Blood Spilled

PROLOGUE

It had been years since Mila's mother left Wallachia for the outside world. Mila still sat and watched the door like it just happened. Perhaps it was her naivety that made her believe that things would get better. She looked at her pale skin through what was once a clean mirror now with the rotting silver paint peeling away from behind; she could hardly recognize her own face. She was youthful once, as far as she could remember. How fast time flew by and even though some said it would heal all wounds not Mila's. Hers was more than just a curse; it was an eternal condemnation.

Freshly etched in her memory, her mother's voice had not stopped ringing in her head when she spoke those bitter words.

"No Mila, I shall not take you with me," said her elderly mother ashamed to even look her in the eyes. And when Mila insisted on asking why, "The last thing I need is to be burdened by the rantings of an overgrown child. It's time for you to grow up."

The words still stung and her heart had not stopped breaking ever since. Her mother had been the only one she could rely on for the longest time. How foolish of her to think she could follow her to the ends of the world. It had always been just the two of them and after she'd received the gift of immortality, she was convinced it would remain so.

After her mother was gone, she'd had a lot of time to contemplate. She knew of the stories of the first of their kind. The legend of Vlad Tepis was often her favorite bed time story when she couldn't sleep. Perhaps it was her mother's gentle touch or her soothing voice that made it so enjoyable but sure enough she'd grown to worship the idea of him. Legend had it that the first Vampire Vlad Tepis the third of Wallachia, once a Christian, and had turned to Satan after the suicide of his wife. Because of her sinful act of suicide, the church had abandoned him and declared that his late wife's soul would not ascend into heaven. Consequently, the Devil welcomed him with open arms awarding him with the gift of immortality and the night. How seductive to be loved by Lucifer like all the other shunned creatures of midnight.

Struck with grief and anger, Vlad Tepis after attaining his power embarked on a revenge mission razing all of Christianity from his principality of Wallachia. He then turned all the nobility loyal to him into Vampires. He would've set his ever hungry teeth upon the world.

Although, it was said that he turned into a hermit years later, his creation lived on in the form of many others like her mother who had no problem turning Mila just before she left.

The story of the surrender of their great leader had been passed on through generations who craved to know what the outside world was like. Most like Mila had no clue what lay beyond the borders. Her mother had promised to take her when she decided to leave but was a living proof that she was just as selfish as the rest of the group that had left the principality years ago.

The memory of her face now angered her. She felt her long nails claw into her palms as she clenched her fists. So lost was she in the thoughts of her mother's duplicity that she hit the mirror so hard it fractures into pieces that scattered on the cold stone floor. She hardly winced in pain as she pulled shards of glass slowly from her knuckles. Time had not been kind to her. After her mother left, there was no one to take care of her, and she had not yet learnt to. It was not long before the people of her principality started to die of disease, something she had no control over. Eventually, she too began to die slowly on the inside; not just from the loneliness but the hunger. When she fantasized about eternal life, this was the last thing she pictured. Hitting that mirror had been a bad idea and she knew it from her saggy skin the moment she saw herself in the mirror. Although foggy, her reflection revealed the wrinkles that covered every inch of her once soft face.

Mila felt her knees grow weak in despair falling to the ground; she knew she would not have the strength to endure another day of this. The floor felt colder than ever and she desperately wished to be put out of her misery. She was wearing an oversized grey robe; a clear representation of what was going on around her.

As she lay there frail struggling for air with every breath she took, she vaguely recollected her innocent years when everything seemed so much simpler in God's light. She hated herself for lacking the courage to do what she always dreamed of doing; leave Wallachia. Taking a deep breath, she closed her painfully dry eyes in hopes that her malediction would finally come to an end.

"I hope I am not interrupting anything?" Came a raspy unfamiliar voice that caused her to nearly jump out of her wits. With her remaining strength, Mila jerked up to see who said that. Before her stood the most strangely dressed woman she had ever seen.

