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The Night	By : mewsomniac Category: Kingdom Hearts > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1695 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: NO profit is being made off this work. Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy, and Disney belong to their rightful owners, and I do not claim ANY ownership over their properties. FULL DISCLAIMER BELOW.

Chapter List
- 6
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- 8
The Night
Chapter VI: 15 Step
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   The first thing Sora remembered after meeting Dracula were the voices, whispering like the wind but soft as the sounds of a lute. They comforted him, though his pain was still terrible. His vision swam, he blinked back and forth out of scenery. The detail in everything was agonizing, and yet giant pieces are still somehow fully missing from his memory. Every facet in every crack of the room, the dust hanging in the air, particles in the sunshine pouring in from the window… he saw fractals, spiraling forth from every plane of existence. Space and time, once faraway concepts, were suddenly apparent to him on a molecular level. It was mind-destroyingly complex yet bafflingly simple all the same. His eyes were black holes of information, devouring every speck of light. His body convulsed and he wasn't sure when he would start or stop screaming.
              Then he remembered Dracula looking down on him, and for some reason it comforted him when the man spoke.
    “Hush now, do not scream.” He would say, and Sora would stop screaming.
    “Sleep, lamb of mine.” He would whisper, and Sora would sleep.
    The voices would come and fill him with knowledge of what he’d become. They confirmed his worst fear: vampirism. He was now of the living dead and cursed to roam the planet indefinitely. He’d been taken by the creature that all of his fellow Transylvanians feared.
    “Please kill me,” He begged, “Please let me die!”
    “Isn't this what you wanted, Sora?”
             “Not this way. Let me die. Let me DIE!”
   But on went the pain, Dracula’s soothing, and the horror.
   Yet over time the torture subsided, and a sense of relief began to envelop him. The more he learned of his fate the more he’d come to accept it. First he rejected blood, but then found himself guiltily loving the taste. He was told his power is that of suggestion: bending a person’s will to his own benefit, which would make gathering information and taking blood easy. His perfect memory would serve him well in the recording of history, just as it had served his kind before him. To be this way was to be powerful, to live life eternal was a blessed gift. His childhood dreams had come to fruition, and damnation was actually salvation.
   Then, all at once, it was over: All it took was a blink and was standing at a beach, wearing his family heirloom, and holding a ticket. For a long time, almost a hundred years in fact, this was actually the first thing he remembered after being entombed: standing is if trapped in a fog, clutching a ticket in one hand while touching his crown necklace with the other, whispers of who he was buried in his mind.
   “Ser? Are ye okay?”
             He looked over to see an old man, clearly a deckhand, carrying a small box of freight.
   “You comen un board, lad?”
   He knew the answer was yes, though he wasn't certain why.
“Excuse me, friend. Where are we?” Sora inquired.
The man eyed him warily, “Hit yer head, boy? This be the port of Varna. Do ye ’ave a map, son?”
Without hesitation Sora reached into his coat pocket and unveiled a well-handled map; a route across Gaia was traced in bold ink across its surface. His eyes fixed on the edge of Varna, which was circled. His gaze absently followed the protruding line that cut downward through the Black Sea as if it were already memorized. From the smoke of his mind, a plan began to emerge.
“How many days of travel until Constantinople?”
Thus Sora’s journey began. His first objective was to travel down to Greece where he would study under great historians and hero-chroniclers of the time. There he learned the complexities of being a historian and various languages to aid him in his travels. A few years later, he sailed back toward the Middle East to explore the Arabian planes: visiting the capital trade city of Agrabah to sift through their records and meet their royalty. From there he zigzagged across Eurasia, toward the Land of Dragons, over to Nippon, and back again to Euro.
             He tracked a course over The Enchanted Dominion, which was said to be haunted by the spirit of Maleficent the Wicked. He met the descendants of Queen Aurora, whose lineage spread across the Engle Isles; though one branch of the family was presumably missing. Sora took a detour from his journey and sought after the Liddel family, said to have immigrated to Unterlund: a Germanic city connected to The Enchanted Dominion by the Looking Glass river. Once he found their whereabouts he was able to record the split and even found a distant heir to the throne: Alice. Sora was able to help reunite the family.
   From there he caught wind of King Mikaeus and Queen Mina: said to be vampiric royalty presiding in Paris’ Castle of Dreams, which once belonged to the great Queen Cinderella. He tracked down the King’s right hand and Captain of the Royal Guard (rumored to be a magician and werewolf, respectively). They were infamous through the surrounding town as raucous partiers and friends to the people. When Sora found them, they’d been thrown out of an inn during a drunken brawl and practically collapsed on top of him on their way out the door.
   Over the course of his adventure, Sora had gotten pretty good at his persuasion; he was able to convince most ship captains or crew members to let him board in exchange for work. On top of that, it was easy to take blood from them while they slept. He thought it would be an easy task in persuading these two to meet their king; after all, inebriated folk were the easiest victims to the power of suggestion.
   However, the shorter one took one look at him and, before Sora could even say a word, gargled out “George, this one’s trying to control our minds!”
   The tall, lanky man replied, “Gawrsh, Donald! Only His Majesty has that power!”
   Sora was taken aback. At the time, he thought he was the only one with this power. Still, he persisted: “Take me to King Mikeaus.”
   They both looked at him, unamused… then they began to laugh.
   “He thinks it’ll work on us!” Donald squawked.
   Sora was getting flustered, “I am fully capable of—”
   “We should take him to His Majesty, Donald,” George interjected, completely ignoring the fuming stranger, “He’s gonna want to hear of a vampire that also has mind control.”
   Sora was shocked. “Excuse me—”
“Indeed,” Donald said, also ignoring Sora, “Though I would’ve just buried him alive. The nerve of some fledglings these days. No respect!”
“Would you please—”
The short one turns to Sora, cutting him off again, “Well now, young man. We’ll take you to see His Majesty, but not because you asked. If you change your mind, we’ll take you by force. I warn you, my spells of binding are not so gentle when I’m drunk. George here would also be happy to carry you… with his teeth, after he’s gotten into his wolf skin.”
