Chapter XIII

Trancendence

I don’t even know why I’m even doing this. I feel responsible for everything. I know it’s not my fault, but there’s so much I could have done to stop this. I feel sorry for everyone who’s suffered because of it all.

Mary, Blaze, Oflor, Ivy… Gabe… they’ve all been hurt by Oris. And Oris is my friend. I know it should be me who stops him. I know this sword isn’t enough to beat him. It’s not even a whole sword, but it does make me stronger. I can feel it in my bones. It’s like it taps into a power I’ve always had but could never use. Hopefully I’ll be able to subdue him somehow.

He wouldn’t listen to me on the mountain I know that there’s no talking him out of this, but I saw something in him up there. He let me live, he wanted me to ‘survive’ and that means at some level he must still care for me.

I can’t believe he was tricked too… That the faeries manipulated him into this situation. They played on his one desire to be human. It’s like some kind of sick joke to tell him he could be. Why would they even want to make him a vampyre? Why do they want to bring back vampyre, if they’re only going to kill them off later? None of it makes sense. I suppose that doesn’t matter though. They’ll have their reasons and there’s no way I can change them.

What matters is that this is my last chance to stop him doing the most terrible thing I think, a person can do. I might not succeed; nothing’s changed since the last time except I have the sword and Oris doesn’t. This is like some great insult to him, as well; me, Jem, challenging him. He taught me everything I know. I couldn’t possibly defeat him, but I’ll have to try.

Mary told me he was faster than any man. Even that Blaze guy, who’d been a “great warrior” and had the sword, was slaughtered by Oris. I really don’t stand a chance. I know he has Ivy and if she really has been turned I’ll need to kill Oris as quick as I can. It will be easier to kill Ivy before she changes. She won’t be a threat until sundown. It was after sundown, seven days ago, that Oris first fought her. And if what Gabe says is right, then she’ll change completely tonight.

But what if I’m late? What if I have to fight the two vampyre at once? A part of me wonders why I’m still walking. Maybe this is karma; recompense for what I did (or didn’t do) at home. I know it’s not really, but I feel that as unrelated as the events are, perhaps this is retribution for my own crime… the murder I committed.

To keep it, even from Oris, was a mistake. You can’t keep a secret too long. If you do it’ll break itself free and destroy everything. Just look at Oris. He thought he could hide his identity from me and the rest of the world, and it exploded in his face. For that matter it’s blown up in everyone’s face. We’re on the brink of a horrible new reality. It’s amazing to think that one person can have such an influence on the world.

I guess that’s not entirely true. The truth is we’re all just pawns to the faeries, they steer us wherever they want. Our choices are ours, but the things that provoke them aren’t. It strikes me how very wise that sounds. I laugh to myself. I feel like I’ve gone crazy. Have I? What other reason could I have for walking to my doom? Perhaps I’m only doing this to punish myself for my mother’s death.

I remember it all too vividly. I was still supposed to be at school. Even though my classes had finished for the year, I was still supposed to be there, supervising the younger students. As elite as my school was, we were still worked hard and like most fourteen year olds, I didn’t like working hard. So I’d left a little earlier than I should have done. A part of me wishes I’d just stayed there. If I had, my mother would still (most likely) be dead, but I wouldn’t be responsible for it.

My dad worked a lot of hours to pay me through that school. I was his first-born as well as his only son and he was desperate to buy me the best future he could. So for me it was imperative that he didn’t find out I’d left early. To skip school was like throwing an expensive gift back in his face given that for every hour I was there my father had worked two to pay for it. It wasn’t likely that I’d be expelled, but my transgression would certainly be with me forever should it ever be exposed.

I wasn’t worried about my record, though. A record could be hidden from people, but my father’s disappointment would have been permanent and ever present. So I wandered home quietly through the bustling streets dragging my feet along the dusty ground and keeping my face hidden lest a relation or family friend see me. As I walked, I thought about many things, I glanced at a couple of stalls that littered the streets, but inevitably meandered to my own street.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. As normal, my street was a bustling throng of haggling and sales pitches. My home was at the far end of the street, which was, by and large, a cul-de-sac given that about a hundred yards further down the street loomed the edge of the cliff that the whole city was settled on.

I was startled to see smoke rising from the roof of my house At first I tried to rationalise: Could it be the chimney? Someone else’s house? A dark cloud? But as I drew closer and closer, the unmistakable smell of smoke became apparent.

The streets were so busy that no-one had noticed anything. With so much trading and movement, the smell of the smoke raised no eyebrows. I could have shouted for someone to help with the blaze, but I’d only have been drowned out by the shrill promises of astonishing bargains. I guess a part of me was still worried about being seen by a relative. It seemed impossible that the neutral sandstone building could house a blazing fire, but as I unlocked the door with my keys, I felt the key warm in my hand and as I opened the door a blast of searing gales struck me and I had to draw against the outer wall to regain my breath.

