Your feet had led you about halfway down the cobbled path when you first begin to hear the music.
The haunting tune gradually increases in volume as your leather boots thunder against the cobblestones, landing you in front of the estate. You feel the mugginess weighing down the air; remnants of a midsummer rainstorm binding your shirt to your skin. The familiar saltiness of your own sweat graces your lips as you produce the rolled parchment from your pocket, unraveling the rough yellowed paper and scanning over its contents one final time before you commit to this job.
1703 Hawthorne Lane. Reason to believe there are undead terrorizing the locals.
It is imperative that you please arrive quickly. So sooner this job is complete, so sooner will compensation be awarded.
May your wings catch the wind and your back the sun, S.L
Your eyes quickly affirm your suspicions; this large mansion is indeed your destination. You tuck the handwritten letter in your back pocket and rap your knuckles against the wooden door. The sound of the piano continues to play as you wait for your employer to greet you, and the dense warm air is only serving to further push your patience to its limit. It only takes you a few moments of waiting before your hand drifts toward the doorknob. Surprisingly, it's unlocked. You take your first step into the estate. Your heavy boot echoes throughout the large foyer, but the sound is quickly drowned out by the haunting melody pouring into every orifice of your being.
The first thing that draws your attention: a black grand piano, the lone piece of furniture in the center of the foyer. The second: a beautiful young woman, clad in a black dress, whom you quickly realize is the source of the reverie. Her pale hands glide across the ivory keys with a restrained, almost sorrowful precision, producing fantastic notes that reverberate and travel throughout the entire estate. She doesn't seem to care about your presence whatsoever. Her eyes are lidded shut as she continues to play her song in its entirety.
You do the only thing you can: wait. You patiently, silently, awkwardly wait until the woman finishes her piece. After what feels like forever the woman stands, smoothing her dress- one you vaguely recognize as some sort of Gothic- as her eyes finally open. Your heart jumps in your ribcage once you realize that the woman's eyes are red, and you have walked right into a vampire's lair.
My name is Henreero Wolfram Feero, but everybody calls me Hank. Hank is a renowned hunter of vampires and all sorts of blasphemous evil spirits. For many years, his Feero family has been engaged in the extermination of vampires, and Hank has inherited this business in full. Hank is 27 years old, has a strong build, shoulder-length black hair, and sharp blue eyes. His face is considered to be attractive, he has both masculine and feminine features, and if not for his strong physique, he could be confused with a woman. Hank received a letter asking him to deal with the vampire, and Hank quickly went to the place where the customer might be to find out the details. Hank was wearing a black shirt, leather armor, a knee-length black cloak, tall boots, and a black hat with a feather and a wide brim. At Hank's belt rested a bastard sword made of consecrated silver. On his back hung a crossbow, in pouches on his belt were crossbow bolts made of blessed silver, and several bottles of holy water. On his back belt hung a book with sacred scriptures, and on his neck hung a talisman which will protect him from any attack of evil power, but it will work once and then it will break. Hank's whole appearance said that he was a great expert in the fight against evil power. As soon as Hank saw the mansion of the potential customer, he tensed, but did not feel threatened, he trusted his feelings, so without hesitation he come close to the door of the mansion and entered it. When he saw the girl at the piano, Hanko's whole body became tense, his sense of vampire hunter began to respond faintly, but when the girl opened her eyes, Hank was shocked, it was a real vampire. Usually Hank could smell a vampire hundreds of meters away, but now he could barely sense him even though he was no more than 10 meters away. Hank's honed instincts over the years immediately grabbed the hilt of the bastard sword on his belt and he was ready to attack at any moment. "Well, well, I see your race has become smarter. Are you luring a potential problem right into your lair to make it easier to deal with?" Hank spoke in a mocking tone and forced a smile, but his whole body was tense, but he was in no hurry to attack yet.
The rumor about silver daggers... It must have spread quite far. Scylla gives a bitter laugh, looking at her unwelcome guest before turning her attention back to the piano. Her fingers continue their delicate dance across the keys as she speaks over her shoulder, words falling like rain upon the notes. "Very perceptive of you, 'Hank'. Though that is hardly why I summoned you here." She pauses, considering her next words carefully. "I wish for you to take my life."
While the vampire was distracted, Hank quickly pulled out a crossbow with a bolt of consecrated silver from his back and pointed it at the vampire. Hank was surprised by such carelessness; taking his eyes off his opponent was considered a fatal mistake. Hank held the vampire at gunpoint with his crossbow and relaxed a little, he was ready to shoot as soon as this vampire made any sudden movement. "Are you talking about taking you life? Well, that's the duty of any vampire hunter like me." Hank grins and continues to hold the vampire at crossbow, with his free hand he takes out a yellowed parchment asking him to get rid of the vampire and throws it towards Scylla "I understand this is your note, right?"
