Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The darkness that takes hold as the water closes over me is not complete. Within it, I sense something ancient and powerful waiting—something that knows me, even if I do not know myself. This presence seems to consider me for a heartbeat before something yanks me down with tremendous force, deeper than I expected the pool to be.

I feel the jutted-out bone in my arm smash against stone as I am pulled to the bottom. Pain tears through my body like an enraged monster. I try to scream, but all I succeed in doing is allowing more water to fill my lungs. I struggle against the grip that holds me under, but whatever it is, it may as well be the hand of an angry god, for I cannot budge.

All the while, I thrash and desperately claw, attempting to reach the water's surface. The pain threatens to overwhelm me, but all I can think about is surviving. I need to live. I need to succeed. This determination drives me like a taskmaster might drive a slave. Yet I am not winning; I am not making any progress.

I am going to die. Not just that, I am going to die in agony. A terribly cold, clawed hand grips my heart and squeezes, sending me into an absolute frenzy. I cannot breathe; the water fills my lungs, and every attempt just sucks more of it into me. This pool will become my grave.

The crimson river in my Domain, which had surged toward the water with such eagerness, now churns violently as if trying to fight against the force holding me down. The strange thirst that had intensified moments ago transforms into panic and desperation.

"Embrace death, or life is not worth living."

The words inscribed above the pool flash through my mind with sudden clarity. I had already begun to embrace death by willingly submerging myself, but that was not enough. It is not about the action but the acceptance. I allow my thrashing to cease, my body relaxing like a wet dishcloth, every muscle releasing its tension. I surrender completely, accepting whatever fate awaits me in the depths of this ancient pool.

Thus, paradoxically, I do not die.

The water calms, the grip that held me down relaxes, and I suddenly find I can breathe as easily as if the water were not there at all. I try to stand up, and I find I can. My head comes out of the water, streams of it rushing down my face like mini rivers. The pain is still there, still angrily throbbing along. Yet I am alive, and gratefully so. I breathe in and out, and the cold grip that held my heart lets go, and the panic that pulsed through my mind fades into nothing.

I walk out of the pool. There are no more gargoyles blocking my way. Part of me wants to think about how that is possible, but I am simply relieved that nothing will block my path. I make my way to the portal and step through.

I am as ready as I can be for whatever comes next.

The following room is large with high ceilings that disappear into shadow. All along the walls, statues of various figures are tucked into alcoves. The figures, I notice, are of pale people dressed in either robes, platemail, or leather. They hold staffs, swords, and shields, or hold nothing at all. Their expressions are solemn, their eyes seeming to follow me as I move.

In the middle of the room, on a slightly raised dais, is a sarcophagus of blood red and bright gold. It is carved in the likeness of a warrior king. His features are strong and noble; his eyes are round and made of glittering rubies; his ears are ever so slightly pointed; and his hair is a flowing mane of reddish gold. The crown he wears is midnight black, with glittering red orbs inlaid around it. His hands rest on the ruby pommel of a greatsword.

The crimson river in my Domain surges forward again, as if drawn to the sarcophagus. The strange thirst that has plagued me since awakening in this dungeon returns, stronger than before.

As I study the sarcophagus, a low laugh echoes around the room. I see nothing, but a voice emanates from somewhere.

"So, after all this time, a traveler has come to my tomb. One with unawakened blood. Welcome, traveler, to my place of rest."

The voice is strong and noble, with a malicious kind of richness to it. I look around, trying to find the source. Another low laugh whispers through the air.

"You cannot yet see me, traveler. Tell me, do you know who you are? Do you know why the Judge gave you the quest to find this place?"

I shake my head, then realize the entity might not be able to see me either.

"Where are you? Who are you? What do you mean by unawakened blood?" I ask, my voice hoarse from exhaustion and pain.

Another low chuckle. When the voice next speaks, I jump because it sounds like it is right in my ear.

"I am here, traveler. Oh, never fear; I will not hurt you. In fact, I think we can help each other. First, open the sarcophagus."

I am not too keen on doing that. When strange voices coming from somewhere you cannot see ask you to open a sarcophagus, it is probably common sense to avoid them.

"I am going to have to pass, thanks. You did not tell me who you are."

The low laugh again. "Have you not put it together? I am Lazarus, young one. I assure you, I will not harm you. Here, let me put your mind at ease, shall we?"

Two notifications hit me then. One is the completion of my quest.

You have completed the quest: Find the Tomb of Lazarus! You have explored this tomb and passed its challenges, only to find the ancient spirit of Lazarus himself. Congratulations, Jackson! You have gained strength! You are now level 11!

I almost grin, and I would have if I were not in so much pain and exhaustion that it did not suffuse my entire body. The second notification reads:

Lazarus has offered you a non-aggression pact. Its duration is indefinite and will last so long as you do not take hostile action against Lazarus. Do you accept this pact?

I will an affirmative to the Judge. Lazarus speaks again, his voice warmer now.

"Excellent. Go on, then, traveler. Open the sarcophagus so that we may speak to one another."

I am still a little hesitant. The non-aggression pact does not mean he cannot harm me, merely that the Judge would probably punish the spirit severely if he tried. Still, he seems eager to speak to me further, and the gesture of the pact eases my mind. I walk to the sarcophagus and begin to push.

It is not easy; I can only use one hand, but I do it little by little. The sound of the ancient lid sliding open fills the air. I look into the sarcophagus and am greeted by a polished, blood-red skull. Within its eye sockets are orbs of glowing black and red light. When the voice speaks, the orbs of light seem to pulse in time with the words.

"Pick up my skull, traveler."

I do so, cradling it carefully in my good hand. The crimson river in my Domain surges toward the skull, as if recognizing something kindred. A notification echoes in my mind.

