500 Years Ago
The Realm of the Sunless (Castle of the Immortals)
A battered body, reeking of smoke and sweat, was the result of three days of relentless riding toward Sunless—a city where the sun never rose. No one knew whether this was due to a curse or simply its geographical location. But one thing was sure: the city of Sunless was sustained by a dark energy that originated from the Castle of the Immortals and its ruler. And this was likely what had drawn Vince here.
As Vince entered the city, he slowed his pace. The presence of a stranger was enough to draw attention, and he didn't want to provoke the inhabitants any further. It was his first time seeing Sunless and its people up close. He pulled out his pocket watch. The time was 12:53. Vince frowned, slightly confused. Since approaching this territory, he had been witnessing the sunset, and now he had completely lost track of time. He wasn't sure if it was day or night—though such distinctions seemed meaningless in a place where the sun never shines.
The city was quiet but not lifeless. Despite the dim, faint lights, the taverns were filled with patrons, and a few small stalls sold candles and lanterns. Vince had never ventured outside of Ozhem before, and this place, with its seemingly insignificant people, was entirely new to him.
Vince dismounted and took Jasper's reins, slowly starting to walk. The people of Sunless had darker hair and eyes than those of Ozhem—in deep shades of brown or black. But more striking than anything else was their leaner frames and shorter stature. Vince felt the coldness among the Sunless people more than ever before—a stark indifference, a numbing apathy, as if the souls within those figures had long been dead. Vince could understand why someone might lose their appetite in this place.
No streams flowed down from the mountains in Sunless; the trees seemed utterly lifeless, as though they had never been able to breathe. Ozhem, despite its winter, gleamed like a finely cut diamond, but winter in Sunless felt more like a shroud.
But Vince hadn't come here for these things. The sorrow in his heart over Anthony's death had driven him to the brink of despair. He had often wanted to recklessly storm into Castle Mors and plunge his dagger into the heart of the slumbering lord. Still, when he reached the Bloody Garden, fear would hold him back each time. It wasn't the fear of dying. It was the fear of dying too soon—of becoming just another victim whose heart would be torn out by Sebastian John before he could avenge Anthony's death.
After John drank the cup filled with Anthony's blood, he returned to his castle to sleep once more. Amid the crowd, who obediently lowered their heads, Vince locked eyes with the murderer of his beloved. He saw how, without emotion, John kissed Anthony's once-red lips, now darkened, for the last time before whispering something in his ear and returning to his castle. Vince was the first to rush to Anthony's side, cradling the blood-soaked body in his arms. Anthony's open eyes could no longer shine, and Vince's heart clenched as he touched the cold skin. This body could have held its soul for many years and could have remained by his side, but John had descended upon them like a curse, delivering this cruel fate.
One thing still puzzled Vince—the final moments when John kissed Anthony. Anthony did not resemble someone forced to sacrifice himself in that brief instant.
Still, Vince didn't want to know what had happened. What he had seen with his own eyes was enough.
He had been lost in these thoughts so deeply that he didn't realize how far he had walked until he reached the castle. No guards were at the entrance to stop him, so he continued until he reached the gate. He knocked three times, and at last, the gate opened. Vince tethered his horse and entered, the door closing behind him, but no one was in sight. This didn't surprise Vince, for he had heard that the lord of the castle guarded it alone, though how such a thing was possible, he could not understand. The Castle of Immortals comprised forty-nine stone towers, each over a hundred meters tall. The pointed arches of the towers added to the grandeur of the corridors he had to pass through. Statues of grotesque, four-legged creatures with forked tongues, wings, horns, and tails made the place even more eerie. It was as if these demons were the guardians of the castle and its lord. Vince couldn't begin to guess how many years it had taken to build such a place or how many lives it had cost.
Vince ascended a staircase that seemed to lead to the sky until he reached a corridor lit by a few torches. He still saw no one, so he followed his instincts and moved forward, now standing before a wooden door carved with the image of a dragon. Vince knocked three times, and again, the door opened. He didn't hesitate. Even if entering this room meant no return, he would do it.
He stepped inside, and once more, the door closed behind him. The room's torches did little to illuminate it, leaving that task mostly to the moonlight.
The room was empty, save for a bed and a decaying wooden chair. A voice came behind him: "It's been long since I've had a guest."
