sense of smell started becoming sharper, and her eyes could see more clearly in the dark.
After her drinking of the mixture, she would lie on the cold floor, her body in pure agony. Coughing fits that produced black blood from within and skin lesions that formed, bleeding a sort of black crystallization of blood and then suddenly start healing faster than each time before. She sat against the cold wall, that started feeling all too warm, wondering how she got there. The last thing she remembered was walking through the streets of London, asking if people had seen a young lady in a bridal gown, and now she is chained to her impending death.
Suddenly she heard the footsteps again, the echo crashed against her ears like thunder, growing louder and louder every second. She was salivating now, thinking about how good that mixture tastes, how it runs down the throat and how the pain it brings numbs the thought of actual death. The figure immerged from the darkness of the entrance, but she couldn’t see any bottle. Quickly she felt angry as her eyes followed the figure walking towards her in the darkness.
The figure finally snickered in a deep male voice, his eyes burning with gold and red colour. “Just where I want you” he said, lowering himself down in front of her. He grabbed her chin “today you are born” he whispered, his foul breath choking her with the smell alone.
With quick movements he had her pinned down, his hand pressing on her forehead and the other on her chest. She struggled, trying to break free from his strength. Fear consumed her, her head filled with thoughts of death, she begged and pleaded him to not kill her “Please…” she managed “I…do anything” she said choking on his brute force. He looked at her with a smirk, pushed her down and sunk his teeth deep into her neck. She screamed, blood gushing through her mouth, quickly her screams turned to bloodied coughs and chokes. She tried fighting him off, but to no avail. She felt the life draining from her body, everything turned cold as her vision faded. This time there wasn’t any light, her life didn’t flash past her eyes it all just turned dark.
He sat down next to the corpse, breathing heavy. Quickly he took out a knife from his pocket and carved into his skin. Crackling noises, like stepping on broken glass echoed through the chasm as he pressed harder and deeper into his arm. Finally he found some liquid blood and dripped on the area where he bit her and over her mouth. Quickly he produced a small vial with the symbol of a bat on it from his suit jacket pocket. He took off the cork and carefully dropped one drop of the clear, simmering liquid onto her lips and stood back.
The chasm grew quiet, only his breathing breaking the silence in intervals.
Suddenly the corpse started jerking in ways that no living creature could. Outstretching arms, twisting the wrists so that you could hear the bones cracking. The corpse arched its back into a cartesian curve, breaking the spine. He sat there watching the corpse do its last twitches, listening to the bone symphony as it filled the chasm.
5 minutes had passed, and finally he was sure that everything was sufficiently crushed and shattered. He go up and braced himself for the next phase of the birth of the undeath. Her mouth hung open as she moaned in agony, quickly the moaning turned to gasping and eventually to heavy breathing. She sat upright, her eyes white and devoid of any colour.
He watched her, hoping he had successfully recreated what the Ancient One destroyed. She managed to compose herself, never taking her eye off of him.
They stood in the chasm, watching each other like prey. "Who are you?" he asked, hoping she would answer correctly. "I am Victoria, handmaid to the Lady of Coventry under the servitude of The House of Locke." she answered, as she did the day he abducted her. "Are you parched?" he asked, walking over to a stone altar covered in bloodied. He lit candles along the outer side of the altar as she finally breathed "yes".
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