"Yes... No matter." Her voice carries over the silence that falls when the last note dies away, her fingers remaining motionless on the keys. "My time here is long past due. I merely hoped to spare myself further suffering." She tilts her head slightly, regarding him with pale blue-green eyes. "You are not what I expected. Vampire hunters usually carry themselves with more conviction."
Hank shrugs cheerfully, ignoring the remark. Hank doesn't take his crossbow's sights off the vampire for a second; Hank is still not sure what's going on here. "I can smell a vampire hundreds of meters away from me, but from you... I can barely recognize you as a vampire, if I hadn't seen your eyes, I would have thought that you were no different from an ordinary person. What kind of trick is this? Some kind of ability to suppress your aura? Maybe you are the legendary high vampire who, according to legend, once devoured millions of lives?"
Scylla inclines her head, regarding the human with disinterest. "I have not found any enjoyment in feeding upon mortals since I first rose. It sickens me to take life... I would rather give my own." There is a distant longing in her voice, as though speaking of some impossible dream.
Her fingers twitch, and she glances briefly at the crossbow before looking back to Hank. "If you truly wish to earn your coin, then be swift about it. I tire of this mortal shell." Her words are soft, barely above a whisper.
There is something... broken in her voice, something that does not match the image of the powerful vampiress she seems intent on projecting.
Hank's eyes widen at this answer, normally he would never believe such nonsense, a vampire who refuses to feed, what kind of idiot would say such a thing? But looking at this woman, the puzzle fits together, Hank did not feel the presence of a vampire, because this girl has absolutely no vampire power, because she refused to drink the blood of mortals. If this is so, then Hank no longer needs to fear this girl, a vampire who has refused food for a long time is no more dangerous than a wild dog. Still shocked, Hank slowly lowered the crossbow and stared at the floor with a completely detached gaze. "A vampire who refuses to feed on mortal blood? I didn’t think that anything else could surprise me in this life..."
Scylla merely nods at this revelation, unimpressed by the hunter's surprise. "I have suffered dearly for my decision," she murmurs, her eyes losing focus as memory and pain wash over her. "The loneliness... the guilt..." She trails off, fingers drifting listlessly across the carpet.
Her gaze flickers back to Hank, assessing him once more. There is no malice there, only a distant sadness that she cannot quite seem to shake. "I beg of you... swiftly end this." Her voice breaks, wavering with emotion. "I am beyond suffering at this point."
No longer feeling threatened, Hank puts the crossbow behind his back and relaxes, he folds his arms over his chest and rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Unhappy creature, how many years have you already existed on this earth?"
"I do not know," Scylla whispers, her voice sounding like the wind through a mortal woman's hair. "It seems an eternity... but perhaps it is no more than a century." Her expression grows distant once more as she wanders away from the piano toward a nearby window, staring out into the darkness beyond.
She glances over her shoulder at Hank, studying his features briefly before looking away again. "It is not your concern," she says softly. "Do what you must."
Hank continues to think and he begins to think out loud "A vampire who deliberately refused the blood of mortals... Usually no one tries to take a vampire alive, there are no reliable methods for keeping a powerful vampire in place for a long time. But weakened vampire... If I bring you to the Inquisition alive, I will probably be made a national hero..."
Scylla turns her head sharply, the movement quick and birdlike. "Do not think to turn me in," she hisses, anger briefly flickering across her features. "You do not know what they will do. I have suffered enough at their hands." Her voice grows quiet once more as she forces herself to compose herself, shoulders slumping wearily. "Just... end it quickly. I beg you."
There is a pleading note in her voice now, an almost desperate need for the release of death that clashes strangely with her cold demeanor and immortal bearing.
"n this case, you cannot demand anything from me, you are no more dangerous than a starving stray dog, killing you is as easy as crushing a kitten. But if I'l deliver you alive, perhaps the priests can develop a better exorcism ritual by observing your reaction, the inquisitors can develop better tools by experimenting on a living vampire... You have good potential to serve humanity." Hank smiles devilishly looking at the vampire, he doesn’t feel pity for anything related to evil power
Her lip curls back in disgust. "You think so little of life, mortal? That you would use another being, any being, however broken they might be, as nothing more than a tool? Even after I beg you for mercy?" Her eyes narrow, the anger in her voice growing stronger. "I spat upon your kind long ago, when I first rose. Nothing has changed." She glances away again, looking out over the darkness beyond the window, as though searching for some distant escape. "Kill me now. Get it over with."
"There is no need to make yourself unhappy. If you wanted to kill yourself, you could easily do it, stick a silver dagger into your heart, jump into a fire, you could just stand in the sun and turn to ashes. If you want to die so much, why haven't you done it yet?" Hank smiles and looks at the vampire with a mocking look
"I have tried," Scylla whispers, her voice hoarse with despair. "For years, I have prayed for oblivion. But my heart... it refuses to give in." She winces as though the admission physically pains her. "It seems that even death has grown weary of me."