  So the rumors were true. Sora unhappily complied, though he was pleased his request was still being met to an extent. When he did meet King Mikaeus and Queen Mina they were incredibly friendly and positively elated to meet another vampire with similar powers, though at the time Sora couldn’t remember who his sire was. From them he learned that Sora’s power of persuasion, which they very frankly called “mind control”, is an elusive form of vampiric black magick that can only be activated in the blood and passed from one sire to the next. They presumed his sire had to be part of the Scholomance; the “Devil’s” college where only a few gifted individuals at a time go to learn an even darker version of black magick. The Scholomance had been closed for years, and it’s rare any magicians, warlocks, or witches that leave ever remain in contact, so it was uncertain if Sora’s sire could be tracked down.
             This blood-activated magick was discovered during the original Witch Wars, where the rising Cult of Christianity attempted to wipe out all creatures of the night (spellcasters especially). The patriarchal Christians would kidnap the matriarchal witches or their warlock subsidiaries to be burned at the stake or drowned. However, they discovered that instead of dying, some of the spellcasters had only become more powerful than ever before; many even discovering their own immortality this way. A war broke out that the Christians ultimately lost, and since then their global numbers have been sparse, alongside those of the Crisis Goddess Jenova worshippers.
   Mikaeus himself was there to record the Witch Wars, witnessing firsthand the short rise and plummet of the religion. At the time, the tensions of all nightwalkers were high, and the fight had spread between the spellcasters, werewolves, and vampires. However, one fateful night, Mikaeus met Donald and George when the three of them found themselves bound to a giant bonfire set by the Cult of Christianity. Apparently, they were the most powerful of their kind at the time, and since Mikaeus was also royalty the Cult wanted to make a special example out of them.
   Mikaeus recalled the story:
   “We can’t just burn here!” He cried, barely audible above the jeering crowd surrounding them. His torso was tight from the chains binding his body. “If any one of us go, what will become of our kin?!”
   The smell of burning flesh was prevalent as light tendrils of smoke drifted from George’s seared chest. Despite the silver eating away his skin, he seemed unphased by the pain. “There’s no way I can change forms like this. And the moon isn’t out yet!”
   “Moon or not, I’d rather die than help either of you cretins!” Donald squawked, thrashing against the constriction. “I bet you both deserve to burn!”
   For a long moment, the only sound that came was from the crowd and Donald, who rattled the chains as he cursed. Prince Mikaeus was between the o ther two nightwalkers, staring at the setting sun, wondering if it’d be the last thing he’d ever see as he burned to death next to two strangers.
   He realized this, and couldn’t help but smile. “It’s seems rather rude that we haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Prince Mikaeus. Do you fellows have names?”
   From his right, there was a laugh: “Pleased to be your acquaintance, yer majesty! I’m George!”
   The rattling slowed, and from his left: “...Donald.”
   With great strain, the Prince shifted his arms beneath the chains to grasp the hands of both men. Neither of them flinched. “If we must die together, then so be it. But we shall die as comrades. We are creatures of the night, but we are also men. We love Gaia and the great Goddess like any other. Today, we stand in unison. Today, we are under one sky, with one destiny. All for one, and one for all!”
   Then, suddenly, the words came to all three of them at once: “Unus pro omnibus, omnes pro uno.”
   King Mikaeus told Sora that, at that moment, there was a sudden flash of light: the three of them were able to escape the bindings, George was able to shift into a werewolf, Donald’s casting was amplified, and Mikaeus’s strength was greater that it’d ever been before. It was discovered later that they had activated an incredible and rare form of magick called a Trinity Spell, said only usable by three powerful people whose souls are perfectly in sync. After that, they forged a pact between the nightwalkers that ended the infighting: The Trinity Alliance. Since then, they’ve been eternal friends. Though their legend had faded, the Alliance stood strong.
   This information was incredible to Sora, especially considering his hometown was a Christian population, so these pieces of history were unknown to him. Nightwalkers were still feared there, and he assumed many creatures didn’t bother to tread anyway because of the hostility.
Mikaeus and Mina invited him to stay so they could teach him to wield his persuasive power with precision. He was even able to control Donald and George afterwards, which impressed Mikeaus since he himself is unable to control nightwalkers with strong dispositions. Though it had been hundreds of years since Mikeaus had been part of the Scholomance, he and Mina still had much information to give. Sora learned the intricacies of vampirism, the history of witchcraft, and all that was currently known about the other creatures of the night. Mina also taught him a minimal form of magick available exclusively to vampires: using their blood to help disguise or heal others’ wounds.
Sora stayed for some time, even befriending Donald and George and helping them do some work for the King across the country. Of course, after some time, he went back to his map to finish out his journey and parted ways with them.
Resuming his initial journey, he trekked down through the Deep Jungles of Africa, and set sail to cross the sea toward Port Royal. The waters had been especially rough that day, the entire crew scrambling to maintain the ship. Sora stayed below the deck, helping people tie down various objects as the hull rocked.
That’s when they all heard a scream.
When Sora rushed up to see what was causing a fuss, he found the ship he boarded was being ransacked by pirates. Sora watched in mild amusement as the crew fought their enemies around him. He was never sure a ship he was traveling aboard would face such a threat; the odds were minimal since the age of piracy had ended long ago. Still, what luck! Some excitement!
It was then that a larger man, prowling the deck with prevalent bloodthirst and loosely gripping a cutlass, spotted him from afar. Sora locked eyes with him; he realized there’s no way his voice could reach any of these people through the noise. He could not use his power to assuage them in such chaos. The pirate came barreling at him, the pounding of his footfalls vibrating the wooden deck. Sora quickly searched the ground below him, spotting a sword in the hand of a dead man. He darted for it; in one fluid motion he removed the sword from the crewman’s hand and swung upward with all his might.
