Chapter 12
The Oracle

 
D looked up at the scene before him. A giant golden statue was in the center of the altar. It was of an angelic vampire, similar to the one just outside the main castle doors. Except this one was of a female, sitting on her knees with her winged arms proudly spread. Her head was held high and her large, jade eyes gazed down upon the area just before the altar with a gentle smile on her simmering face.

"Come closer and speak, Victor. Do not be afraid." A gentle voice echoed throughout the chamber. The voice belonged to a woman, but it was strange. It was elderly and wise, but at the same time, young and beautiful.

D's father had told him about the oracle before. Xaria was no living being, now, but the ghost of an ancient vampire, even older then the vampire king himself. With psychic and telepathic powers even in life, she stayed behind after her death to help her people. She was such a powerful entity, they constructed this alter room for her, in the middle of their most sacred grounds.

"...Don't call me that." D said with a frown. "I no longer go by that name."

"But even without ones own name, one cannot toss away their own soul. Unless that soul is roped to that name, that soul will be tossed along with it. And the name will remain while the soul is forgotten, but the soul will be destroyed before one can speak his name again. Tell me, does your soul still bear a name?" The voice seemed to come right out of the statue.

"Be silent." The dhampire muttered. "I am not interested in your riddles."

"Then why have you come here, my child?"

"I can't answer that. I did not come here by my own will. If anyone should know the answer to that question it would be you."

"...Listen to me, child, and listen well. For I will not repeat what I am about to say." She started. "Walking down a dark path, it is never smart to travel forwards, for then, you will never go backwards. However, sometimes, when you get to a fork in the road, not knowing which way either will lead, it is necessary to look under your shoulder to find the answer to the questions that haunt you most. Do you understand?"

D tilted his head to the side. "........Was that a joke?"

"Do not let your footsteps discourage you. Follow them. Never look ahead. My words will speak again and you won't thank me when this begins..."

Dracula watched his son emerge with a confused and frustrated look on his face. How little, of what she said, had to do with what was ailing him. And how, even less, he understood what the babbling fool was talking about in the first place. He headed down the stairs, puzzled and annoyed, staring at the floor. The vampire king watched from his spot by the door, which he had not moved from, as D looked up when he reached the last step.

The first thing the dhampire saw almost startled him, as he had not noticed it before, though it was in plain sight. Perhaps he just didn't want to see it... he didn't know, but there it was. D stepped up to it, partially surprised as he realized that he had never seen it before. But also with a hint of shame that he had never visited his sons grave.

It was Ronan's burial statue in plain sight on the first row. He was mostly surrounded by several gaps, spaces saved for those who still lived. Just behind him, two steps up was the statue of a human woman. One step up and two spaces to the child's right was the statue of a male dhampire.

D kneeled next to the small golden figure. They did a splendid job in replicating the child in gold; it was almost too well done for the dhampire and it pained him to see it.

The vampire king continued to watch him as the hybrid lifted a hand and pressed the backs of his curled fingers against the hard cheek of the imitation. D's hand fell and rested on the small shoulder, and he dropped his head and closed his eyes. He was so young... So, so young....

Dracula walked towards D, as the last visitor left the sanctum, and stopped a couple feet behind the dhampire. "D, we must leave. The sun will rise soon."

"Leave me alone, you bastard..." The dhampire hissed through his teeth.

"...I loved Ronan, you know that. I loved him as much as you loved him." The vampire said gently.

D stood up without saying a word and drudged over to the stairs to the altar again.

"Please, D. Let us talk. We haven't spoken in so long. You'll feel better if you talk about it. There's no need to do something rash..." He pleaded.

On either side of the stair case was a pair of swords hanging crossed on the wall for decoration. The dhampire lifted one of the swords from its place and examined the blade. It was shorter then the sword he was accustomed to, but it was sharp and thick, forged for battle. He nicked his thumb on the edge. Some drops of blood escaped and trickled down his hand before the wound closed up. His blood was cleaner with very little of the infectious green substance left in his veins and his naturally fast healing was kicking back in. He took the sword in his right hand and with his left, lifted the other sword from off the wall, then turned and faced his father.