Transylvania

In the heart of Transylvania wilderness, amidst the gnarled branches of ancient pines and the echoing whispers of the Carpathian Mountains, stood Castle Vlad. Its gothic silhouette etched against the bruised twilight sky, it was a testament to a long-forgotten era — A chilling reminder of the horrors it had witnessed.

Within its moss-laden, damp walls, resided Aiden, a vampire with a soul burdened by an ungodly thirst, and an aversion that set him apart from his kind. He didn't want to take a human life. He lived off of wild animals and bagged blood that he received from sneaking into blood donor stations. He could move at unbelievable speeds, which enabled him to get in and out just as those present felt their hair fly away from their face.

There were three of them who lived beneath Vlad's Castle. No one knew there was a secret entrance leading down far beneath the desolate ruins. The concrete dripped with sweat from the early morning frost. Aidan, Dillon, and Trey sat comfortably in their overstuffed leather couches. They had made a pact many, many moons ago, that if any of them went rogue and started killing humans, and intervention seemed not to help, the others would take their life. Though, they all hoped it would never come to that. They were a vampiric team. They kept to themselves, away from others of their kind. They didn't want to be influenced into doing something they preferred not to.

What the other two didn't know was that Aiden had his own secret. Aidan was not a typical inhabitant of Vlad's castle. Their presence of being there was no accident. Aidan's legacy is traced back to the infamous Count Dracula, himself. And he had inherited a rare ancient artifact that used to belong to the Count — The Blood Crystal.

The Blood Crystal was an ancient crystal that pulsated with an ethereal glow. It was said to contain secret powers passed down from the very first vampire. It is said Count Vlad was empowered with the ancient magic and wisdom of old. All Aidan needed now was the spell to possess those powers within the Blood Crystal.

He couldn't let Dillon or Trey know about this. They have no idea that he is related to Count Vlad, or that it was descendants of the tribe that took all three of their lives on the farm so long ago. It was only because he was a descendant of Vlad's, that they turned them all into vampires, instead of leaving them all to die face-down in horse manure.

Aidan spent many nights exploring the castle, its dusty corridors and hidden chambers revealing secrets that have been hidden for centuries. One fateful night, as he traveled deeper into the castle, he stumbled onto an old, forgotten room. He slowly pushed open the creaking door. Inside, he found a cement altar, covered in blood stains. Upon it was a withered hand, gripping a piece of parchment. With trembling hands, Aidan reached out and grasped the parchment. As he unfurled it, he saw an inscription written in a foreign and familiar language.

The inscription was exactly what he had been hunting for! It spoke of the secret ritual needed to possess the Blood Crystal's relic powers.

When Dillon and Trey had left for the night to hunt, Aidan sat out to retrieve what he needed for the ritual: A gold chalice, a tube of blood, a black rose, the eyes of an owl, a snake's rattler, and the fins of a blowfish. He lit thirteen black candles, their flickering flames casting menacing shadows on the ancient walls. He then recited the incantation from the parchment, his voice resonating through the empty chamber. When he finished the last word, a blinding light filled the room. When it faded, he found he was holding the Blood Crystal, a powerful surge went through his body that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

When the electrifying current had finished, he picked himself off of the floor, wiping a stream of spittle, coming out of the corner of his mouth. He felt stronger than he ever had. His mind spun in circles with all of the new knowledge and memories he possessed. Memories that were not his ... not Aidan's. These were the memories of the original Count Dracula himself. The power that coursed through his veins was unbelievable. He knew he'd never be the same. He had things he would have to take care of, but right now he was hungry. He needed to eat. And a couple of bags of warmed-up blood was not going to cut it.

He went out to hunt. The wind howled, whipping the rain against the crumbling walls. Setting out onto the narrow path, he wandered deep into the thick of the wood. Seeing eye-shine, he took off like a bullet, catching a buck, and draining it dry. He was still famished. The deer's blood tasted tainted. He craved human blood. A raw craving he hadn't had in over two hundred years. Usually, warmed-up bagged blood does the trick to take care of the human craving. He headed back up and warmed up two bags of blood. But it still did not satisfy his thirst. It was time to go hunting.