With a clang, the edge made contact with the pirate’s cutlass. Though the man was burly, Sora was able to shift his weight up and away so they were on even footing. He watched the man rather clumsily swipe the blade at him, crying out angrily with each swing. Not proper swordsmanship at all. Sora patiently blocked and parried, watching the pirate’s movements carefully—until the man made one fatal move. The sword was jabbed in the direction of Sora’s rib, and with an easy dodge he took the opening to ram his sword between the spine and shoulder blade of his opponent. Blood gushed from the wound and the large man gurgling a shout as he tumbled down; his body hitting the deck like the rest of the vanquished. Sora removed his sword, flicked the blood off, and twirled the hilt in his hand, ready for the next fool to challenge him. He had only one question in his mind...
  When and how did I learn to sword fight?
The blade had practically become an extension of his arm, as if it were his second nature… though, curiously, he had no memory of ever wielding one. Before he could ponder further, another pirate came swinging at him and they clashed; Sora wielding his sword with relative ease. He smiled as he fought, making a note to thank whomever had taught him this now-invaluable skill.
One after another the pirates fell to his blade, and once Sora’s onslaught had reached a fevered pitch, a cackle cut through the noise. It was then Sora noticed he was the last one fighting: the remainder of the crew had surrendered or been cut down, and the rest of the pirates were circled around him watching in awe. One section of the crowd parted, and the sound of boots stepping lively toward him was prevalent. His current opponent stepped back to stand with his shipmates, and all eyes were upon the opening of the circle. Out stepped a black-clad gentleman with a feather in his hat and a monkey upon his shoulder. The monkey chattered while the man smiled wide, showing off his grimy teeth from beneath an unkempt salt-and-pepper beard. What struck Sora most about him were his wild eyes: they were the eyes of a dead man, glassy and all-seeing.
“Well now!” The man’s voice thundered, “If me eyes be sure, we’ve found ourselves a vampire, boys!”
Sora was taken aback as the crew hooted and hollered. How could he possibly tell? Who was this man?
Seeing the surprise in Sora’s face, the wild-eyed man approached him a little closer, still smiling, and began to pace around Sora in a small circle. Gently, he said, “I know an immortal whens I see one… it takes one to know one.” Sora is wracking his brain because this person seems incredibly familiar to him somehow. The man bellows suddenly, “So it seems that you’ve struck down some fearsome pirates today! Including that of me first mate.” He kicked the corpse of the burly man that first attacked Sora. Then, he turned to Sora and took a polite bow, “Cap’n Barbossa’s the name. Ye may ‘ave heard of Barbossa the Undying.”
The crew cried, “The legend! Yo-ho!”
The realization clicked in Sora’s head… Of course he’s heard the legend of the cursed pirate Barbossa! A man who should have died long before Sora was even born was still terrorizing the seas by supernatural means. There were always a few survivors of his raids who kept the stories alive, but Sora never expected them to be true; yet here was the man of the tales himself, fully matching the description of the undead captain.
The cursed pirate reached out his hand. “How would you like to join me ranks? I could use a vampire at the helm. What do ye say, lad?”
Feeling the excitement rise in his chest, Sora let his elongated canines pop down before smiling himself. The monkey let out a screech and some of the crew began to eagerly murmur while Barbossa’s grin only widened. Sora took the extended hand and gave it a firm, gentlemanly shake.
“I would be much obliged, Captain.”
The pirates around him cheered, and Barbossa crowed with glee. The Captain released the shake and laid a hand solidly on the vampire’s shoulder.
“Have y’a name, boy?”
“Sora. Just Sora.”
“No last?”
“None that would matter.”
Barbossa nodded and gave him a knowing look; he fully understood that when you’re immortal you have no real need for a full name. Turning to his crew, the Captain bellows. “Men! Search the boat and while you’re at it, gather some of these here corpses. Your new mate Sora needs nourishment and it would behoove you to give ‘im a source of blood aside from your own necks. Bahah!” Without question, the men set to work ransacking the ship for supplies. “Now, lad. How be ye with navigation?”
Sora swore on the Pirate Code after that, starting his many-year stint working under the legendary Captain Barbossa the Undying. It was as if the guiding hand of the Goddess herself brought them together, for through the Captain and the relics he collected, Sora was able to uncover hundreds of years worth of lost history. Events and creatures that were only perceived as myth had suddenly become reality—and Sora knew it was true, because Barbossa couldn’t lie to him under the vampiric power of persuasion. Over the course of his adventures, he’d practically written a library’s worth of information about the world that’d been lost and Barbossa’s life. Any time they were ashore, Sora would take accounts directly to the nearest historical society, journalist, or government official. Additionally, he commanded them to catalog it, distribute it, and under no circumstance allow the information to be tarnished. Often when they had pirated a vessel, Sora would command the survivors to write a detailed account of what had happened and disperse the information.
For many years, Barbossa was more than happy to help the boy keep his pirate legend alive. After all, his help navigating and persuading had been invaluable, especially for keeping his crew complacent. It took no time for Sora to rise in rank from Sea Artist to First Mate, and finally to Quartermaster; oftentimes juggling the three roles with precision. The fact he still found time to write so much was impressive and respectful to the Captain.
However, since the legend of Barbossa the Undying had become much more widespread, it made sense that eventually their ghost ship would be hunted down for a reasonable bounty. Though they’d fought off their fair share of pirate hunters, there was one calamitous day that ended Sora’s pirating career.
It was a day the sky and sea were angry with a rushing storm. Sora felt the spray of saltwater on his face, and through the crashing waves he heard Barbossa yell, “Soooraaaaah! Hoyst tha colouuuurs!”
He looked to the horizon, and there was a dark mass bobbing on the grey sea—an enemy ship approaching. All together, the crew shouted “Hoist the colours!”
Sora ran and grabbed the rope. His eyes stung with saltwater spray… but with a mighty heave he hoisted the colors, the Jolly Roger flapping wildly in the wind, when suddenly his whole body jerked forward. He was flung to the deck, and splinters were flying up around him.
