[Castlevania: Symphony of the Night Novel, Episode 21] While Breath Yet Remains
The small scythe embedded in the doorframe trembled in time with Alucard’s heartbeat.
Ching.
The single black thread wound around its blade came loose. There was no wind, yet it stretched toward the stairway below before crumbling into a thin line of ash.
Alucard did not pull the scythe free.
He passed beside it and stepped onto the second stair.
The stone steps did not descend in a straight line. They burrowed into the wall, then bent back toward the castle’s exterior. Rough rock stood to the right, while ancient brickwork showed through on the left. It was a passage where a natural cavern and an abandoned excavation seemed to have stolen each other’s ground.
The stone beneath his feet was not wet from water falling above.
Moisture rose through the cracks and dampened the soles of his boots. Small droplets climbed the steps against their incline and vanished when they touched the ceiling. Even this deep in the cavern, the inverted castle’s gravity had not decided which direction it preferred.
Alucard opened his right hand once.
The wound left when he tore the Tooth of Vlad from the Creature’s jaw still crossed his palm. The final strip of his cloak, knotted around it, had stiffened with black blood. His fingers could close again, but Medusa’s poison remained as a cold line inside his arm.
When he took hold of Mormegil, the cold briefly subsided.
The sword had not purged the poison.
It had merely covered it with a deeper darkness.
Four relics beat close to his chest.
Ring.
Rib.
Heart.
Tooth.
Thump.
A fifth pulse answered from the darkness below.
Thump.
It did not sound like the others.
It was neither bone, nor flesh, nor fang. It was the pulse of something that could not conceal the fact that it was watching, even with its eye closed.
Alucard raised his head.
A silver line appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
A small scythe.
It did not fly straight at him. It traced a semicircle close to the wall, then stopped at the height of his left shoulder. The point turned toward his throat. Though no hand or wire guided it, the weapon adjusted itself like a living insect.
A second scythe appeared behind it.
Lower than the first.
A third above his head.
A fourth behind his boots.
The attack had not yet begun.
The scythes were taking their places around him.
Alucard stopped midway down the stairs. A step forward or backward would carry him directly into one of the waiting blades. Rock blocked the right, brick the left. The ceiling was too low for the Leap Stone.
He drew Mormegil halfway.
All four scythes moved at once.
The first at his throat.
The second at his abdomen.
The third at the crown of his head.
The fourth at his ankle.
Alucard did not fully draw the sword. He struck the shaft of the first scythe with the sheath and altered its course. Lowering himself, he avoided the second, then raised his left foot and stamped upon the fourth blade.
The third remained.
The scythe descending from above opened his right shoulder.
The wound was shallow. But when the edge grazed his flesh, Medusa’s poison stirred. Cold pain climbed from his shoulder toward his neck.
Alucard pushed the trapped scythe away with the tip of his boot.
The silver blade struck the wall.
Ching.
The remaining three stopped, as though they too had heard the sound.
He threw himself forward.
The scythes changed direction behind him. Each approached at a different height so their blades would not collide. There was no savagery in their motion. They moved with the composure of hands that had practiced the same gesture for centuries.
Alucard crossed the end of the stairway.
The space opened without warning.
He fell downward.
No—he was pulled upward.
Gravity reversed again at the edge of the stairs. The Spike Breaker dragged at his shoulders, and the scabbard at his waist twisted his body sideways. Alucard transformed into a bat.
Black wings spread.
The small scythes followed him into the open cavern.
He did not fly straight. Folding his right wing, he spun his body. The first blade grazed the wingtip. The second passed beneath him.
The third and fourth were no longer following.
They had already moved ahead to meet him.
He saw them too late.
Two silver blades crossed before the cavern entrance.
Alucard dissolved into mist.
Black vapor slipped between the crossed edges. The scythes could not cut the mist, but when their blades struck each other they released blue sparks.
The sparks clung to the scattered vapor.
Alucard returned to human form.
His boots struck a broad stone floor. He bent his knees to absorb the impact, but the wound across his abdomen opened beneath his armor.
Pressing one hand to his stomach, he surveyed the chamber.
It had been built inside the cavern.
