THESE CRIMSON STRINGS

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<<nobr>>  <li>[[the vampire's diary]]</li> <</nobr>>

THESE CRIMSON STRINGS

by <a href="https://thesecrimsonstrings-if.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Axel</a> & <a href="https://nikkefort-dev.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Nick</a> <a href="https://vahnya.itch.io/twine-template" target="_blank">Twine Templete</a> by Vahnya

<<script>>$("#sidebar").toggleClass("toggled");<</script>> <div class="wrapperintro"> <div class="titleintro">{these crimson strings^}</div> <a class="linkintro"><<link "START GAME" "Disclaimer">><</link>></a> <a class="linkintro"><<link "LOAD GAME">><<script>>UI.saves();<</script>><</link>></a> <a class="linkintro"><<link "SETTINGS">><<script>>UI.settings();<</script>><</link>></a> </div> <<audio "menu" play loop>><<set $skip to false>>\

<<script>>$("#sidebar").toggleClass("");<</script>><<audio "menu" fadeoverto 6 0>><<timed 6s>><<audio "menu" stop>><</timed>>\ <div class="center">\ !!.prologue. !!!.of monsters and men. //''Levinae, Greece''// //''10th century BCE''// </div>\ You are running for your life. The sweet taste of crimson liquid dances on your tongue. But you don’t have the time to savour it. Not yet. Behind you, the sun beats on your head like an impending drum, disorienting you more than you had ever been. Even the surroundings prove to be against you, abandoned ruins as far as your raw eyes can see. These ruins were, to you, as familiar as the angry sun rays beating down on you. You grew up here, made friends, built bonds that you would spend your entire mortal life cherishing. But now, the rubble was all you had left, as scattered as the fragments of your memory. But you have no time to grieve. No time to mourn. The clanking of metal mixes with the angry shouts of the guards. It's distant but strangely deafening to focus upon. They are upon you, for you have killed someone. You can’t say that they were not deserving. Mortal punishment does not appease the dead, it only keeps them contained. The only punishment for traitorous deeds is death itself. And as you ripped his throat open with your teeth, you had faintly thought that the ribbons of blood that erupted afterwards looked pretty. The surroundings are blurred as you press forward; the sunlight that you had once adored and played under turns scornful and cruel. It calls for your end and twists the ground beneath your feet. But you will mock the gods back; the same gods who turned their backs on you when you needed them the most. You will not meet your end like this, not when it has cost you everything to exact your vengeance. Your anger is hot in your veins, overpowering the blood that had turned cold a long while back. You turn, baring your teeth like a wounded animal, and //feed//. [[Continue|Prologue2]]

<div class="center">\ //''A day ago''// </div>\ You wake up to the clink of hammer against the hot iron. You can’t remember a day when the familiar sound did not carry over the whole house, indicating the start to your day. Your father always did like to wake up earlier than anyone else in the household. You stretch your arms over your head, the morning sun lighting up your room through the open window. You wonder what is there for breakfast, or maybe you would have to visit the market. Well, all of that can come later. For now, you have to get dressed and check up on your mother to see if her fever has receded. The linen of the white chiton felt soft under your fingers. It’s not long before you’re all dressed and ready to start the day. The mud floor beneath your bare feet is cool and comforting, likely the result of the drop in temperature last night. Walking up to the basin filled with water that your father had built himself, the reflective surface perfectly encapsulating your features back to you. • [[Looking back at you is a man around 20 summers old.|Prologue3][$MC_gender = "male"]] • [[A woman of around 20 summers old peers back from the surface.|Prologue3][$MC_gender = "female"]] • [[The person staring back at you is around 20 summers old.|Prologue3][$MC_gender = "nonbinary"]]

<<nobr>><<if $MC_gender is "male">>\ <<set $MC_brother to "brother">> <<set $MC_son to "son">> <<set $MC_man to "man">> <<set $MC_boy to "boy">> <<elseif $MC_gender is "female">> <<set $MC_brother to "sister">> <<set $MC_son to "daughter">> <<set $MC_man to "woman">> <<set $MC_boy to "girl">> <<else>> <<set $MC_brother to "sibling">> <<set $MC_son to "child">> <<set $MC_man to "person">> <<set $MC_boy to "child">> <</if>><</nobr>>\ What are your pronouns? • [[He/Him|Prologue4][$MC_he = "he"]] • [[She/Her|Prologue4][$MC_he = "she"]] • [[They/Them|Prologue4][$MC_he = "they"]]

