It had been many, many centuries since the Methuselah had last walked the world in this plane of existence. He rested in Torpor for what seemed like ages as the world passed around him. Deep within the catacombs buried beneath the earth. The air was still. Quiet. The only sound was that of tiny feet scuffling across stone. Rats had found their way into the crypt but they never stayed for long. There was nothing here for them to feast upon. Not even the slumber flesh of Lazar who lay upon a catafalque. Fingers laced together as his hands rested peacefully in his bare stomach. A look of pure peace upon his pale features. As if all his dreams were wonderful, glorious things. But often they were dark and twisted. Memories of slaughter. Dreams of vitae flowing like rivers. Corpses rising from the inky depths of the abyss to drag unsuspecting victims to their final death. Ah, such sweet dreams.
A hooded figure had begun to make their way down the long, spiraling staircase that led deep down into the world. Slicing out a bit of earthen flesh to make room for the unnatural bit of stone that formed the space in which the crypt lay. They moved with an unnatural, silent step. Lazar had been conscious the moment the figure had arrived. Feeling the power pulse from them as they drew everer the closer. As the figure leaned over Lazar a large hand shot out and grabbed them by the wrist. Squeezing hard enough to leave dark bruises in the shape of fingers. His wrist twisted so that it pulled the skin in an unnatural fashion. As if to simply twist off the skin around her wrist.
“Constancia…” The voice came as a deep rumble. It threatened violence yet was smooth as silk. It dwelled within a space unfamiliar to most. Dark. Dangerous. Primal. A heavy growl laced through it as he yanked her arm and sat up at the same time. Colorless eyes opening as blood and shadow began to pour from them like a fountain of death. A chill in the air, not made from all the cold iron and stone, but a dramatic shift in the energy of the room had it freezing. He hadn’t seen or heard of the Antediluvian in a very long time. In fact, he has lost contact with her long before he ever slipped into Torpor.
So why was she here now?
As he released her she scurried away, back up the stairs and vanished. A brief reunion but he guessed it would not be the last time he saw her.
When he moved to leave the spot where he had been laying shadows seemed to writhe and slither across the floor in his wake. Making way as if scared of the tall, pale man. He was handsome, muscular, and strong. Flexing his arm he clenched a fist and pulled his elbow into his side before turning his gaze to one of the corpses nearby. Reaching out to it darkness flowed from his fingertips until suddenly it burst. Bits of bone and tissue flecked against his face and chest which he merely brushed aside.
“Good.” His powers still remained intact and were quickly returning to their former state as his undead body awoke. A hand grasping at the stones that hung from the belt holding his tattered cape. For a moment he had been worried that these were what Constancia had come for but no. She would have gotten a nasty surprise had she tried to take them. But he knew there was another out there. Someone else seeking them. And he seethed. His eyes going completely black as death itself seemed to swirl about him. No, he would not allow that man to have them. They were long time rivals and Lazar had been so close the last time. The fragment was the key he knew it was.
Movies away from the platform he began the long ascent up the winding spiral of stairs. His long strides and hate making it easy for him to take the stairs a couple at a time. Cutting the time it would normally take someone to climb them in half. When he got to the surface he would seek out others. Ashur. Constancia. Angelique. So much has changed while he slumbered beneath the sand of the Wastelands. There was something…..new. And unfamiliar. The connection to Caine felt. Off. Like it was Caine but not Caine. What in hell had happened? He was determined to find out.
When he entered the outside world again a desert wind whipped at his long hair as it slithered like snakes. Catching his cape it fluttered behind him. Eyes narrowing as the distant glow of a nearby city caught his attention. Hemlock. My, how it had grown