“Wake up, Seth.”
There is a crash.
A sort of thumping noise like hard boots on solid wooden floors. Coming closer. Or further. At this distance it’s hard to tell. But what distance? All at once it sounds like the thumping is right by me but I can’t tell.
And where am I? All around me there is darkness. Nothing but darkness. Something inside me tells me this is normal. That this is what my world is. I realize from that seemingly deep gut area that the world is this darkness. But it is normal to me, for I cannot see. I struggle and strain to open my eyes but it’s no good, it feels as though I am putting forth a tremendous effort to do such a remedial task and yet, I am falling just short. If only I could find the energy to open my eyes, but I cannot.
I am weak. So weak. And much like my attempts at sight my attempts at remembering anything about me, or why I’m here, or why I’m weak, is tragically just out of reach.
All at once I hear the thumping again. This time it’s clearer, more rhythmic than before and it’s very close but I still can’t work out what it is. I try to reach out but find that too is an effort that is beyond my capabilities. I lay here, for I assume I am in a prone position but cannot tell, knowing yet nothing of my condition or who indeed I am.
I cannot feel, I cannot see, I cannot hear. All I can do, it seems, is think and as far as I can recall it seems that is something which has only recently happened. As if I was in a great slumber.
I was dead.
Or still am.
Something doesn’t fit but the thumping noise is getting louder and louder like it is almost upon me.
Then suddenly it stops and there is a great sense of pain and anguish for a moment coming from somewhere above me it feels like, but that too is short lived, then comes a feeling so familiar. Something good yet horrid. Something… I can… taste.
There is a moistness on my lips, a warm rich wetness that seems to set my soul ablaze for a moment at it’s all too distant memory. Slowly it awakens my other docile senses and I begin to hear. Voices.
It’s as though I haven’t heard anyone speak in centuries.
As my memory returns I realize it has been. The taste on my lips is blood. Sweet blood, the giver of life and almost as if my sense had to realize all this to awaken, I can see again. At first everything is a blur but I quickly begin to see shapes form into figures.
I try to look at my hands but what I see are two skeletal remains of hands.
I have been dead for centuries.
More blood comes flowing from whatever source and I can begin to see what’s around me. Two people stand over me, watching. One is holding a fresh dead body and has a knife in it’s throat. Evidently this is the source of the blood as I begin to see and feel the world around me more clearly I realize these two are like me: Vampires. We feast on blood and live forever.
But who am I? Evidently I was dead. Slain and left in this… cave. But these two have managed to perform some sort of ritual to bring me back, albeit merely to this semi-skeletal state. Why?
As I ask memories come inching back into the back of my mind.
Memories of times spent ruling lands. Living in a sizable castle. Many vampires even answering to my call. I was a prince.
Even more so.
Somehow I know that when I was at full strength and alive (as alive as vampires are) that I was the prince.
I was the Vampire.
All answered to me and that is why these two have gone to such efforts, centuries after my death, to restore me.
The knowledge brings power and I finally find the strength to stand, shakily, on my worn legs. Looking down at my body and arms is disgusting but I can see even in this short time, pieces of flesh beginning to form between my empty ribs and tiny pieces of muscle beginning to make their way across my arm.
I feel my strength restoring and I take the lifeless body from my savior and drink the rest of the blood.
It feels like the strength of a thousand men is beginning to burn back inside me.
I am restored.
‘Welcome back, Sire Seth.”. my savior says, as he and his companion take one knee in prayer.