I didn’t want to enter the house, but I knew I had to. The heat was horrible and it enveloped me in great waves. Nevertheless, I continued through the house, my plan to make sure none of my family were there and then leave, but as I crested the stairs I saw my mother.

She was in her room trying, quite foolishly, to save some of our meagre possessions. I immediately rushed over to her. The roar and crackle of the fire was so loud that it sounded like grating rocks and breaking bones, so I could only resort to fierce sign language to get my meaning across. I managed to pull her some of the way out of the room and because the fire was marginally quieter in the hallway, I told her we should get out, that we’d die if we didn’t. She said we needed to save something important, that “some of these things can’t be replaced”. I never found out exactly what she had intended to save.

She continued on saying “it was all under control” and that “she could handle everything”.

Anyway, I was trying to drag her out when she said something that even in the extreme heat and the thickening smoke, sent a chill down my spine

“You’re father will be furious when he finds out you left school early.”

She said it so matter-of-factly and I froze. My mind went blank as cold panic swept through me. In retrospect, its obvious that me ditching school wasn’t nearly as serious as the house burning down with my mother in it, but to the fourteen-year-old me things were a little skewed.

It had been driven into me so severely that I must attend school. It had been made abundantly clear that it was imperative I be there because it was myself who would need to support the rest of the family in the future. So I was honestly weighing up the situation and probably a little in shock at the whole ordeal. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Anyway, that moment’s hesitation was all it took for things to get out of hand. While I stared at her unblinking in the poisonous fog, she was knocked to the ground.

A part of the house fell through, I guess. A big beam of wood, flaming, swung down from the loft and drove her into the wall, before sliding down and pinning her to the ground. She screamed. Maybe that’s what alerted people outside, or maybe by this point they could smell the smoke, or see the fire… I don’t know.

“My dress will be ruined…” my mum said, glaring at me as her flowery frock began to kindle.

She wriggled under the weight of the log and then winced in pain. I wanted to help her, but I was still pre-occupied thinking about what my dad would say when he found out I’d been ditching school.

I watched her.

She was still conscious. Eventually her usual delirium gave way and she started asking for help… but I watched… Her dress had already caught fire and she screamed some more as the flames seared across her until her hair began to curl and smoulder and her skin blackened and her face blurred as tears fell from my own eyes, drawing white lines down my blackened face, but I still didn’t do anything. I could have lifted that rafter easily, but I didn’t.

“Help me, Jemin. Don’t let me die. Please. Please Jemin.” Her voice was rasping and desperate and I couldn’t believe that the charred mess in front of me was still alive.

“Dad…” I murmured. “He’s going to be angry.”

“I won’t tell him”, she croaked. “Please Jemin, please, please…”

Then she stopped. It was as though she knew. She gave up hope and the fire suddenly stopped hurting her. Only bloodshot eyes were visible in the horrific black mass in front of me.

“Don’t tell your father… Go back to school… Don’t tell him, Jemin. He’ll be upset. I’m sorry…”, by now her voice was croaking violently.

Then she died.

I could here voices and I swiftly descended the stairs, touching only perhaps two of the thirteen. I sprinted out through the back door, over the garden fence and back to school. The tears were still flooding down my cheeks when I arrived at the school. I had to steal a uniform from the school store and I stupidly thought of what my mother would think if she had known I was stealing. My clothes stank of seared flesh and smoke and I spent the next hour in the school showers, trying to wash the putrid death from my body.

I felt as though the image of her eyes had been burnt into my mind. Every time I thought about her, the green iris surrounded by white, then red and black charred skin would cast itself violently into my thoughts. It was maddening. I just crouched into a foetal position and let the water wash it all away. The realization of what I had done set in slowly. At first I thought about the stealing, how wrong that had been, how I could be expelled for that. Then a voice in my head spoke up… reminding me that I’d not only stolen; I’d stolen to cover up a murder.

By the time I felt clean enough to leave, the school had already let out and as I dried myself off, trying to still an uncontrollable shaking, the Haunter slinked out from nowhere. I dried my hair and when I pulled the white towel back from my head it was sitting there staring at me. I thought it was a cat or something and tried to shoo it away, but it stood it’s ground… staring at me.

Accusing me.

I was actually late back to what was left of my home. It was a ruin. My dad’s face fell when he saw me. I already knew he was at breaking point himself, but to have to break the news to me would near enough destroy him. It was very disconcerting just how easy it was to play dumb.

“What’s happened?” I asked still numb from my ordeal.

“Son, you’ve got to be calm, here.”

“Where’s Mum?” I said, the tears were queuing up behind my eyes, it was taking all my self control to keep them back.

“She’s gone, son.” He barely whispered the words and my eyes near-enough burst open. I fell to the floor and sobbed and sobbed with him holding me, trying to be strong when he himself had lost just as much, if not more.

We didn’t have to worry about a home. We stayed at a relative’s house and within a week, our home had been more or less restored by the city. It was a well-publicized tragedy in the city and therefore people were clambering over each other to help. This was of little consequence to the shattered family, but if my mother’s death did one thing, it brought the family closer together… except myself, who stewing in my own guilt grew reclusive from my sisters and my dad. I left soon after.