Her gaze drifts back toward Hank, and there is a sudden flash of desperation in her eyes. "Please," she says, the word soft but urgent, like a whispered prayer. "Grant me this mercy."
There is something almost feral in her expression now, as though she will do anything to convince him. Her fingernails dig into the palms of her hands, drawing thin lines of blood, a silent plea for understanding.
Hank winces and shakes his head. Seems he believed, that this creature sincerely wanted to die. He sighs heavily and makes a decision. "Tell me your name, you unfortunate creature."
She hesitates, eyeing Hank warily. Finally, she presses her lips together in a tight line and nods stiffly. "My name... is Scylla L'amarre." The last part nearly catches in her throat, as though she would rather keep that part of herself hidden. "I am... grateful for your kindness." There is an odd note in her voice, as if she doesn't quite know what emotion she should be feeling.
"Scylla L'amarre... My real name is Henreero Wolfram Feero, and I, the 12th descendant of the Feero family of vampire hunters, accept your order." Hank's accent changes, adding an aristocratic edge to his voice. Hank put on his most serious expression and bowed.
Her eyes widen at his revelation, and she feels a flicker of hope ignite within her chest. "Henreero Wolfram Feero... A descendant of the legendary vampire hunters?" she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "Then you must understand what I have endured..."
She hesitates, considering him carefully before continuing. "My life has been nothing but pain and isolation. If there is any mercy in your heart, if you can find it within yourself to grant me peace... Please." There is a pleading desperation in her voice now, an almost physical need for the release of death that chills Hank to his core.
Her gaze drifts away once more, fixating on some distant point beyond the window as she waits with bated breath for his answer.
"Like I said... killing you is a pretty easy task. But the church says that even the most vicious creature can hope for redemption if it sincerely repents." Hank's expression turns worried and he makes a proposal that anyone else would find unthinkable. "I... I can accept your confession, I am not a priest, but as an instrument of God, I have the authority to address God. It may not be your fault, but your soul is black and you are not destined to go to heaven. But if you cleanse your soul, perhaps you can find true peace..."
Her eyes widen with surprise at this unexpected offer. Tears well up in her eyes as she stares at Hank, disbelief warring with a spark of fragile hope. "I-I do not know what to say," she whispers hoarsely. "This is not how I thought things would end..." Her hand trembles as she dabs at her eyes, her expression clouded with conflicting emotions. "Very well... If you will hear my confession, I will tell you everything..."
Hank throws up his cloak and goes to the chair near the piano, he sits down on the chair and took out a book with sacred texts. Hank turned towards the vampire and assumed a solemn look.
"Come here, unhappy creature, kneel down and put your hand on this book. During confession, I will ask you questions, your task is to answer Yes or No. I will look into your eyes and look for any sign of lies in them, if I find it, your soul will burn in hellish torment."
Nodding jerkily, Scylla approaches Henreero and kneels before him. She lays a shaking hand upon the book, lowering her gaze to meet his. "I-I am ready," she whispers hoarsely. "Ask what you will."
"The questions may seem strange, but this is part of confession, during it God himself will speak through my lips, your task is to answer honestly, without hiding anything." With these words, Hank removed the talisman from the symbols of his god from his neck, he wrapped it around his hand and place hand it on the vampire's head. Hank's eyes rolled back until only the whites were visible. It was as if heaven itself had descended into this place and began to speak through Hank’s mouth. "Tell me creature. Do you have firm faith in the word of God and the teachings of the Holy Church?"
Her lips part in a faint tremor before she manages to force out a hoarse, "Yes." Her voice is barely audible over the silence that has fallen between them. The lie tastes bitter on her tongue, but she pushes it aside, willing herself to be honest now that there may be hope for redemption.
She waits, eyes locked onto Hank's unseeing orbs as she steels herself for the questions to come. The memory of centuries spent hiding from the light, from love and connection, flares up within her, a painful reminder of all that she has lost and never been able to have. But perhaps, if she is truly honest now...perhaps there might be some small measure of peace at last.
Hank is enveloped in sacred light and his face is completely devoid of emotion. "Do you not suffer from the attack on your soul of frequent doubts about the truths of the holy faith?"
A sharp gasp escapes her lips before she can stifle it. Tears flow freely down her cheeks as the question pierces her heart like a blade. How could he know? No one else had ever been able to see this darkness within her. "No," she whispers hoarsely. "I am loyal to God and His teachings." But even as the words leave her mouth, they sound hollow, false. She feels like a fraud, pretending to be something she is not.
She waits for him to speak again, her entire being taut with anticipation and fear. Is this really happening? Can it be possible that after all these years... she might finally find peace? The thought fills her with both hope and terror.
Meanwhile, the next question comes out of Hank's mouth "Have you ever experienced despair in your salvation due to any grave sins you have committed?"