“Blast!” Barbossa cried, “They’ve already manned tha cannons. Men! We best be sinking this’un!”
Though it was their toughest battle yet, they’d managed to barely make it out. Afterwards, Barbossa brought Sora into his cabin to discuss the damage.
“We’ll ‘ave to go ashore for supplies.” The Captain declared solemnly.
“The crew is upset.” Sora replied.
“Aye… some of them think it best to maroon you and let you burn up in the sun. Fools can’t tell a myth apart from fact if it’s staring them in the face! Ye e’er hear of a vampire that burns in the sun?”
“Not more than a normal man, Captain.”
“Norm’l. Aye. What be normal in such a world, says I. Who gives a goddamn?” Barbossa chuckled.
“I know it’s my fault, Captain.” Sora said, suddenly. “You and the crew have every right to maroon me. There may never have been a bounty if it weren't for me.”
Barbossa was quiet for a moment, and he looked at the vampire carefully. “Lad, ye needn’t reserve such pity for yeself. We’d ‘ave been hunted eventu’lly. The age of piracy has long since been dead… but what is a cursed pirate to do but sail the seas? My only hope is to one day go down with me ship.” He flashed his signature wide-eyed grin and chuckled, “‘Cursed’ just don’t sound right in front of anyt’ing else.”
They sailed their ship to the nearest port, which was Sora’s original destination so many years ago: Port Royal. Every night on their way there, Barbossa dictated more tales for Sora to record. When they reached shore, Sora assumed his normal routine of delivering historical information to the proper channels. However, when he had returned, the ship was gone. Sora unfortunately expected this might happen, and his first instinct was to look at his map to get his bearings… when he noticed a note scrawled on the back.
            “Enjoy your marooning. ‘Twas an honor and a privilege. Cheers to the greatest Quartermaster a captain could have! May history be kind forevermore.
            ~Hector Barbossa”
Below that was an address to an inn. Sora reread the note and scoffed. This was the first he’d known of Barbossa’s full name. In retrospect, perhaps it had been symbolic of the man accepting the possibility of his sudden mortality, as it was only a few years after that, news had reached Sora of Hector Barbossa’s demise; the ship finally sunk, the cursed-captain’s only hope had been fulfilled.
Sora reached the inn, and when he went to get a room he found there was one already reserved for him… but for some reason there was a person guarding it. This person was a peculiar-looking man: tall, silver hair, and seafoam eyes. He leaned against the door with his arms crossed and a foot propped up. Like Barbossa’s eyes had seen through Sora so long ago, Sora himself saw through this man; he was not mortal.
After a quick deliberation of whether to will the person away with his power or try to be polite, Sora chose politeness.“Um. Hello.” Sora greeted him, unsure of who or what the other person was. “This is my room. Can I get in?”
The man cocked an eyebrow. “And you are?”
“I’m Sora.”
The man hummed. “A gentleman came to me and paid me very handsomely to guard this door, Sora.” He shrugged, “Said it’d ‘behoove’ me to help you since we’ve got ‘similar eyes’. Didn’t say why.”
Sora knew exactly who the man was talking about. “I think I know why. Let’s go inside.” The man grunted in response and moved so they could enter the room. Inside were the few belongings Sora had from the ship, which he couldn’t help but smile at. Sora then turned to the man and showed his elongated teeth, ready for him to either run or attack. Unexpectedly, the man chuckled.
“A vampire, eh? Well your friend was right, it’s good to be in shared company. My name is Riku,” They shook hands. “I’m a werewolf.”
Sora gaped, “A werewolf! Here of all places!”
“It’s a strange coincidence too. I was here on orders from His Majesty—”
“Mikeaus?” Sora guessed aloud, in no way certain if he was correct. Riku blinked in bewilderment, and Sora continued. “He’s the only King I know that employs werewolves. I met him, George, and Donald a long time ago.”
Riku suddenly began to laugh, and explained that when a strange pirate-looking fellow approached him out of nowhere, talking about a man named Sora, he agreed because he’d heard the name from King Mikeaus, George, and Donald. He was there on unrelated business and fate had suddenly brought them together under bizarre circumstances.
That was how he met Riku, and they were practically inseparable since then. Once Riku had finished his business in town, he decided to travel with Sora under King Mikeaus’ permission. They followed Sora’s map to the western side of Gaia, toward Midgar then down into Spira, this time stopping along the way occasionally for work or leisure. They fought in wars together, spoke at peace summits, saw firsthand what conflict did for some societies, watched technology thrive, met many beautiful women and handsome men.
Sora told Roxas everything about his travels… except for the last stop on his map: Destiny Islands, located between Nippon and Bikanel. Coincidentally, Sora and Riku’s families had both come from Destiny Islands, and it seemed fitting to end the adventure there for the time being.
  It was in the mid 1960s, one of his favorite time periods, when he met Kairi.
     After they’d been staying on the island for a while they went to investigate a local rally. A Christian official on the island had proposed the first bill banning same-sex marriage in hundreds of years. (It was struck down quickly, and the man was practically banished from the island afterwards.) They’d filed into the crowd to get a closer look when a young woman accidentally swung a hefty sign reading “My life, my love, my choice!” into Riku’s face. It was one of Sora’s favorite memories: Kairi kneeling over Riku, belting out apologies over the chanting crowd, the taller man sitting with a hand holding his throbbing face, and Sora laughing hysterically.
     She treated them to lunch afterwards, and it took no time for both men to become infatuated with her. They barely wasted any time revealing to her the truth of their immortality, and she was deeply intrigued. She opened her place up to them, and the three of them spent all their waking hours together as Kairi finished her last year at college. Sora and Riku both vied for her attention, acting blatantly like boys with a competitive crush, yet Kairi grew to adore them and their antics. She donated blood to the vampire and cooked heaping steaks for the werewolf as often as she could. It was Kairi who coined the term “glamoring” for Sora’s mind control power. Between themselves, Sora and Riku frequently joked about “proposing” to her: arguing about whether she’d choose to become a werewolf or vampire.