Maybe I’m just a recluse by nature. Before my Mum died, I had a life ahead of me. I was going to a prestigious school, I was passing all my classes, but I was never particularly social. I didn’t have any friends except the books I kept myself engrossed in. And when I left I could have done any number of things, but I was happy to live with Oris, out of the way, taking occasional trips to the library. Maybe this is the way I’m supposed to be… or was supposed to be. Did I really change that much?

But then I did undergo a great upheaval. I once heard it said that any change is a change for the better, but I don’t believe that anymore. I don’t believe there is such a thing as Oris’ transcendence. I’ve not become a better person; I’ve become no better and no worse. I think our changes are a trade-off. I was responsible for my mother’s death. That wasn’t the change, though. I was always capable of that – the change was my leaving. I left my home.

I know I changed then, because up until that point, I’d been afraid of the outside world. I’d wanted to spend my time at home or at school and nowhere else. But when my mother died, I couldn’t stay home. It reminded me of her. I couldn’t go to school; it was almost the same – it was the place I had crafted my deception. I had come to associate my pain with the only places I could truly live. So I turned to the outside world. I left my family and went searching for a new home; a place I could begin a new life and forget about what had happened before.

But it will never let me forget. The Haunter follows me and stares at me. It’s silence is a testimony to it’s ever presence. It reminds me of my mother’s eyes, my father’s tears, the sympathy I received as the member of a broken family. It reminds me that I’m not the person I thought I was. It reminds me of what I did and what I didn’t do. I didn’t save her and I covered it up.

So, no, there is no transcendence. We don’t change as much as we’d like to think we do. Even Oris and his supposed transcendence was a trade-off. He became stronger, quicker and all over better, apparently, but he sacrificed his humanity; his happiness. After reading his letter, I know that he was happy. He liked his life so much that he wanted to become human. He wanted a complete existence and that’s what he got. He stopped living his ‘half-life’. So he got what he wanted, even if he didn’t get what he expected.

So once again he is happy. He got the complete existence he wished for, but he’s also bringing down destruction upon us. That’s the real problem with change; the problem with transcendence. Change can be good. These trades we make although fair can be better in the long run. The reason I need to stop this change is because of the price. The price for my change was my mother’s death. The price for Oris’ change was, in a way… his own death. The price for this, though… the ‘Rise of the Vampyre’, well there’s gonna be a whole lot of deaths needed to bring that about.

Even if I am thinking about this in a slightly personal way, there’s another way to think about it: Vampyre feed on humans. Rise of the vampyre equals fall of the humans. It’ll be death… just lots and lots of death. I’m the only one who can stop it now. Everyone else is gone.

Oflor, with one arm, I don’t think would be much use and I’m pretty sure Gabe is dead. Ivy isn’t gonna be human for much longer… so all that’s left is me. It’s just me that stands between the world and complete ruin.

And it feels like my life is already ruined. Obviously it is. I’m headed to fight what’s likely to be two vampyre and I’m probably going to die. I suppose my life was ruined before all this started. One bout of inaction and the life I had fell apart. It’s sickening to think how fragile an existence is…it’s absolutely astounding to imagine how one action can have such a devastating effect on everything else.

I feel like all this has just been pushed upon me; like I've been tipped into a plunge pool of mythology and peril. Was it not just a week ago I was playing at all this? Being the suave and direct Mr Bryce? I thought I was being brave... resourceful... courageous. I felt like I was sacrificing something for Oris. Because, in essence, I risked my freedom for Oris.

When he changed... when he started acting weird, I leapt into action. I went to the library in the village. It may not sound action-packed or dangerous, but anyone could have recognised me. I put my anonymity on the line. I can appreciate that Portajaune, my home-town, is hundreds of miles away from the tiny region of Yrfeland, but it was still a risk.

It was when the library books turned up nothing that I was forced into desperate action. Long-winded romance novels and poorly plotted tales of honour infested the library shelves and the only book I could find on the Darklands seemed to exist only to explain in grave detail that information on the subject matter was all too limited. I ached to think of the books that littered my father's study. Tomes and volumes all devoted to the Darklands. Theories, grisly tales, legends all at the one place I couldn't get to. But desperate times called for desperate measures. I sent for Buxton.

Portajaune was too far away, but my father had associates in more convenient locations. Buxton was chosen only because he was the closest. Using my father's name, I sent for him. I willingly embraced a piece of the past I'd nearly died escaping from. And I did it for Oris. By the time the stuffy researcher arrived, it was no problem to introduce myself not as my father, but as another Bryce, thankfully he didn‘t recognise me. My letter summoning the man didn't explicitly mention who was writing and Buxton gracefully apologised for his presumption.

