An excerpt from ‘Magical folk law, McM approved.’ Rewritten in 1944 by Aura Aaron Biancuore, first Day vampyr to receive Aura recognition in connection with the secret services, being a friend to the Air Realm and defender of non-magical. Brother to Jarders national treasure; Long standing Army Commander and Head of Charms at McM*, Eirick Biancuore.
* McM is an abbreviation for The Magical Creatures conservatoire of Magnificence.
*For reference, black magic is illegal in all realms, is obtained by murder and gives the user instant power, not needing the sufficient knowledge to understand the magic at hand. White magic is and will forever be the ever-growing wisdom of our realm and is encouraged amongst all creatures and generations. Its communication with non-magical folk is acceptable within the realm, in as much as all laws and regulations regarding dueling are intact.
The Curse of a Dead Angel
In the ancient tales, the ones passed down for generations, supposedly from the mouths of the Others themselves, many of our questions about the anomalies of our realm are answered. The Others, being our makers, created the realms to give us choice; what do we want? Who do we want to become? Yes, there are governing factors put into place but the overall idea of life, no matter what species you are, is to become your very best!
One of the most common misconceptions is that Vampyrs were created by the Others. This cannot be. The Others focus was ‘choice’, they could not, and quite frankly would not create a species damned to the use of black magic*. The Others made all creatures unequal purposefully, in an effort to test each on an individual level, but did give all magical species equalling the option to choose for themselves black or white magic. The only species exempt to this would be angels, as they have already lived a life on this planet and in death are rewarded/ punished with angelic service!
Vampyrs are a cold and wicked species by nature; they have been from their very birth!
It all starts with a wizard named Albin Didier Balazs. A boy from a humble background determined to be a better wizard than those before him. To move on to bigger and better things. He was a talented wizard, not because nature had blessed him with a strong mind, but a determined heart: he would never give up. The air realm, realm of the Angels, watched this young man grow and assigned him a guardian. An angel who would be his teacher and friend, someone to protect him from the darkness that might gain his affections.
Years went by as Albin practiced for hours and hours. He would allow his body deprivation and pain in order to master spells and charms. He was an extremist; his life was worth nothing unless he was better. Unless he was the best! His mind began to unravel. His best and the best became insignificant and pride took over his mind. His determination became obsession. His strong heart became cold and demanding. His humble background took his desire and gave him entitlement. Everyone could see he was heading for disaster, but no one could have predicted how…
“NERO!!!!” Albin screams his face purple, his fists clenched. He turns and kicks the crumbling wattle and daub wall. He kicks and kicks and kicks, his body shaking in fury. “WHY WON’T YOU WORK!!!!” He pulls at his hair grinding his teeth.
After a second he begins to breathe more deeply. He holds his hands out in front of him and closes his eyes. Pushing out all the air from his lungs he circles his wrists and then with a flat palm pushes forwards saying “Aevus!” There is a pink aura that rippled out from his hands but when it hit the tree it does nothing.
“NOOOOOOOOO!” He screams going over to the tree to attack it, as though the fault was its’.
Appearing in the subtle snippets of light formed in Angel transportation, known as shimmering, Nero stands behind and watches. His expression fills with sorrow. Albin scratches at the trunk and kicks at the roots, his hands bleeding, his feet numb.
“Stop.” Holding a hand up Nero whispers. Instantly Albin’s body ceases to move. Nero walks over to him, Albin’s face crumpled, no longer in hysteria but instead anger towards Nero for using magic on him. “Sometimes I must protect you from yourself.” His voice is low and soft. He places his hands over Albins’ and the same small snippets of light cover them, healing the blood and regrowing the broken nails. He bends down and places his hands over one of his feet, a distinct click signaling his ankle was either dislocated or broken. He stands up and lets go of his immobilizing charm so Albin can move.
Albin pins him straight to the tree behind him screaming and crying, he goes to punch but Nero disappears and appears behind him.
“What is wrong with me! What is wrong with me! Why can’t I get this Damn spell, it’s just a spell… it’s just a spell!” He screams at first looking to Nero but then his eyes begin to blink too much and he looks to the floor.