<<nobr>><<if $MC_he is "he">>\ <<set $MC_him to "him">> <<set $MC_his to "his">> <<elseif $MC_he is "she">> <<set $MC_him to "her">> <<set $MC_his to "her">> <<else>> <<set $MC_him to "them">> <<set $MC_his to "their">> <</if>><</nobr>>\ Perhaps the most tantalizing features that you have are your eyes. Twin shades of <<cycle "$eye_colour" autoselect>><<option "ocean blue↻" "ocean blue">><<option "sea green↻" "sea green">><<option "stormy grey↻" "stormy grey">><<option "pure hazel↻" "pure hazel">><<option "golden amber↻" "golden amber">><<option "hickory brown↻" "hickory brown">><<option "obsidian black↻" "obsidian black">><</cycle>> against the <<cycle "$skin_colour" autoselect>><<option "fair↻" "fair">><<option "beige↻" "beige">><<option "tanned↻" "tanned">><<option "brown↻" "brown">><<option "dark brown↻" "dark brown">><</cycle>> shade of your skin. You have also heard a lot about how you look like the perfect mixture of your parents. How you have inherited your father’s <<cycle "$hair_colour" autoselect>><<option "jet black↻" "jet black">><<option "dark brown↻" "dark brown">><<option "light brown↻" "light brown">><<option "copper red↻" "copper red">><<option "auburn↻" "auburn">><<option "strawberry blonde↻" "strawberry blonde">><<option "golden blonde↻" "golden blonde">><<option "ash grey↻" "ash grey">><</cycle>> hair and your mother’s pretty eyes. It’s not something you get tired of hearing you have to admit. Your <<cycle "$height" autoselect>><<option "very short↻" "very short">><<option "short↻" "short">><<option "average↻" "average">><<option "tall↻" "tall">><<option "very tall↻" "very tall">><</cycle>> stature also adds to your charm. People admitted that it was love at first sight for both of your parents when they met each other. Your father was an awkward teenager who was only fluent in the tongue of burning red metal being shaped into wonderful creations. Your mother was already being regarded as a priestess chosen by Apollo himself, unwavering in her faith and devotion to the sun god. They met when Kyriakos was tasked with delivering new armour for the temple guards. Your mother, Helen, was outside and feeding the swans in the lake when she heard his heavy footsteps on the damp earth. Their eyes met, cheeks flushed, a conversation struck (courtesy of your mother). By the end of the visit, Kyriakos had vowed to marry her, something that Helen was all too happy to accept. “You’re going to give Narcissus a run for his money from the way you’re staring at your own reflection.” Your younger sister, Daphne, giggles from the doorway. Musing stopped midway, you roll your eyes at the comment. “I was thinking about something. You should try it sometimes, seeing the way your blabbering tongue gets you in trouble.” She mock gasps and opens her mouth to give a retort before you hear your father call out your name. What’s your name? <<textbox "$MC_truename" "">> <<link "Set">><<set $MC_truename to $MC_truename.trim()>><<set $MC_truename to $MC_truename.toUpperFirst()>><<if $MC_truename == "">><<replace "#input-error">>Enter a name.<</replace>><<else>><<goto "Prologue5">><</if>><</link>>@@#input-error;@@ <<message 'Choose from traditionally masculine names'>>\ • [[Alexandros (Ἀλέξανδρος)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Alexandros"]] • [[Basileios (Βασίλειος)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Basileios"]] • [[Damianos (Δαμιανός)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Damianos"]] • [[Hyakinthos (Ὑάκινθος)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Hyakinthos"]] • [[Iason (Ἰάσων)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Iason"]] • [[Leonidas (Λεωνίδας)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Leonidas"]] • [[Nikandros (Νίκανδρος)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Nikandros"]] • [[Perseus (Περσεύς)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Perseus"]] • [[Rhysandros (Ρύσανδρος)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Rhysandros"]] • [[Theodoros (Θεόδωρος)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Theodoros"]] • [[Theseus (Θησεύς)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Theseus"]] • [[Zagreus (Ζαγρεύς)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Zagreus"]] <</message>> <<message 'Choose from of traditionally feminine names'>>\ • [[Anastasia (Ἀναστασία)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Anastasia"]] • [[Ariadne (Ἀριάδνη)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Ariadne"]] • [[Chrysanthe (Χρυσάνθη)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Chrysanthe"]] • [[Danae (Δανάη)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Danae"]] • [[Eurydice (Εὐρυδίκη)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Eurydice"]] • [[Leaneira (Λεάνειρα)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Leaneira"]] • [[Medea (Μήδεια)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Medea"]] • [[Opheleia (Οφηλία)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Opheleia"]] • [[Phoibe (Φοίβη)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Phoibe"]] • [[Rhoxane (Ῥωξάνη)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Rhoxane"]] • [[Sidero (Σιδηρώ)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Sidero"]] • [[Theodosia (Θεοδοσία)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Theodosia"]] <</message>> <<message 'Choose from gender neutral names'>>\ • [[Arius (Ἄρειος)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Arius"]] • [[Charon (Χάρων)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Charon"]] • [[Dion (Δίων)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Dion"]] • [[Eridian (Ερίδιων)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Eridian"]] • [[Genesis (Γένεσις)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Genesis"]] • [[Gryphon (Γρύφων)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Gryphon"]] • [[Kyrios (Κύριος)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Kyrios"]] • [[Lexus (Λεξυς)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Lexus"]] • [[Orion (Ωρίων)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Orion"]] • [[Phoinix (Φοίνιξ)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Phoinix"]] • [[Theron (Θήρων)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Theron"]] • [[Zephyr (Ζέφυρ)|Prologue5][$MC_truename = "Zephyr"]] <</message>>

“$MC_truename? Come outside for a minute.” Your father, Kyriakos’s voice booms through the whole house. As dangerous as he looked and sounded sometimes, you know him to be the best blacksmith in town – and also the best father, if you do say so yourself. You walk outside, Daphne following you like an annoying shadow. Of course, you were used to her antics by now. You shield your eyes against the sun, squinting as you see your father lugging a sack filled with a new supply of bronze towards his forge. Daphne immediately rushes to his side, eager to help him out despite her strength being nowhere as incredible as your father. “I assume the trade was a success,” you smile, your father looks quite cheerful and it is not something that you had witnessed very often, at least not since your mother fell ill. “You’d assume correctly, my dear,” Kyriakos laughs, patting the sack filled with bronze proudly. “Just you wait until they open up the new port for trading, even the Athenians will be flocking here for your father’s weapons.” You shake your head with a smile as the three of you enter his smithy, the room lit with sunlight and fire in the forge. Incomplete creations are scattered across the room and you have to step in carefully so you don’t trip over something. Kyriakos did not like wasting the metals so he would recycle the armours and weapons that did not seem satisfactory to him and remake them. Your father took his craft very seriously and each metallic creations of his were eyed to perfection. Unfortunately, you lived in a town where the most exciting thing that had happened in a decade was when some local kids said they had seen a Cyclops roaming around the gardens, but it only turned out to be the gardener who had a nasty bump on the centre of his forehead after hitting that spot on a rock when he was out swimming. “Daphne, get the breakfast ready and see if your mother is awake,” your father tells her, his eyes suddenly looking serious. Daphne blinks in surprise at the sudden change in his mood but complies nonetheless. He looks behind you to make sure she is out of earshot before turning back to you. “Have you put some thought on what you’d do next?” You sigh, already knowing that he was going to give you another lecture about how you should leave mother’s care to him and Daphne and that you should complete what you had set out to do before. • [[“You already have a successful future in athletic endeavours! I still cannot believe you turned down the opportunity to play in Athens.”|Prologue6][$MC_past_work = "athlete"]] • [[“You returned from your educational aspirations the second you heard of your mother falling ill, would you still be able to catch up with your peers?”|Prologue6][$MC_past_work = "scholar"]] • [[“Your music instructor was not too happy that you had abandoned your plans to perform in Athens. I know you dreamt of playing your lyre there one day.”|Prologue6][$MC_past_work = "musician"]]

<<if $MC_past_work == "athlete">>\ “Opportunities like that will come and go, father,” you shrug, leaning against the wall of the forge. “I just cannot try to focus on anything else while mother is this sick.” <<if $MC_gender == "male">>\ “I don’t suppose your enomotarch was any happy either,” Kyriakos assumes. “They have countless men signing up to be a hoplite anyway, I do not think my absence will make any difference.” <</if>>\ Kyriakos sighs. “You always did carry a certain stubborn streak. I wonder where you got that from.” You can’t help but smirk. “I’m sure you know him well. He is huge like a boulder, has a beard that would make Zeus envious and he also gives the best hugs in all of Greece.” Your father throws his head back and laughs, it really doesn’t take him long to find amusement in your sarcasm. Like father, like $MC_son. <<elseif $MC_past_work == "scholar">>\ “I am sure that I would rather give mother’s health my attention than listen to some old philosopher telling us that the sun revolves around earth.” Kyriakos scratches his bushy beard in confusion. “It doesn’t?” “Oh father,” you try to hold in your laughter but you cannot help it, “I think you need some education more than I do.” He crosses his arms and huffs. “You know how much that philosophy poppycock hurts my brain.” “Are you sure it is not just you being mad that half of that stuff goes over your brain?” Kyriakos jokingly fixes you with a threatening finger. “You must not underestimate your father, $MC_boy.” <<else>>\ “It is not like I cannot play for the townsfolk here,” you shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. “Mother’s health is more important than playing for a bunch of self-absorbed nobles anyway.” Your father doesn’t believe you fully. Bleeding fingers and sleepless nights were spent on perfecting your mastery over your beloved instrument that you took pride in. Made out of cedarwood under your mother’s watchful eyes, it was polished and tuned to magnificence. At the base, an illustration of the sun was carved out. “I know how adamant you are on staying here for your mother,” Kyriakos relents, like he always does. “I do not think I can change your mind until Helen gets better.” Well, he was right about that at least. <</if>>\ “Regardless of anything,” you smile at him reassuringly, “I promise I’ll be out of your hair the second mother is feeling completely better.” Your father shakes his head. “You know neither me nor Helen want you to stray away from us. But you are still an individual of your own, you should choose your own path and find happiness along the way.” Of course, you were aware of sacrifices your parents had made for both you and Daphne. They were both industrious and quite progressive than most people in the town. Since early on, your mother had encouraged your future endeavours, even if they were not typically traditional for a small town $MC_boy. Kyriakos did not hesitate in following his wife’s way either. Before you had the chance to reply to him, a snobby voice calls out from outside. “Kyriakos, you brute! We have matters to discuss.” [[Continue|Prologue7]]