The walls to either side were unfinished rock. Only the center and the spaces around the entrances had been shaped with black brick. High above, a stone opening carved like the head of a great hound hung upside down. Between its open teeth, the stairway he had just crossed remained visible.
The floor was divided into three sections.
The narrow platform upon which Alucard stood.
A broad, lower platform in the center.
Another raised platform on the opposite side.
Shallow black trenches separated them. They were not deep enough to hide their bottoms, yet thin hands swayed inside like weeds in dark water. Everything below their wrists vanished into the gloom.
Dozens of scythes had been driven into the ceiling.
Each was different in size and shape. Farmer’s sickles. Long blades forged for battle. Heavy executioner’s tools. Some were rusted. Others remained unstained and clean.
A black figure hovered among them.
Its long robes did not touch the floor. Neither bone nor foot showed beneath them. Only black cloth hung downward like the mouth of a bottomless pit.
A withered hand emerged from one sleeve.
The other held a great scythe.
Its blade was unnaturally long and thin. It reflected none of the chamber’s light. Instead, the color faded slightly from everything the edge passed.
Two points of red opened beneath the hood.
Death had been waiting.
The small scythes followed Alucard into the chamber. They circled their master once, then scattered near the ceiling.
Death inclined his head.
It was the same courtesy he had shown at the castle entrance.
Polite.
Which made it more insulting.
“You have come far.”
The voice had not aged.
It was the voice of one through whose throat time could not pass.
“For your father’s sake, cease this foolish struggle.”
Alucard removed his hand from his abdomen.
He wiped the blood from his palm against the side of his armor.
“While breath remains in my body, I will not.”
The red lights beneath Death’s hood narrowed.
The great scythe rose slowly.
“Then, in my master’s name, I shall take your soul tonight.”
The scythe moved sideways.
It cut nothing.
But every small blade embedded in the ceiling began to tremble.
Ching.
The chamber filled with metal.
Death’s first attack did not come directly at Alucard.
The small scythes dispersed along the walls and ceiling. Several passed in front of him, while others traced slow circles behind his back. All appeared to have missed.
He leapt onto the central platform.
The instant his foot landed, the blades turned back.
Three from ahead.
Four from behind.
Two from above.
The scythes did not aim for where Alucard stood.
They occupied the places toward which he might escape.
He drew Mormegil.
The black blade cut the first scythe in two. The silver fragments turned to ash in the air. He struck the second aside with the back of his sword and ducked beneath the third.
Four approached from behind.
Alucard did not turn. Hearing the first blade divide the air, he shifted half a step right. The edge grazed his side. The second sound was higher. He lowered his waist.
The third made no sound.
Alucard twisted his shoulder.
Too late.
The small scythe entered the exposed gap at his left shoulder, beneath the plate torn away by the Darkwing Bat. The edge crossed both the old burn and the newer wound.
Blood scattered.
Death moved.
The black figure crossed the central platform. It did not resemble flight so much as the passage from one dark place in the room to another.
Alucard did not follow the pain.
He watched where Death intended to stop.
Once the small scythes passed, a broad opening appeared upon the opposite platform. It resembled an escape route. Yet Death’s great blade was already angled toward it.
A trap.
Alucard remained in the center.
Two more scythes came.
He cut one down and caught the other upon Mormegil’s edge. Turning his wrist, he sent the small blade sliding along the sword and changed its direction.
It flew toward Death.
A black sleeve moved.
The small scythe vanished inside it.
No sound.
No impact.
It simply ceased to exist.
Death raised his great weapon once more.
Alucard advanced first.
The Leap Stone carried him upward from the central platform. His first jump cleared two small scythes. A second step in the empty air brought him level with Death.
Mormegil cut through the black robes.
The blade did not sever cloth.
It entered shadow.
Alucard felt no resistance in his hand.
Instead, the cold within Mormegil drained away.
The darkness coating its surface unwound like thread and flowed into Death’s body. The red lights beneath the hood grew brighter.
Alucard tried to withdraw the sword.
Death’s robes held the blade.
Five small scythes appeared behind him.
Alucard released Mormegil.
His body dropped.
The scythes passed above his head and vanished back into Death’s darkness. Mormegil, too, was being drawn inward.
Alucard reached upward as he fell.
He seized the hilt again.
