Eternal Chronicles:

Golden Blood

Chapter 1

On an old prairie, once golden, now dead and dreary, covered in ashen grounds, there was not a soul to be seen. Indeed, on this vast area, where no life had grown in eons, there wasn’t even the closest sign of life; yet there was someone there. A lone man, middle aged, but pale as snow, with crimson red eyes. As he stood the dead grounds, he seemed eternally lonely, if not guilty. He looked at the grounds around him, where once, a very, very long time ago, a great battle was fought. So long ago that no mortal man could still remember it, nor have experienced it, yet still, this man was very present at said battle.

He was one of the very few men who still lived from that time. Men above all others, with power, able to completely overwhelm anyone below them. They were the rulers of the world. And this power they held, it came from this very place. It came from the very being they fought to defeat, at this very place. They had manned an army, numbering in the tens of thousands, just to defeat one being. In the end they won, but not without casualties. Thousands had died in that battle, all in the hand just one man.

Back then, he was hated by humanity, but things changed. It had been eons since then, and now, he was just a legend; a myth. There were only a few collect people that still knew for certain of his legacy. Some of them feared him, others worshipped him, for the power he bestowed upon them. However, there was one man, who was unlike all others. He didn’t hate him, nor worship him. He simply cared. He had known him more than any other, except for one girl. But that is not important now, for it was this very man, who now stood on the ancient battlefield.

Since ages bygone, he had become the Keeper. The Keeper of the Grave, they called him. He was the protector of that ancient place. He watched over the place, and made sure that no one ever desecrated that holiest of places. He was the one who made sure those thousands of souls could rest. He was the one who made sure his old friend could rest. He was the one who made sure Ulfvaldr could rest. Ulfvaldr, the one who once saved the lives of him, and his comrades, and the one who gave him this power.

However, he could not be so attentive, to spend all his time in an out of the place holy ground, just to keep it clean. Thus, he employed his own apprentices; his minions. They were known as the Priests of the Grave. When the Keeper himself was not present, a Priest would always be there. These priests had been trained for at least a hundred years, before they even set foot on the holy Grave, and they were the fiercest warriors you could find.

But, as was said before, there was no life in the Grave. Ever. Because, these Priests, as well as the Keeper, neither of them possessed a shred of life. They were, in all ways of the word, dead. Their heart did not beat, and their lungs did not breath. But in this day and age that was not such a peculiar predicament to find yourself in. No, it was all too normal…

The Keeper looked around himself, one last time, taking in the sorrowed sight, before he finally left. As he left the area of the Grave, one of his twelve Priests stepped in. However, compared to the stoic Keeper, this priest seemed far too different. On his face was not an expression of loneliness, nor guilt. No, there was a wicked, excited and vengeful expression on his pale face.

“Oh, dear Keeper of mine, you took away that which I cared for the most, so now, I shall desecrate that which you hold dearest,” the Priest said, as he, too, walked away from the Grave. However, he only stepped slightly off of it, to an offside area, where he was met by other people. These people were not quite like him. Their complexion was livid and coloured, and he could hear the beating of their hearts, and the breathing of their lungs. They were alive. And they were about to break the most sacred law of the modern world. They were going to spill blood, and wreak havoc on the Grave. However, they were none the wiser. They simply believed they were there to take care of a simple task. In fact, they didn’t even know they were at the sacred Grave.

“Ah, Lord, you have arrived. My men are all ready, just say the word,” one of the mortal men said. Behind this man, were a good two dozen more men. Many of them were armed with shiny weapons, and armour. Behind the men, were carriages, fully loaded with building material.

“Good. Follow me,” the Priest said, then led them to the middle of the ground, which most knew as the Grave, even though these men were none the wiser. It was simply because no one knew where the Grave was. Many even believed it be just as much legend, as the tale of the age old battle. Of course, the Keeper and his Priests couldn’t have any mortal man know of its location, since no living being was to ever enter its grounds. They even had a Priest be there constantly, to keep all animals out.

“I want you to begin construction here,” the Priest said, when they arrived in the center of the Grave. This was supposed to be were that man originally fell, or so the Priest was told. Of course, none of the Priests were alive in that age. Only the Keeper was, as well as a few others who were unaffiliated with the Grave.

“You won’t need me here. I need to take care of something,” the Priest said, before he left them in the dust, disappearing from their vision in an instant. And those constructers actually weren’t surprised by that amazing feat of speed. They were only awed, by the power of a Priest.

A short instant after he first disappeared, he appeared on the other side, inside a forest. Inside this forest, there was yet another group of mortal men. However, these mortals were not like the ones from before. They were not construction workers, but warriors. All two dozen of them wore armour and weapons. At the sudden appearance of the Priest, they were startled, but they had still expected him.

“Master,” they said, as they kneeled before him. The Priest looked over his minions, before speaking,

“Go forwards, into that plain, until you find a group of construction workers, then kill them. Soak the ground in blood,” the Priest said, then disappeared, once more. Thus, the warriors rose, and charged out of the forest, towards the non-expecting workers.

And thus, the Priest’s revenge had begun. Indeed, this was no great revenge that would ultimately result in the death of the one who wronged him, but simply an insult. He didn’t dare do anything other than something deceitful, for anything else, would only result in his failure. If he dared attack the Keeper, he would only die, before he even realized it. The power of the Keeper was not something the Priests could contend with. Even if they all teamed up, they would still lose, for the Keeper had lived a thousand years longer than even the oldest of them.

Thus the priest fled. He didn’t even want to see what was going to happen. The only thought on his mind, was to flee. To get as far away from there as possible, for when the Keeper found out, all hell would break loose. Indeed, he knew he possessed little chance of getting away, for the Keeper was his sire. He had no way to stay hidden from him, but at least he would try. He did not mind if he died; he had lived a long life. If only he died, knowing he had caused him some small amount of sorrow, he would be happy. Thus, he fled.

