Ritual

It was closer to sunrise than Cain felt completely comfortable with, but he had finally reached the temple, and he had no interest in waiting another day to resolve this matter. He'd been away from the castle for too long already, he was tired of playing human and hiding from the sun. It was time to find the runaway vampire and make sure the vampire's rebellion ended the way it had always been going to - with death. 

(There were scholarly arguments as to whether an undead creature's de-animation counted as a death, or if it was merely a settling of the death energy that had been twisted by the vampire's curse, but Cain was not an academic, and so he gladly settled for the common phrasing of dead when it came to these sorts of enforcements.)

The temple was a huge, sprawling complex bounded by low walls with ornate gates built into them. Inside the complex would be several buildings, including smaller altars dedicated to each of the other members of the pantheon - after all, it was never wise to ignore the presence of the gods, even if the temple was dedicated to one in particular.

The temple of Brinn was also spectacular and pristine because it was often the place where weddings were held, where parties would meet to discuss contracts, and where people went to seek counsel regarding relationships with friends, family, and lovers. 

It was beautiful in the moonlight, which was only to be expected, as Brinn was also the goddess of the moon. White walls and smooth gray stone gleamed under the soft light of the moonbeams. The ground was paved with light gray stone, and even the air that Cain breathed (though he knew he needed no air) felt more ephemeral and yet weighty. It was a spectacular sight to behold, but Cain spared no time to drink in the beauty of the temple. 

In truth, he didn't even bother to pay his respects at the gate, for he knew that like all the other gods, Brinn had no interest in the likes of vampires such as Cain. Instead, he headed straight for the central complex, ignoring the odd prickling sensation building on his skin. He knew that holy places were dangerous for vampires, and everything in the complex would be some level of consecrated. Of course he would feel uncomfortable.

The only reason he was able to enter at all was because of the general premise that temples were open to everyone - otherwise, he would need to wait for an invitation, and wouldn't that be messy! He certainly didn't expect a priest or priestess of Brinn to be actively extending welcome to vampires. Particularly unrepentant vampires such as himself.

The tricky part would be getting into the inner sanctuary area, as this was usually off-limits to typical penitents. That meant that generally, Cain would also not be welcome there. But there was a loophole that he'd discovered several years back. Typically, if one vampire was welcomed into the space, there was a certain level of expectation that another vampire would also be welcome in the space. So if the runaway vampire was inside, then Cain would probably be able to enter, too.

If not, he'd know as soon as his foot crossed the threshold. 

Cautiously, Cain jogged across the open compound, pausing briefly at the top of the stairs of the main temple. Just beyond the offering coffers were the doors to the inner sanctuary - they were sitting open, which also felt a bit like an invitation. He couldn't see anyone in there, but he could hear soft chanting. Generally, nighttime rituals to Brinn happened on the night of the full moon, so there was a good chance that whatever was taking place in there was not a normal ritual.

Gritting his teeth, Cain stepped over the raised lip of the doorway, and paused. No flash of searing heat, no agony. Good. So there was probably already a vampire inside. One who had been specifically invited in. So he probably wouldn't be forced to face the Fae, after all.

Cain stepped into the room and glanced around. In the center of the room, there was a shaft of light pouring in through a round opening in the roof. It looked as though there was a partition in the roof that was normally closed, but had been opened for the ritual being performed. In the center of the circle of moonlight knelt the vampire that Cain had been seeking all this time. 

Surrounding the vampire, one standing at each point of the cardinal directions, were priests and priestesses of Brinn. The North and South positions were taken by priests, while East and West were held by priestesses. They were chanting solemnly, and hadn't seemed to notice Cain yet. 

Cain, for his part, was fine with observing the ritual. It was not a fun thing to witness, but it made the runaway vampire easier to subdue, so he would endure. Hopefully no stray beams of divinity would burn him up in the process, but that was a risk he took anytime he broke into a temple. 

The chanting swelled, and Cain watched with some interest as it seemed like the moonlight, too, swelled. It grew brighter, almost incandescent. Then, the vampire kneeling on the ground began to scream.

Ah, there it was. The burning. Cain forced himself to keep watching. Now that he'd found his quarry, he couldn't take his eyes off him, no matter how badly he might wish to. The undead creature writhed under the purifying divinity of Brinn, falling from his knees to lie on the ground, curling in on himself. His screams were truly terrible to hear, and if Cain had eaten anything recently, he certainly would have felt the urge to vomit. 

Smoke began escaping from the vampire's nose, his mouth, even from his eyes and from under his fingernails. It looked horrible. He should have picked the eyes, Cain thought to himself. It would have hurt less. 

An uncomfortable pressure was building in the room, and Cain could feel it building in his own chest, too. The divinity of this place was calling to the parts of him that had been burned by the thrice-blessed blood. It felt like something was scratching against his insides, trying to claw its way out. He dropped to his own knees, clutching at his chest, remembering that the old witch had warned him that the thrice-blessed blood had a habit of returning even after it had been suppressed. He hadn't thought that something like this temple ritual could re-awaken thrice-blessed blood, but he was discovering that he knew even less about how divine powers worked than he'd originally suspected. 

