The patrons of the undead filed down the ancient stone halls, their cloaks sweeping silently over the cold floors. They were a somber mass, bringing in a rush of cold air as they opened the great Gothic door to the ceremony chamber.
It was nearing twelve, and the ovals in the walls let in slants of moonlight, illuminating the pale face of the Count, and the tinged fangs he leered through.
"It is time, my dear friends, guests, and...spectators, to begin." The Count's face was expressionless as he appraised the crowd through dark slits, turning his head to the walls, as if waiting for someone.
The guests sat down on the hard stone of the stadium, including, amongst them, the Duke of Ostarbreil, a silent, thoughtful young man, a foreign visitor from the valley lands outside the mountains of Transylvania. He was awarded the privilege of sitting to the Count's left. He watched as the Count turned to his right to talk to a hulking mass in a dark cloak, a shape that could only be Gorv's.
Now a shaking began in the middle of the chamber, as the stone panels began to shift open, and a barricaded stone pit rose out of the depths of the ground. A hissing sound, at once soft, began to grow in pitch and volume, filtering out of the pit. The Duke peered further and saw, with horror, the long poisonous serpents that struggled in an amazon green mass on the pit's floor.
"Please, my dear, have patience." The Count whispered in a soft, menacing tone to a figure behind him, and when the Duke turned, he saw long black hair and a dark cloak engraved V. The ashy face of Vyeila was fixed on the door to the chamber, not even the venomous pit she'd soon be in.
"I have no worries." Vyeila lied through her teeth as she addressed the Count. "He...will...come." The Duke couldn't make out the exact words as the two whispered, but he knew something was wrong.
"Now," The voice of the Count suddenly thundered through the tense chamber. "We must carry out, the Serpent's Sacrifice!"
Two short, brute vampires rushed forward to light the torches around the stone pit, a crackling glow now surrounding the vessel of snakes. The soft murmurs of the room died down into silence, as Vyeila stepped forward, in wooden motion, onto the stone floor, seeming to glide towards the venomous pit.
"It is, with regret, that Vyeila of the Eastland, one of the bloodline Sverpentes, must be sacrificed today." The Count's tone was even and emotionless. "My son, the royal and rightful heir of the Vampirics, has disappeared, and the duty of his bride has not been fulfilled. Thus, Vyeila must die."
Vyeila had now reached the pit and she lifted both sides of her cloak, so the long black sleeves gave to her figure a striking line of grand darkness. Her raven hair shielded her face from the crowd, which now began to turn to one another, fearful of watching what was to occur. Vyeila lifted one foot, and then another, as she stepped into the pit, her arms raised the entire time, and her dark red lips the only recognizable part of her face.
The snakes began to seethe with excitement, and the Duke willed himself to turn away as they entangled over Vyeila's arms and legs. In morbid curiosity, he turned back as she suddenly gave out a shriek of the most barbaric depth, in a language that only the serpents could understand, the whole mass of venom now seeming to become one. Then he saw as a huge, mauve-spotted black snake, the largest one of all, reared its head, positioned just above Vyeila's neck, as her dark eyes suddenly filled with fear, realizing, perhaps, that it might be too late to save herself.
And then the doors burst open. The son of the Count rushed forward, the crowd's faces turning immediately to the long silver mane that surged behind him as he sprinted towards the pit, his navy blue eyes glowing in the firelight of the torches.
"Vladimir," The Count uttered his son's name with a gentle sneer, regarding the entrant like a hunter whose rabbit has just landed in the trap. The Duke's light green eyes widened in recognition as he saw Vladimir. This was the man he'd met on a forest hunting trip he'd taken to Transylvania several years ago, a stranger who'd helped him out of the brambles he'd lost his way in, chasing after a stag.
"Vladimir!" Vyeila's voice was now a high-pitched, banshee-like sound, as the snake hissed in her ear.
He reached the edge of the pit, and with one hand, quickly pulled one of the torches out of their holding, and wielding the fiery weapon, advanced into the pit. His fingers now extended their long nails, and he sliced the snake on Vyeila's shoulder in half, as Vyeila, realizing her plot had worked to lure forth Vlad, quickly tossed the snakes off herself as best she could. She leaped over the edge of the pit. The snakes surged onto Vladimir, as the blood from their mate tainted his hand, and he fought them off bravely, scorching the fire towards their open mouths. The speed and strength of a Vampiric now became apparent to the crowd, as Vladimir, his royal bloodline surging within him, doubled his effort and flung all snakes off himself, leaving masses of bloodied serpents in the pit as he climbed out.
Vladimir faced the crowd. Vyeila was now positioned next to the Count, a satisfied smile on her leering face and her raven locks stained with snakeblood. Vladimir's intuition was immediate. He glanced with disdain at the manipulative, dishonest Vyeila, but focused his attention on his father, the cold Count who now waved a hand to silence the crowd.
"Father," Vladimir's tone was ironic as he approached the throne. "You have all been waiting for me, I see." He laughed bitterly, as he strode forth, his robe bloodied and his hair disheveled. "I hope I haven't disappointed any of you. I hope I put on a good show!" His voice suddenly burst in anger.
"Ah, my son," The Count kept his voice cool, "I am very...pleased, to see you back. Vyeila is too, as you can tell. Who knew that such a tragic day could turn out in such pleasant surprise?" His lips barely lifted into a smile. Vladimir stopped right in front of his father. He recognized the Duke, but didn't say a word.
"Yes, well, Vyeila is safe now, isn't she?" Vladimir mocked a bow to the dark vampress, whose fingers curled ever so menacingly on the shoulders of the Count. Vlad was aware what he had to do now. It was time, yes, finally time. "And you have all seen what you came for today, a show of tradition, a Vampiric ceremony. Which is now, officially, over." He panned the room, left to right, his eyes resting on the masses of vampires in dark cloaks, their onyx hair barely lit up by moonlight. "Truly, the end has come to this falsehood. I, will succumb to this kingdom no longer. No more will I live under this Vampiric oppression. As of today, I announce the end of my engagement to Vyeila. For you see," Vladimir was now the one smiling, turning to face the Count, "I've found the girl, my one and only love."