“Albin calm down….” Nero says gently, not fazed by his rage. “You are barely a man, yet you are a level 3 wizard. It takes on average 5 years to achieve that not 3. You are above average, you are doing amazingly well! But this is a level 7 spell… Let’s try some…”
“No, no no!” he shakes his head in an animalistic way. “No, I must do this, I must! I have to. I have to be able to do this!” He screams, pain and sadness mixed into pure insanity covering his face.
Nero nods. “Try again, I will watch.”
“No, you do it… let me watch!”
Regrettably, Nero nods and with elegance performs the same spell. As the magenta aura hits the tree all the green instantly turns brown, then black. The bark crumbles turning to dust before it hits the floor, the trunk welting and the branches falling… the tree is dead, aged far beyond its earthly life.
Staring at the now black tree Albin looks aimlessly. A tear slowly falls down his cheek… His chest deflates and his shoulders roll forward as a single tear turns into many. He falls to his knees into a ball and rocks himself crying hysterically. Nero crouches over and puts an arm around him.
“Oh, Albin… all is well! Truly it is!”
“Magic is so effortless for you…”
“Because I am an angel Albin!” Nero gently smiles. “I paid my time on this planet, I was human, powerless against magical folk… and now, as an angel, I can defy them… it’s how The Others balance inequality. Do not compare yourself to me, it will do you no good.”
Mumbling, barely understandable, Albin cries. “I want so much to be better… I try so hard… but I have nothing to show for it! NOTHING!” He takes in a few deep breaths. “I want to be like you, I want untold power, I don’t want to have to try so hard anymore…”
When he looks up there is darkness in his eyes that alarms Nero.
“Okay, we’ll talk about this in the morning, you need to rest!” He places a hand on Albin’s head and instantly his eyes close and he falls to the ground. Picking him up he takes him into the house and puts him into bed.
Sitting down next to him he sighs. Such amazing potential but his intentions have become craziness, it’s pride consuming… Comparing himself to Angels! There is clear need to worry about his understanding of magic. What is he thinking, killing himself in hopes of angelic service?
As the night grows darker Nero falls asleep, slouching in his chair still too afraid to leave his charge his head resting on his shoulder. The night grows colder and the small fire in the corner goes out. The deeper Nero sleeps the weaker his sleeping charm effects Albin and eventually, he awakes. Jumping from his bed he scans his surroundings, seeing the sleeping Angel he goes back outside to practice his spell.
His shoulders shake as his failed attempts increase his jealous rage. He stares at the dead tree Nero succeeded to kill. He shakes his head pounding the ground. Attempt after attempt, the more he fails the more frenzied his mind becomes.
“It’s not fair, it’s not…. How is he so powerful… how is he so BLOODY powerful?” He spits through his teeth. As he thinks he pictures that stereotypical shimmering that surrounds angels…
“The little pieces of light… that that THAT’S MAGIC!!!”
Jumping to his feet he marches inside, the sun on the horizon threatening to start the day. He walks as quietly as he can over to Nero, still sound asleep. Leaning over him he stares and sees it, there in his wrist as his blood pumps through his body there is a gentle glow. Tiny pieces of light circulate his body through his blood. As Albin leans in closer he traces it up his arms and sees it in his neck. In a maddened state, he begins to hear what he thinks is the static of the magic. He can’t help but get so excited. His mind is racing… I can hear it, I can hear it!!! Pure magic… ha ha ha ha…. But how to do I get it…. I want it… I want it! But how?
Sneaking back outside he goes into the shed and finds a saw. Looking at it, he nods, a huge grin on his face as he beings to cut away at his teeth, pulling some out and chiseling away to make the rest sharp and mangled. He laughs uncontrollably. I am going to be the best! I am actually going to be the very best! No one will see it coming, poor Albin… the boy with nothing will finally have everything!!!!
Spitting out a mouthful of blood and throwing a few teeth to the ground Albin marches back inside the house. Nero is gone. He shakes his head ferociously. NO!
“Albin… what have you done?” Nero says the other side of the room staring at his bloody face in horror.
Trying his best to look shocked he shakes his head. “I don’t know what came over me… Something is wrong Nero, something is wrong…” He cries. Stupid, compassionate angel… that is your weakness. Rushing over to him Nero goes to put a hand over his mouth to heal his broken face but instead, Albin sinks his hacked-up teeth into Nero’s wrist gulping away at the static magic he somehow hears buzzing around Nero’s body.