He toured the seedy alleyways where wet clothes dripped down upon those below. It was a musty, dreary place where the less fortunate resided. He came across a group of seven, hacking, spitting, drinking, and laughing. Four women and three men, slapping each other on the back, and on the butt. They swayed unsteadily on their feet from the rock-gut liquor they had been chugging. Giving a smile and a nod, Aidan walked past them and then turned around with a fury. His body was a blur, as he attacked each one, bending their legs backward, snapping them at the kneecaps, and crippling them from being able to run. Then just as quickly he drained six bodies, leaving their throats ripped out, their skin pasty white. Dropping them like rag dolls onto the pavement. When Aidan raised his eyes from his last body, he met the eyes of Dillon and Trey. Flinging the last body onto the cold cement, his eyes flashed golden-red, as he glared, then hissed at his two best friends. In a flash, he was gone,

Dillon and Trey eyed each other, not believing what they just saw. They knew Aidan had been acting suspiciously the last few weeks, but they just put it down to going through personal issues, which they all did, every once in a while. But what scared them the most was his eyes. Golden-red eyes are those of the strongest vampires. Vamps from the ancient clan. They knew he was powerful. They would have to tread very carefully.

Back at the castle, Dillon and Trey sat out to find what had changed their friend. They searched the castle high and low. There they found the secret chamber with the remnants of the ritual. Crumpled at their feet was a piece of old parchment. When they read and realized what Aidan had done, they knew there would be nothing they could do to sway his thirst. Aidan would have to die.

As they walked into the dimly lit shop, the smell of herbs overwhelmed their senses. Dried herbs hung from the eaves all across the ceiling. Candles of every size and color filled the aisles, potions readily made stood behind locked, glass cabinets, and elixirs overflowed from behind the counter. The woman with curly, frizzy hair, a peace sign necklace, and an infinity bracelet, finished putting some new merchandise under the glass countertop and glanced up at the two men standing before her. She didn't need to ask who they were, she knew. It was a knowing that was shared between their clans. When she flipped the closed sign over on the door, they got busy and came up with one of the most powerful spells available for Vamps. She mixed them up a concoction that when used with the ritual, and blown in the face of the intended victim, would give them exactly ten minutes, to take care of what they needed to.

For weeks now, the vampire known as the Blood Count had drained villagers and left behind husks of their former selves.

Undeterred Dillon and Trey ventured into the storm-ravaged countryside. They traversed the once opulent halls that now lay in ruins, cobwebs were clinging and hanging to the decaying tapestries. Walking into an old tomb, they hunched over a weathered tome, its pages dripping with arcane symbols, and warnings of the monstrous creature Aidan had become.

The air grew heavy with the metallic scent of blood. Aidan had started killing humans too close to their sanctuary. Tonight had to be the night. They turned and headed for home.

They found Aidan in the library. His face was rosy, and his lips were red, from all of the iron-clad blood. Summoning courage they met the Count's gaze with an unwavering resolve. As Trey blew the potion in Aidan's face, Dillon snipped a piece of his hair and pricked his finger for blood. Aidan was in a trance, his body was limp, and he was at their mercy. But after only a couple of minutes, he started to move his extremities, a tiny bit at a time. They would not have ten minutes at all, he was way too powerful. If they were lucky they had three-to-four minutes more. Dillon dropped the hair. blood and potion into the gold chalice, and together, they chanted the incantation.

Suddenly, Aidan was upon Dillion. He had his arms pinned together behind his back, with such a mighty force, that it made Dillon bend backward at an awkward angle. Just as Aidan brought his mouth to Aidan's neck, Trey frantically grabbed the left-over potion and blew it into Aidan's face. Aidan flopped to the ground, mumbling what sounded like an ancient curse. The air crackled with power, the chalice glowed pulsating with a bright light. Aidan's eyes burned with fury, as his body started to twitch. They had to hurry. A flash of light erupted from the chalice. Dillon and Trey screamed in agony. Dillon reached behind the couch and pulled out a long, sterling silver sword. Still writhing in pain, he didn't have the strength to lift it by himself. Trey gripped the sword with Dillon and together they thrust it into Aidan's heart. The short reign of the Blood Count was finally over.

As the sun bathed the land with golden light, Dillon and Trey sank into the couch's cushions, letting out a sigh of relief. They confronted the darkness and were victorious. The powerful vampire was no more.

Far beneath the couch, the Blood Crystal pulsated.


(1,821 Words)

Written For "Quotation Inspiration: Official Contest" 
Prompt:
"A good friend will always stab you in the front."
— Oscar Wilde