But he wasn't any help and in retrospect how could he have been? I wonder what information he did turn up between last week and last night. He may not even have shown up. After me threatening him like that I wouldn't be surprised if he just ran back to his home and forgot about the remainder of his fee. But I couldn't have expected him to uncover this. The device was some relic that was older than history itself. Oris' change wasn't even anything to do with that anyway. If anything, that device... the Antprime had postponed all this mess. It was the prophecy that changed him. An invisible conspiracy that had even entwined me those many years ago.

A part of me wants to blame the faeries for my past; to say they made me do what I did, I can't, though. I made that choice. They just put me in the situation. If I were a good person, there’d have been no possible circumstances for them to exploit. I know this is my fault.

Oris on the other hand was manipulated directly. He was told a misleading story that brought him out to the forest where he turned. He didn’t choose to become what he is. He had it thrust upon him… If there’s a true victim in this, it’s Oris. The idea that he thinks of me as pure and angelic is almost laughable considering what I’ve done.

I suppose we all have evil in us to some degree. We’re manipulated by the faeries because we’re weak. Oris desires to be human, Gabe desired some kind of redemption, Ivy wanted glory… We were all pushed along with the faeries taking advantage of our limits… our potential for evil. Our darkest moments are their greatest tools.

My head feels to small for everything I’m thinking about. Like I’m having a conversation with Gabe. Once again, I feel like I’m not in control. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t throw this sword away and turn around. It’d be like watching my Mum die again, just letting it happen because I’m scared. I’m headed this way and I suppose maybe I am being manipulated. With everything so hazy, yet my intentions so clear, it’s hard to believe this path hasn’t been set out before me… but I still can’t come off it.

It's way too familiar... being on my own again. Half-sleeping, worrying that I'm going to be throttled in my sleep. When Oris first saved me from that guy... from the man-with-the-gun... I was so relieved. As I recovered from his attack, I began to realise that it was over.

From its inception, my journey for a new home was fraught with danger. The constant presence of the mysterious man-with-the-gun was just one of the things I was forced to endure along the way and he came to personify the oppression and horror of the journey.

He was there almost from the start, after all. Trailing me through forests and towns and cities. His reasons, what he wanted with me... I guess I'll never know. But I didn't care. When I pulled that trigger those few years ago, I felt a tremendous wave of relief overcome me. Because as much as the man-with-the-gun had embodied the horrible fear that I lived in, his death (or murder, I suppose) embodied the end of my fear. It felt as though I'd overthrown a tyrant. I felt as though, even if the man-with-the-gun hadn't caused it all, I'd wrought vengeance for nearly a year of suffering.

But, these past two days, that familiar feeling's returned. As I scoped out caves and bushes to sleep in, scoured trees for any kind of fruit and spent hours searching for dry wood, I felt that creeping tenseness pulsing through me. Am I being watched? Is there a threat up ahead? These thoughts weaved their way into my mind and I've been on edge since I left Mary among the bodies of her dead village.

When I was with Oflor and Gabe and Ivy... I didn't feel like that. Perhaps I was too pre-occupied with keeping the volatile Ivy and Gabe apart, but a part of me knows it's because I was with people. We still looked for safe caves, or strategic clearings to sleep in, but when we were looking, we were doing it together. Even when Gabe was ignoring Ivy or Ivy was trying to get a rise out of him, we were facing the problems together. To know that I'm alone if I get attacked; it chills me. To know that if I die, no one will know... That scares me.

Why should it, though? Isn't it most likely the faeries have set this path out before me? Don't they want me to deliver this sword to my enemy... maybe even for Oris to turn me once Ivy's changed completely? So if I should be scared, it should be about what happens when I reach my destination. To be slaughtered by some unknown beast would be a mercy killing, considering what I'm about to face. It's only fears from my last journey which actually scare me. I know I'm not going to be hindered, or challenged on my way.

I know where my path leads. This all started in a forest and it’s going to finish in one. All I had to go on was what Mary told me. Oris told her he was headed to the old temple ruins. There’s nothing in this direction but the forest and the ruins, so I could only hope he was headed there. I was worried that I would arrive to find the place deserted or even that I’d get lost, but a while back I saw a pool of dried blood and only ten minutes ago I saw a tree with red splatters streaking down it’s bark. Since then I’ve been following the thin trail of blood as it weaves it’s way between the trees. Now I’m sure this is the end of the line.

I should have known that it was the place anyway. This new Oris seems to have a thing for theatrics. What better place for a final showdown than a historic ruin; a symbol of true power. I have no idea what he’s got planned, but I’m hoping he isn’t expecting me. I know for a fact the old Oris wouldn’t think me capable of this journey, but the new one is astute and organised. He could easily kill me if he wants, so I’ll need to convince him that he doesn’t want to.

I guess this trail of blood means that Ivy is putting up some kind of fight, and apparently not succeeding. Am I going here to save her? Of course not: she’s beyond saving. But even if I could save her… somehow turn her back… If I had a choice between saving Ivy and killing Oris, I’d go with the latter.