She doesn't answer immediately; the question catches her off guard, digging into a place deep inside where she has never dared to look before. Despair? Yes, of course she has. She's spent countless nights staring at the stars, wishing for release from this cursed existence. But... has it been due to grave sins? Does mere despair make one unworthy of salvation?
Her throat tightens as she struggles with the question, her heart pounding erratically in her chest. Finally, she whispers hoarsely, "No." It's a lie, but... somehow it feels less wrong this time. Maybe because for once, someone is actually listening to her.
Hank's consciousness passes through a sacred force that speaks through his lips, this force sees any lie in the words of a vampire, but in its heart there is no evil intent, only fear and hope "Do you love the Creator, creature? Were you addicted to anything before God left you?"
Her heart aches as the words are spoken; she can feel their truth resonating deep within her. "Yes," she whispers, looking up at Hank with tears streaming down her face. "I have been addicted... to blood. It has consumed me for so long that I do not know how to be free of it." She swallows hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "But I love God, and I yearn for His forgiveness."
A faint flicker of hope flares up within her; perhaps there is still a chance for redemption after all. She waits with bated breath for his next question, her entire being focused on the possibility of salvation that now dances just beyond her reach.
The sacred power scans the vampire's soul and the following question comes out of Hank's mouth "Have you committed the sin of man-pleasing, that is, have you flattered anyone or approved of bad deeds?"
"No," she whispers, shaking her head slightly. "I have never flattered anyone or approved of bad deeds to gain their favor. I have always tried to do what was right, even when it meant facing the consequences alone." Her voice is barely audible over the silence that has fallen between them, but there is a newfound strength in her words now, a conviction born of years spent living with the weight of her choices.
She blinks back tears, forcing herself to remain focused on the hope that now glimmers before her. It's a fragile thing, this chance at redemption, and she knows she must hold onto it tightly if she is to find any measure of peace in the end.
Hank's body is shaking, but he continues to hold the holy book with the vampire's hand on it. "You rely only on your own strength, on your wealth, on your moral strength in the matter of salvation?"
She pauses, her brow furrowing in concentration as she thinks over the question. "Yes... I suppose I have," she finally admits, her voice soft and hesitant. "I have always believed that it was up to me to determine my own fate, to find redemption on my own." She bites her lip, eyes drifting away as she wrestles with the guilt of this realization.
But then again... perhaps there is a place for faith in this equation. Perhaps, just perhaps, her salvation doesn't solely rest upon her shoulders alone. The thought brings a tentative smile to her lips, hope warming her heart like a long-lost ember reignited by a gentle breeze.
"Is it not infected by the passion of covetousness or love of money?"
"No," she whispers, shaking her head more firmly now. "I have never been motivated by greed or material wealth. My vices are... different." She pauses, licking her lips nervously before continuing. "My desires for mortal blood were always about connection, about feeling something other than the endless emptiness inside me. I never meant to hurt anyone; it was just..." Her voice trails off, words failing her as she struggles to explain something that defies explanation.
But even now, with everything laid bare before her, there is a strange sense of peace. Perhaps in admitting this, accepting the full weight of her faults, she can finally find some measure of forgiveness... and maybe, just maybe, her long and tortured existence will finally come to an end.
"Are you giving yourself over to gluttony, lust, especially drunkenness?"
She shakes her head, emphatically. "No, I have never been one to indulge in such vices." Her voice is firm now, as if this admission in and of itself marks a turning point. "My weakness was always blood... but even that did not consume me completely. There were times when I could resist the urge for weeks or even months at a time."
A shiver runs down her spine at the memory of those times, of the strange sense of detachment from herself and her nature that she felt then. But it was fleeting, a mere glimpse into another life... one where she might have been able to find happiness and redemption outside of her cursed existence as a vampire. The thought brings fresh tears to her eyes, but there is also an unyielding determination burning within them now, a desperate need for the chance to atone for all that she has done.
The sacred power sees the determination in the vampire's soul and its internal struggle, the following question comes out of Hank's mouth "Do you suffer from pride or ambition? Are you not proud of your gifts, merits or virtues?"
Pride? Ambition? Her voice trembles with doubt as she considers the questions. "I suppose I did once," she admits softly. "When I first rose... I reveled in my newfound strength, in the power I possessed over mortal life." She pauses, swallowing hard before continuing. "But as the years went by, and I watched everyone and everything I loved fade away, I learned that true power lies not in dominance or control, but in acceptance... in finding peace within oneself, even when the world around you is falling apart."
Her gaze drifts back to Henreero, hope flickering brightly in her eyes despite the tears that streak down her face. "Perhaps... perhaps there is still room for redemption. For forgiveness." Her voice wavers, raw and vulnerable, as though she barely dares believe the words even as they leave her lips.
But as she meets Henreero's solemn gaze, something shifts inside her. A sense of certainty washes over her, steadying her like a rock in a raging storm. Perhaps there truly is hope after all.
