It's quiet. You can just relax and be alone, without any noise. But silence has another side.
It's easy to get lost in it, like in the dark. Time starts to flow like water, and your thoughts
take you to diƯerent places where you remember old things.
In this context, there is a phenomenological synergy between the dreaming and waking
phases, resulting in the diƯusion of clear boundaries between these states of
consciousness. At the moment when auditory stimuli suddenly penetrate this ephemeral
silence, shattering the illusory construct of peacefulness, there is an activation of cognitive
mechanisms that allow me to explicitly perceive every microscopic particle of truth.
Suddenly, something sharp stabbed into my chest, and the whole world became somehow
especially important. The blood, hot and real, flowed like some ancient magic elixir, and I
was awakened to a power filled with the secrets of the past.
This blood, not only staining my skin, but seeping inside me, carried the memory of ancient
rites. Thick, warm drops ran down my lips, filling my mouth with a metallic, faintly sweet
taste. The smell, rich with dampness and iron, wafted over me like a blessing from the
forgotten gods I'd longed for.
With each drop that flowed through my veins, the power surged through my body like a red-
hot fire, awakening sensations long forgotten. My muscles grew heavy, and my hearing
sharpened to the point where I could hear the hearts of those around me beating
frantically, unwittingly witnessing my ritual. The world around me was changing, taking on
new hues and rigidity, as if light and darkness were intertwined in a mysterious dance of
fate.
The crypt where the somber ritual took place was cramped and low. The rough-hewn stone,
cracked and moldy, held the spirit of ancient vows. Age-old dust protruded from the cracks,
and the damp floor was a reminder of forgotten sacrifices. In the far corner hid the remains
of bygone eras. The massive stone lid of the sarcophagus, braided with cobwebs, let in only
a meager ray of light. Every sound - a rustle or a sigh - echoed oƯ the walls, as if the ancient
temple were repeating the words of a forgotten hymn.
I was trying to catch the glow of these sensations when suddenly a name associated with
the dark ritual came to mind. The name of the one who had died above me, whose blood
had become my curse and my blessing. His name was Viren.
The name, like an ancient requiem, sounded in unison with the eternal forces that pulsed
through my veins. Whether it was a coincidence or a sign of rebirth, the answer was hidden
in the sound of the name itself.
From the depths of the crypt came words shrouded in the awe of ancient rites:
"O child of the ancient powers, will the elders condemn our deeds?"
- whispered the third, his voice trembling like bells in the hills of oblivion.
In response, with defiance, echoed the old wisdom:
"Who dares to defy fate and point to us? Perhaps he has fallen, unable to bear the disgrace
of his mortal life, and has remained in the shadow of imperfect ranks!"
The first, with the inherent courage and gaiety of ancient warriors, added:
"We found him following the precepts of his ancestors, for his soul resonated in the melody
of the lost brotherhood!"
Their laughter, like echoes of ancient festivities, echoed through the stone walls of the
crypt, breaking the essence of silence as if mocking immortal rituals.
The first spoke again, his voice resonating like the testament of an ancient book:
"How blessed is the thread of fate - I have triumphed with the sword destined by the stars
of our eternal journey."
- "What is this sarcophagus?" - The third asked cautiously, his eyes full of awe at the
unknowable, trying to grasp the essence of what was happening.
- Perhaps something sacred lurks in it, a treasure of ancient rituals. Viren has fallen, and
now fate is intertwined with his blood, granting us powers that transcend mundane
understanding," the first exclaimed excitedly.
- "You, forever tempted by the lust for gain, are balancing wealth and vanity, but time is of
the essence! Quickly, let us complete this ancient work!"
- The voice of the second one rumbled, causing the darkness to recede.
At that moment the stone lid of the sarcophagus, as if awakened by an ancient spell,
creaked, and the first light, shining like a blessing of heaven, cut through the thick gloom.
I squeezed my eyes shut as the sharp, cold light burst into the darkness like a knife
stabbing into my eyes. Even the dull beam seemed blindingly bright after the long
darkness: scarlet and gold circles shimmered before me, and the smallest details began to
emerge in the blurred glow-the dust slowly swirling in the air, the dark silhouettes of
looming figures, and the gleam of a bloody blade like a symbol of an ancient vow in the
hand of one of them. The world of light and shadows revealed to me not only a void, but a
harsh reality, where every glimmer reminded me of forgotten rituals.