"I could not help but notice the smell of despair that has filled the castle, despair only our kind can produce" remarked the stranger clad in a matching brown shirt and trousers and a heavy fur coat made of a myriad of small animals.

Something about her made the temperature in the room somehow a little chillier. Mila wondered how that was even possible. As she eerily approached her, Mila tried to stand up as quickly as she could not sure whether this was a dangerous situation. She seemed affluent by her posture and as she stepped into the light, she could see the shades of red in her bangs. When she finally recognized the paleness in her skin she froze in her tracks.

"Don't be scared, I won't hurt you. My name is Olivia and I'm here to help dear," she said allowing her to sit on the small wooden chair that was in the middle of the tiny room.

"May I see that?" she asked taking Mila's hand. Unlike Mila's now brownish fangs, she could see Olivia was well taken of from her pearly whites. Her wound was not healing. She wasn't surprised; she'd been feeling a lot more dead than usual lately.

"I can help you with this," she began. If there's one thing Mila understood quite well, it was that nothing ever came free in life, so she listened keenly.

"I would like to help you get back on your feet and leave this place. I promise not to get in the way of your freedom. You will get the chance to lead the remainder of your people in a better place far from here."

Behind her mesmerizing greenish blue eyes, it was hard to tell what her true intentions were. Regardless, Mila could not ignore the fact that she'd just heard her favourite word just yet; leave.

It did not take too much convincing for her to agree with what Olivia was saying. She seemed like the type of woman who always got what she wanted. Mila could tell that the woman was older than herself from the Olivia's posture and grace. Once Olivia helped her to feed, she felt alive again; powerful.

"Here's how this is going to go. I wish to take over a village not far from here. The place I seek is the key to solving all our problems. With your help, it will be as easy as the conquest of Ebro."

Her eye's glistened every time she talked about the village and she smiled through her sharp fangs. Mila did not really care for conquering anyone, but she was indeed too grateful to back out now. She listened to her counterpart in awe of her confidence and poise. Mila's skin was getting back to its original paleness and she felt stronger already.

Grateful for her sudden breakthrough, she snapped her neck as a way to stretch.

"Wherever you go, I will follow." She declared vehemently. She needed care, she needs comradere.

CHAPTER 1

"Without your brother, I am dead. They might as well have killed my heart." His imagination ran wild as hot tears stung his cheeks. Isaac knew his mother better than any of his siblings. Being the first born, he knew it was his responsibility to take care of the younger ones. The war they had been fighting had not been as successful as the powers that be had imagined. He shook his head trying to erase the thoughts from his head. His hands were dirty, mud buried deep in his finger nails yet wiped the tears that reluctantly ran down his cheeks.

Isaac did not think he would be able to take it anymore. The sun had not felt hotter in days and he longed for a decent meal.

"Tell mama and Anna that I love them." He remembered Benjamin's last words as life slowly faded from his once young face. In their tiny village, every able bodied man over the age of eighteen was expected to participate in the FirstWorld War. At the time Isaac was attending a technical college in order to fulfil his dreams of becoming an engineer. When the letter arrived that he and Benjamin got drafted, his heart sunk. He really had imagined he would not be picked even as the letter read his name.

Benjamin was elated; he had always been the type to help. As for Isaac, he hated the war which went against everything he believed in. If he could he would've run away; but that would only bring shame to his brother and family. His younger brother was only nineteen at the time but his bravery was more than that of a hundred men. Isaac always knew that Benjamin was his mother's favorite while Anna who was their younger sister was everyone's. Isaac had played the role of a guardian from a younger age ever since his father walked out on them. He was the only one of his siblings who remembered what he actually looked like.

Benjamin was the sweetest boy he ever knew; always trying to make people feel better. Once he'd found Isaac sitting alone crying. He sat with Isaac and comforted him. It was unusual for him to see his twenty five year old brother in his moment of weakness so Isaac had felt the need to explain the incident afterwards. He'd called Benjamin later to apologize but instead his younger brother attempted to raise his hopes.