I have to do this alone now. I'm the only one who knows about this threat. I'll probably die, but the alternative is to run away and have the vampyre spread from Yrfeland outwards across the world. So in other words, the world has nothing to lose from my trying... and I suppose, now that Oris is well and truly gone, I have nothing to lose either.

I'm glad I've been able to accept that Oris is gone. The part of me that was hoping this is all a really weird dream has woken up, in an ironic sort of way. That same part of me was hoping that Ivy could be saved, that Oris hadn't turned her. There was no basis for my hopes and that was my weakness. I felt the world was a nice place. I thought that the powers above wouldn't let - let's face it - a little girl become a monster. I realised that those powers had already let her face a monster with nothing but a rope to protect herself. The world isn't a nice place. It doesn't care. It's just a big rock we live our lives on. It won't protect us, so we have to protect ourselves.

I completely appreciate, now that this isn’t about me or Oris or anybody. It’s about stopping something huge, stopping suffering and death on a worldwide scale. In the same way that my choice devastated my life, my actions here could have an opposite effect on the whole world.

When I stepped into this forest, I remembered walking into the forest those seven days ago and finding Oris holding Ivy. I thought he was going to kill her, but he dropped her and I thought that some sliver of compassion had escaped him. Now I realise that he saw something in her; a strength he thought could flourish in a vampyre body. Am I going to walk in on a similar scene, now? Will I see him holding some other helpless victim? Will he be waiting patiently on Ivy to reach ‘transcendence’ so he can turn another innocent? Could I really be his next victim? Maybe he does know I’m coming and he’s going to turn me… That doesn’t seem so bad. I’d rather join the vampyre than die at their hands, but I’d also rather stop them than join them.

The trees are silent and still and I can only just see the rubble emerging in the near distance. As the whole building comes into view I see it for what it really is. It’s smaller than I imagined, but also more breathtaking than Mary could have possibly described.

The word ‘ruin’ doesn’t quite fit it. Yes, the roof is gone and the walls are cracked and decaying, but there are statues of heroes and monsters fighting. Even the ivy crawling around their tense limbs adds to the effect. The doors have long since disappeared as moss and grass has crept through the empty doorway like a deepening puddle. This isn’t a ruin so much as a lost palace.

I don’t even bother trying to sneak in. Oris will hear me coming and I’m not naïve enough to think I can outwit him. I’m just going to be honest and up front. I can’t talk him out of it, so I’ll have to fight. The sun is close to setting, so I don’t have much time before I have to deal with Ivy as well as him. I need to get this done quickly if I hope to do it at all.

“Welcome, Jem.” The words vibrate through the ground.

“Oris?” I ask, looking around for the source of his voice. The room is much bigger than it appeared from the outside. Long stone benches line across the great hall facing a raised platform on which stands a massive stone altar. Oris sits upon it. He has a coy smile spread across his face. “Where is she?” I ask.

“Hi, Jem. You’ve brought the sword. Perfect. We’ll be needing that. Ivy’s still alive, waiting for her own transcendence.”

The image of Ivy waiting patiently to become a vampyre is almost laughable.

“Do you know where you are, Jem?” he asks.

“It’s the ruins of an old church,” I reply, straight faced.

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” he replies, finally standing and then wandering towards me. This, Jem, is… or at least once was, the Temple of Creation.”

“Stop wasting time, Oris. You know why I’m here.” I point the stunted blade at his advance, trying to draw more strength from it with my mind. None comes.

“Why are you here, Jem? What reason did the faeries conjure for you to come all the way out here? How did you find me?”

“I said stop wasting time.” My voice is firm.

I take another two steps towards him, and he slows his pace.

“I was just curious. You see the faeries told me you’d come here, but I couldn’t understand how they’d get you here. Did they give you a prophecy too… telling you to come here?”

“Oris, I’m here to fight you. Now my plan is simple: I’m going to ask you to stop what your doing and if you don’t agree then we fight.” It’s only ice-cold fear that stops me from adding ‘and you’ll probably kill me’.

Oris merely stares at me. His smile melts away into an expression of bemused curiosity. “Of course we’re going to fight,” he says. “It’s already been prophesised. Would you like to hear the latest instalment?” He removes a brilliant white paper from his pocket.

“No, Oris. I don’t care about prophecies anymore.” I begin walking towards him – this needs to be done quickly – and as I walk he reads anyway.

“Once again the vampyre waited-”

Before he can continue, I rush at him, holding the sword out towards him, but he leaps backwards and lands with his back against the altar. I can see some movement behind it and drawing closer, I can see Ivy, bound and struggling, on the floor. I seem to have startled him because he drops the paper and allows it to float down onto the altar, finally resting next to the other half of my broken sword.

I run towards him again, desperate to close my eyes, but glaring at him nonetheless. His reaction is not one of a fearful man. He strides towards me, drawing his dull grey sword. My bravery leaves me, but I keep running at him. Fear falls away into uncertainty and he jumps over me, swinging his blade against the feeble length of my own and rattling it from my trembling hand.

