Bonds of the Fallen

Bat had not seen Val since that night of the Dark Market. She tried to return to the market to get more information about her mother, only to find that the market had disappeared. As she wove her way to work at the embassy, the city was alive in a way that only the approaching festival in Slaingard could evoke. Streets once familiar and unadorned now bustled and teemed with life, garbed in colorful banners and decorations. Humans and Vampir traveled the realm to partake in the festivities, with each day unfolding in a new schedule of lively parties, resounding musical performances, and streets lined with vendors hawking their tempting wares. Even the embassy succumbed to the festival’s infectious energy today, its doors perpetually swinging open and shut as people laden with crates and supplies hurried in and out in preparation for the grand spectacle that would be the Ceremony of the Valkyrie.

As Bat neared the administrative offices of the embassy, a peculiar stillness settled in the air, contrasting with the vibrancy that colored the city outside. The archive’s usual hustle and bustle was conspicuously absent, replaced by an eerie calm. Two Harii, clad in their signature black armor, stood sentry at the entrance, swords drawn and eyes vigilant. Tales of the Harii, the elite soldiers of the Vampir, were told in hushed whispers, their prowess in battle the stuff of legends. Their presence here was an anomaly in the full light of day.

Bat’s unease grew as she stepped into the embassy’s administrative halls. The crowd that usually filled the space was markedly absent, leaving in their stead a smattering of auxiliary workers and a few members of the envoy. Ilka, who wore a royal blue dress that hugged her curves and black heels, was wholly engrossed in the contents of her silver tablet.

With trepidation, Bat approached her boss. “Is everything alright?” she inquired, looking around the office.

Ilka glanced up, her smile warm and reassuring. “Bat, there’s no need to worry. We’re simply taking added precautions in light of the upcoming events.”

Bat’s brow furrowed, her gaze flicking to the Harii guards. “But where is everyone?”

Ilka’s fingers flew across the tablet’s glowing screen. “The ceremony’s registrations and related functions have been moved to the festival site. Most have followed suit, though a small contingent remains here to manage stragglers. We’re directing them to the festival site to complete their registrations. I anticipate a flurry of last-minute entries. Those who miss the deadline won’t have another opportunity for the next century.”

Bat blinked. “But the festival is a vicennial event.”

Ilka swiped at her screen, a small smile playing on her lips. “Not anymore. The leader has decided to step down. The next festival will be the stage for the appointment of his successor.”

A gasp escaped Bat’s lips. “Val’s stepping down as the Sire of the Fallen?”

Ilka slipped the tablet under her arm, her laughter a musical sound. “Don’t be ridiculous. Val will always be the Sire of the Fallen. He’s merely passing on the mantle of presiding over the festivities.” She turned on her heels, her work demanding her attention once more.

Bat felt panic surge through her veins like a wildfire, her thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. “What if I don’t have enough time to find out what happened to my mother?” She murmured to herself. Without a second thought, she took off running, bursting out of the embassy’s front door, leaving Ilka shaking her head as she remained engrossed in her tablet screen.

The festival site was a vibrant mix of colors and sounds, stalls adorned with bright hues, and the air rich with the tantalizing scents of exotic foods and drinks. But Bat had no time to take in the festivities. Her gaze locked onto the towering clock in the center of the festival grounds, its hands ticking away the precious minutes she had left.

Legs pumping, lungs burning, she charged through the crowd of festivalgoers, her eyes fixed on the registration center that loomed ahead. The deadline for registration was this morning. She had to make it. She picked up speed and covered more ground, closing the distance between her and the new registration site. She fought through a thick mob that had gathered in front of the building, brushed past the formidable Harii stationed at the entrance, and flung the doors open with a resounding crash.