It had to be him—Griffin Quillon, the lord of Sunless and the Castle of Immortals. No one could remember how many thousands of years he had ruled this city and its people in solitude, but Vince had heard that Griffin was as old as Sebastian John. They had been the two greatest wizards of Ozhem and Sunless before the sun decided to stop shining. Vince knew little of Griffin's past, nor did he care. Griffin was renowned throughout Sunless and Ozhem for his ruthlessness and tenacity, which were reason enough for Vince's presence in the Castle of Immortals.
Griffin Quillon was considered the greatest wizard in the realm of Sunless, and he was likely the only one who knew how to exact Vince's revenge on Sebastian John.
Griffin spoke again: "I don't like uninvited guests, Vince..."
Vince wasn't surprised to hear his name. He had expected Griffin to know his name and story, but he hadn't expected Griffin's youthful and well-groomed appearance. Like the others, Griffin had long black hair and dark eyes, but he was tall and lean, dressed in clothes of crocodile skin and fox fur. Vince had imagined Griffin as an old man with balding hair and skin wrinkled by the passage of time.
Finally, Vince spoke: "You know why I'm here."
Griffin sat down in his chair. "I smelled blood from miles away..." he said, smiling. "News travels fast, boy. I heard you've been causing trouble..."
Vince held his breath, his gaze shifting to his hands. He could still smell the bloodstains that had splattered on his clothes, and remembering the scene he had created made him sick. A day after Anthony's death, the city had fallen into what seemed like an eternal silence, with no one in the streets. Since they had taken the coffin to Grace Cemetery hours earlier, Vince couldn't move from its side. Leaving Anthony alone in that cold and silent place, waiting for his final farewell to the world beyond, twisted Vince's heart. Anthony had loved snowy weather, and now, the snowflakes fell quietly on his cold face, adding to Vince's grief. Vince saw peace in Anthony's face, but looking at the knife wound on his chest, Vince's nerves took over, and he found himself tearing at the nails of his left hand until they bled down to the skin around them. The thought that he had lost someone he loved to the point of worship in such a short time was unbearable. But what made it even harder to digest was Anthony's family's haste in handing him over to the hands of death.
The echo of the death song, sung by the townsfolk in mourning for the victim, announced their approach. They were strange people; they killed an innocent, beautiful young man and then sang to send him off. Vince leaned over Anthony's face and kissed the edge of his cold, blue lips. He ran his hand over the lifeless features, gently brushing the dead hair. "Open your eyes
and see how I'll paint Shining River red with their blood... but cover your ears so their screams don't torment you. Then you can sleep peacefully, my love."
He kissed Anthony's forehead and stood up. By now, everyone had arrived. Vince took a few steps back as the entire Ultras family, except for Camila, Anthony's mother, who had fainted from grief, gathered around the coffin and began the death song again.
Vince was a guardian, and no matter how inexperienced, a guardian never separated from his sword. Silently, he unsheathed it. He shut his eyes against any feelings of fear or mercy. The avenger cleared the path before him of the traitors and those responsible for Anthony's death.
Vince needed help to regain his focus. Clenching his trembling fists, he looked at Griffin. "Help me," he pleaded.
"I like what you did, Vince," Griffin replied, "but why should I help you?"
Vince fell silent, unable to answer. He had nothing to offer Griffin.
Seeing Vince's hesitation, Griffin said, "To gain anything, you must pay the price... magic included."
Vince was desperate. "I have nothing to give you... no jewels, no special skills."
Griffin smiled. "Oh, but you do."
He stood in front of Vince, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You have yourself."
Without hesitation, Vince said, "If I'm of any use to you, then do with me as you will. But tell me how I can destroy John."
"You're mortal, boy. To take your revenge, you must first survive until John awakens again."
His hand moved down to Vince's chest. "A heart that doesn't beat cannot die."
Vince grabbed Griffin's hand. "My soul... it has to remain intact..."
A smirk curled Griffin's lips. "You won't need it."
Vince was determined. "Yes, I do... My body is too weak and small to carry this grudge... I need my soul to contain my hatred."
Griffin nodded. "Very well. Your soul is yours. Keep it."
Then he plunged his hand into Vince's chest and crushed his heart in his fist.