The Vampyre of Time and Memory

A monotonous drip, drip, drip ricocheted off the high stone walls and throughout the dark lit chamber. From torches caged within cold black iron, flames of a deep cobalt blue danced in desperation to the unyieldingly repetitious beat. And yet, as time passed on the beat begrudgingly began to subside, the reverberation coagulating before coming to a predestined halt.

A silence entered the room. The flickering flames stilled themselves, their waltz of mourning cut short. The proud royal azure hue shrunk within as an eternally unwelcome presence entered. With him the man did not bring footsteps they could dance to, nor breath that pulled them in and out in a gentle sway. There was only a stifling stillness the man brought that suffocated any such whimsical desires.

Seemingly in defiance to this new and unwelcome presence, a final drop hit the cold stone floor, purging the room of silence one last time. The flames could not help but to stir themselves ever so slightly to the brief tune. However, such a transgression did not go unnoticed, and the flames withered in anguish under the man's piercing aura before vanishing entirely without a sound. He shifted his crimson eyes towards the source of the waterdrop like sound, and found in turn a pool that reflected the stone chapel in a crimson hue. Only then did the man breath in an artificial breath, and through that breath the scent of iron was forced to make its presence known.

Faded crimson eyes slowly moved up from the pool, traveling up, up, up before arriving finally at the true source. Suspended in the air was a woman who, illuminated by moonlight, seemed ethereal. With bloodless skin matched by a pale white dress. In perfect juxtaposition flowed onyx hair in every direction creating a balance between the shades of black and white. Yet such a delicate balance was marred. For as the mans gaze travelled up her dangling arm, a trail of crimson widened until eventually reaching her chest. His pale scarlet eyes rested there in defeat, as lodged deep within was an ornate knife.

The man beckoned the pooled blood forward, and the crimson iron heeded his call, forming steps such that he could walk up to her side. Each footstep heavy despite producing no sound. He reached the top and stared deeply into her otherworldly lilac eyes, seemingly lost in a distant memory. Eventually his eyes refocused, and only then did he acknowledge the all too familiar opaqueness of eyes that no longer belonged to the living.

With a hand that refused to shake, he gently cupped her cold cheek one final time before moving up and closing her eyes. He could tell through her gaze that was defiant even in death that, if nothing else, she took her own life before they reached her. That was, however, a hollow comfort. An unparalleled rage smoldered within the man, embers lit that had long since gone out. Unbenounced to him, a scarlet firestorm raged within the sky of London as if Hell had arrived on Earth. He breathed in once, and much like the man's rage, the flames in the skies died down. Replaced instead by a great down pour of chilling rain.

With his other hand, he gently gripped the hilt of the blade, and with a quick tug pulled the knife cleanly out. He couldn't bear to see her body marred, and with a final glance the pierced flesh began to intertwine, sealing up entirely. He turned around then, and, forming steps below him, intended to leave. Yet, as he reached the exit he looked into his open hand and beckoned forth a deep crimson flame that grew darker and darker before finally halting at a near black.

Glancing up one last time, he let the fires flow onto the stone floor, watching as they spilled outward, transforming the ground into an abyssal inferno. They crashed against and clawed there way up the eight fine stone pillars, up the vaulted ceiling, and met finally at a central point: above her body. From there the blaze began a slow descent, forming into a single large stalactite like fixture made of pure raging flame whose point rested ever so slightly above her body. And then, a single drop of fire so dense it shifted from the deep mahogany red to a blindingly radiant white coalesced at the tip of this pseudo stalactite. The deep mahogany inferno vanished in an instant, and the pure white drop of fire fell down, down, down and onto the body of a fierce and unequaled woman who's flame had been forced to extinguish far too soon.