Archon Chariton was anything but graceful and kind. You wonder if the gods had thought it would be hilarious to let his mother name him that just so he could grow up and prove to be quite the opposite of what it meant. A pot-bellied, copper-haired man who gorged himself on expensive wine and the labours of the townsfolk, you had heard your father curse him many times when he thought the archon’s bootlickers were not around. You cannot say that you blame him, half of the people in town hated the snob and wanted him gone. Alas, generational wealth and influence over the upper-class kept his house lush and his pockets jingling with drachmas. Right now, he stood there in his fine garb and sported a nauseatingly smug look. You also notice that he had brought his guards with him; they stood behind him near the entrance of the house and looked ahead. A red linen armour over their shoulders which covered half of their broad chests, a bronze helmet that was probably supplied by your father and a long spear paired with a wooden shield. You would think that they looked almost fearsome if they did not seem a tad bit nervous to be around your giant of a father. “There he is! My favourite blacksmith in the whole of Levinae!” Chariton grins and your father crosses his arms in reply. The guards behind the archon take a step back and you try not to laugh. “I am the only blacksmith around because you drove the others out of business in the town.” The weaselly man rubs his hand and laughs as if your father had made a fine joke. “It is dreadful business, Kyriakos. They just could not keep up with the quality and quantity I expected. But less competition for you, isn’t it?” Your father looks less than impressed and Chariton clears his throat at the ensuing silence. “Well, in any case, I am not here to talk about that,” his voice turns serious. “Have you considered my offer yet?” Now your father lets out a huff, the irritation clear by that single action. Daphne had told you that the archon had repeatedly been coming around to pester your father and he was at his wits end. “//I hate that creep,//” she had said as she walked with you to get some herbs for your mother’s medicine. “Father is even planning on building another smithy, just so he can get away from that weasel.” “Archon, with all due respect, I will not be making weapons just so you can raze the neighbouring towns as you please.” Your father’s voice is firm with finality, a warning that he was not going to budge on his decision. You really did get your stubborn streak from him. “Nonsense,” the copper-haired man waves his statement away, not even bothering to deny it one bit, “conflicts happen, people die. What we should worry about is how we reap from those opportunities.” “You know full well that I only wish to make armour and weapons for defence. If you wish to use your influence just to get a sick sort of satisfaction of plundering and looting without any sense of morality, I am the last person you should be employing.” Chariton hums, a wicked smile forming on his lips. “Do not pretend you do not have ambitions of your own. Making those creations of yours for the sake of defence? Spare me that.” His greedy eyes travel over to you and you are rooted to the spot, a frown taking over your expression. You knew that look all too well: scheming and looking forward to more. Chariton steps closer, his two guards following his lead while also shooting a wary glance at your father who glares at their master. You stand your ground though, knowing full well that you will not give this greedy weasel any satisfaction. [[Continue|Prologue8]]

<<if $MC_gender is "male">>\ His pudgy index finger pokes at your biceps, gaze flitting over your whole form with a satisfied nod. “Quite the beautiful specimen of a son you have here,” he drones at your father, although he still trains his eyes on you. “<<print ucfirst($MC_he)>> would do splendidly well in the army.” <<if $MC_past_work isnot "athlete">>\ “I have no wish to mindlessly participate in a glorified battlefield, sir,” your tone is scathing, “I have interests of my own that does not involve all that.” “Ah yes,” Chariton’s voice is mockingly disappointed. “Gone are the days when men would gladly sacrifice their lives for the sake of their cities.” <<else>>\ “Considering what I can tell about your idea of an ‘army’, sir, I would like to steer clear of that.” “Hmph, a typical response from Kyriakos’s boy,” Chariton sneers, “so much potential and yet you choose to let it all go to waste.” <</if>>\ “My son is not a pawn for you to use, Archon Chariton,” your father’s voice booms before you can reply to him. “Don’t you have enough of them already?” He points to the two guards with his left thumb and they both wince slightly. “Such a small mind you have, Kyriakos,” the archon laughs, “Haven’t you heard that there is strength in numbers?” <<elseif $MC_gender is "female">>\ His pudgy hand leans up to stroke your face and you are one second away from socking him when he pulls it away immediately. “A beautiful maiden like you should have settled down a while ago, dearie. I would bet a pouch full of drachmas that there are men lining up for your hand already!” You fix his smug face with a scathing glare. “It may have perhaps slipped your mind, respected archon, but me being a woman does not mean I dream of getting married day and night. I have my own thoughts and dreams that do not revolve around finding a husband.” Instead of being angry at you, he throws his head back and laughs. “<<print ucfirst($MC_he)>> <<if $MC_he is "they">>are<<else>>is<</if>> feisty, Kyriakos. Surely takes after you and Helen.” <<else>>\ He cocks his head and looks at you up and down. It is disturbing and you especially do not like the predatory grin that settles over his lips. “Such a beauty you have for a child, Kyriakos. I can already tell $MC_he would fetch a fair price if you bargain with the Athenians, heard they were looking for new servants in their households. Who knows, maybe a noble might take a liking to $MC_him too.” “Chariton!” your father thunders, his eyes flashes with the same amount of anger as you but yours is also mixed with humiliation. You grind your teeth, the only reason why you aren’t pouncing on the smug archon was because of the way his guards were pointing their spears at you both. <</if>>\ The giant man shakes with barely restrained anger and you were sure that if you were not there to witness everything, he would have pummelled them all to the ground. You place a hand on his arm to calm him down and he closes his eyes with a deep breath. “That’s right, Kyriakos, there is no need to bark and bite. After all, everyone in this town are just dogs on a leash.” • [[“Funny you should say that, considering the way you leach off of everyone’s hard work.”|Prologue9][$temp to 1]] • [[“Take your lackeys and get out of here, we have grown tired of your presence.”|Prologue9][$temp to 2]] • [[“That is quite enough, sir. I will have to ask you all to leave this instance.”|Prologue9][$temp to 3]] • [[You do not say anything. Instead, you point towards the road, a silent but firm order to leave.|Prologue9][$temp to 4]]