     Life on the island was perfect… until a few weeks after Kairi graduated, when she collapsed into a coma.
     It had become easy for both immortals to accept that most people they meet will die some day; after all, it’s the greatest caveat of eternal life. This time, it was different for both of them. They could not accept it… they refused to accept it.
     Medical technology was wildly advanced at this point, but horribly enough it was just short of curing Kairi. Sora and Riku wanted to take it upon themselves to save her, and their self-inflicted burden nearly destroyed their friendship. It was the first time they’d actually been murderously angry at one another, enough to physically fight and draw blood several times. Many horrible things were said, and days went by without either man speaking to the other.
     It was when Sora walked into Kairi’s hospital room one day that he ran into Riku again after a few weeks of avoidance. They stood next to Kairi’s bed as she lay comatose, and Riku revealed several terrible truths. Kairi’s condition had gotten exponentially worse, and she was likely to die within the week. Her adoptive father, the governor, was in Spira on political business, but he was going to fly to Destiny Islands to take her off life support in a few days.
     Turning to him, Riku said, “It has to be you. If I turn her that quickly, it will kill her.”
"I can just glamor the doctors and her dad once he gets here. We don't have to — ”
"That won't change the fact she’s going to die anyway.”
     Sora is still haunted by the look Riku gave him that day. It was completely without hope, yet determined. Unwavering. In love.
     Though he wasn’t sure how, Sora knew somewhere deep down it was fully possible to turn a human into a vampire within a few days. With his glamor, he could easily keep people out of the hospital room. It was risky, but possible. They managed to get in touch with the King that day for advice, and he instructed Sora on performing the ritual.
            Each day that week, Sora drained her blood down to the absolute bare minimum. She was getting colder and paler, and it pained both Sora and Riku to watch it happen. It hurt Sora especially to distantly remember the same thing had happened to him, and for some reason he couldn’t shake the thought that he’d seen it more than once in his lifetime. Still, he pushed on: careful not to kill his loved one too soon.
            The night before she was to be taken off life support was when she’d been successfully turned. The quiet wail of the heart-rate monitor signified her pulse had stopped; the immortal men pulled the monitor plug before grasping both of her hands, waiting in silence. Any nurses or doctors that came in were beckoned away.
            Several hours passed, Sora worrying he’d made a fatal mistake when, all at once, it happened. Right around daybreak they watched as the color slowly came back to her face, her once lifeless form being restored to the glowing beauty they both fell in love with. At first, they wondered out loud if it was a trick of the daylight illuminating her features, or if their wishful thinking had simultaneously tricked them. They plugged the monitor back in, and the long tone resumed seemingly right where it left of many hours ago.
            Then, the wailing stopped, and a slow series of blips emanated from the machine. A couple hours later, her eyes began to open, and their once quiet gray hue was now a haunting shade of indigo. She took in the light, and Sora expected her to scream in horror… and she did scream, but with joy. She wrapped her arms around the boys, laughing happily while the monitor twitched and beeped with life. She kissed all across their faces in gratitude, and all their heartache melted away.
            They allowed the hospital staff in to witness the “miracle”, and when her father came he was overjoyed to find she was alive and happy. The doctors insisted she had to stay for a while to be monitored, but that night she had other plans.
            Riku, exhausted from the ordeal, was now practically comatose himself in the guest chair by the bed. Sora was dozing in his own chair when he awoke to the fledgling putting her clothes on.
            “We’re going to the beach!” She demanded, and as Sora glanced at Riku she added, “Just you and I this time.”
            Sora tried to protest, but she was already out the window and expertly creeping down the side of the building as if she’d been a vampire longer than Sora had. Fortunately, the beach wasn’t far, and when they got there she awed at the waning moon.
            “I’ve never seen anything so detailed before! If I’d known vampirism fixed short-sightedness I would have had you turn me sooner!” She laughed and ran across the sand, marveling at her newfound life. He watched her plunge her hands into the wet earth of the sore, staring in enchantment at the grains as they slipped through her grasp—utterly delighted by the influx of detail. He relished every second of seeing her so alive and happy, and he felt his heart completely breaking. After some melodious frolicking, wherein she reminded him of a happy sand-nymph dancing in the moonlight, she skipped up to Sora, threw her arms around him, and thanked him.
            Unable to bear it any longer, he pulled away from the hug, looked her deep in her eyes, and said it: “I love you, Kairi.”
            She smiled. “I know, Sora. I’m sorry.”
            It was evident that Riku was Kairi’s choice all along, but Sora had to tell her how he felt before it destroyed him inside. It was painfully apparent from the nights Kairi and Riku snuck off alone, or the occasions he wasn’t invited to, even the way they looked at each other when they thought Sora wouldn’t notice. When he and Riku fought, it was a battle he’d already lost, and yet he still refused to let go…
            But that night, he was finally able to.
            The three of them stayed together for a few years until news reached them from the King that a coastal city in Spira was becoming one of the first places to fully welcome nightwalkers, and he asked the three of them to join him in helping get it set up. Sora chose not to go at first, instead deciding to track down the remnants of his mortal family… up until he found out one of his descendants ended up in the same city. So he went with the flow of destiny as it pulled him, and was happy to be reunited with the King, who by then was going by the name Mickey. His wife, Minnie, stayed at the Euro castle to keep things running there.
            Instead of a castle, a beautiful and well-secured mansion was built atop a hillside close to the city; it was the King’s official vampire covenant. As King Mickey showed him around, they came upon the “throne room”: Mickey’s residence beneath the mansion. It was rather gaudy as it was obviously based heavily on the Parisian architecture he had to leave behind.