I stop running and listen as the final clatters echo around the room. I’m weaker now. Without the sword I’m just Jem. I can’t hope to compete with Oris unless I have that sword.

“This will all be crystal clear when we’re through here, Jem.” He smiles. “You might even come to see things my way.”

“It take it by that, you intend to turn me?”

He smiles again.

I’m glad he’s trying to waste time, because it gives me time to map a route to the sword that lies uselessly under one of the stone benches behind me.

Our eyes meet and then as fast as I can possibly move, I turn and run, finally taking a dive beneath the benches and cutting one in two as I turn to parry Oris’ next attack.

But he doesn’t attack.

He’s standing exactly where he was. He waits while I walk back towards the aisle. A serene face beams back at me. The warm, friendly eyes flit from the sword back up to my face as I turn and face him again… as I face my friend.

I run at him again. Whether I’ve found new bravery or whether I’ve resigned myself to death I no longer know. He avoids my attacks with ease, padding me firmly with the flat of his sword. I feel empty… like a tired actor working his last show. I move with passion and aggression but there is neither of those in me, I’m going through the motions - I think perhaps I have given up.

My reflexes are definitely sharpened by the sword but Oris’ attacks are instantaneous compared to my own and while I let my mind slip away, he continues to bombard me with attacks. I take one last stab at him and miraculously, it hits. In my crouched position I see blood spray and then trickle down his thigh as he looks over me. He grunts. I swing my shortened blade again and realize that it was merely a lucky strike.

He now towers over me, walking just as fast as I back away from him. My sword falls away from me and I’m inevitably backed against the altar. He raises the black sword and utters two words…

“Nice hit.”

…before bringing the sword down. I have no time to think, no time to react. I feel the pressure across my wrist as the blade crashes through to the very bone. As it glides away from my arm I feel an irresistible urge to throw up, but no blood emerges from behind the dirty, shredded sleeve of my dark baggy top. There’s no wound at all. Even Oris is surprised.

“Interesting…” he says before picking me up and slamming me on top of the altar. He attempts to bring the sword down on me and I attempt to avoid the blade, but neither of us is successful. I roll through his blade as it clinks off of the altar. I get to my feet and can see that Ivy is bleeding quite severely. Her face is pale and her lips are purple and her hand seems to be shedding blood at an alarming rate. None of these injuries matter of course, because they’ll all heal the moment she turns.

“I don’t get it, Jem. How’d you do it?” Oris asks.

“Like I’d tell you, now,” I reply, though it’s only then that I feel the weight of the Golem’s crystal in my pocket and understand just how I’ve defied death so far.

My spirits are soaring. I arrived here expecting to be killed, but now… with the combined force of the crystal and the broken sword I might actually be able to win this fight; I might actually survive.

I run at him.

He tries to bar my path, but I pass right through him and skid to a halt next to my sword. He attacks again, slashing at me vigorously: And while his aim is true, only the empty gashes across my clothes are any testament to his prowess. But now that I don’t have to defend myself, my attacks are hitting. Oris already has three narrow scores across his chest and a nick to the neck.

I begin to feel more confident as we trundle backwards. Oris’ attacks are becoming half-hearted as we near the altar. Am I winning? Is he giving up? He falls backwards onto the altar and drops his sword. His eyes look innocent. But the heat of battle is upon me and adrenaline pushes my broken sword down towards his chest.

He moves in a flash. One moment I’m leaning over his cowering form and the next he’s holding the Golem’s crystal in one hand and has me by the throat against that cold stone table with the other. He throws the crystal up in the air and hacks it in two. Crackles and sparks dance and fly from the two pieces as they rattle onto the altar. They look much duller than they ever did.

“Let’s play fair, Jem,” Oris says and brings his sword down on me again.

I bring my tiny blade up to protect my face and feel a terrible warmth spread through me. Blinding light engulfs the two of us and for a moment everything stands still. It’s like I’m watching everything from the sideline and I can see tranquil hate on Oris’ face and terrified confusion on my own.

The shafts of light glow from both pieces of the broken sword. The piece underneath me disappears in a glittering spray and re-appears on the other half. The blade is whole again and it glows a radiant light. It’s beautiful. Oris’ black blade still hovers above me in this standstill and then I’m suddenly back in my body. I block Oris’ attack, shredding his sword in two.

I can feel a stronger power flow through me. It dwarfs the power I did have; makes it seem like nothing at all.

Ivy’s eyes open. I can’t even see them, but something in my head knows she’s awake. I roll off the altar and bring the sword across Oris’ wrist. He growls in pain, but then throws his broken sword to his other hand. He backs off down the aisle. His eyes are menacing now. The sun is close to setting and I know in my heart that I have to finish this.

I throw the sword at him, letting the blade shoot through the air like a dart. It strikes Oris in the stomach and continues on in until I hear the hilt thump into him with a gruesome thud. Oris coughs and blood splatters out of his mouth. My eyes widen as I take in what I’ve done. I’ve killed my only friend. I had to.