This time he did not pull.
He changed himself into mist.
Black vapor spread between Mormegil’s grip and Death’s sleeve. With no body left to hold, the sword fell.
Alucard reformed upon the central platform.
Mormegil stood embedded at his feet.
The black blade had grown pale. Gray lines showed upon the surface that once swallowed all light. The fracture left by the Creature’s lightning had become visible.
Death’s robes had grown darker.
Something beneath the cloth drew a single deep breath.
He feeds upon darkness.
Alucard looked at Mormegil’s hilt.
A sword found in the castle depths.
A blade once resting amid shadows wrapped around countless corpses.
It had fed upon the blood and darkness of many monsters, yet before the being in front of him it was merely food.
Death held the great scythe horizontally.
The small blades near the ceiling turned their points toward Alucard again.
Alucard did not draw Mormegil.
He left it embedded in the stone and opened both hands.
The red lights beneath Death’s hood paused.
It was the same figure Alucard had cut at the castle entrance.
Hands without sword or shield.
A body stripped of the weight of its armor, uncertain which strength it must learn first.
But this was different.
Death had not taken his weapon.
Alucard had laid it down himself.
The first small scythe came.
He did not seize it.
He struck its shaft with the back of his hand.
The blade spun aside and collided with a second scythe. Both broke into blue sparks.
The third came at his waist.
Alucard stepped inward. Before the blade could fully extend, he caught the place where a wrist should have been.
There was no wrist.
Yet a dark tendon stretched from the end of the shaft.
He pulled.
The blade’s path collapsed.
The following two scythes struck one another.
Death retreated.
Alucard followed.
He did not swing the captured blade. He broke it at the shaft, then drove the remaining piece of metal into Death’s exposed hand.
Bone cracked.
For the first time, there was resistance.
Not the black robes.
The hand beyond them.
A part the darkness did not cover.
Death’s great scythe descended.
Alucard moved closer.
The long edge could not cut what stood within its arc. The shaft struck his shoulder instead, but the Spike Breaker absorbed the blow. Every red fracture in the armor shone at once.
He seized Death’s sleeve and drove up one knee.
The impact reached beneath the hood.
Bone struck bone.
Death’s figure moved backward.
Alucard released the cloth.
The robes dispersed like smoke between his fingers. He could not hold them completely.
But there were moments when an impact could reach through.
The small scythes gathered again.
This time they did not circle Alucard.
They formed one by one at the tip of Death’s great blade and flew straight toward him.
Alucard avoided the first two.
He caught the third on his forearm.
The blade lodged in the Spike Breaker’s wrist guard. Metal split, but the edge did not reach flesh.
He slammed his arm against the floor.
The scythe broke.
The fourth and fifth approached from both sides.
Alucard jumped backward.
His heel landed at the edge of the central platform.
Hands rose from the black trench below.
Cold fingers seized his boots and calves.
Two scythes came for his chest.
Alucard lowered himself and seized one of the reaching wrists. He pulled the dead arm upward and placed it in the path of the blades.
A scythe severed the hand.
Its grip released him.
Alucard rolled back onto the platform. The second blade struck the armor across his back. The Spike Breaker rang again.
Death opened both hands.
The great scythe had disappeared.
Green light formed between the dry palms.
At first, the lights were no larger than embers.
Soon they swelled into two round spheres. Lightning twisted within them as though imprisoned beneath water.
Death released them.
The two green orbs moved slowly.
Far more slowly than the scythes.
Alucard walked to the right.
The spheres followed.
When he stopped, they did not.
They continued closing the distance.
He crossed the central platform.
One orb followed at shoulder height. The other moved near his knees. To stand between them would leave no easy path upward or below.
Small scythes appeared at the same time.
Death retreated toward the opposite end of the chamber, moving his fingers. Three blades passed before Alucard.
They were not attacking yet.
They were sealing the directions he might choose when the green spheres reached him.
Alucard leapt onto the left platform.
The orbs changed direction.
The first traced a broad curve.
The second rose to avoid the edge of the central stone.
Both were slow.
Neither stopped.
Alucard twisted aside from one small scythe. He struck the next away with his palm. Its edge opened a shallow cut across his fingers.
The third blocked the right.