"We will fight the war to our victory brother...and we will be back home in no time," Benjamin had reassured. How naïve of him to think so? As painful as it was, Isaac had realized in that moment that his younger brother would need the strength more than he did. Benjamin didn't understand quite what war was but Isaac had read all the books of the Civil War; no glory, only loss and suffering. When they had first joined the war, none of the soldiers were as enthusiastic as Benjamin; only until their first battle. It was heartbreaking to watch the light go off in his brother's eyes after he realized how wrong he had been. He can still see the terrified realization in Benjamin's eyes as he flinched from the sound of every shell in the rain. They say in that trench for hours afraid the next shell would rip them to pieces.

However difficult it was, Isaac managed to shake it off, and Benjamin did not. Nightmares of the battle grounds filled with dead soldiers kept him up at night. It wasn't long before the fatigue got to Benjamin affecting his performance from day to day.

Isaac tried to get his brother back in shape but by the dark circles around his eyes and his reluctance to participate in anything proved otherwise. It seemed his sanity was slipping but they needed all the men they could get.

Isaac wished he could turn back time to the day they went out and he lost him forever. Benjamin was standing behind a barrier slowly loading bullets into his gun when Isaac spotted a German soldier aiming his gun at him. He tried to call out to him but his attempts were futile. Amid the cacophonous sound of gunshots and explosions it would be nearly impossible to hear anything. Only one thing left to do; shoot. Isaac wasn't ready for it even when his brother's life was at stake. God knows he tried to aim and fire but instead, his eyes became blurry and he couldn't stop shaking.

It had been the worst day of his life; not only because he'd never see Benjamin again but because it was his damned fault. He'd been walking for hours now with no end in sight. His feet were sore and he hadn't taken off his shoes in days. His jacket was a little wet from the little icy rains that occurred periodically rewetting and rotting the blood of fallen soldiers that had dried on his uniform. The first was his younger brother's, when he held him just before he died. His face and arms were scratched up following his escape from a losing battle and his dark brown hair looked dingy from all the dust he had collected along the way. Not a single bone in his body broken yet, miraculously, but his spirit was in pieces.

Isaac had no idea which part of the Western front he was in exactly. Separated from the rest of his regiment during a heated exchange of fire, he had somehow managed to escape unscathed reluctantly leaving his brother's body behind. Not the sendoff he had envisioned at all. He wanted to bury his brother in the way his religion dictated. He already was living in hell. The sky was dull, dark clouds looming over the gray wasteland. The vile smell of death filled the air choking him as he passed through damaged towns and villages. On the ground were shell casings accompanied by wrecked range canons that reminded him of the carnage of flesh sitting in the craters filled with poisonous gas around him. It sickened him to see what the world had become. After the things he had seen in the war thus far, he had absolutely no faith in God whatsoever. Why would he sit back and watch his people destroy each other like this?

Isaac was hoping he could get to a river that would either lead him to a friendly military base or a village if he followed the edge of the mountains. He deeply missed his family and the safety of their humble abode. At this point he just wanted to see another human face. Isaac was aware of his surroundings finally stopping when he arrived at another fallen town. Managing to find a building that was still intact, he settled down there hoping he'd be able to lay low for a while.

Isaac felt relieved when he finally freed his blistered feet from his shoes allowing them to breathe free of the wet leather prison they sat in.

One thing he had learnt to do over the course of the war was to survive. He had a well-hidden matchbox in his inner pocket; his own personal lifesaver that he took out and placed on the floor. Using a few items he had collected in the room's wreckage, he had managed to make himself a cozy area in the corner of said room. There was a fireplace right next to him but he decided to avoid using it, lest he alerted anyone with the smoke. Instead, he piled up some papers from books he tore up as well as furniture scraps and lit a small fire for the night. It felt nice to be in a warmer environment for once. It was hard not to get lost in his thoughts when he finally took his jacket off and hanged it over the fire to dry faster. Soon after he'd warmed up, he found himself messing around with his rifle as he tried to keep himself busy. He had placed his pistol on the floor right next to him; the only protection he had left. It was in that moment that Isaac realized that he had only three bullets left in the rifle and one in the pistol.