In a mad flurry, she snatched a pen and registration form from a table, the paper crinkling in her clenched fist. At the top of the application, in bold letters, was the looming deadline to apply. A large clock in the center displayed the five minutes she had left. Sucking in deep, ragged breaths, she hastily filled in the required fields—name, age, family, health information, reason for registering. Her pen flew across the paper in a barely legible scrawl. Bat somewhat completed the form, barring only the optional information. She raced to the front desk and slammed it on the hard surface.

Her heart pounded in her chest, thudding in her ears, as she stood there panting, watching the registration officer scrutinize her form. Her entire focus was on silently willing him to approve her registration. His eyes flicked from the paper to her, then to the clock, his eyebrows raised in annoyance.

“You cut it pretty close,” he remarked dryly. With a huff, he stamped the form and handed it back to Bat. “Wait over there. Someone will attend to you shortly.” He pointed to a small waiting area near the far side of the lobby.

A wave of intense relief washed over her as her knees grew weak. She turned and leaned against the desk for support. The lobby filled with humans and Vampir, all awaiting their turn. Bat wove her way through the crowd to an empty seat and collapsed into it with a sigh.

“It seems we made it by the skin of our teeth,” a young man commented to the group gathered in the waiting area.

“I wonder how they do it. Is it a doctor who performs the procedure? Or maybe they give us some shot or medicine?” asked a woman.

Another man said, “Or perhaps it’s something entirely different.”

The group descended into a buzz of murmured speculations when a stunning blonde Vampir approached. Her short hair framed her face, stalking gracefully towards them as she regarded the group with deep brown eyes that portrayed a gleam of something wild beneath.

“The Valkyrie assigned to you will bite you,” she smirked. “That is the ceremony. A mutual blood exchange is necessary to transform you into a Vampir,” she explained, settling herself on the arm of Bat’s chair. “I’m Selda. I underwent the ceremony many years ago.”

There was something familiar but also unnerving about this Vampir.

A distant hum of animated conversation filled the room. A group of Vampir tucked away in the corner of the lobby examined the group in the waiting area, their gaze occasionally flicking towards the humans in the waiting area, sizing them up like a jeweler appraising precious gems.

“What are they doing?” Bat tilted her head towards the Vampir, curiosity tinging her voice. The others in the group craned their necks to see.

“They’re rating the potential initiates and discussing who they’d like to turn. It’s just a game we Vampir play to pass the time. Harmless, really,” Selda said, a playful glint in her eye as she twirled a lock of Bat’s hair around her finger. “Seems you’ve caught a few eyes.”

A slight discomfort twisted in Bat’s stomach as she squirmed in her seat. Her mind was overwhelmed with questions about the ceremony, how the Valkyrie were assigned to humans, and whether it was random or a choice. She hadn’t thought this through before registering for the ceremony.

Selda stood, returning to her fellow Vampir as an attendant approached with a tablet, directing one of the men to a different area. Bat’s mind raced as she replayed her decision to register. She felt a stirring of nerves deep in the pit of her stomach. There was still time to change her mind, she reasoned.

In the waiting area, the conversation had turned to gods—old and new.

“All this talk of a New God. I only know the old gods,” one woman said, shaking her head.

“I heard the New God enslaves his people and demands sacrifices,” another man added.

A woman, her arms wrapped protectively around two children, joined in, “The New God is benevolent. He promises eternal salvation in exchange for sacrifices in this life.”

“And why are you here if the New God promises all that?” challenged the man. “The Vampir serve the old gods.” The woman hugged her children tighter in response, their tattered clothes and hollow cheeks contrasting to her serene smile.

Just then, an attendant interrupted, calling out Bat’s name, “Batilde?”

She jumped to her feet instantly, earning herself a curious look from the attendant.

“Follow me,” said the attendant, leading her out of the waiting area.

Selda intercepted them as they crossed the lobby, her gaze locking onto Bat. “I’ll be the one to change you if you want,” she offered. “There’s nothing to fear. Just tell them you want me to turn you, and I will do it.” Her smile was an attempt to comfort her but only served to unsettle her further.