“ALBIN…” Nero shouts… “What are you doing? Stop it! What are you doing?” He pushes him away and tries to shimmer, but angelic prohibits angelic transportation to all non-angelic beings, and with Albin’s clasp on his arm he doesn’t get very far. Pulling him closer his jaw relinquishes Nero’s wrist only for him to pounce pinning him to the floor to bite into his neck. After a moment of energetic refusal, Nero slows down, losing strength, eventually his lifeless body glows white and dissolves into a light white dust.
“No, no come back I wasn’t finished!” Albin yells sitting in a pile of dust and blood. Standing up and running out side he shakes and yells in frustration as the light breeze gets colder and colder and harder and harder. His shaking becomes more uncontrollable as the goosebumps covering his entire body disappear.
The wind persists against his skin but the burning frosty sensation ceases. He pinches his freezing skin and feels no pain. He can’t help but smile as he pinches tighter and tighter, but still nothing, he feels nothing. Excited by curiosity he grabs the knife outside the shed and stabs it through his wrist. Laughing hysterically, he pulls it back out… No pain! I’m invincible! I’m invincible!
His red blood begins to roll down his arm and in a frenzied intoxication of power he licks it up, but within seconds it doesn’t taste like blood. Looking to his arm he sees his blood is no longer red, but darker… sort of purple. The newer blood oozing from the wound is black. Touching it he feels no warmth. Rubbing it between his fingers he sees there is no trace of red, it is completely black! Beginning to panic he rips his clothing and ties it tightly around the wound still gushing abnormally black blood. Could he be dying? What is wrong with him? Running into the town he screams for help… something is wrong! As he runs he feels nothing. There’s no cold pressure in his lungs. No burn in his calves or quads. So he runs faster… still nothing…so he runs faster and faster and the trees and mud huts around him pass him by like flies. Coming to a sudden halt he feels the most agonizing pain sear through his stomach as a divine smell fills his lungs and instant ice threads through his muscles… Like an acid is eating away at his insides with his stomach contracting a hundred times the normal rates… The unbearable pain takes priority!
Smelling the delightsome odor that is warm and mellow he abandons the need to get help and goes after the smell; feeling that for some reason his body needs whatever that is! His mouth begins to water as the smell gets more and more potent. Closing his eyes, he lets his nose guide him. Running at speeds he never thought possible he gets closer and closer, finally digging his nails into the meat he can smell he bites. He doesn’t find the urge to keep biting, only to suck, it’s the sticky liquid that is oh so warm and silky, it neutralizes the metaphorical acid eating away inside him. Gulp after gulp this liquid, which tastes tangy and sharp, metallic almost, becomes sweet and aromatic. Opening his eyes, the young girl’s lifeless body leans on him. In awe of what he’s done he lets the body drops.
Shaking his head unsure of his own actions he wipes the blood off his mouth. Turning to run he sees dozens of men with guns, they command and shoot. Turning, as though his arms may act as shields he embraces for pain but feels nothing of the sort. Looking to the ground he sees bullets distorted all around him. Facing the men, he feels a pita patter on his chest and begins to laugh… I am invincible! Ha ha ha. The bullets feel no stronger than raindrops.
And there was the first vampyr created… he killed all the guards and set to work his way through the town. With more blood, he became faster and stronger…Where each body rotted, a tree grew. Tall and dark hiding the sun and anything else that wished not to be seen, a thick red sap oozing down the wood to seep into the ground and nourish its roots. There bloomed the Forrest in southern Ralatusia known as Vampyr cove.
Over time his skin became white, his hair became black, as did his lips which took life so effortlessly. His pupils and nails darkened, as did his morals! All the children conceived through vile atrocities and obsessive lovers were born with the same feature. If enough blood was left over in a level 3 or above creature, the venom would bond to them and they would wake part of that damned species.
Much research has been conducted, ethically, to aid our understanding of this medieval creature. They are dangerous and caution must be taken in their presence. But as I myself fit into this category, it is time for us to alleviate the general stereotype and understand that is it possible for the species to live in harmony with others. I see many changes ahead, much is to be done to find a way we can bring peace to this species as a general. I am glad we have started and I do believe the future looks bright.