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TVC - Supplement to Chapter 41 - Truth

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Trevy the Great

Vampire Progenitor
True Blood
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Mar 2, 2008
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Victarias looked with shocked eyes at the faceless hood of Zosz the Forsaken as he had snatched her hand and taken the weapon that he had so recently entrusted to her from reach. What happened next filled her head with ideas of traitors of betrayal, for a wild instant she believed that Nagash's malign influence had corrupted the Necromancer before her, driving him to fits of madness.
It was as if every piece of her body was being torn apart, slowly, bit by bit until she was nothing left but dust and echoes. She would have cried out in agony had she a mouth, and not what had felt like a fleshy, horizontal wound in her head, opening to insides that were being torn out by clawed hands. A deafening crack filled what must have been the remainder of her abused ears, and her eyes burned with a thick, viscous smoke as they burst like grapes under a boot.
And then she felt a biting wind sharply in her face, she felt the air turn cold, and beneath her was the icy crunch of windblown snow, and beneath that, the hard rock of a mountain. She opened her eyes. It was over, her body as whole as when she had left the scene of betrayal. She doubled up as the cold wind bit the wounds in her chest, freezing her already cold flesh and the armor to it. Her body ached with a burning cold. Above her she saw the dark form of Zosz, knotted staff in one hand and Dark Blade in the other, the sword like a thin slice of obsidian graying the blowing snow.
"Do you know why I have brought you here?" The Necromancer asked, calling Victarias from unconsciousness.
"To kill me quietly?" Victarias replied, half chucking, half growling under the pain.
"I am not an agent of our enemy, violet lady. I will heal you, in time, but now the pain wakens you, sharpens your senses. You have endured worse. Now, look about you."
Victarias pushed herself up into a sitting position, wincing as the gaping wound in her chest was compressed by the motion. Not only had Innocence's attack shattered armor, but it had also charred and driven back the flesh to form a bleeding, crater like wound in her abdomen, flecked with shards of steel driven into it by her shattered breastplate.
About her her the looming shapes of a once great fortress, buried in snow and half obscured by the blizzard about them. They seemed little more than broken, white mounds to her, but they seemed so familiar...
It was an image that lay in the depths of her mind, a layout that she knew to have spent time in. A packed parade ground, surrounded by broken walls. At the center was the massive form of a shattered tower, mighty stone blocks scattered about, thrown like building blocks by a storm of unimaginable power. It was the ruins of the Violet Citadel.
"The Lord Darkblade commanded that the weathers of this range be contained by magics, the better to espie approaching forces before they arrived. It was one of the tasks of the runic barrier about the Citadel. When they were laid low, nature returned with a vengeance."
Victarias turned to the Necromancer sharply, her pain temporarily forgotten.
"Why am I here Necromancer?"
The dark robed figure turned to face her, holding out the Dark Bade.
"You know what this is." He stated. It was not a question or a comment, a simple fact.
"It is the weapon of my Lord, and yours." Victarias replied quickly.
"It is a weapon of Chaos. More than that, a weapon of oblivion. It was not made to kill, or to maim, or to injure. It was made to destroy, wholly and utterly, forged to consume entire worlds and still hunger for more, like some spinning maw at the heart of the stars, a gateway to nothing, consuming until there is no light remaining in the universe."
Victarias stared at the Necromancer intently.
"You know this." He said again. Victarias did not reply.
"And you have heard it call to you, seen the promises that it makes its wielder until it never leaves them alone, not even when they throw it in the darkest well, lock it in the deepest vault or strike it with the mightiest hammer, it still pleads, begs, bargains and plots for what it wants, it needs; to obliterate."
Victarias' eyes looked at the snow covered ground, a silent ascent of what the Necromancer spoke. Zosz bent close to the Vampiress, their faces nearly touching.
"Can you comprehend the madness that the sword can instill in it's wielder? Two and a half thousand years of whispers in a mind already broken by the death of a loved one? He is not the man you left, Victarias. He has a new master now, for for good or ill, he are all pawns."
Victarias looked into the empty hood of the Necromancer, and her eyes filled with rage, and pain, and grief, and worst of all, realization of a horrible truth, one that she had been hiding from herself ever since her reincarnation.
"This, you know as well."
And then she was gone again, as if her body tore itself apart, and the pair disappeared in a puff of black smoke.
 
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