Oris begins to roar and he pulls the sword from his stomach and falls to the ground while blood spreads across his white vest.

“Now…” he croaks, “It’s almost time, Ivy. Kill him.”

I turn around as see Ivy standing. With a whip in one hand and a fist full of blood in the other. She’s wearing the same fierce expression she’s always had.

“Ivy? What are you doing?” I ask, dodging both of her attacks. The sun hasn’t even set yet, but she attacks in what can only be described as a bloodthirsty rage. I remember Gabe’s words: “Some people... They know what’s coming so they just embrace it a little early.”

She gives me little time to react, sending a barb at my neck. I only just manage to duck it, now realising that without the sword my abilities are greatly impeded. Oris is still lying on the floor, his breathing rough and shaky. The sword is lying at his feet. If I can get to that, I can definitely beat Ivy.

I jump backwards, grasping at air as though it were a weapon I could use. I’m a little shocked that I can avoid Ivy’s attacks; perhaps I have become more deft, these past few days, or maybe her wound is disrupting her full attention. She continues attacking, so my only real option is to continue jumping backwards and before I know it, I feel the sword grinding against the ground beneath my feet. I look behind me and see that Oris has vanished.

I kick it up from the ground. As my hand grips the handle, the familiar warm strength takes over. I slice at Ivy’s whip and it falls pathetically to the floor. She looks at me in what I hope is fear, but nonetheless removes yet another whip from her belt. I run at her and then dart off to her left leaving her holding the shredded remains of the weapon.

“You’re beat, Ivy.”

“It wasn’t fair,” she says. Tears are welling up in her eyes and she falls to the ground.

“It never is,” I reply and head over to the altar where I know Oris is waiting.

Oris leaps from behind it, but with the sword in my hand, I sense his assault and jump into the air, grab his hair and bring his head down hard on the stone surface. More blood sprays from his face as his head collides, but he just laughs.

I stand over him. He’s slumped in front of me, both of us are completely still on the altar, as though we’re posing for some brutally graphic painting of ritual sacrifice. The only thing that keep Oris from falling is that I’m holding him up by his blood-soaked hair.

“What a fight,” he whispers between drunken giggles.

I bring blade to his throat and for a curious moment, I get a glimpse of myself. I hold a sword to my best-friends neck, ready to send him out of this world with a single slice. This is what we’ve become: This is what the faeries have done to us. We used to be friends and now… this; a fight to the death. The suns last embers disintegrate into the horizon and I look down at the bleeding figure that is Oris as it changes subtly into the true vampyre form. His fingers lengthen into points and I can only imagine his eyes have turned into the reptile like pupils I saw one long week ago. I realise I need to do this quickly. Ivy watches in disbelief and now that the sun has set, she could turn any minute.

“I’m sorry, Oris,” I say.

“You shouldn’t be sorry for something you haven’t done, Jem. You don’t have to do it. We could work together instead of this.”

“You know I could never do that.”

“You would if you were like me.”

“You want to turn me… now?”

“Read the prophecy… see what it says.” His head flicks down to the prophecy which still rests on the altar.

I can read it from here; between the black glimmers, fine looped writing etches out the remainder of the fairytale.

Once again the vampyre waited, this time at the Temple, which had fallen into ruin. The boy, now more determined than ever to stop his fallen friend, arrived with The Sword, finally bringing it back to the very temple in which it was created. The sword was re-forged and with this new weapon, the boy was unmatched in power and he overcame not only the vampyre, but also the girl.

“I don’t believe it,” I finally say. “You lose? Why would you do this? Why would you follow these orders?”

“What? Disillusioned in you hero, Jem? Thought I was better than this?”

“Well, yeah… Oris… I thought you were smarter than this.”

He’s wasting time again. Ever since I got here he’s been wasting time and I realise now that it’s because of Ivy. He wants her to turn.

“Sorry, Oris.” I slide the blade across his throat and watch the tiniest trail of blood emerge onto it.

“Don’t be sorry, Jem. My lucks about to change.”

Ivy steps forwards and I realise that I can’t do this. I can’t kill my best friend. This is insane! A moment ago I threw a sword through him with the express intention of killing him and now I can’t do it.

”Don’t you think it’s strange you’ve got me here?” He knows I can’t do it. “That you managed to beat me when even Blaze, a trained warrior couldn’t?”

“Shut up, Oris.” I know I have to do it.

“By the way that’s not the last part of the prophecy. There’s one last piece.”

“I said shut up!” (Help me Jemin, Don’t let me die.)

“Jem, you couldn’t even use a sword before and now you’re fighting ancient vampyre with apparent ease? Come on, Jem, you’re smart… don’t you think something’s amiss?”

“Please, Oris… Don’t make this any harder.” (Please Jemin)

“Remember that Golem thing?”

“Oris!” I plead with him.

“Now you managed to bring that down by sheer fluke even if it did near enough kill you.”