At that moment, it was as if time had slowed down. All sounds and movements turned into
indistinct echoes, like the voices of lost souls whispering ancient secrets. I felt not only fear
rising in my chest, but also a premonition of greatness so ancient that the very source of
the universe seemed to awaken in me. The questions I had been afraid to ask myself
flashed: "Who am I? A victim of perishable desires or a creator of destiny, an echo of
eternity?" Like an ancient hymn, they penetrated through the pain, preparing me for the
turning point of change.
I had no sooner grasped every facet of this state than he turned back to his companions.
But it was too late: I had already seen his image, and I had no intention of delaying any
longer.
My hand, driven by primal strength, went to his neck, tearing through skin and muscle.
Blood gushed out in thick, almost black streams, emitting a pungent, rich metallic odor,
leaving sticky trails on my fingers. For a moment I marveled at how easily my body
submitted to this new, ancient power-like a long-awaited ritual that merged past and
future.
In that instant, a new wave of power surged through me: my muscles felt heavy, my
movements quick and precise, as if the will of my ancestors had revitalized every cell of my
being. The sensation was frighteningly pleasurable, and there was a flicker of anxiety at the
edge of my consciousness: was I losing myself in the flow of this power?
He looked straight at me-eyes widened with horror, mouth twitching in a silent scream, skin
pale as wax, leaving his features disfigured by fear. The other two froze: one recoiled, the
other struggling to reach for his weapon, only to flinch, his face contorted with panicked
horror.
The heartbeat of each soul was becoming known to me, and I realized that the third in their
small company was the weakest - so useless that I didn't feel sorry for them. Everything
happened with a deafening ease, as if I had always been a part of this ancient rite.
The two tried to attack me, but the drops of blood on my fingers suddenly turned into sharp,
dark needles, like symbols of the ancient powers awakened in me. I swung my arm, and the
needles pierced the third man's chest, nailing him to the stone wall. The second was
thrown back, and he wheezed, meeting my gaze with a primal, predatory calm.
- "Stay away, cursed undead!" - his voice echoed oƯ the stone walls like an ancient curse
dictated by fate. His face contorted with horror, his eyes glittering with desperate fear, he
seemed the victim of an ancient ritual where every word was weighed on the scales of fate.
I asked again, almost forgetting my name in the whirlwind of events:
- "Undead? How funny..."
And, as if listening to the laughter of ages gone by, he replied, - "Words lose their meaning
when eternal existence is destined."
As he tried to grab the weapon, he couldn't stop my impulse; I broke his arm, and soon
screams of pain filled the crypt, echoing as if the very essence of the place was crying out
for retribution.
***
My name is Viren.
This name sounds like a whisper of wind through the ages, like the call of ancient forces
awakening a new essence in me. It is not just a word - it is a prophecy, a symbol of my
rebirth and the verdict of a destiny that is just beginning.
Viren - I am not just a name, I am a branding, a conclusion to infinity, a pledge to fight
against perishable matter and a promise of change that can change this world.
Let the past forever remain in the shadows, and I will rise, erect and invincible, to rewrite
destiny like the echo of an ancient mantra resounding in the heart of the ages.
***
Half an hour later, after I had learned all that had piqued my curiosity, I came out into the
open, as if awakened from long oblivion. It was not the musty air of the catacombs that fell
upon my lungs, but the freshness of a world that seemed to be learning to breathe again.
But my exit was from a subterranean lair, a pitiful hovel that had once sheltered a grand
house.
But as soon as I looked at this house, my heart could hardly keep its pulse, for I recognized
it almost immediately; yes, it was my house, now only a reflection of lost greatness, a
shadow of former greatness and ancient honor.
The walls, once decorated with fine moldings and noble family crests, were now riddled
with cracks and peeling paint that showed centuries of neglect. The corners of the room
were littered with fragments of ancient statuettes and broken frames of portraits of
ancestors whose faces now seemed distorted by time, like ancient manuscripts that had
lost their legibility over the centuries.
Modern technology, like an invasion of alien gods, had penetrated even this sacred abode
of the past: the wreckage of a broken holographic projector lay on the floor, and the dim
lights of touch panels, long abandoned by the force of time, tried to evoke echoes of lost
glory. Dust, like an ancient pelerine, covered the ancient books neighboring the latest
electronic devices, creating a symbol of the clash of eras.