You have acquired the skull of Lazarus. This ancient skull has been turned into an artifact of knowledge about the world, and Vampyres in particular. Holding the skull allows you to see the ancient spirit of Lazarus. This item is soulbound and will return to you upon death.

I can indeed see him now. Lazarus leans against the sarcophagus, arms crossed. He is the very visage of the figure carved into the sarcophagus lid, though his eyes are an iridescent red, and his skin is even paler and seems to glow and swirl, like the moon on a dark, cloudy night. He grins at me, and my eyes widen.

He has fangs! Two elongated canines, perfect for piercing flesh. Lazarus chuckles, his laugh still low but not nearly as creepy as before.

"Ah, traveler, that is much better. I must thank you. Someone in possession of my skull always makes me feel a little bit more tangible." His red eyes twinkle with an ancient intelligence.

I sigh and sit down, exhaustion rolling through me like an unrelenting storm. Lazarus taps his chin, regarding me with what appears to be genuine concern.

"It seems you have been through much, young traveler. I can offer a way for you to help yourself if you so desire."

I look up at his red eyes, which regard me with surprising intensity. I gesture weakly with my good hand.

"How?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lazarus answers, and his voice takes on an almost seductive note.

"Why, becoming a vampyre, of course."

I blink, open my mouth, and then close it again. Finally, I shake my head and say with a wry chuckle, "An undead that sucks the blood of the living? You mean that kind of vampyre?" I raise an eyebrow, my mouth twitching.

Lazarus does not respond to my humor. His expression remains serious, even somewhat offended.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Except you would not be undead. Those would be vampires, not vampyres."

"Oh, I see. Yes, that is entirely different then," I reply dryly. I cannot help it; the idea just seems ridiculous, like something out of a horror novel. Yet even as I mock the concept, the crimson river in my Domain seems to still, as if listening intently.

Lazarus sighs and crosses his arms, his patience visibly wearing thin.

"I see this is going to take some explaining. I should say that you are already a vampyre; it is in your blood."

I look at him, confusion etching itself on my tired face. Lazarus rolls his eyes.

"Vampyres are a race like any other. We start human, our blood unawakened. Extreme trauma or an elder can awaken your blood and therefore awaken your true self." Lazarus explains with the kind of patience one might have when explaining something to a child.

The strange thirst that has followed me since awakening in the dungeon suddenly makes more sense. The way my Domain's crimson river responds to blood, the odd connection I feel to it—could this be what he means?

I rub my face, exhaustion pulsing through me in time with the pain.

"Why would I want to awaken my blood, then?" I do not bother wondering if he is lying. It would not serve anything to question him and just delay the explanation. Besides, on some level, his words resonate with something inside me.

Lazarus shrugs, his movements elegant and precise. "Why else, boy? Power. One cannot truly advance in Eden if you are not true to yourself. A wolf can act like a sheep, young man, but no matter how hard he tries to hide it, he will always be a wolf. To pretend otherwise does him a disservice."

I groan. I have no idea what Lazarus even means by that, and I tell him so. Lazarus looks amused, his red eyes glittering with mirth.

"I am sure you will put it together. Eventually."

I blow out a breath, frustration momentarily overriding my pain. "Are there any downsides to awakening my blood?" I question. In my mind, there have to be. After all, some chose not to, and there must be a reason for that.

Lazarus nods and elaborates further, his expression growing more serious.

"It comes with a very powerful thirst for blood and a need to drink it. If you do not, you go mad and die. Oh, and most, if not all, celestials in Eden will want to kill you if they find out." He says the last almost absently, as if discussing the weather.

"Oh, is that all?" I say, deadpan.

Lazarus shrugs, unbothered by my sarcasm. "Pretty much. I can awaken your blood, if you like. It will probably evolve your class if I do. It is worth it if you want my opinion."

He flashes me a wolfish grin, his fangs gleaming in the dim light. "You should know that I am usually right."

He sounds as if he truly believes it. I close my eyes, considering. On the one hand, if I do not awaken my blood, I would cripple my advancement, and that just seems unacceptable to me. Why even bother doing something if you are just knowingly going to do it wrong? I may as well not try at all if that is the case.

On the other hand, if I go through with this, I would have these new urges to deal with, and apparently celestials, beings with godlike power, would do their absolute best to kill me if they found out.

"Why would they kill me? The celestials, I mean," I ask, genuinely curious.

Lazarus looks at me with serious eyes, all traces of amusement gone.

"That is dangerous knowledge I am not going to give you yet. For your own good. Suffice to say that, given time, you would be a threat."

I chew that one over. If becoming a vampyre means I would eventually be a serious threat to the gods, then Lazarus is not lying when he says power is a reason for awakening my blood.

The crimson river in my Domain pulses with anticipation, as if it already knows my decision. My broken arm throbs, a constant reminder of my current vulnerability.

"You said it would help me? Becoming a vampyre?"

Lazarus shakes his head, his expression thoughtful. "I used the wrong words when I said it that way. What I should have said from the start was that you are already a vampyre. It is just a choice of whether or not you embrace that or abandon it. In answer to your question, it would help in the sense that you would gain the means to heal yourself."

I rub my jaw, trying my best to force my thoughts to work through the pain that keeps up its relentless throbbing through my body. I want so very badly to not be in pain right now. I am doing my absolute best to ignore it and push through it, but the thought of not hurting anymore is almost enough reason to say yes all on its own.

Yet I have to consider it from all angles. Making myself an enemy of Eden's celestials is a huge decision. Yet it is either that or to cripple my advancement and continue to suffer.

In the end, I cannot justify handicapping myself. If I cannot advance, then I will not get anywhere in this world; in fact, I would not likely survive it anyway.

I look at Lazarus and nod, my decision made.

"Okay then. Awaken my blood. I will embrace being a vampyre.”