“Oris I swear I will do it” My hands shaking, but the blade’s getting further rather the closer to his neck. Oris hasn’t tried to take it from me, but if he wanted to he could.

“Jem I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. Once I’ve told you, you can decide whether you still want to kill me.”

I force the blade closer to him, once again drawing blood, but the wound is no more than a paper-cut. (Don’t let me die) The Haunter stares at me and I see flashes of it all. My mother’s death, my father’s cold empty eyes.

“You see that Golem thing did nearly kill you. You were a mess Jem… three big scores down your torso- Blood everywhere.”

“That’s a lie. When I woke up-”

“That’s because of me, Jem! The old me I mean. He really did like you- I still do! He couldn’t bear to lose you, Jem. At that point he thought it tragically poetic that you would die the day he became human.”

“Shut up,” I say and try to push the Blade into his neck, but I still can’t. (Help me)

“He turned you, Jem. Not me, it wasn’t the ‘monster’ you see before you, now, but the friend you knew all those years… He didn’t have clue it would re-awaken the true vampyre in himself. So that’s why you woke up fine and that’s why you won this fight. I wouldn’t stand a chance against someone who both had the sword and was ten minutes away from becoming a true vampyre. So that’s why you’re going to join me. So there… you know… and hey- By my reckoning it must have been exactly seven days since you were turned?”

I don’t need him to say because I already feel it coming on. An emptiness - a void - takes hold of me. I release Oris.

As he gets to his feet he speaks. “I took the liberty of committing the last part of the prophecy to memory, Jem. Do you want to hear?”

My vision blurs for a moment and then returns clearer than ever.

“Before he could kill the vampyre, he was gripped by fear and darkness.”

I look at my hands as my fingernails dissolve into long points.

“Seven days prior, the vampyre had turned him to save him from death: The boy finally became a true vampyre.”

I shift my grip on the sword to accommodate my new digits.

“His transcendence was complete.”

I’m confused. “What do I do now?” I ask. My voice sounds different somehow… better.

“Well we’ve finished the prophecy,” Oris says: “The two friends were re-united at last. Now it’s up to us vampyre.”

Am I a vampyre?

My mind is still adjusting and with all the new information entering my mind I feel overwhelmed. But it feels like a weight has been lifted; as though I’ve been blindfolded this past week. Now that the blindfold has been removed I can see the world for what it really is. Now that I can think properly, I know I could never kill Oris. This is the solution I was searching for. The only way we could remain friends. It’s so simple, I can’t believe I didn’t see it. I can’t believe I nearly killed him.

“I brought her for you,” he says, pointing at Ivy.

He wants me to turn Ivy? We could turn millions. All the good people get turned and the bad are left behind… bad people like Ivy. I’m worried that maybe this is some kind of mind trick. But it all seems to make sense. I can either kill myself and Oris or I can let him live and we can continue on. We’re on the frontier of a new world.

Sure people will die, but they’re only people, right now. They would have died eventually anyway. And it means we can start again, I think that’s what this world needs: A new start with only good people. There’s too much bad in this world. I feel exhilarated; like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

“Oris, we can build a better world.”

“I thought you’d change your mind,” Oris says. “Now all that’s left is Ivy.” He turns on her.

“I won’t let you turn me,” she says. “I won’t be a vampyre.”

“Yes you will,” Oris replies.

Ivy dives towards me, trying to get the sword, but I simply knock her to the ground with a firm palm.

“No,” I hear myself say. “I don’t want to turn her.”

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Oris says.

“No,” I say again, “Oris, we have a chance to make a new world; a better one. She can’t be part of it.”

“What?” Her voice carries faint tones of gratitude.

I don’t even look at her. “Oris she’s strong, but she’s not good. She’s just not a good person. She can’t live.”

She runs at me and starts pounding me with her fists. I’m aware of each tiny impact she makes, but they cause me no injury. I grab her wrist and hold her off the ground. She struggles and kicks, but to no effect.

“You are what is wrong with this world. We’re going to make a better world… one that you can’t be a part of,” I say and see Oris smile out the corner of my eye. I drive the blade upwards through her chest and she stops squirming immediately. I can feel the warmth of her blood trickle down my hand and I lower the sword, letting her body slide off of it. I run my finger along the bloody blade and taste the droplets of blood from my hand.

For a moment I wonder what my mother would think. What would she say if she could see me now? For the first time in it’s existence, the Haunter looks away from me and I realise how proud my mother would be. Her son: The founder of a better world. I think perhaps her death has purpose, now. I really think she would be proud. Almost as punctuation to those thoughts, the Haunter fades a little. He continues to avert his gaze and then fizzles silently away, a final spark dancing from its tail as it blinks out of existence.

“What now?” I say to Oris.

“They used the sword to bring down an army of angels and the race of vampyre rose to power.”

“An army?” I ask with concern.

“The bear, your angel and fifty others.”

“Can we beat them?” I ask him.

Oris merely smiles at me.

Everything’s back to normal. I feel happy again. We’re together, best friends with a bright future and a new world ahead of us.