The green spheres approached from the left.
Death’s great scythe took shape once more.
Ahead.
Above.
Left.
Only the black trench remained open.
Alucard did not throw himself into it.
He ran toward Death.
The great scythe descended.
At the final instant, he transformed into a bat.
His smaller body passed between the shaft and Death’s sleeve. The green spheres could not turn sharply enough and continued forward.
The first passed through Death’s robes.
The second followed.
They did not injure their master.
Yet after passing through him, the orbs lost their path. One rose. The other sank.
Alucard returned to human form behind Death.
His elbow struck the brittle shoulder blade.
Bone broke.
Before Death could turn, a second blow struck the side of the hood. A third landed upon the exposed wrist.
The great scythe fell.
Alucard did not try to take it.
Death’s weapon would not accept another hand merely because its master had released it.
He shoved the shaft with his palm and sent it into the black trench.
The scythe did not fall.
It stopped midway, then flew back toward Death’s hand.
Alucard watched and stepped away.
The weapon could not be stolen.
But its return could be made to take time.
The instant Death’s hand closed around the shaft, Alucard advanced again.
His fist entered beneath the hood.
The black cloth snapped backward.
For an instant, the face beneath was visible.
There was no face.
Only a cracked skull, filled from within by red darkness.
Deep inside that darkness, a single eye stared at Alucard.
It did not belong to Death.
It was older.
More familiar.
The Eye of Vlad.
A dark crimson iris hung within the bones.
The four relics beat at once.
Thump.
The Eye answered.
Thump.
The skull vanished beneath the hood again.
Alucard could not move closer.
The two green spheres had returned behind him.
One at his left shoulder.
The other at his right waist.
He threw himself forward.
The orbs grazed one another behind him.
No explosion came.
Instead, Death’s gesture pulled them apart and sent them flying to opposite sides of the chamber. Their speed had increased. They stopped on either side of him and opened into two enormous green hexagons.
Lines drew themselves through the air.
Two green gates.
A skull emerged from the center of the first.
Its fleshless bones did not burn. Green light spilled from its empty sockets. The first skull opened its jaws.
Alucard lowered his head.
It passed above him and entered the second sigil.
It did not vanish.
It emerged from the opposite hexagon.
This time from below.
Alucard leapt.
The skull grazed the soles of his boots.
A second skull emerged from the first gate. It did not approach directly. It sank low, curved broadly, then rose.
This was not a single attack.
It was a path that changed each time it crossed between the two sigils.
The small scythes returned as well.
Alucard landed upon the central platform.
A skull from the left.
Two small scythes from the right.
Another skull behind him.
Death above.
He closed his eyes.
Not to stop seeing.
He released a brief pulse of the Echo of Bat.
The wave passed through the chamber.
The small scythes returned as sharp lines.
The skulls as hollow circles.
The green sigils were broad as walls but without thickness.
Death’s body returned almost nothing.
But the Eye beneath the hood was different.
Within the echo, the five relics gathered into one bright point.
Alucard opened his eyes.
A skull approached from the front.
He did not step aside.
He lowered his head and ran forward.
The skull curved upward behind him. Two small scythes came at his waist, but he struck the first away with the back of his hand and slid beneath the second.
Death rose higher.
Alucard followed with the Leap Stone.
Once.
Then a second step in the air.
Death swung the great scythe horizontally.
Alucard did not retreat.
He entered inside the blade’s arc. The moment the edge passed, he seized the shaft with both hands.
The weapon twisted between Death and Alucard.
The withered hand was stronger than he expected.
But this was not the castle entrance.
Then, Alucard had been forced to watch as his equipment disappeared.
Now, through his palms, he could feel the direction in which Death applied his strength.
He did not try to steal the scythe.
He forced it downward.
Death’s upper body bent slightly.
Alucard drove his forehead into the skull beneath the hood.
Bone cracked.
The Eye shook.
The four relics beat harder.
Thump.
Death’s form collapsed.
The black robes folded inward. The withered hand released the scythe. The green hexagons trembled, and the skulls lost their courses.
Still holding Death by the shoulder, Alucard fell with him toward the central platform.
The black body never touched the floor.
Just before impact, it scattered like hundreds of black insects.