Chariton blinks in surprise before bristling like an offended rattlesnake. His two guards look at him nervously, not too keen on making a scene right now and really wishing that their master would just take your advice. <<if $temp == 1>>\ “You have no idea what you are talking about, impudent $MC_boy. Keep your nose out of my business.” But you already knew you had hit a nerve with the way his eye twitched and the loss of his swaggering composure. The satisfaction makes you jut out your chin confidently. You were not going to let this walking filth of a human being belittle your family in your own property. <<elseif $temp == 2>>\ “Tired of //our// presence?” You observe him sputtering in anger with some amusement. You can tell that you had wounded his pride and while most people would think that was a bad idea, you frankly do not care. Chariton had swaggered into your property and belittled you like you were not even a human being in his eyes, taking him down a peg was the least you could do. <<elseif $temp == 3>>\ “And since when have you started ordering an archon around, $MC_boy?” He scowls nastily. “Since you decided it was a good idea for you to stroll in our property and harass us, sir,” your sarcasm is palpable and it only serves to anger him more. Either way, you were not going to sit here and take it while he belittled you and your father like he owned the land. <<else>>\ “Do you respect your archon so little that you won’t even use your voice, you impudent $MC_boy?” “Should I remind you that you are guests on our property. Uninvited too, might I add,” your tone is flat as you speak, “and there is no law in Greece which states that I should be convicted on the charges of not speaking to a rude guest.” You had already grown tired of Chariton’s dramatics, you had held your peace for most of the conversation but not anymore. No one takes satisfaction in disrespecting you and the people you love, no one. <</if>>\ “Do us all a favour and please listen to what $MC_he say<<if $MC_he isnot "they">>s<</if>>.” A new voice joins the fray. Everyone looks over at the sound and sees a tall man with a well-worn brown satchel hanging on his shoulder. You immediately recognise him as Phaidros, your parents’ best friend and the person who was responsible for trying to heal Helen currently. His normally kind amber eyes are filled with distaste as they rake over Chariton. “I was wondering when you would join us,” the archon sneered, lips pursing in obvious dislike. “Never go too far from your beloved friends’ house, do you?” “Leave, Archon Chariton,” Phaidros’s voice does not waver, it is crisp and in command. “For you are not welcomed here.” When he fixes his gaze onto Chariton’s guards, they stand up straighter and begin walking ahead of their master. To your surprise, the archon also follows them without throwing a tantrum like you thought he would do. //That was... definitely strange.// You turn back to Phaidros and see him still staring at the spot where the strange trio had disappeared out of view. It is your father who shakes him out of his daze when he puts a hand on his shoulder. “Oh! My apologies, it looks like the sun is taking more toll on me than I had expected,” Phaidros laughs nervously, rubbing his arm. “Clearly,” your father mumbles, he then glances at you for a second before clearing his throat. “Let us all go inside now, Helen is waiting for you.” [[Continue|Prologue10]]

Daphne is already waiting by your mother’s bedside when you all enter, fiddling nervously with her fingers. She jumps from her place when she notices your arrival. Phaidros gives her a small smile and the gesture is returned. “She ate a bit of bread and grapes but she did say she was not thirsty,” Daphne sighs, looking over at your mother. “She fell asleep soon after, I do not think she had gotten any sleep yesterday.” You wince when you remember the events of last night. Helen went to bed early after dinner and you had massaged her legs so it at least gave her some comfort through the aching fever. When you had finally laid down to sleep, she had begun to scream bloody murder. Soothing whispers and water would not calm her down at all. It was not until Daphne force-fed her a sleeping concoction that she was finally able to sleep. None of the people in your family had gotten much sleep last night but you were trying to get on with your day as normally as you could. Her haunting cries echo in your mind and it is enough to give you a bout of shivers. Helen had always been a devout woman, a faithful follower of Apollo even when she had left her position as a priestess and settled down with your father. People in town whispered about her behind her back— said she was going to be chosen as an oracle before she chose family over pure devotion. You were not a stranger to these rumours surrounding your mother, even the kids knew all about it. Phaidros gets to work, gently shaking her awake and asking her how she was feeling. Lately, her eyes seem more dull, as if something terrifying plagues her every waking moment. Your father had assured you that it was just the fever but sometimes you—and even Daphne—wondered if he and Phaidros were keeping some sort of dreadful secret from you and your sister. Phaidros had been a constant presence in your family’s life ever since you can remember. With a smile that spoke of affection and kindness from the heart, you knew that your parents and him went way back. The opinion of him from the townsfolk contrasted a lot from your parents, however. They regarded him with a sort of mistrust, a reluctance to truly accept him as a community. You have never seen him mind their outlook on him too much though, he still went out of his way to help everyone. But you will be lying if you did not find him awfully mysterious. How can you know someone for all your life, yet know so little about them? Rumours flung in town about him too; he lurked around when the sun sets, under his worn out hooded robe (although you could argue that he was always wearing that robe, even during the day), and gave some people the scare of their lives when they crossed paths at night. • [[You trusted him despite all the misgivings, though. You can even say that you two are very close.|Prologue11]] • [[You cannot say that you felt too strongly about him either way. All that mattered was that your parents trusted him.|Prologue11]] • [[There was no doubt that you felt uneasy around him for reasons you could not quite put your finger on.|Prologue11]]

Daphne taps your arm and you turn to give her your attention. She smiles, although it looks a little rueful, no doubt your mother’s condition was not agreeing with her. “Come with me,” she takes your hand, tugging you out of the room, “I need to show you something.” You cock your head slightly, confused at the change in her demeanour. You do not dare complain though, just let her lead you to her room. It is quite identical to yours, except hers are littered with metal scraps that she sneaked away from Kyriakos’s smithy. You are not surprised, Daphne dreamt of working with your father one day and reach his level of mastery. People say he is blessed by Hephaestus himself, and while you cannot know for sure if it is actually true or not, there is no denying that he is a master of his craft. You watch as Daphne pulls out something from her wooden box; she often admonished you for going through it before finally asking your father to build a lock for it. Regardless, you knew she kept her tools and trinkets there, creations that she found satisfying enough for her tastes. “You missed your birthday when you were away from home, and well,” Daphne shifts nervously, turning around to show what was in her hands. “Happy belated birthday, dear $MC_brother.” It was a laurel wreath, something that you had only ever seen nobility and royals wear. The sunlight made it seemed like it was gleaming, silver that must have cost more that you could have afforded. Looking closely, you can see the intricate details on it, from the veins running along the leaves to the groves in the curved silver branch that holds them all together. “This... this is...” you trail off. It is magnificent, gods knew how hard Daphne had worked on it; the silver could not have been cheap either! “I’ll take your speechlessness as a good sign,” your little sister giggles. “Now turn around, please.” You do as she asks, still too starstruck to say anything. The cold feeling of the metal is felt through your scalp. It fits perfectly around your head, the ends of the silver leaves coming to a stop near the front of your forehead. “There,” Daphne says as she finishes adjusting the $hair_colour tangles of your hair, “now you will fit right in with the Athenians.” “How do I look?” You turn around with a small smile. Your sister lets out a low whistle. “My dear $MC_brother, all of Athens will be scrambling over your attention, mark my words!” You shake your head with a smile. “You did not have to make this, I would have been happy with just a birthday wish.” Daphne huffs as if the mere idea of that is preposterous. “And let you one-up me? Perish the thought!” She points to the wooden dove hairpin that she still wore. It was a present from you and it had taken weeks of saving and delivering bread to save up for one of the highest quality. Daphne loved doves and sure enough, she loved the hairpin too. Your mind wanders off to how in all the sixteen summers of her existence, Daphne had always thought of her family and less of anything else. She had always been scrawny, with not a lot of fat or muscle on her thin body. Yet her determination overshadowed these factors with exuberance and confidence. “$MC_truename,” Daphne speaks up after a while, voice low. “Will you still visit us if you decide to settle down in Athens?” • [["“Of course I will, I have to make sure you do not forget about your dear " + $MC_brother + ".”"|Prologue12][$temp to 1]] • [[“Who said I will be settling there permanently, hm? Eager to get rid of me this soon?”|Prologue12][$temp to 2]] • [[You pause for a while before smiling. “We will take it one day at a time, Daphne.”|Prologue12][$temp to 3]]