A cold wind blew through the broken windows, bringing with it the scent of dampness and
desolation, like the call of a forgotten soul. There was a light bouquet in the air: burnt
plastic intermingled with the smoke of old wood, and that strange but surprisingly familiar
scent awakened in me echoes of a long-forgotten ritual.
Every step I took echoed through the empty corridors, where laughter and joy once
resounded, but now darkness and oblivion reigned. Time itself seemed to have left its
inexorable traces here, and I could feel them at every corner, like the quiet whispers of
ghosts of the past, telling of past greatness and inevitable end.
It was painful to think that five hundred years had passed since I had been forced into a
long sleep, for so much of the world had changed, and I had yet to grasp this new order of
being. There were only echoes of the former splendor of the house, but there still dwelt one
who, like me, was called Viren. Finding new clothes to replace the rags I'd worn was no
problem, even if the old ones made my new form a little stiƯ, little things that couldn't
obscure the change.
My new self was keenly aware of the smallest details: the smell of fresh air mixed with the
heavy scent of old stone and dampness seemed both alien and inviting at the same time.
Every sound, every rustle became part of the ritual of awakening, where even the distant
buzzing of insects and the creaking of wooden beams under the ceiling became the music
of eternity.
And just as I was about to explore the remaining gifts of the past, the echo of modern
civilization came from outside. Ah yes, the hum of a car engine, a symbol of a new age in
which even ancient blood is learning to live in unison with technology. Although knowledge
of this world was already part of my experience, the associative chains still needed to be
built for the surprise to be replaced by acceptance of the new reality.
As I approached the window, I saw the flashing lights of a patrol car. I could not ignore the
law in my present form, for even half-dead entities are destined to abide by the ancient
norms of order.
A moment before the oƯicer knocked on the door, I opened it, and a beautiful woman with
shining blond hair stood before me. I caught a moment of awe in her eyes as her heart, like
an ancient liturgical bell, faltered for a moment and then beat faster. The scent of her
perfume mingled with the clean wind, and something ancient and predatory awakened in
me, but I managed to tame it, as if calling on the power of my ancestors.
- "Viren Walmer?" - she said softly, but with an echo of ancient austerity, having gotten over
the initial hiccup.
- "He is," I replied, smiling warmly, and our gazes met as if eternity itself had blessed the
moment.
Funny, but it turns out that the one who fell under my sarcophagus had the same name as
me. Coincidence or a play of fate, so fond of irony? In these lines, an implicit rite is
performed, where names become prophecies.
- "You contacted our service, reporting that you were threatened by armed men," she
continued sternly, and there was an ancient insistence in her voice. I saw the first signs of
softening in her gaze, as if the ice of coldness were gradually melting under the touch of
fate's warmth. A delicate bond of interest and caution stretched between us, as if by
invisible threads.
- "I'm sorry, I thought I was being followed, but as you can see, I managed to get home
safely," I pronounced, assuring her I was unharmed.
- "Are you sure you're okay?" - she asked, with a slight stubbornness in her voice.
Not a soul was visible in her car, like a ghostly ship of modernity, and only one - this
mysterious oƯicer - had come. I heard her breathing quicken as she scrutinized me, and
felt her nerves tense like the strings of an ancient harpist. It seemed that the neighborhood
where my house stood had lost its appeal to the ancient world's law enforcement, and that
was probably for the best for my new destiny.
However, the answer to the call came with a delay, which told many people about who was
not smiling at fortune today. Apparently, I was approached by the figure who was not
destined to meet fortune today.
- "If you want to see for yourself, come inside," I gestured invitingly to the entrance, stepping
back from the threshold.
Suddenly, the blonde turned a step and entered the house, examining every corner as if
searching for signs of intrusion, which, of course, no one had left here. I, eager to escape
the pursuit of fate and my "friends," even forgot to close the door behind me, as if haste
were part of the ritual.
The house, once a temple of perfection, had lost its grandeur to such an extent that I could
not even call the charming lady inside. Her footsteps echoed through the empty halls, and
the echo seemed to me to be the calling voice of bygone ages, reminding me that I was not
alone in this world of change.
- "Nothing has been found... But you should look out for your own safety - after all, even the
gates aren't locked," she stated, looking at me sternly again.