The attendant paid no mind to Selda as she guided Bat into a private room, the door whooshing shut behind them. “Please, take a seat wherever you like. We need to review your form.” The woman sat behind a desk, placing the tablet into a holder that projected a holographic screen.

Her fingers danced over the floating display. “It appears you haven’t indicated a preference for the ceremony. Is there a particular Vampir you would like to conduct the ritual?”

“I’m not sure. What happens if I don’t pick anyone?”

“If there’s no preferred Valkyrie indicated, you may be assigned to an available one. Same if you leave the choice blank,” the attendant explained, her fingers pausing on the desk.

Bat’s mind raced. Ilka had no interest in the ceremony. Selda, whom she’d just met in the lobby, was pleasant enough, but something about her made Bat’s stomach churn. “Val,” she said finally.

The tapping of the attendant’s fingers ceased as she peered at Bat through the floating display. “Val?”

“Yes, that’s my choice.”

“And you’re voluntarily choosing to participate?” she asked, her gaze analytical.

“Yes,” Bat affirmed with a nod.

“And if Val declines, are you willing to be paired with another Valkyrie for the ritual?”

Bat paused for a moment before answering, “Yes.” Less firmly than before.

The attendant typed in ‘Val,’ checked off several boxes, then closed the display with a flourish. “The ceremony will take place tomorrow night. The embassy will notify you of your assigned Valkyrie at the festival. If you change your mind, you can leave at any point.” Her eyes scanned Bat’s attire. “Do note that formal wear is required.”

“Thank you.” Bat softly managed as she exited the room.

As she stepped back into the lobby, Bat noticed a small crowd gathering around the woman with two children she’d seen earlier. The woman’s voice, filled with conviction, rose above the crowd’s commotion as she preached about the New God. Some in the crowd mocked, while others curiously watched. The two children clung to the woman’s legs like lifelines.

“All of you are damned!” she declared, pointing an accusatory finger at the crowd. “Every one of you.”

An attendant approached, her voice soothing. “If you need assistance, we’re here to help. We can provide food, shelter, medical care—whatever you require.”

The woman pulled her children closer, stepping back from the attendant. “Only the New God can offer salvation. I will bask in His glory for all eternity.”

She opened her coat to reveal a series of explosives strapped to a vest. A collective gasp rose from the crowd. A Harii materialized from the shadows in a heartbeat, throwing himself on top of the woman, his body acting as a shield to protect everyone from the impending blast. The explosion sent Bat sprawling to the ground, her senses momentarily in chaos. Panic swept through the crowd as people fled in all directions. A foot slammed into her as people scrambled towards the doors.

Through her daze and confusion, Bat searched for the children in desperation. “Please, let them be alive,” she groaned, dragging her body off the floor. “Let them be okay,” she cried out in a strangled prayer.

She spotted two attendants cradling the children in their arms. The brave Harii that sacrificed himself to save them shielded them from the worst of the blast. Tears streamed down the children’s faces, but they appeared physically unharmed. A few humans from the group had suffered injuries, but most had escaped relatively unscathed. Bat herself had sustained a couple of cuts and scrapes.

Trying to regain her balance, Bat pushed herself onto shaky legs. But as she staggered upright, her gaze fell upon a dismembered arm lying grotesquely on the ground. The sight sent a jolt of horror through her. Nausea rose from her stomach, making its way to her throat. A few feet away lay the Harii, who had risked his life to protect them all, his black uniform drenched in blood. His remaining hand clung to his shield as two attendants rushed to carry him to the back of the building.

The woman with the explosives lay motionless on the ground, her final act of desperation forever silencing her cries for salvation. Overwhelmed by grief, Bat stumbled out of the building and crumpled onto the concrete, her tears falling freely for the woman who had died for her New God, for the children now motherless, and for herself - a child who had waited in vain for her mother to come home. She knew the gods had no sympathy to spare.