<<if $temp == 1>>\ Daphne laughs despite herself. “As if I could forget about you anytime soon, you have been a constant pain in the ass.” “Excuse me, missy,” you waggle your finger in front of her jokingly, “I should be the one saying that.” “Nope, the truth is that you love me way too much,” she sticks out her tongue at you. “Why wouldn’t you? I’m obviously the best sister you could ever ask for.” “Whatever rocks your boat, Daph.” <<elseif $temp == 2>>\ “Well the idea of turning your room into a workshop of my own is very much appealing,” Daphne pretends to think, her index finger tapping her chin. “Hey, rude!” “Deal with it, my //dearest// $MC_brother.” Well, at least she does not seem to be worrying about your departure from Levinae anymore. As if you would ever leave this little rascal alone. <<else>>\ Daphne nods, giving you a sad smile. She knew your answer was not negative but it was not exactly in agreement either, just a ‘maybe’ at best. But she would take a ‘maybe’ instead of a ‘never’ any day. “I will miss you, either way,” she says, sighing. “The house will feel quite empty without your annoying presence.” “And Athens won’t feel quite the same without you talking my ear off.” She sticks out her tongue at you in reply. <</if>>\ There is a beat of silence before Daphne quietly says, “I’m really worried about Mother.” You purse your lips. Of course she was worried; she is not a child who would believe that randomly screaming your lungs out at night and muttering nonsense in your sleep is a symptom of a normal fever. “I know, Daph. I know.” Perhaps you should have told her that it would be okay, that your mother’s illness won’t last for too long. But you knew the possibility of that looked bleak, considering how she has been sick for almost a month now. You are not going to give your sister false hope, especially knowing how much she hates it. And by the way she holds your hand and gently presses her thumb to your wrist, you can tell that she appreciates it. [[Continue|Prologue13]]

/* also use <<print ucfirst($var)>> for capitalazation */ <<cacheaudio "menu" "music/menu.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "prologue" "music/prologue.mp3">> <<set $MC_truename = "unknown">> <<set $MC_gender = "unknown">> <<set $MC_brother = "sibling">> <<set $MC_son = "child">> <<set $MC_man = "person">> <<set $MC_he = "unknown">> <<set $eye_colour = "unknown">> <<set $hair_colour = "unknown">> <<set $height = "unknown">> <<set $mortal_personality = "unknown">> <<set $MC_past_work = "unknown">>

<div class="center">\ !!The Vampire’s Diary !!!Character Details </div>\ • Your name is $MC_truename. • You identify as $MC_gender and your pronouns are <<if $MC_he is "unknown">>unknown<<elseif $MC_he is "he">>he/him<<elseif $MC_he is "she">>she/her<<else>>they/them<</if>>. • You are the older $MC_son of Kyriakos and Helen, and also the older $MC_brother of Daphne. • You are around 20 years old. • You also have beautiful $eye_colour eyes and $hair_colour hair. • As for your stature, you are $height in height. • You were born and raised in the coastal town of Levinae, Greece. • You dreamt of being a<<if $MC_past_work == "athlete">>n<</if>> $MC_past_work and had gotten a grand opportunity to settle in Athens, the capital city of Greece, before your mother fell ill. • You seem to be a $mortal_personality $MC_man. <div class="center">\ !!!People You Have Known and Loved Once </div>\ * ''Kyriakos'': A blacksmith and your beloved father. * ''Helen'': An ex-priestess and your caring mother. * ''Daphne'': A bright-eyed teenager and your cherished little sister. * ''Phiadros'': Your parents’ close friend and your godfather. <center><<link "Return to game" $return>><</link>></center>

<div class="center">\ //''At the market''// </div>\ As per usual, the town market is bustling with activity. Merchants haggle prices in loud voices, children chase each other through the crowd, fishermen bring in their fresh catches from the morning. It is a sight that you have long been accustomed to seeing. Daphne bounces with every step she takes to the sweetshop, eager to get her hands on some Teghana, which were fried doughnuts laced with honey. For some reason, she had gotten dangerously addicted to them and would eat them at least four times a week! Despite your mother often warning her against the overindulgence of her sweet tooth, you knew Daphne does not exactly listens to her lectures on that topic. You follow behind her, looking around the market and revelling in the usual but wonderful sights. Some of the townsfolk nod and smile at your direction when your eyes meet, most of them were your parents’ friends. • [[You nod back with an air of calmness.|Prologue14][$temp to 1]] • [[You smile and wave slightly.|Prologue14][$temp to 2]] • [[You ignore them, following behind Daphne.|Prologue14][$temp to 3]] • [[You frown at the overfriendliness, following behind Daphne.|Prologue14][$temp to 4]]