            What struck Sora the most were the portraits: he’d recognised a painting of Mickey, Donald, and George from the Castle of Dreams hanging over the throne, but all across the room were dozens of portraits with unfamiliar faces. The King explained each of them as different infamous vampire lords through history, and it had been one of his recent goals to collect art of them all. One particular face seemed to stand out to Sora: it was a painting close to the throne. He approached it, and when he looked into the red eyes of the painted man, a searing pain ripped through his skull as if he were struck. He collapsed to the ground, wailing, as a memories came spiraling back into his brain: eyes like red hellfire, and hot honey-gold.
            “I am Dracula,” he heard the portrait say, “And I am your sire.”
            That was how they found out Sora was the Lamb of Dracul; the last living fledgling of Count Dracula. After that, the coven took his blood and spent years searching for others like him, eager to find out if there were any left. Sora learned the awful truth that Dracula and his kin were cut down by humans following the Cult of Christianity. It devastated him to realize he’d been so close to his sire that day he woke up at the port of Varna… he was so close, and he didn’t even know it. Over the years that followed, Sora began to remember bits and pieces of his mortal life that were once lost, including the fact he used to have an older brother.
            King Mickey was putting pressure on him to take up the mantle as the next “Prince”, so to speak. Since Mickey had no surviving fledglings of his own, the direct inheritor of his vampiric throne after Minnie would be Sora since Dracula was slain. Kairi and Riku were excited for him and also chided him to accept the role.
            He often very angrily wondered why vampires still followed a monarchy. However, the pressure was far too intense for him. There was still so much of his mortal life he didn’t know, and it felt impossible to go on with doubt haunting him. What happened to his brother, and why couldn’t he remember his face?
            So on July 3, 2024 he left the covenant to find his own answers.
June 12th, 2025
            The incessant beeping of the alarm stirs Roxas, but what really wakes him up is a combination of the sun laying a warm beam of light across his face and the happy commotion coming from the kitchen. He reaches out to wave his fingers though the holoscreen numbers on the nightstand and notices that he’s in bed, though he was certain he’d fallen asleep on the floor. A light groan floats from across the room, and he wonders if Sora had moved him last night once he nodded off. He looks over to the mound of blanket as it rolls into a tighter shape.
            “Five more minutes?” Comes the muffled voice of Sora through the fabric, and Roxas sighs himself.
            “That’s what we get for staying up so late,” He responds quietly, wobbling up and out of bed with serious strain. “I’ll get your laundry.”
            Roxas, in an act of kindness, offered to wash the vampire’s clothing after said nightwalker complained of how expensive laundromats had gotten as their technology improved during his story. The blond himself always kept a well-washed closet out of habit as, for many years, he was the sole person doing chores back in Twilight Town. Laundry is one thing he especially didn’t mind doing since clean, soft, fresh-smelling clothes are incredibly comforting for anyone.
            He came back into the room with a partially-full plastic laundry basket at the hip, sure to once again lock the door behind him. Sora had, in record time, already folded the blanket and left it sitting with the pillow on the bed.
            “I’m glad I didn’t fall asleep before I put your stuff into the dryer.” He hands the basket to Sora, who thanks him as enthusiastically as possible while remaining quiet. “I have to talk to my roommates and shower … It might be a while before I leave to meet the other Organization member.”
            “I’ll change and get my stuff packed then. Meet you downstairs when you're done?”
            “Works for me. You’ll be okay, right?” Roxas wonders out loud, “I know some vampires burn in the sun…”
            “Only the really unlucky ones.”
            Roxas nods before leaving the bedroom, and Sora sets to work on rearranging his things. He starts by changing into his now-clean red tank, briefs, jeans, and socks; noticing the flowery scent that permeates off the fabric and pausing to indulge in it. Though he’s glamored people at the laundromat to lend him detergent and fabric softener, rarely does anyone ever have anything of such good quality or nice-smelling. He sits on the floor and quickly folds the remainder of his minimal amount of clothes, laying them in a short stack by his side.
            After that, he opens up all main pockets of his knapsack and empties it onto the floor, annoyed at himself for not taking the time to put things back in their specified pockets. Sora looks over the collection of items and begins to sort, putting the various objects back in the corresponding pockets before packing his clothes into the main compartment, then putting his jacket and shoes back on.
            Looking out the window at the morning sun, he cringes. Yeah… the really unlucky ones...
            He slings the knapsack onto his back and, in a fluid motion, creeps out the window and down the fire escape without a sound. The summer sun for once is cutting through the clouds, and Sora can feel the fatigue burning deep into his bones. Where the sun touches his skin, it itches as if reacting to an allergen. It’s risky for him to travel in this much daylight as his powers are practically nonexistent, and confronting Riku in such a state would definitely doom him. Still, it can’t be helped… all he can hope for is Lady Luck to be on their side today.
            Slipping into the lobby from the front door, he’s relieved to be out of the daylight. He pulls out his phone, waiting patiently for Roxas to descend the stairs.
  “Pivot! You’re not pivoting—there you go!”
            Roxas exhales quickly as he strikes the focus mat with his bare fists. Though it’s ill advised to practice kickboxing without gloves, Axel always has him take them off at the end of their sessions to prepare him for real combat. Demyx and Namine observe from the couch as they eat breakfast; Axel and Roxas already having finished theirs in anticipation of practice.
            “Did Luxord seem pretty surprised to see you with a vampire?” Demyx inquires through a mouthful of food, and Namine shakes her head at the behavior disapprovingly.
            “Well—” Roxas bends his elbow as he strikes again. “Huff… I don’t know why… he wouldn’t be surprised.”
            “Pivot!” Axel reminds him.
            “I was wondering why I didn’t—huff—run into you two, actually.”
            “Now kick!” Axel commands and Roxas complies; swinging his right leg up in a swift motion to connect his shin with the mats.
            “If you did, I bet Namine would have slaughtered that werewolf for coming anywhere near you!” Demyx laughs and Roxas grimaces at the thought as he continues to kick. Even though the lycanthrope was the one chasing them, Sora certainly wouldn’t be very happy about his friend being brutally murdered...