Only a strip of cloth remained in Alucard’s hand.
The green sigils disappeared.
The small scythes dropped.
Ching.
Ching.
Ching.
The sounds ceased one by one.
The great scythe remained in the air.
Then, beginning at the blade, it crumbled into black ash.
Only the hood floated above the chamber floor.
Death’s voice came from within.
“You are powerful indeed….”
The skull beneath the hood split.
The Eye of Vlad shone red.
“But even you cannot conquer Death.”
The black robes burst outward.
Alucard raised an arm before his face.
A cold wind swept through the chamber. Every scythe embedded in the ceiling tore free and vanished into the growing vortex. Small sickles and long war scythes, rusted metal and stainless blades, struck against one another and formed a single dark mass.
Bones grew within it.
First, a long and curved spine.
There were no legs beneath it. Vertebrae continued like a serpent’s tail, moving through the air. The ribs opened wider than those of any man, and two long arms emerged from the shoulders.
A short scythe appeared in each hand.
The black hood vanished.
The skull’s jaw extended forward like that of a serpent. There was no flesh below the neck. Between the ribs, the red Eye remained exposed.
Death descended close to the floor in his second form.
His tail of bone passed over the stone without sound.
The right-hand scythe rose first.
The left followed.
The two blades crossed above his head.
Alucard leapt backward.
Both scythes descended together.
The platform split.
The weapons were shorter than the great blade of Death’s first form, but all their force had been concentrated into one place. The stone opened in a V, and the grasping hands within the black trench were severed.
Death required time to lift the blades again.
Alucard entered the opening.
His fist struck the ribs.
Once.
Twice.
The bones shifted but did not break. The Eye moved between them, tracking him.
Before a third blow could land, Death’s right arm returned.
The short scythe crossed Alucard’s chest.
The Spike Breaker stopped the blade.
Every red fracture across the armor ignited.
But this time, the scythe did not break.
Its edge entered between the plates and hurled Alucard aside.
He rolled across the floor.
The wound in his abdomen opened again. Blood filled his mouth. When he placed his right hand against the stone, Medusa’s poison leapt from wrist to shoulder.
Death did not pursue.
The skeletal torso bent backward.
The right-hand scythe flew.
Its blade came straight toward him.
Alucard jumped over it.
The weapon passed beneath his waist and traveled to the far end of the chamber.
He thought he had avoided it.
Metal cut the air behind him.
Returning.
Alucard turned.
The scythe came back lower than before.
At the height of his boots.
He raised his leg, but the blade grazed his calf. Leather and flesh opened together.
His balance failed.
Death threw the left-hand scythe next.
This one came at his chest.
Still on one knee, Alucard leaned backward. The blade passed before his face.
It would return lower.
He did not rise.
The left-hand weapon came back and cut the tips of his hair before entering Death’s hand.
The right-hand scythe returned soon after.
Death lifted both weapons above his head again.
Alucard dragged his injured leg sideways.
The two blades descended.
He escaped through the Form of Mist.
The scythes passed through black vapor. But Death did not stop as he had in his first form. He swung his skeletal tail through the mist.
There was no physical impact.
Yet Alucard’s vapor was pushed aside.
The tail appeared to be bone, but it held no weight. It was not a fist or blade, but a shadow that disturbed direction itself.
Alucard returned to human form at the edge of the central platform.
Death closed in.
The right scythe high.
The left low.
A position in which avoiding one blade would lead directly into the other.
Alucard retreated.
Death followed at a constant pace.
Not quickly.
But without pause.
The tail did not push against the floor. The entire body moved as though suspended by an unseen line. There were no footsteps and no shifting shoulders from which to read the range of his attacks.
The right scythe moved.
Alucard watched the upper blade.
The left struck first.
He turned aside, but the point entered below the Spike Breaker. It pierced the same place opened by Medusa’s curved sword.
His breath broke.
Death brought down the right-hand scythe.
Alucard raised his forearm to block it.
Metal split.
The Spike Breaker’s wrist guard fell away.
The short blade grazed his right arm. The bandage over the bite wound opened again. Black blood stained Death’s scythe.
The Eye of Vlad looked at the blood.
Its pupil narrowed.
Alucard watched the Eye rather than the skull.
