He could still remember the flames…
It was a small village in Romania, a chilly winter day in a small village in Romania.
It was a chilly winter day _______
spent with his brothers and sisters and Mama and Papa in his chilly home._______
heard a knock knock that day, a knock knock knocking the door of _______
’s chilly house in a chilly winter day in a small chilly village in the chilly land of Romania.
And then he heard the screams.
Screams of pain, screams of anguish, cries of fear asking for mercy.
He saw that man, a giant man, he saw the giant hooded figure of a man, pyre dancing around him, inferno burning his Dad’s chilly nose, his mom’s chilly toes, his brother’s chilly heads and his sister’s chilly beds.
He saw the flames, slithering closer and closer, until they engulfed everything, in a chilly winter day in a small village in Romania.
The boy closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he saw ashes surrounding his frail little body, and the hooded man.
The hooded man smiled, he saw a smile, why did the hooded man smile?
Why did the hooded man laugh?
Why did the hooded man grab his hand and drag him far far away?
5 years he spent with the hooded man, 5 years of pain and suffering and misery and pain and more pain and suffering and tears and more pain and more tears and more pain and the pain, the pain, the pain, the pain…
Until one day the pain stopped, the tears stopped, and along with them his whole world stopped.
And he saw the same smile, the hooded man’s smile, his smile, he always would smile, but why?
And for the first time in 5 years, he heard a man’s voice.
A voice that drilled in his ears like a rusty screwdriver burrowing in his very marrow.
For the first time in his life, he heard the hooded man’s voice.
The man’s voice was a blissful voice, a soft voice that spoke with gentleness and joy.
The hooded man spoke of many strange things, words he didn’t understand.
_______ potential, The _____, ______ Circuits, ______ Apostle, True _______, ______, Crest, ________ Association...
Suddenly, the boy felt something warm, the man grabbed him with his arms tightly.
The man grabbed him, he held him down, he had surrounded the boy with his arms, he was going to kill the boy, he was going to choke him and he was going to die. He awaited death, 5 years of nothing but the desire and the longing for a quick and painless death, a release from the pain, from the tears, and from his voice.
Yet, all he felt was a soft embrace, the hooded man hugging the child, and for the first time, the hooded man’s smile faded.
The hooded man held his palm in front of the boy’s face, and emitted a light.
Light, the light hurt, it hurt, the light hurt the boys eyes, the boy’s eyes hurt because of the light, the man was hurting him…
And the world faded to black.
But he woke up eventually, and when he did, he could only feel awe.
Awe, for he saw a gigantic room, a room with food, a room with toys, a room with pictures, and most of all, a room filled with people.
Men, women, children…
There were so many of them, one could not help but jump with joy.
He jumped and laughed and danced and sang for days, for nights.
He did not sleep, in fact, the more he thought of it, the more he found it strange: he never felt the need to sleep, yet no matter how much food he ate, he was never full.
The physical pain
For an all too short while, he was happy.
It all came crashing down once he saw the hooded man.
The hooded man spoke, he spoke with his chilling soft voice, he spoke of a new name, a name befitting a great lord, a name for a chosen one, and kept talking and talking and talking and talking and talking and talking with that insufferable voice.
For years, or what felt like years, the hooded man would come at the same time and speak of the same things.
He found it annoying, unbearable, he hated the hooded man, the hooded man was bad, why didn’t the hooded man keep quiet?
Leave me be.
He spoke again of these words, words that were alien to him, words he didn’t want to understand.
Yet he had no choice but to understand them.
He screamed, he shouted, he cried, yet the man did not stop, he kept standing there, watching him…
He was sick of it, he grew tired of it, he talked and the more he talked, the more others talked, and the voices never stopped.
Until he heard her voice... the voice of the one who died for his sake, the voice of the person he loved the most...
So he snapped.
In the blink of an eye, he slaughtered all the people around him, he devoured them all, without discrimination. No matter how much he shouted, no matter how many he killed, there were more.
Thus he killed, he slaughtered endless waves of piles of flesh, one after the other they fell…
An eternity of time passed, an eternal bloodshed, a carnage that forever left it’s marks painted in his mind forever.
The hooded man, he laughed, he laughed once more...
The hooded man laughed his last laugh.
And for the first time in years, Costin Andrei laughed.
The mad wolf laughed and howled alone under the moonlight, alone and spited, on a hill of bodies, a river of blood...
That was 175 years ago…
In all this time, he learned of his identity as an heretic, he learned how to keep his hunger for blood satisfied, how to hide from those who wished to destroy abominations such as him, and how to survive in an underworld where killing was a regularity.
He learned how to live in the dark world of dead apostles, and learned how to enjoy it.
Under the moonlight, he hungers, and as he preys on the unrighteous and wicked, he only has one goal: live.