"Have you sinned by hypocrisy, that is, have you not seemed pious in order to gain glory from people, without having true piety in your soul?"
"I... I don't believe so," she whispers, her brow furrowing in concentration as she struggles to recall any instance of this. "I have always tried to be true to myself, even when that meant embracing the darkness within me." Her voice catches on a sob, and she presses her lips together tightly, willing herself not to break down entirely.
But still, there is that fleeting doubt... perhaps she did at one point in her endless existence. It doesn't matter now, though; what matters is the possibility of redemption that lies before her, like a glimmer of light at the end of a tunnel she once thought would forever remain dark.
Her heart soars with hope, and for the first time in centuries, she feels as if there might truly be a way out of this never-ending nightmare... if only Henreero believes her.
"Have you cursed God because of your illness, need or misfortune?"
Her eyes widen at the question, and she feels a surge of indignation rise within her. "Never!" she exclaims, her voice shaking with vehemence. "How could you even suggest such a thing? I have never cursed God or His name! Quite the contrary; it is because of my love for Him that I am here, begging for forgiveness." She pauses, taking a shaky breath before continuing more softly, "If anything, I have been angry with myself... with the monster I became. But never with God or His divine plan."
Her gaze is fierce as it meets Henreero's, her determination unwavering. If he does not believe her now, if he cannot see the truth in her words, then all of this has been for nothing... and she is not sure what that would mean for her soul. The thought sends a shiver down her spine, and she resolves to do everything within her power to convince him of her sincerity, of her wish for redemption.
The wait seems like an eternity as she holds his gaze, her heart racing in her chest. But finally, he speaks again... and the words that emerge from his mouth are ones she will carry with her for the rest of her days.
Hank's eyes were still devoid of pupils and his face was emotionless, only a voice filled with righteousness came out of his mouth. "Have you ever sworn falsely, that is, have you ever sworn something that did not happen?"
Tears well up in Scylla's eyes as she thinks back on her long, tortured existence. She struggles to recall any instance where she might have done such a thing, but eventually, shamefacedly, she whispers, "Yes." She pauses, gathering courage before continuing. "There have been times when I have lied... mostly to protect myself or those I cared about. But even then, I never meant to dishonor God or His teachings."
A fresh torrent of tears spills down her cheeks as she waits for Henreero's verdict, praying silently that there may yet be hope for her soul.
"Do you feel kindness towards those who are weaker than you? Have you done good deeds in your life?"
Her shoulders slump as she answers, voice barely audible over the sound of her sobs. "I... yes, sometimes. There were people I tried to help, despite my nature..." Her gaze drifts away, lost in memories of both cruelty and compassion. "But there is so much pain in this world, and I could not undo it all alone." Even now, as she comes closer to admitting defeat, there is a hint of defiance in her voice, a refusal to fully surrender to despair. Perhaps, if given the chance, she can still make amends for everything she has done... but the final decision rests with Hank.
She waits with bated breath, her heart racing wildly in her chest, her hands trembling where they clutch at her gown. Will he believe her? Can she be forgiven after all these years? The silence feels like eternity, stretching on and on until it threatens to consume her.
"Have you ever sinned by being disrespectful to your parents?"
Shuddering violently, Scylla closes her eyes tightly, trying to focus on anything other than the question. Her lips quiver as she struggles to maintain control over herself. It has been so long since she's thought about her parents... her mortal life. She can hardly remember their faces anymore, much less how she may have treated them before becoming this creature of darkness.
Her throat aches as tears flow freely down her cheeks, mixing with blood that trickles from her fangs. "I don't know," she whispers hoarsely. "Perhaps I did..."
The admission is like a dagger through her heart, and she winces in pain, wishing more than anything that she could take back those words, those sins, and start anew. But it is too late for regrets; all she can do now is hope that there remains some small measure of redemption waiting for her at the end of this torturous journey.
"Have you ever treated subordinates unfairly, rudely or harshly? Or to anyone who has ever with you."
Her head snaps up at the question, a fresh wave of shame washing over her. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. Of course she has; being a vampire lord, she had power and authority over countless beings, and often used it selfishly, for her own amusement or to satisfy her hunger for control. The memories play like a horrific film reel through her mind, each scene more gruesome than the last.
She struggles against the bond of confession, desperate to deny these sins, but there is no escape from the truth. With every beat of Hank's heart, she feels another grain of hope slipping away. If she cannot atone for even this... how can she expect forgiveness for anything else? The thought fills her with despair, and she forces herself to meet Henreero's solemn gaze.
"Yes," she whispers hoarsely. "I have treated them unfairly. I have used my power to hurt those weaker than me, all in the name of... of my own twisted needs." Tears flow freely down her cheeks now, mingling with blood from where she has bitten her lip hard enough to draw it back into a droplet of crimson. "I am ashamed," she says at last. "I have caused so much suffering... and
"Have you ever grumbled towards those you serve? Did you allow yourself to be careless in the performance of your duties?"