He coughed, his lungs twisting even though he knew he didn't need to breathe. He couldn't decide whether to clutch at his chest or his throat. Another cough escaped, and with it, a wisp of smoke. The scratching sensation was turning to a burn, an angry heat building in his chest and throat. He could barely focus, his eyes watering as he kept them trained on the vampire in the center of the moon-circle. He was writhing now, clearly in agony far greater than Cain's own… for now. Cain did not know what awaited him as the ritual continued, but he feared it brought nothing good. 

Then, he heard the soft whisper of footsteps, moving along the smooth-worn wooden slats of the outer deck of the temple. He knew he needed to hide, but he couldn't seem to make his limbs work, and instead of running he instead pitched over onto his side, still clutching fruitlessly at his throat and chest, now searing with the pain of a divine blessing. His sightline with the other vampire was broken by a pair of legs stepping between him and the ritual. 

"Well, well," rumbled a low voice. "What have we here?" 

Cain fought to rise, and failed. His limbs were growing weak, the blessed blood resurging with a vengeance. He'd brought some blood with him, but it was just normal human blood. He didn't think it would make a difference against the assault of divinity being leveled against him now. 

"Another one of you?" the man said, and crouched down so he was nearer to Cain's face. A long, silver chain bearing the holy symbol of Brinn dangled before Cain mockingly. A sneer tugged at thin lips, and the priest tilted his head as he gazed down at Cain. "What brings you to this temple, blood-sucker?"

Cain couldn't answer, could barely breathe through the searing agony. 

"Have you come to shed your bonds, too?" asked the priest (for it was obvious from his dress and the topknot he wore that he was a priest of Brinn). "Why are you not in the circle?"

He wasn't asking from true confusion. He was asking because he knew that Cain had come here to slay the weakened vampire, and he was revelling in the mishap that had befallen Cain. He wanted to see Cain suffer. Most priests only performed these sorts of rituals because they wanted to hurt the vampire who came seeking help. Very rarely did these rituals gain the true blessing of Brinn, but even the inherent blessing of her servants and her moonlight was enough to immolate most vampires. 

"That's fine," the priest sneered, reaching down and grabbing a fistfull of Cain's hair. He began to drag Cain out of the ritual room, presumably aiming for the courtyard below. "We can have our own ritual outside."

Cain flailed, trying to grab the hand wrapped in his hair, but his strikes had grown ineffective and weak as the thrice-blessed blood once more ravaged his undead body. He tried to say something, to argue, or perhaps to beg, but nothing escaped his lips but an agonized scream. 

The priest dragged him back through the doorway, down the stairs, paying no heed to the way Cain's body hit every step on the way down. He dragged him into the center of the courtyard, where the moon stared down at the two of them with cold, divine judgement. 

"My Lady of the Moon," the priest called in a booming voice. "I call on you now. Look upon this pitiful creature," and here he kicked Cain in the chest, hard enough to roll him onto his back so that he, too, gazed up at the unforgiving face of the moon. "And sever the unholy bonds that bind him to this plane. Should you will it, great goddess, free him from his obligations to this world. Or," He paused to glance down at Cain, a glint of malice in his eyes. "Should he be found worthy," he added, "may you sustain him with your blessing." It was obvious from his tone that the man did not believe Brinn would find anything worthy in a vampire. 

Cain rather agreed with him. He knew how the gods felt about vampires. He felt the pressure inside him building, the anguish nearly overtaken by a consuming current, like being pulled underwater. All his energy, all of the blood he'd consumed to function normally in the wake of the thrice-blessed blood, it all felt like it was being swallowed by a gaping chasm in his chest. When he felt like there was nothing left to give to the hungry maw, he was surprised to feel something else there. Something warm, and delicate, and totally unlike the searing pain of divinity or the hunger of the blackness within. It did not war with his darkness, nor did it shy away from the bright purifying heat of the divine moonlight cascading over him. It was anchored, somewhere deep inside that hungry blackness, and though the emptiness sought to swallow it in a desperate attempt to save itself from the burning divinity of the moon, it held fast and did not waver. 

He didn't know what it was, but he felt it grow, become stronger. It was as though the pain he felt was slowly being soothed by the presence of the other that was buried in his chest. When he gasped his next breath, it came more easily. He couldn't understand why, and when he peeled his eyes open, his confusion was mirrored in the eyes of the priest standing over him. 

"I don't understand," the priest said slowly. 

Cain didn't, either. He didn't know what the priest was trying to understand, even. 

The priest began to step away from Cain, slowly at first, and then he broke into a run, shouting for someone to come and lend assistance.

Cain figured the man probably needed more divine power to burn him up completely, but he was too weak to run, and the gentle warmth lingering in his chest felt oddly comforting, so much so that he didn't even try to flee. Instead, he just lay on his back, his chest rising and falling. And though he had no need of the breaths he took, he enjoyed the sweetness of them anyway.