Meanwhile, at the old prairie, now known as the Grave, the group of warriors charged forwards, in a straight arrow towards the workers. It didn’t take too long, before the workers noticed their war cries, and saw them running towards them.

“We’re being attacked!” One guard yelled out, and only a moment later all the other guards gathered, ready to fight. The workers quickly grabbed weapons; whatever they could find, be it a woodcutter’s axe, or a sword, and joined the guards. As worry for what was about to come, they waited for but a moment, until finally, the attackers were upon them.

And as soon as they were as little as a dozen meters away, the attacking warriors threw their spear into the midst of the workers and their guards. The spears either pierced into the bodies of the unlucky, or missed into the ashen ground. Then, they unsheathed their swords, and charged into the group of workers and guards, swinging their swords with deadly precision. The workers, however, swung their weapons with reckless abandon, even hitting some of their own. As they fought, blood flowed to the ground, however, as it touched the ground, something unexplainable happened; it continued flowing, going into the ground, disappearing completely.

However, no one noticed this strange phenomenon, and they simply continued fighting, and blood continued being absorbed by the ashen ground. By the time that six bodies, with big gashing wounds, laid on the ground, you would even be able to visibly see the blood flowing over to every corner in a hundred-meter radius. Then, as the blood was absorbed, small particles of burned dust started raising up from the sky, as if levitating. By the time enough dust particles had raised, they suddenly started gathering together, and flying towards the group of fighting men, absorbing their blood before it even touched the ground.

“What’s going on?” One of the fighting soldiers asked, as the dust covered him. The other soldiers stopped fighting, too, by the appearance of this sudden sandstorm. However, before they knew it, the storm of dust that covered them, suddenly got much more localised, as it gathered together in a single spot, forming the shape of a humanoid.

“Wait, what is going on? Why does it look like a human?” Another man asked, however, his question was answered all too quickly, as the human shape started condensing, until the dust started transforming into bones and flesh, and finally skin. Before them had appeared a naked humanoid, with deadly pale skin, and a body that looked ancient. He was covered in wrinkles, and his head was bald. But his eyes… they were red like the blood moon, and there was a deep, lusting hunger in them.

Suddenly, the beast growled, as it grabbed the dead body on its side, and drained it of its remaining blood. It was at this moment that they realized what had appeared in front of them.

“I-It’s a Vampire, and it’s hungry!” One of the workers screamed, as he turned away and ran. However, as unlucky as it was, he was the next person to lose his life. As soon as the hungry beast let go of the body, it appeared in front of the fleeing worker. The worker didn’t even have the chance to say his last words, before his throat was ripped, and his body was drained by blood. When finally, that body had been drained, too, the monster seemed to have regained his former appearance, except for his hair. In front of these frightened workers and soldiers, appeared a now young man, perhaps around twenty years old. His skin was still pale, but now it was smooth, and he towered a good foot above the men in front of him.

Then his body flashed, and a moment later, the ground was littered with several dozen corpses, all drained from blood. Indeed, the plan of the old Priest had been completely ruined, for even after every single man he had sent here had been killed, not a single drop of blood touched the ground. It had all been drunk by Ulfvaldr.

As Ulfvaldr was finally finished having his long overdue meal, he noticed something. As the blood entered his mouth, and flowed down his throat, it was as if he could see their memories, or at least parts of them. He saw flashes of past fights, images of their friends and families, and even some of their knowledge entered his mind. But it was rather limited. For example, he got close to no information of the world around him, but he did get some knowledge of their language. Which wasn’t too bad, since that was what he needed the most right now. And as he was finished seeing past memories of his latest victim, he noticed something else; he was completely naked. That’s when he walked over to one of the cleaner bodies, and noticed something else. These clothes that they were wearing, they looked so weird. He had never seen something quite like it. They weren’t adorned in rough furs, but smooth, thin fabric. It was the thinnest piece of cloth he had ever seen, and it was so light! He took the clothes off of the deceased man, and wore them for himself, and he had to admit; they were comfortable.

It barely felt like he was wearing anything at all, but still gave him a sense of covering up his naked self. It quite interested him, how such items could even be crafted. But he still deduced that there was no way he would figure it out in the here and now, so instead, he looked at his surroundings. They seemed familiar, yet very different.

He could still recognise that it was the place that he lived in for several years, but everything was so different. There was no life in the area surrounding him, and the forest was completely different too. It seemed to have grown a good deal further into the prairie, but there was one spot, where it abruptly stopped. And it wasn’t where the cease of any living growth began, but further away than that. It was as if it was purposely stopped from growing any further, somehow.

That, too, quite interested him. But not even that, nor the clothes pickled his mind quite as much, as one other particular matter. Why was he still alive? He remembered it clearly; being hacked to pieces, smashed to bits, burned to ashes; being devoured. But even that had failed to kill him. He had still managed to find a way back, somehow. Yet, this time he didn’t have the slightest idea how long it had been. Unlike when he was trapped under the snow, when he was in a state of both consciousness and unconsciousness, this time he was completely gone. He didn’t even have an inkling to how long it could have been.

Thus, he decided he would leave this place, and follow the tracks of one of the two groups, which he could distinguish with his acute senses. In the end, he decided to follow the tracks of the group that had the weird wooden construct, which seemed to carry both stone and wood.

However, as he walked, he did something he never knew he could do. He grew his hair, on command. His hair started rapidly growing, until it reached the state it had been at before; just above his shoulders. Ulfvaldr found this weird, for even in the about twenty years he had spent awake, before the battle, his hair had never even grown an inch.