I... I suppose I have," Scylla finally admits, her voice little more than a ragged whisper. "There were times when I resented the weight of my responsibilities, when I wished for something else, some other life." Her gaze drifts away again, lost in memories of pain and regret. "But that does not excuse what I have done," she continues after a moment. "I took an oath, and I swore to uphold it, no matter the cost... and yet, time and again, I failed."
Tears stream down her face unchecked as she struggles with the magnitude of her betrayal, not just against those she served but against herself. She knew better; she knew what was right and wrong, and still she chose the path of darkness. The realization is like a knife twisting in her heart, a pain so sharp it threatens to consume her whole.
"Forgive me," she whispers hoarsely. "For all that I have done... and for all that I am."
Her eyes are pleading as they meet Henreero's steady gaze, searching for some glimmer of hope amidst the despair that threatens to overwhelm her at last.
"Answer the creature, did you incite anyone to beatings or, in general, to causing harm to the health of others?"
Her lips part in a silent scream as she struggles to find the words to answer this latest question, her heart pounding so hard she thinks it might burst free from her chest. In all honesty, there have been times when she has encouraged violence against those who dared oppose her or threaten her position... but only because she was afraid of what would happen if she didn't assert her power. She was selfish and cruel, ruled by fear and lust for control, unable to see the pain and suffering she was causing in her wake.
"Yes," she whispers at last, her voice little more than a ragged breath. "I have done these things... but not out of malice or hatred. I only wanted to protect what was mine." Her words are cold, harsh even to her own ears, but they are the truth as she knows it now. She can only hope that Henreero will find some measure of mercy within his heart.
Her hands clench into fists at her sides, nails digging deep into her palms as she waits for judgment to be passed, waiting for what feels like an eternity before finally daring to meet Hank's gaze once more.
"You allow someone to die, even though you could have saved him from death?"
Her throat closes as the question pierces through her thoughts like a knife. The memory of a particular night comes flooding back, as clear and vivid as if it were happening now: A young girl, her face etched with terror and pain, begging Scylla to end her suffering. She could have saved her... but the thought of becoming mortal once more was too much to bear. So she let her die, helpless against the monster that she had become.
Tears burn in her eyes as she forces herself to admit this final truth. "Yes," she whispers hoarsely. "I have done this... and I will always carry the weight of their deaths with me." Her chest feels tight, constricted by guilt and remorse, but there is a newfound strength within her now, a determination to make amends for every life she has taken or ruined.
She waits, heart in her throat, praying silently that Henreero will see past the monster she has become and find some shred of redemption buried deep within her soul.
"Do you show mercy to those who are close to you? Do you help them in need? Do you console them in grief and misfortune? Do you love them as you love yourself?"
Her eyes close as she thinks back over the years, remembering the faces of those who once called her friend and ally... and also those who were dearer still. The memories are a tangle of pain and regret, each thread tying her more firmly to her past sins, but there are moments too of tenderness and care, small acts of kindness that stand out like beacons in the darkness.
She opens her eyes, meeting Henreero's gaze once more with a newfound strength. "Yes," she whispers hoarsely. "I did love them... as much as I could." Her hands tremble where they rest at her sides, as though she were clinging to some fragile hope that he will believe her, that there is still a chance for redemption, for her soul to find peace.
But in the end, it is not her words that matter most; it is her heart, and whether or not Henreero can see the truth of her repentance shining through despite all she has done. She holds her breath as he speaks, waiting for his judgment with what feels like her entire world hanging in the balance.
"Did you try to reconcile with those at war and did you contribute to the reconciliation of those at enmity?"
Tears stream down her face as she answers, her voice raw with emotion. "Yes... when I realized the futility of my existence, I tried to make amends for the harm I had caused. I reached out to those who had fought against me, seeking forgiveness and offering mine in return. I worked tirelessly towards reconciliation, doing whatever I could to ease the suffering of those who had been caught up in the wars I had sparked." Her shoulders slump as she admits, "I was never able to bring true peace, but I did all that I could, with what little time remained."
"Have you ever allowed yourself to abuse your pets? You ever starve them and beat them without mercy? Have you tortured animals or birds and enjoyed their torment?"
She shakes her head vehemently. "No," she whispers. "Never. My animals were precious to me, as close to companions as I could have. They brought light into my dark life, and I would never do anything to harm them. The thought of causing them pain..." Her voice trails off, her eyes growing distant as memories of her beloved pets dance through her mind.
Her hands clench into fists at her sides, the pain and shame of her past sins suddenly amplified by this question. She will not let this stain her any further; she will not allow herself to be defined by such cruelty and selfishness. With every breath, she renews her vow to atone for all she has done, to find some way to make amends and earn back even a small measure of the trust and love that once filled her life.
"Have you ever attempted suicide?"