He knew it would not be enough to save him when the time came yet he hoped he would not have to use it. Eventually, he fell asleep succumbing to the fatigue.

There was a sudden blood curdling scream that filled the air right before the loud sound of canons blasting dirt fifty feet into the air. The whizzing of bullets and shrapnel completed the Hellish environment. Isaac started to run in the icy cold determined to get away from the scene but the painful wailing of people seemed to only get louder. He saw many things on his way, most of which he would rather forget; like when a middle aged soldier was getting crushed under a German tank. Such had become the norm in his life; nothing surprised him anymore.

Isaac woke up unceremoniously to find he was freezing in the pale moonlight. He'd been caught up in a dream based on his past encounters and he was glad that's all it was. The fire had gone out and his woolen jacket drenched in icy cold water still. Somehow, he still felt a wave of warmth wash over is body. Perhaps he was catching a cold because he knew that sensation could only mean one thing; fever. When Isaac looked outside, he could hardly see through the windows. It finally hit him that it snowed heavily overnight.

Aware that he could not stay there much longer, he waited for his coat to dry off a little bit longer then continued with his journey. It was hard to walk through the fluffy frost that had formed all over the ground so he stuck to the edge of the forest road, the trees offering some protection from the sporadic snowfall.

It had been days since his last encounter with human life so when he saw lots of men in the distance, he was sure he would be saved. His excitement got the better part of him causing him to run towards them; a decision he regretted soon after. The moment they spotted him, they started to converse bursting into hysterical chants.

He could tell that they were German from the unfamiliar language they spoke. He had spoken polish decently, it was his mother's tongue but this was alien enough. Isaac knew he had made a terrible mistake stopping in his tracks.

He dropped his weapon and raised his hands in the air when he realized just how outnumbered he was.

"I surrender!" He screamed out into the open field; first in Polish then in English. He could hear their hysterical yelling as they all reached for their weapons so he started to turn around. Hoping against all hope he could be faster than a speeding bullet, he began to run. They were so many of them; he had not been able to count. Isaac looked back to see a German soldier hot on his heels. He seemed to be catching up each time he turned around.

As the sound of gunshots filled the air, he knew he was on borrowed time. He ran as fast as his feeble legs could carry him, clutching tightly to his rifle and enduring the weight of his empty stomach. He felt a sharp pain in the right side of his abdomen and his knees grew weak. He had been shot! The soldier still running after him shouted something in German infuriating Isaac. He really had no intention of hurting anyone. He just wanted to go home. Flashbacks of his family and Beatrice, the girl who took away his virginity flooded his mind. It was soothing to picture her warm milky white skin and how inviting her full thighs and breasts looked. Beatrice had the loveliest freckles on her plump cheeks and a single dimple on the right side of her face. He remembered how her electric blue eyes pierced through his soul and he let out a frustrated cry. The pain radiating on every nerve in his side.

Isaac turned around to the soldier's surprise and pointed his rifle at him. The man dropped his weapon to the ground immediately.

"I do not want to hurt you." His voice was shaking as he tried to sound brave. The German was probably Benjamin's age or younger; Just a young man fighting the pointless war of his country. Deep down, Isaac really thought he could convince the boy to turn back and let him go. Perhaps even scare him with his gun.

"Stop, this is madness! Do not come any closer." He exclaimed yet the boy would not listen. Never before had he seen such determination. Even as he stared down the barrel of a gun, the soldier would not stop his pursuit.

Isaac's hands were shaking which to his disadvantage was captured by his opponent who wasted no time reaching for his weapon. Despite his better judgement, Isaac knew he had no choice. The rules were simple; either kill or be killed. Amid a nefarious smile, the soldier confidently picked his gun from the floor while Isaac closed his eyes and pulled the trigger over and over again. When he opened his eyes, the boy had stopped moving, blood flowing profusely from his wounds. Isaac gasped in horror clutching on to his gun and took off.