It was not looking at where he stood.
It was watching where he intended to flee.
The small scythes had done the same.
So had the green spheres and the skulls.
All of Death’s attacks aimed not at the body before him, but at the next choice.
What happened at the castle entrance had been no different.
Taking Alucard’s weapons had not been the end.
Death had expected him to retreat once he stood empty-handed. He had decided that Alucard would recognize his weakness before climbing the castle and turn away.
Death always watched the next choice.
But seeing a choice was not the same as making it.
Alucard cast his gaze to the right.
Toward Mormegil.
The Eye moved in that direction.
Death’s right arm also turned toward the sword.
Alucard moved the other way.
Toward the skeletal tail.
He passed between its bones.
There was no cold.
No sensation at all.
The tail of Death’s second form was not a body. It was merely the shadow that made death appear longer than it was.
Alucard emerged behind him.
His fist struck the upper spine.
One vertebra broke.
Death’s torso bent backward.
Alucard did not strike again.
He moved away.
As Death twisted back, he threw the right-hand scythe.
The expected attack.
Alucard did not jump.
He waited until the blade approached at chest height.
At the final moment, he lowered himself.
The scythe passed overhead.
Death threw the left-hand weapon.
This one came low.
Alucard used the Leap Stone.
His first jump cleared the left scythe.
A second step in the empty air carried him above Death’s head.
The right-hand scythe began to return.
Its path was lower than before.
Alucard twisted in the air.
The blade passed beneath him and approached Death.
Death extended his right arm and caught the handle.
At that moment, Alucard dropped.
Both feet landed upon Death’s forearm.
The arm receiving the scythe bent downward.
Alucard seized the shaft with both hands.
He did not try to take it.
He gripped it together with Death.
The left-hand scythe was returning.
Death reached for it with his empty hand.
Alucard turned the right-hand weapon.
Its edge collided with the returning left blade.
The two metals locked.
Both of Death’s arms were bound together.
The Eye opened wide.
Alucard released the shaft and thrust his hand between the ribs.
The red iris turned toward his palm.
What appeared within it was not his present face.
It showed Alucard at the castle entrance.
Stripped of all equipment.
Standing empty-handed.
Other images overlapped behind it.
The hand first taking hold of the Short Sword.
The foot avoiding Slogra’s spear.
The point of the blade breaking the Doppelganger’s imitation.
The gaze that paused before cutting through the false face of Lisa.
The sword aimed not at Richter’s body, but at the sphere controlling him.
Different choices.
The Eye could see their results, but it could not understand the instant at which those choices had been made.
Alucard seized the Eye.
Its surface was cold, like glass.
Death’s jaw opened.
No sound emerged.
The locked scythes pushed apart.
The right blade returned toward Alucard’s neck.
He did not release the Eye.
With his left hand, he seized one of Death’s ribs.
He pulled himself closer.
The scythe passed behind his neck and cut into Death’s own spine.
The vertebrae scattered.
The upper body tilted.
Alucard pulled at the Eye of Vlad.
Veins like red threads stretched from the inside of the ribs.
Death’s remaining scythe struck his back.
The Spike Breaker shone red one final time.
Crash.
A fracture opened through the center of the backplate.
Alucard’s knee struck the floor.
His fingers slipped against the Eye.
Death raised the scythe again.
One more blow would break not the armor, but the spine beneath it.
Alucard forced his right hand deeper.
The wound left by Medusa scraped against the ribs. Poison and black blood spread inside Death’s body.
The Eye trembled without lids.
Four relics beat against Alucard’s chest.
Ring.
Rib.
Heart.
Tooth.
The remnants of his father, recovered from distant parts of the castle, called to the fifth.
Thump.
The Eye opened fully.
Alucard’s own face appeared inside it.
Eyes inherited from his father.
Lips inherited from his mother.
A face that could never erase either of them completely.
The scythe descended.
Alucard twisted the Eye.
The veins broke.
The Eye came free from the ribs.
Death’s weapon did not reach his back.
The arm stopped in the air.
The skeletal fingers opened one by one.
The scythe fell.
This time, it did not return.
Metal struck stone with a long, low sound.
Death’s skull looked down at Alucard.