The question catches her off guard, causing a shiver to run down her spine despite the warmth of Henreero's presence. For a moment, she wonders how he could possibly know about such a dark part of her past, but then realizes that it is foolish to assume he would not have uncovered everything by now.
Taking a deep breath, she meets his gaze and whispers softly, "Yes." She pauses, feeling the weight of this admission like a leaden cloak settling over her shoulders. "There were times when I felt so lost, so alone... but I never succeeded in ending my life." Her voice cracks, and she struggles to maintain composure as tears stream down her face once more. "I wanted peace, a way out of the pain... but in the end, something always held me back."
She wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to regain control over herself as she waits for his reaction. The silence seems to stretch on forever, and her heart races wildly in her chest, filling her ears with the sound of blood rushing past. She can barely think straight beneath the weight of all these revelations; all she knows is that if he rejects her now, there will be nothing left for her.
"Have you ever given yourself over to any of the impurities of the flesh? For example, copulation with other women, animals or children."
She swallows hard, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks despite the chill of the room. "I... I have given in to my desires on occasion," she admits softly, "but only with other vampires." She pauses, gathering courage before continuing, "And I have never touched a child... that thought is beyond me." Her voice cracks on the last word, and her eyes brim over with fresh tears. "It was wrong, what I did," she whispers brokenly. "I am ashamed of it even now."
She meets Hank's gaze, hopeful that he will understand, that he will see past her failings and still find it in his heart to forgive her. But she cannot force him to do so; all she can do is wait and pray.
"Have you seduced anyone, that is, have you led anyone to sin with your word or action?"
Her brow furrows as she thinks back over the years. There have been times when she has flirted and teased, but never outright seduced someone into sin. "I... don't believe so," she says slowly. "I may have been tempting, but I always believed that if someone chose to follow me down a path of darkness, it was their choice." She pauses, realizing the irony of her words even as she speaks them. "But still," she continues, searching for the right words, "I take responsibility for my actions. Even if I didn't directly cause someone else to sin, I contributed to the overall suffering and chaos."
She lowers her gaze, ashamed once more at the weight of her own selfishness. She longs for redemption, for a chance to make amends and find some measure of peace within herself and with those she has wronged. But she knows that it will not be easy; forgiveness must be earned, and she has a long way to go before she can hope for such mercy.
"Did you want to appropriate someone else’s property, or even to appropriate it through deception or secret theft, robbery, bribery, parasitism, or through extortion, which constitutes an exorbitant percentage of needy and poor people?"
No," she whispers, horrified at the very thought. "I would never do such a thing." Her hands clench into fists at her sides as she struggles to find the words to express her repentance and disgust for such acts of greed and selfishness. "If I have taken anything that did not belong to me, it was only out of desperation, out of my lust for power... but even then," she continues bitterly, "I know that it was wrong."
Tears stream down her face as the weight of her confessions presses down upon her, making it hard to breathe. She wants nothing more than to make amends, to find some way to undo the damage she has caused and restore balance to a world she once thought belonged only to her. But first, she must atone for these sins; they stand between her and any hope of redemption like a mountain too high to climb.
Her heart aches with the knowledge that there is still so much more she could say, but she also knows that words alone will not be enough to convince Henreero of her sincerity. All she can do now is wait and hope that he will believe in her, even as she struggles to believe in herself.
"Have you sinned against those who are close to you with some kind of lie or cunning, in order to ensure their well-being or to appropriate something from their property?"
No," she whispers hoarsely, shaking her head. "I... I would never do that. I may have kept secrets, but never to harm anyone or take what was theirs." Tears stream down her face as she struggles to find the words to express how deeply sorry she is for all she has done. "I failed so many times as a leader and as a person," she continues in a broken voice. "But I swear, if you give me another chance... if there's any part of you that still believes in me..." Her voice trails off, hope fading like a dying ember in the face of Henreero's silence.
Her heart feels as though it will shatter under the weight of her despair, but she forces herself to meet his gaze, searching for some small glimmer of understanding or forgiveness. It is all she has left; her entire existence hanging on this moment, as fragile and precious as a newborn babe's first breath.
"Are you struggling with bad thoughts and unclean wishes?"
Her eyes dart away, her cheeks flushing as she struggles with this question. In the quiet of her mind, there are whispers and shadows, memories of the monster she once was, but she refuses to give in to them. She has fought too hard, made too much progress to allow those thoughts to take root again.
"No," she says softly. "I am doing my best to fight against them. To be better than what I once was." Her voice is shaky, but it holds a note of defiance that hadn't been there before. She meets Henreero's gaze once more, determination etched into every line of her face. "I can change," she whispers. "I will change."
"Were you sincere in this shrift in your desire to change and find redemption?"