- "I understand," I sighed heavily, showing the restraint that the long sleep had brought me.
After all, I wouldn't have been able to restrain my instincts before, and this lovely lady
would have gotten what she deserved for her harsh tone. - "So far, I have appeared to have
a certain diƯiculty with the coin. Although I am an aristocrat, a bearer of centuries-old
ancestral blood, even we sometimes need means to survive."
- "I hear you, Valmer," she replied softly, gazing enchantedly into my eyes, which seemed to
hypnotize her with their ancient wisdom. - "I won't issue a false summons, but next time
make sure the threat is real."
- "Of course, oƯicer," I smiled again, and a blush flashed across her lips before she
hurriedly left my house.
Only a moment later, her car disappeared into the distance, leaving behind an estate that,
though neglected, required a thorough renovation if I was to continue my new existence
here.
In such moments, I realized that my new self was not just a power, but a new way of feeling
and perceiving the world, where every sound, every smell, every movement became a part
of me, a part of my reborn life.
And downstairs was waiting for me a gracious guest whom fate had left no choice but to
experience my hospitality and enter this changed world with full dedication.
***
- Is that you, Viren?
- Oh, I'm awake," I said with undisguised joy, turning to my old companion. - Maren, you
pass out too often. Our conversation was just beginning.
I heard his heart start to beat faster, as if trying to escape his chest, and felt a wave of
shuddering fear sweep through his body. The basement had a thick, metallic odor of blood
mixed with the dampness of ancient dust that gave the place a heavy and ominous
atmosphere. The stone walls, mottled with mold stains and old water marks, gave oƯ an icy
chill that penetrated to the very bones. Every sound-a silent, clinging sigh, a shriek, even a
hesitant step-was echoed, as if the crypt itself refused to let a single word out.
I could feel the desperation clenching his throat, leaving an aftertaste of almost sweet
power. At such moments, I realized most acutely how hard it was to keep control of myself.
The new power that had awakened in me wanted to go on a rampage, to subdue everything
around me, but I was forcing myself to be calm-a constant inner training, a meditation
where the slightest mistake could lead to disaster.
He jerked at the chains in a vain attempt to break free, and suddenly his gaze wandered
timidly to his fallen comrades. From their blood I made these chains to bind the leader's
soul.
- You degenerate! Do you realize what you've done, Viren? Your deeds will not go
unpunished!
- You know, Maren," I replied with cold determination, "I understand, but you have deprived
the world of the last member of my bloodline. You and your minions were incredibly lucky-
this one was the last to seek refuge in the crypt where I came to my power. Can you imagine
the bad luck that has befallen you?
I watched carefully: every trembling of his fingers, every convulsive breath, betrayed a deep
fear, like the harbinger of a coming storm. There was an abyss between us: I felt like a
creature of another order, alien in the world of men, even though I was almost
indistinguishable from them in appearance. This alienation was my new norm-I no longer
belonged to their world or their fears.
- You're not Viren? - He asked dumbfounded, as if the shock had finally knocked him out of
his self-confidence.
There are times when shock knocks even the most recent events out of your memory.
- Viren," I smiled again, "and now you're going to tell me everything. There should be no
secret words between friends, right?
- Stay away from me! - he characterized in a voice full of despair, his cry echoing ominously
oƯ the stone walls, as if the house itself mocked his fear.
At that moment I realized that such scenes no longer evoked in me either pity or sympathy.
An inner force wiped out my previous emotions, leaving only cold interest and a burning
desire to learn more about the world that had betrayed me.
Half an hour later, I left the room where Maren had remained completely devastated. The
reckoning was clearer now: a full five hundred years had passed since I'd fallen into a long
slumber - or so it seemed, not that that suited me. In any case, the time was much longer
than I had expected.
Considering how my bloodline was systematically poisoned, my siblings did everything
they could to minimize my chances of waking up.
Bad luck, it happens.
The last member of my bloodline, who mockingly bore my own name and was so similar to
me that we could be mistaken for twins, had done exactly what I needed to awaken. My
father, though he died at the end, cracked me up badly, and I was even prepared for that
turn when I went up against him with the others. Truly, I could not have imagined that your
hands would dare to do such a thing to me.
However, they did not have the courage to finish me oƯ, so, dear relatives, get ready - my
return is inevitable, and for all the lost years I will ask you about your inheritance.
***