No red light remained.
The jaw opened.
A handful of black dust spilled from between its teeth.
The spine began collapsing from above.
The ribs fell one after another. The arms made no attempt to recover the scythes. The serpent-like tail dissolved into shadow before it touched the floor.
Only the skull remained suspended for a moment.
The fracture across its brow opened.
A breath resembling the laughter heard at the castle entrance escaped.
But this time, it did not continue to the end.
The skull became black ash.
The ash did not fall.
Nor did it rise.
It remained directionless in the center of the chamber. The dust formed the outline of a man for an instant, then dispersed.
Silence arrived.
The last small scythe remaining in the ceiling fell.
Ching.
Nothing followed.
The hands that had swayed within the black trenches stopped moving. Severed fingers and wrists sank slowly into the darkness.
Still on one knee, Alucard drew breath.
Air entered his lungs.
Rough.
Shallow.
But present.
He opened his right hand.
The Eye of Vlad lay upon his palm.
It was the size of a human eye, though it was not made of flesh. A thin golden pupil floated within dark crimson crystal. Several black threads remained attached to its back where the veins had been severed.
It had no eyelid.
Yet its light faded and returned once, as though blinking.
Alucard looked into it.
Death was not reflected there.
Nor was the chamber.
Instead, he saw five doors surrounding the center of the castle.
The first bore the mark of a ring.
The second stood between pillars shaped like ribs.
The third was split by the lines of hardened blood.
The fourth carried a long bite mark.
An eye had been carved into the last.
The five doors stood in different places, yet all opened toward a single chamber.
Alucard closed his fingers around the Eye.
The vision disappeared.
He rose.
Blood ran from his right calf, and the wound in his abdomen had soaked the armor red beneath its plates. A small scythe had marked the left shoulder. The Spike Breaker’s backplate had split through the center.
If he removed the armor now, it might never be worn again.
Alucard did not discard it.
He left it broken upon his body.
He crossed to the central platform and pulled Mormegil free.
The black blade was silent.
It made no attempt to recover the darkness Death had consumed. The gray fracture along the steel had become clearer, and portions of the blade now reflected light.
Alucard ran a finger along the line.
“You cannot cut all things, either.”
Mormegil did not answer.
He returned the sword to its sheath.
Then he brought the Eye of Vlad near his chest.
The Ring beat first.
Thump.
The Rib.
Thump.
The Heart.
Thump.
The Tooth.
Thump.
At last, the Eye answered.
Thump.
The five sounds became one.
The chamber shook.
Dust fell from the eyes of the inverted hound carved above the entrance. The rock behind the opposite platform split. A thin crack traveled vertically, and the walls on either side moved inward.
No door had opened.
The stone covering a passage that had always been there had merely stepped aside.
Beyond it lay a corridor built from the castle’s bricks.
Unlike the rough stone of the cavern, its floor had been polished smooth. Candlesticks lined both walls, but none held flame. The far end was hidden in darkness.
Alucard placed the five relics inside his coat.
Gathered together, they continued to beat.
They no longer called from different directions.
All pointed toward the castle’s center.
He entered the open passage.
His boot touched the floor.
Click.
The same sound returned from deep within the corridor.
Click.
Too late to be an echo.
Alucard took a second step.
Click.
Another footstep followed from the darkness.
Click.
He shortened his stride.
The sound ahead shortened in exactly the same way.
Alucard rested his right hand upon Mormegil’s hilt.
Leather pressed against leather with a faint sound.
The same friction came from the end of the passage.
He drew the sword one finger’s width.
The black blade scraped inside the sheath.
Shing.
Another sword emerged by the same measure in the darkness.
Shing.
No figure was yet visible.
But Alucard knew how the other stood.
Right foot half a step behind.
Left shoulder slightly lowered.
The habit of testing the distance between hilt and scabbard with the thumb before fully drawing the blade.
His own stance.
A single strand of silver hair crossed between the unlit candlesticks.
Alucard pushed the sword back into its sheath.
The unseen blade returned at the same moment.
Click.
He walked forward.
The footsteps ahead began approaching as well.
While the five relics beat toward the castle’s center, something at the far end of the corridor followed not Alucard’s heart, but the rhythm of his stride.
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