<<if $temp == 1>>\ “Would it kill you to be more expressive?” Daphne nudges you in the ribs and you frown at her in confusion. “I was just returning the greeting.” Daphne sighs. “I swear, a statue is more rousing than you are sometimes.” You roll your eyes, pulling her braid back a little. “I am not accompanying you to be bullied like this.” She simply sticks out her tongue in reply. <<elseif $temp == 2>>\ “Well aren’t you popular in town,” Daphne smirks with a nudge to your ribs and you chuckle. “Being friendly pays off, I guess. You should try it sometimes,” you tease her back and she huffs. “Excuse me, I am very friendly! Not my fault they seem to like you more than me.” Although her words may strike you as sad at first, you knew that Daphne did not care about it either way. <<elseif $temp == 3>>\ “Honestly, you are so rude sometimes,” Daphne huffs, noticing that you did not even acknowledge them. You shrug in response, not bothering to correct her. “I just do not want to get overfriendly with just anyone.” “But having friends is not exactly a bad thing!” Daphne throws her hands up, still walking ahead of you. “Honestly, I do not get how you still do not have even one close friend in the entire town.” <<else>>\ “That frown makes you look constipated,” Daphne snorts when she looks back at you. “You need to mellow out, they are not going to stab you out of nowhere.” You direct your frown to her, the last thing you needed to hear was that your annoyed face made you look constipated. “I am mellowed out. I just do not care for being friendly with most people.” “Whatever you say. You are the big $MC_brother after all.” She shrugs. <</if>>\ Bickering along the way, you two finally reach the sweetshop. Daphne positively shivers with excitement as she looks at all the sweets lined up in display and you glance over at her in slight concern. The woman who greets you is middle-aged and has a motherly smile as she looks over Daphne, no doubt quite fond of her. “And here comes my favourite customer!” She chortles delightfully. “The usual for you, sweetie?” Daphne nods vigorously until you think that her head might fall off. “Yes, please! Two batches, I have to bring some to Sophia’s house later.” The sweetshop owner gives another gentle laugh. “They will be coming right up!” Daphne bounces from foot to foot until you have to tell her that the sweets are not going anywhere. “Daphne? What are you doing here?” //Speak of the devil.// You and your sister turn around to face Sophia, Daphne’s best friend. She does not seem to notice you as the two friends rapidly babble on with conversations that you cannot make head or tail of. “And that is how he found o—” Sophia pauses mid-sentence when she notices you standing there awkwardly. She lets out a squeak that makes you think of a mouse. “Um hello, $MC_truename,” she manages to say. You notice with some alarm that her face had turned a bright shade of red that matched her hair. Daphne rolls her eyes at the display, turning to the shopkeeper who had packed two fresh packs of Teghana and paying for it. “Yes yes, that is my $MC_brother. What is new here? You have already met $MC_him.” Sophia glares at her friend before turning back to you. “Daphne is coming over for dinner at my house today, w-would you like to join us?” You blink at her and look over at Daphne. Your sister does not seem to like that idea one bit with the way she is pouting. “I actually have to take care of Mother today,” you smile apologetically, trying not to contribute to Daphne’s sudden surly mood. “You two have fun though.” Sophia looks very disappointed but Daphne cuts in when she tries to say something. “Welp, you heard $MC_him. I will see you later, Soph!” With that abrupt farewell, Daphne escorts you out. [[Continue|Prologue15]]

“What was that for?” You ask as soon as she stops pushing you with a huff. “Nothing,” she mumbles, even though you can tell that it was certainly not ‘nothing’. You raise an eyebrow and she groans at your questioning stare. “It is just that she fancies you too much. You saw how she acted around you.” If you did not know your sister any better, you might have thought she was just jealous of her friend paying you more attention. But no, you had already suspected that Daphne harboured feelings for her best friend that went deeper than just friendship. You shift awkwardly in place; it was normal to have random crushes at her age, but you doubt that statement will make Daphne’s mood any better. “You know, you should probably tell her how you feel,” you say after a while, earning a startled reaction out of Daphne. “I— what—” “You heard me. Do not think I have not noticed the way you look at her.” “That is such a lie, I do n—” “No use denying it,” you say with a wink. “Your big $MC_brother knows everything.” Daphne shakes her head in response to your teasing, a melancholic expression taking over her face. “You would not understand. Besides...” • [[“you are cheerful, friendly and outgoing, everyone already loves you.”|Prologue16][$mortal_personality = "friendly, genuine and placating"]] • [[“people like you despite your brash and intimidating attitude that can sometimes scare them.”|Prologue16][$mortal_personality = "stubborn, intimidating and aggressive"]] • [[“the townsfolk are fond of you, even if you are more of a quiet and reclusive person.”|Prologue16][$mortal_personality = "stoic, laidback and cold"]] • [[“with your sarcasm and playfulness, there are barely a handful of people in town who do not like you.”|Prologue16][$mortal_personality = "sarcastic, expressive and easygoing"]]

“And now you are going off to Athens to chase your dreams,” she continues, picking at the basket full of sweets and looking over the stretch of the road. “Mine are not as grand and ambitious as yours, $MC_truename. I do not shine like you do.” You shake your head at that. You did not know that Daphne had actually felt that way, and here you thought you knew her better than anyone. “It does not matter, Daphne. Just because your dreams do not involve extravagance and mortal glory, does not mean that they are any less important than mine.” “But—” “No buts,” you say, voice firm. “You dream of doing something you love, doesn’t that shine in and of itself?” Your sister does not have a retort to that, instead she gives you a smile. “When did you get so wise, dear $MC_brother?” “I have always been wise, you were just busy ignoring my advices.” Daphne’s laughter travels along with you and you cannot help the fond smile that plays on your lips. “I guess I cannot fault you for your big dreams either,” she shoots you another smile. “This town has always been too small for your ambitions.” You hum, agreeing with her point. “I want to see the world, experience everything in its full glory and have amazing stories to tell.” “Sounds like that will take a while,” Daphne replies as you both almost reach your house. You turn to stare at the direction of the ocean, toward the lands and lives that exist beyond your town and perhaps out of Greece itself. Their siren call is too tempting to resist and you knew you would set sail someday. “It will, sure. But I plan to make the most of whatever time I have.” [[Continue|Prologue17]]

<div class="center">\ //''Later in the evening''// </div>\ “Mother, you really should not be exerting yourself,” you say with another sigh as she sits up fully on her bed. You had just caught her sitting on her knees again, facing the window that had a clear view of the setting sun and praying. Suffice to say, you had your choice of words with her. “I swear, everybody in this house is treating me like I have a life-threatening illness,” Helen shakes her head. “It is only a fever, $MC_truename.” “Be that as it may, you still need to let your body rest. It’s been almost a month and your sickness is not even budging.” Helen is quiet for a while before she looks out of the window again. The sun has already gone down and the town is bustling with evening activities. Children still run around, giggling and chasing each other. The adults walk in pairs and share the latest piece of gossip with each other. The forlorn atmosphere in your house that has lasted for several weeks does not match their lively energy. At that moment, you swear that your mother’s face looked more older, the wrinkles on her face a little deeper and the maturity in her eyes a little sadder. “Everything on earth is temporary, my child,” she speaks up out of the blue. “Rest assured, even sickness.” You are taken aback by her statement for a bit before you form an answer. “I’m sure there are some things that are permanent, having a mark left on the world for people to remember you by.” “You are more than the mark you leave behind, my child.” “I know that but,” you sigh, “I just wish I had more time to see the world and its wonders. It is certainly limiting to exist just for this long.” Her eyes suddenly snap to you and you startle, dual $eye_colour pools so like your own. “Your constant wish for the concept of forever and something bigger than you could ever be is dangerous, $MC_truename. Do not, even for a second, think that it will be a good thing.” You nod furiously, there was a sudden manic glint in her eyes and her irises almost glow before it disappears as soon as she blinks again. You let out a breath that you did not know you were holding. Though you cannot say for sure what had just happened, you could swore that the look in her eyes scared you. Helen pinches between her eyebrows as if she was getting a migraine before asking, “Where is Daphne?” “She went to see one of her friends, said she would be home later since she is having dinner ther–” You stop mid-sentence when a yell echoes through the whole house. You and your mother are startled to see a plume of smoke rising at a distance. Another yell rings out and you are immediately up to get out of the house and find your father. “Mother, please stay here, okay? I will find Father and see what is going on.” “$MC_truename–” She tries to stop you but you’re already out of the room and running outside. [[Continue|Prologue18]]