            Namine sighs, “Our job is to protect, not to kill. I’m just glad Roxas got some help along the way from a kind stranger. It seems the werewolf was self-aware if he didn’t go past Luxord. If anything happened we’d have gotten a call, but I’m sure he’ll tell us more about it at the next meeting.”
            Axel smiles, “Did you forget? The next meeting is Roxas’ official initiation!” They all cheer as Roxas smiles and lands one last kick. “That’s enough for today. You should probably go shower and get ready for your next courier mission.”
            Roxas breathes heavily, giving a sweaty thumbs up as he heads toward the shower. Though he’s already certain of the answer, he asks “Who am I meeting today?”
            “Number XI.”
            Realizing who that is, Roxas barely stops himself as he whips around mid-step and says “But I already—” Shit, wait. “Er, I thought I was meeting Number II today.”
            Axel shakes his head, “Not sure where you got that idea. Anyway, Number XI is directly across the street from Zexion. Did you notice a—”
            “Flower shop?” Roxas drawls as he enters the bathroom. “Oh yeah. How could I miss it?”
            In the shower, Roxas curses himself for forgetting that he hasn’t “officially” met Marluxia yet, so of course it would make sense that he would go see him next. As he scrubs his arms he realizes he also forgot about the bite marks on his wrist from last night; on closer inspection he sees they’ve healed and look more like sunspots now. It’s a relief considering he didn’t think to cover them up at all this morning. He could have easily exposed the fact that Sora didn’t just help him last night. He blushes and goes back to washing himself in a hurry.
            After all, Sora’s waiting for him.
             Roxas rushes down the stairs, feeling the small parcel rattle inside his backpack with each quick step. He sees Sora in the lobby, and the vampire looks happy to see him as he waves.
            When he reaches Sora, he explains the situation, adding at the end: “You’re fully welcome to stay behind if you think it’s safer here. I can go by myself.” As much as Roxas would enjoy the company, he understands if Sora were to choose otherwise.
            “No way!” The vampire scoffs. “A promise is a promise! Besides, moonfall is long gone and so it’ll be a much easier journey there and back since we’ll be on a tram this time.”
            Roxas is uncertain, but before he knows it they’re on said tram, and fortunately this time there’s more people on it. Sora is chatting his ear off while keeping a watchful eye out for Riku, and even slings an arm around the blond’s shoulders. Roxas, though disinterested on the outside, enjoys every moment of it.
     When they get to the fateful stop where they met only a day before, Sora jokes “What if I ask you for a kiss this time?”
            Roxas just shoots Sora a cross look, disguising his smile, and stomps off down the road. Sora comes trailing after him, laughing.
            Halfway to their destination, Roxas says “I’m not sure how they’ll react to you, and I know for a fact Zexion can smell you, so you’ll have to hang back until I’m done. Is that okay?”
            Sora’s mind goes to the bar he waited at at yesterday. “I’ll think of something to do.”
            They cross the street at some point, exchange phone numbers, and part ways; Sora going into a bar with black bricks and Roxas beelining for Marluxia’s flower shop. Once there, Roxas enters without hesitation and takes a moment to marvel the expanse of blooms surrounding him: from simplistic to exotic, they pack the place tightly and it’s difficult to spot an inch lacking colorful plantlife. The floral smell is apparent, but incredibly pleasant. As expected, Marluxia is delighted to see him.
            “Well now!” He says, skipping over from a counter on the left side of the store. “Isn’t this a surprise! You must be Roxas, it’s great to meet you!”
            Roxas frowns at the tall man, slinging his backpack over to retrieve the box from it. “I thought we were skipping formalities this time?”
            “Oh, you’re no fun. Do you have myyyyyyy...”
            “Package. Yes.” Roxas sighs and, rolling his eyes at the forthcoming innuendo, hands the said parcel to him. “Here.”
            “Don’t handle my package so roughly Roxas. You might bruise it!” Marluxia jokingly scolds him, but then proceeds to roughly tear the box open. He extracts a packet of seeds. which he also proceeds to hastily rip open. He empties the packet into a nearby pot full of loamy soil before holding it out to the blond. “Zexion just saw you come in, so I have maybe a few seconds to show you… this.”
            Suddenly, several small vines stretch forth from the dirt and spill slightly over the edges of the pot. One massive stem with a healthy bulb rises from the center and unfurls into a beautiful multicolor flower unlike any Roxas has seen in his lifetime. The color seems to shift in the light as it’s aroma fills Roxas’ nose: fruity, then citrus, then floral, then crisp.
            “They call this a Fairy Rose, and it used to attract pixies before they went extinct.” Marluxia says, smiling, “Beautiful isn’t it?”
            Roxas is captivated, “How did you—”
            Suddenly, a glowing book of botany comes hurtling off one of the shelves behind Marluxia and clocks him in the back of the skull, nearly causing him to drop the pot in surprise. The shop door is flung open and it’s Zexion’s turn to fill Number XI’s store with the sound of his voice.
            “MARLUXIA!” He screams, lifting his hand, “VENI AD ME!”
            More of the books start to glow and come flying off the shelf toward the pink-haired man. Roxas can’t believe his eyes when he sees several stems and vines shoot out from the flower pots around them to catch the bloodthirsty literature.
            “Zexion, please,” Marluxia says, “Calm down, he already saw. Did you even realize what you’re doing?”
            A look of recognition overtakes the rage on Zexion’s face. He flicks his wrist, muttering, “Redire unde venisti.” The books fly back onto the shelves and stop glowing while the tendrils retreat back into the plants around them.
            Both men look at Roxas who is dumbfounded. Finally he manages to say, “That was fucking awesome. So Marluxia can control plants and Zexion can makes things float?! I thought you could only smell things!”
            “The difference is Zexy needs to cast spells and I don’t!” Number XI adds, and Roxas’ eyes go wide.
