Stone Cold

Epilogue 2: The Vagabond Who Hears Voices

Unedited.

I hope you all will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Howling gales were masking the light crunching his boots produced as he walked on what appeared to be a field of crushed diamonds. His ruby eyes, hidden behind a pair of black lenses, were trained on the multiple mountains standing tall in front of him. Wind was tickling their summits. As it passed through the cracks in the alp, gliding on its rough surface, it blew the snow covering their tops, scattering it in the air, making it appear as if an elf residing there was showering the people below him with his hidden collection of crystals.

His blond hair, carefully tucked inside his hood weren't left unspared from the playful wind either. Hardly another second had passed before a strong gush of wind came his way, knocking his hood off of his head. With no support to push them back, his blonde hair fell in front of his eyes, drawing a curtain on his face.

His intimidating surroundings, the assault of the wind, the coldness in the air, none of this had managed to move him an inch from his spot. From a distance, as he stood there in the vast unending pit of snow, his all black clothing made him look like a dot in a stark contrast to his surroundings.

He had never felt more insignificant in life.

As he continued staring up at the mountain top, his mind was fighting a typhoon of its own. Several thoughts were circulating inside his head, but the thought that was raging out the most was,

'Why has this happened now? Why after so long?'

The question took him back to the night it all changed for him, the night he was invited to the Dracula's Castle as the oldest member of the Vampire Council, as the Oldest Vampire Alive.

He had heard news of Ares' and Cyrus' conflict. He was expecting something big to happen but never had he imagined what he would get once he arrived there.

A beloved.

After more than a thousand year or maybe more. He had lost track of the time.

He never involved himself in these issues. He always kept himself out of the throne's line. Just because he was the oldest vampire alive, did not mean he wanted to rule his species. He never did, not even when there were only seven of them.

Three women and four men.

The first purebloods to walk the earth and he was one of them. They were all gifted with one heightened sense, and for him it was his hearing.

He was the vagabond who heard voices, from the past, present and the future.

The purebloods from his time were created in pairs, everyone except for him. He didn't have a beloved. He was doomed, left to wander through every street, every field, every mountain in search of his beloved hence the name vagabond.

None of his wandering quests ever proved to be fruitful. Eventually he had to swallow this bitter pill; he was the only pureblood without a partner.

'Then why now?'

He clenched his jaw as his eyes continued staring blankly at the mountain top.

He was considered weak, for he didn't have a partner to watch his back. He was alone, on his own yet surprisingly he was the only pureblood alive after a thousand years. The others got too cocky and relied too much on their numbers than their individual powers, unlike him. His power remained to be his only companion and he polished that talent as much as he could. Till this day he didn't have anyone he trusted except for the voices inside his head; the same voices that kept whispering his name over and over since the night he had visited the Dracula's Castle.