You cannot believe what you are witnessing. People run about in absolute chaos, their cries are mixed with curses and the roar of fire. There are unknown raiders everywhere, carrying torches and burning down the houses. The bronze armours glisten in the night, overshadowed only by the sharpness of their swords and spears. You come to the realisation that they are the cause behind the pandemonium. “$MC_truename!” You turn around to see your father stumbling out of the smithy, a sword in hand. His right shoulder was bleeding and there was also a nasty gash across his chin. You would wager that he got into a tussle with some of those raiders and had to run inside his smithy to get a weapon. “Father, you are bleeding!” Kyriakos shakes his head. “I will be okay. You need to go find Daphne.” “But mother–” “I will take care of her, just find your sister and try to reach the port together.” Kyriakos tries to sound strong for you but there is still a slightly uncertain tremble in his voice. Both of you wince when a huge crash mark the fall of a house, fiery debris crushing the people who were near the area under its jaws. Their screams become just another sound in the terrible night. “Go!” Your father pushes you and you give him one last fearful glance before running towards the house that Daphne’s friend lived in. “Soteria, keep them from harm,” Kyriakos mumbles as he stares at your fleeing back, a prayer amongst the flames and wails of agony. [[Continue|Prologue19]]

Daphne had always been faster than you, she would beat you in every race even when you tried your hardest to cross the finishing line before she did. It seemed almost impossible though, how her feet carried her over the wind with the swiftness of Hermes. She would often tease you that you were too slow, but you knew that you were not. She was simply too fast for you to catch. ‘Could she have fled, perhaps?’ You try to console yourself. She was faster and smarter than most people you knew, you would not deny that. But even those words of self-consolation does not extinguish that fear in your mind. The ground feels unrelenting and hot under your feet. Rocks and burning debris nips at your heels. Some of the raiders kick an old man down, snickering as he pleads them to spare his life. You are entranced in a sick sort of fascination as you stop to witness it. A swift swing of a steel sword slices his head off clean. Turning away from the scene, you run again. Barbarity and bloodshed echoes as loud as the raging chaos around you, but there is nothing else on your mind except finding Daphne. That is when you see it. The house that Daphne’s friend resided in, although you cannot call it a house anymore. The roof has completely caved in. Stone walls that might have seemed indestructible before have fallen like a house of cards. There are some people around it, throwing water over the ruins like it will make any difference. There are shouts, calling for arms and water and digging the people crushed under the rubble out. //Crushed under the rubble.// You do not need an oracle to tell you what had happened. Seeing the way people were desperate to calm the fire and dig under the rubble, you already knew that there were people buried. ‘Daphne,’ you think, mind setting to an overdrive. ‘Please, oh please let this all be a bad dream.’ Someone digs a hand out, it is charred and resembles an arm of a demon instead of a person. People reel back and the person drops it too. You cannot breath. It is as if there was not enough in the world to compensate for the hollowness in your chest. You take a step back, then another. You cannot do this, not alone. So you run, again. [[Continue|Prologue20]]

You do not understand how it happened. The events between now and a few minutes ago are a questionable blank sheet in your mind. All you remember is stumbling upon your parents’ broken bodies when you entered your house before your mind decided to shut out the events after that, leading up to now. Tremors rack your whole body. “Father. Mother.” Your whisper is a straining feather that is crushed in the pandemonium. The raider’s grip tightens in your hair. “They are looking pretty, aren’t they?” You cannot seem to find the words to even reply. Hell, you cannot even properly hear him. Your parents lay in a heap, right beside each other. Both of their throats slit to the point that you can see their neck gaping open like the hideous maws of two bloody beasts. Kyriakos’s eyes are closed, hair and beard matted in blood. You will never feel your father’s warm gaze on you again. Never hear his booming voice that reached your house, even when he was in his smithy. Never feel the gentle touch of his fatherly hands on your shoulders whenever you needed it. Helen’s eyes, on the other hand, are open. You had seen them shine with the light of life not too long. The crinkles on the side of her lips will never lift up with a smile anymore. You will never again feel the way your mother gently pressed her hands against yours in reassurance. The world tips from under your knees, it had fallen down in one terrible stroke of the night. “Guess you are not much for talking, huh,” one of the raiders snorts, poking your back with the tip of his spear. “Your father put up a really good fight, a shame you cannot win a match with just a sword.” The other raiders in the room share a chuckle. “And as for your mother, it is a shame that we could not play with her a little while longer.” • [[“I. Will. Kill. You. All.”|Prologue21][$temp to 1]] • [[“Keep my parents’ names out of your filthy mouth.”|Prologue21][$temp to 2]] • [[You let your glare speak for itself.|Prologue21][$temp to 3]] • [[You are too numb to even form a retort.|Prologue21][$temp to 4]]

A sharp whack from the wooden end of a spear hits your cheek with enough force to make your vision double. You can already feel a bruise forming on your cheekbones. <<if $temp == 3>>\ “We have an angry mutt over here, boys.” The lead raider sharply tugs your hair down to make you face him. “Chariton warned me about the older brat of the blacksmith.” <<elseif $temp == 4>>\ “Chariton said that you had quite the attitude in you.” The lead raider sharply tugs your hair down to make you face him. “What is wrong, kid? Not used to seeing dead people?” <<else>>\ “Quite the tongue you have on you,” The lead raider sharply tugs your hair down to make you face him. “Chariton warned me about the older brat of the blacksmith.” <</if>>\ //Wait, Chariton? What does that leech have to do with this?// Seeing the confused expression on your face seemed to only make them amused. “Fooled you all, didn’t he?” One of them snickers. “Archontes don’t care about anything but filling their pockets with gold.” “That greedy pig sold you all to us, kid,” Another one of them pipes up. “I admit, it has been a while since we had so much fun with razing a town down.” You tune them out, your mind piecing together everything. Chariton. He had sold you all to the hands of these foreign raiders. You won’t be wrong to guess that the weapons he was trying to get Kyriakos to make would also have been sold off to them, on top of everything. All the accusing lines point straight at him, angry red ropes that threaten to choke him to death. “Um, sir, maybe we should hurry this up.” The raider holding one of your arms speaks up. He looks slightly out of place and you do not miss the nervousness in his voice. “Hurry?” The leader laughs. “We will be out of this dump of a town before the soldiers even arrive, for sure.” He fixes you with a cruel smirk. “But there is no reason to hurry.” He runs a finger along the edge of his sword, all the while holding eye-contact with you. “You are fierce, I will give you that.” • [[“Tell your lackeys to unhand me and I will show you how fierce I truly am,” you growl.|Prologue22][$temp to 1]] • [[“Your praise is the last thing I need,” you counter, calmly.|Prologue22][$temp to 2]] • [[You don’t even deem with a proper response, just another glare.|Prologue22][$temp to 3]] • [[You struggle against the two captors who hold you, gritting your teeth as their grip tightens.|Prologue22][$temp to 4]]