            “What?! Really?!”
            Zexion groans, quickly trying to change the subject. “Speaking of smell things, why did you bring a vampire here with you?”
            This kills Roxas’ excitement and he glances around nervously. He didn’t think the smell could get stuck to him based on proximity, and there’s no reason nor possible way to lie to Zexion.
            “He’s my… friend. I kinda owe him one.” Roxas takes out his phone and texts Sora.
             Sora was waiting intently in the bar again, which is once more mostly empty due to the time of day. In his mind he is wracking his brain trying to figure out the best places to take Roxas on their “date”. Though he’d been flirting with Roxas the whole way down here, the mortal seemed very uninterested. The night before, he was totally into it! Sora was almost certain all the amazing stuff about his life as a vampire was mind-blowing. In fact, he saw the awe in Roxas’ face and was convinced the blond had fallen for him a little. Sora saw the blush when his shirt came off, he could feel Roxas’ heartbeat through his hand…
            Sora laid his head on the table, somewhat devastated. What if he was wrong? The adrenaline of last night’s danger could have tricked Roxas into temporary infatuation. Maybe he just felt bad for Sora being pretty much homeless. Then again, you don’t just do laundry for someone you don’t like… or did Roxas wash his clothes out of pity?
            Slammming his hands on the table, he throws his head up and shouts, “I refuse to give up! I WILL MAKE THIS THE GREATEST DATE OF YOUR LIFE!” It took him a short moment to notice the bartender and sparse patrons were staring at him in fear and confusion. He responded by chuckling a little bit and rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, it’s been an off day.”
            His phone chirps from his pocket and he scrambles to take it out, his heart jumping a bit as he reads a text from Roxas:
            [Busted. Come on over.]

            “...and I made it the apartment, safe and sound. It turns out Sora is super nice so I asked him to tag along with me today.” Roxas is careful to choose his words so he isn’t technically telling a lie. He didn’t want Axel, Demyx, and Namine to find out he’d been hiding a vampire in his room without their knowledge.
            Instead of Zexion being suspicious, it was Marluxia: “That can’t be the only reason,” He pressed. “Most people wouldn’t think to bring a vampire with them to meet Organization members of all people.”
            Without thinking, Roxas blurts out, “He’s taking me on a date tonight.”
            Just then, the door opens, and all eyes turn toward Sora who very sheepishly enters.
            “Hi there.” He says while carefully approaching the trio. “Beautiful shop you’ve got here.” He motions the the pot Marluxia is holding, “Is that a Fairy Rose? Those are crazy hallucinogenic. Like, chit-chat-with-the-Goddess trippy.”
            Blushing, Marluxia mutters “Pixies must really like to party,” before clearing his throat and tucking the plant out of sight.
            “Sora, is it?” Zexion asks.
            “It is.” He responds.
            “Well, thank you for taking care of our little errand boy here. We weren’t on patrol so we left here shortly after Roxas did, and it would have been a bother to find he’d been eaten so close to his official training.”
            Marluxia happily clutches Zexion, “That means he likes you, Roxas!”
            Ignoring him, Zexion continues, “I’m not sure what your affiliation is to the local covenant and I don’t care. I only request that you remain respectful to Roxas, and if either of us find out you hurt him in any way we will end your immortality without question.”
            Sora bows, “I promise you it will never happen.”
            “Good,” Number VI turns to Number XI, “I think Roxas has fulfilled his mission, but it’s up to you to turn him loose.”
            Marluxia pats Roxas’ head, “I quite agree, he’s good to go!” He gives the smaller boy a squeezing hug, “Nice job, Roxas!”
            Roxas struggles against the man until he’s freed. “Okay, okay geez! Please don’t tell Axel or the others just yet, okay?” He stumbles out toward Sora, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, “I’ll see you guys.”
            “Have a good night, okay?” Marluxia shouts after them, “We will see you again at your initiation!”
            One their way out the door, Sora whispers, “Did I just meet you parents?”
            Roxas chuckles and whispers back, “You know… I wish.”
            The door clicks shut behind them.
            “Now then.” Wiggling his eyebrows, Marluxia pulls out the Fairy Rose again and turns to the smaller man. “What about our date night?”
            Zexion cracks a rare smile, “Let’s at least wait until closing time, Marly.”
Exeunt
This chapter is a little shorter because it contains a GIANT flashback (also a flashback within a flashback… bwaaaaa), but I think it’s incredibly important to the story and hopefully answers some questions people may have about the plot. Hopefully people understand the world I’ve built, please let me know how you interpreted it so I’ll know how well I did. Also you’re welcome to leave suggestions if certain things are unclear so I may either adjust this chapter or so I can be sure to include clarity in future chapters. Also I’m not super satisfied with how this chapter turned out, so I’ll probably be coming back to tweak it eventually. I might also have to fix the formatting on AO3 later... but I'm lazy and excited to hear what you all think! [edit: fixed]
References and Inspirations:
- It probably goes without saying that the vampire lore in this story has almost exclusively come from Bram Stoker’s Dracula, with my own tweaks. It may come as a surprise for many of you that the vampires in this story can go out in the sun when, in fact, Nosferatu was actually the first vampire in popular media that burned from sunlight. That’s right, my main man Drac could walk in the day time! In fact, in Bram Stoker’s book he is only put into a weakened state by the sun. More on that later.
- “15 Step” is a song by Radiohead. (Also, I can’t come up with chapter titles for shit.)
- Minnie being “Mina” is actually a dedication to Twisted-Wind’s “Count Mickey Dragul” comics, without which this story may not have continued. Please go read their comics! They are beyond amazing! Also, if you are reading this, Twisted-Wind, I adore you! Thanks for giving me my strange vampire-related passion back when I thought it was lost forever.
- Major internet high fives if you can guess where I got the name “Mikeaus” from.
-+-
Please favorite, follow, and review! I will also happily take positive constructive criticism! I am always looking to improve my writing. Thank you!
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The Night