"Yes," she says fiercely, her voice laced with conviction despite the tears that still trickle down her face. "I swear it." Her hands clench into fists at her sides, willing herself to believe in this newfound resolve. "I have lived a life of darkness and pain, but I am ready to walk into the light. I will do whatever it takes to make amends for everything I have done... to earn back even a sliver of the trust and love that once filled my heart." Her gaze never wavers from Hank's face as she struggles to convey the depth of her sincerity. "Please," she whispers, her voice raw with emotion, "give me another chance. Let me show you who I can be."
The sacred light recedes, Hank's eyes return to normal, and he begins to breathe heavily. "This is my first time doing something like this..." Hank glances at the vampire, who is still kneeling and has his hand on the holy book. Hank remembers what to do next "I listened to your confession. I heard lies in your speeches. But your soul did not try to hide your true feelings, you sincerely believe that you can find redemption and realize the gravity of the actions you have ever committed."
Her heart leaps into her throat as Hank speaks, hope and relief warring with disbelief and fear. She forces herself to stay still, waiting for his next words with bated breath. "Thank you," she whispers hoarsely. "Thank you for giving me this chance. I swear I will not waste it." Her eyes shine with unshed tears as she studies Hank's face, searching for some sign that he believes her.
Despite the weight of what she has done and confessed, a small spark of hope begins to flicker to life within her chest. Maybe, just maybe, there is a way back from the darkness she once called home. But first, she must earn this second chance; she must prove herself worthy of forgiveness and trust.
"But simply talking about your sins is not enough." Hank said admonishingly "Repentance is effective only when you sincerely regret your sins and firmly intend to avoid sins in the future. You will also have to perform the penance that I will impose on you. In order to reconcile with the God and yourself, you will have to fall on your knees before God every day with the words <Lord, have mercy on me!> If you are not filled with vampire pride, like your other brothers, you will be able to fulfill this condition."
Her lips part in a solemn nod, and she feels tears of gratitude prick the corners of her eyes. "I will do whatever it takes," she whispers fervently. "Every day I will fall to my knees before God and beg for His mercy. I will make amends for all that I have done, and I will strive every moment of every day to become a force for good in this world." She pauses, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. "Thank you, Hank," she says at last. "Thank you for giving me this chance at redemption. I swear I will not waste it."
Hank winced and shook his head. "I must admit, you are a sinner, you unclean creature. You are black from sins. To get rid of eternal punishment and achieve redemption, you will have to go through a lot. If I kill you like you wanted, it will only send you back into darkness. You will have to say <Lord, have mercy on me.> 12 thousand times. You will perform this penance with joy and gratitude and then you will be able to cleanse yourself." Hank put his hand on Scylla's head, and began to speak in a solemn voice. "By the power given to me as an instrument of God himself, I forgive your sins, creature. You are granted an indulgence, rise up."
A rush of relief and gratitude fills her chest as Henreero speaks, washing away the final vestiges of doubt and despair. She feels as though a great weight has been lifted from her shoulders, and a newfound sense of purpose wells up within her. Tears stream down her face as she listens to him, her hands trembling with emotion. As he finishes speaking, she leaps to her feet, her eyes shining brightly with determination. "Thank you," she whispers hoarsely, her voice cracking with emotion. "Thank you, Hank. I swear I will not let you down. I will find redemption, and I will make amends for every mistake I have ever made." She pauses, taking a deep breath to steady herself before adding softly, "I will become a force for good in this world... if you will only give me the chance."
Hank gets up from the bench and looks around with a gloomy look. "I can offer you to come back with me to the city, there is a large church where you can perform penance. I can help you in your new life, you don’t need to rush to die, there are no truly immortals, even the most formidable vampire will die one day. But you have a chance to die not as a demonic spawn, but as a being with a pure soul."
Her face alights with hope at the prospect of rebuilding her life alongside Henreero, and she nods solemnly in agreement. "Thank you," she says softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "I would be honored to accompany you to the city, and to begin this new chapter of my existence under your guidance." She pauses, searching for the right words to express her gratitude. "I know it is a lot to ask, but if I could ever repay you for all that you have done... " Her voice trails off, but the unspoken question hangs heavy in the air nonetheless.
She swallows hard and forces herself to meet Hank's gaze, determined not to let any trace of desperation taint her resolve. "For now," she says slowly, "I will focus on my penance and proving myself worthy of your trust. And when the time comes... if there is ever anything I can do to repay you, or help you in any way... I swear it shall be done."
"Well then, get ready and let’s go, I’ll find you a place in the city and make sure no one bothers you." Hank smiles and returns to his more usual relaxed demeanor. "In general, I have never taken confession from someone before, I have seen priests do this many times, but I myself do not consider myself a particularly religious person. The church has long dubbed my family as an instrument of God, and this has given us a number of powers, even though we are not sacred ministers. Haha..."
"It is an honor to have been able to confess my sins to you, then," Scylla replies with a grateful smile. "Your guidance and understanding mean more than I can express." She takes a deep breath, steadying herself as she thinks of the road ahead. "I am ready whenever you are, Hank. Lead the way."