<<if $temp == 3>>\ You tilts his head and returns your glare with an amused smirk. “Cat got your tongue, huh?” <<elseif $temp == 3>>\ “Oh I love it when they put up a fight, adds a certain thrill to it!” He laughs, his gleeful voice almost making you sick to your stomach. <<else>>\ He laughs boisterously like you have just told him a joke, slapping his knees in exaggeration. “Oh that’s good, that’s really good.” <</if>>\ “Don’t worry, kid,” he taps your cheek, “I will grant you the opportunity to meet your parents again.” Your eyes widen as pulls back his sword and plunges it deep into your chest. The two men who were holding your arms let you go in an instant, the one who spoke up earlier lets out a little shriek in the process. You cough as the wind is knocked out of your lungs and the sharp pain does not register in your head for a few seconds. That is, until you let out a scream. He twists the sword and another scream rips out of your throat. Your vision is blurry as tears spill out in steady streams. The pain is unbearable, unlike anything you had ever experienced before. And the leader takes great pleasure in it. You writhe but it only makes the sword scramble deeper. It does not take long for you to start wishing for death, for anything that will make this pain stop. When he finally pulls the blade out, it does not even make a difference. Every cell in your body screams with you, your body falling on its side now that it no longer has the sword keeping it upright. Blood bubbles out of your mouth until you are choking on it. Choking on your own blood. The raiders’ sickening laughter thunders in your ear. They are letting you bleed out to death, every dying moment racked with pain. Your eyes meet your mother’s, same shades of $eye_colour with one pair filled with agony and the other devoid of any emotions. //No, please. I do not wish to die. Not like this. Gods, it hurts. It hurts so much.// Your consciousness tethers on the brink of extinction to the point that you almost don’t hear the abrupt cut of laughter from the group of raiders. You wonder if your ears are playing tricks on you as their gleeful laughter turn into screams not unlike your own from a few minutes ago. The last thing you hear before your consciousness leaves you is a voice full of sorrow and guilt. “//I am truly sorry, child.//” [[Continue|Prologue23]]

... //How long has it been?// Your body refuses to give an answer. So you wait, wait for the end. Perhaps you will see your parents and Daphne on the other side and if Hades takes mercy on you all, you will reach Elysium. There is a steady ringing in your ears and a million incomprehensible thoughts in a jumble through your head. The ringing grows louder, it reverberates in your whole body. //Louder and louder and louder and...// A sharp intake of breath is demanded by your body as your eyes fly open. An automatic hiss leaves you when you feel the pounding in your head increase tenfold. //It is bright, too damn bright.// It takes only a second for you to notice how different everything feels as you sit up. The feeling of the sand under your palm is magnified until you can distinguish between each individual grain. Your ears ring with sounds that seem far away, yet near at the same time. You notice every detail on the stone walls you face, every crack and crevice. And most of all, you feel //parched//. The dryness in your throat grates every time you swallow. It digs into your stomach so deeply that you claw against the ground, leaving stripes of indents of your fingers along the way. //Everything feels so wrong.// You look around the room, as if that will give you the answer to everything that is going on. A wild sort of panic takes over you when you realise that your parents’ bodies are not around either. “Wh– what happened?” Your question hangs in the air, but remains unanswered. That is when you look down and see the tear in the middle of your chiton, right on the spot that you were stabbed in. The wound was gone, leaving the torn spot and the blood surrounding it as the only evidence that you were impaled badly and left to die while choking on your own blood. You clutch the tear in your cloth, as if there is still a phantom wound that throbs and bleeds. You then stand up, hands clenching into fists– they feel cold, unnaturally so. Images of your parents’ bodies flash through your mind, mingled with the sadistic laughter of those who had slain and turned your town into nothing but mounds of ruin and suffering. You do not even //feel// human. And deep down, you had began to realize that perhaps you had become something distinctively //inhuman//. Everything is overwhelming: the heightened senses, the feeling of unimaginable loss and the sheer incredulity of what is going on. //What happened to me?// You had died. You distinctly remember feeling colder and colder, agonizing pain refusing to let go of your body. Your confusion soon turns into anger, memories from last night erasing the questions you had. And as your anger grows, so does your hunger. It writhes and tosses in your heart and belly like a snake, fangs poised and ready to attack. Death had waited for you, yet you escaped its watch. That very thought makes a firm feeling of power settle in your chest. It is like every single weakness you ever had vanished the second you rose from the dead. It feels so wrong yet so right. //I feel more alive than ever.// You are something better, something to be feared. You are potential and promise. You are a creature who was born within destruction and rose in blood. You are sewn by the unsteady hands of that fateful night, beautiful and deadly. And you are //done// being weak and helpless. “Dear archon,” you drawl, walking outside and ignoring the blinding weight of the sun on your head. “I wonder if you will still think I am beautiful.” • [[You grin, upper canines elongating to become dangerously sharp.|Prologue24][$fangs = "two"]] • [[Your grin is edged, twin pairs of canines from the top and bottom on display.|Prologue24][$fangs = "four"]] • [[Rows of razor-sharp teeth glint under the sunlight, resembling a shark’s.|Prologue24][$fangs = "shark"]]

You feel the nearing of your vengeance in your bones. Like an awakening. Like a scythe that is hungry for a reaping. Like a violently gorgeous death. [[Continue|Prologue25]]

<div class="center">\ //''Present time''// </div>\ Standing in the middle of the bewitching massacre you had painted with your bloody hands and teeth, you face the sky with your eyes closed. The air reeks of death and mangled bodies. But you do not mind it, not at all. The sun sets on the horizon as if reluctantly admitting defeat; it acknowledges that you cannot be tamed, cannot be struck down so easily. The taste of blood on your lips has long settled like an old friend’s greeting. Every single breath you take is calm but deep. Your chiton is half-torn and dyed in liquid red as if it was the original colour all along. The dry breeze from the sea gently sways your idle standing figure back and forth. Your shadow stretches out ahead—long, edges blurred—and droplets of blood drip from your fingers, littering the ground like just another crimson star in the red cosmos. Footsteps scrape through the ground, a chink in your peaceful reverie. “$MC_truename.” Your name, a small thread that connected you to your mortal existence, tumbles out from the person’s lips. You open your eyes, turning around almost lazily to look at who it was. Phaidros stares at you in equal parts resignation and pity. Your gaze sharpens to focus on him and you briefly wonder if you are actually hallucinating. A gasp escapes your mouth. The shimmering pair of amber irises that had always spoke of kindness, now reflected yours: //blood red in a pitch black void//. !!!End of the prologue