Castlevania: Symphony of the Night Chapter 8
By Aujang Abadi
Simon didn't dream. The nature of his world was not one of large expanse or endless void, but of emptiness, a stark emptiness that could not even convey color, or feeling. Gray would not describe it, for it was not gray; had it been gray it would have had color, and thus possessed some measure of substance. He drifted in a sea that was not whole, that was not part or even piece, but a vast ocean of silence, from which nothing escaped.
He did not breathe. Trevor did not expect otherwise. At this stage of the curse, Simon's body had no need for breath. He had slept for nearly a month. But it did not matter; no time was truly being lost. His training was complete. All that was left was the crusade. Simon's Curse. Simon's Quest.
Sarah had been working ever since Simon had left for the castle. During the last month, she'd never left the cabin. She was forging his true weapon, the only heirloom the Belmont clan called their own. She knew that when she completed it, Simon would rise again.
When she entered Trevor's presence, closing the door behind her, the fabled Morning Star sang out into the air, and Simon's hands lifted to catch it. Soon after, his eyelids parted, and he returned to the land of the living. He sat up, staring at his weapon. The candlelight flickered on his bed, glinting off of the finely crafted steel and the wickedly sharp prongs lining the whip. Simon's eyes rose to meet Sarah's.
"The Morning Star." She said it flatly, without concern, without caring. Simon's eyes closed again, letting the depth of their separation sink into his flesh. "Use it well. It will not fail you." She turned.
"It is not the tool that makes the man." Simon looked to Trevor, who watched them in quiet amusement. "I can hold it. Why?"
"You are a Belmont. Dangerously close is your transformation, but the blood is strong. So are you." Trevor chuckled. "But Sarah forged it well. By the time you fight Dracula, the whip will cause you great pain."
"A mixed blessing. As everything in my life has been." Simon's head turned back to Sarah. "But you." She turned once more. If but for a second, they stared at each other, oblivious to the outside world. Sarah coughed slightly, but to Trevor's surprise, Simon turned to his ancestor. "Trevor... if you would excuse us?" Hiding a smile, Trevor exited the room. Sarah folded her lithe arms across her chest and watched him coolly.
"Well, what is it? We don't have all the time in the world. You still have quite a bit of work ahead of you. I'm growing tired-"
"I saw your parents, Sarah." He cut her off, but the words were soft, almost a whisper. "In the Keep. I killed them. I suppose you could say I released them." His words came quickly now, a rush of emotion that he had locked away until now. "I've seen so much that I fear I'm losing myself. Everything, it's all fading away. I don't understand it." He tapped his chest. "I stopped breathing, while I slept. I don't even know how much longer blood my heart will continue to beat. This pestilence… whatever it is, it's killing me. I'm dying. With my life goes our legacy.
"When I was in the Keep, I didn't even think about what I was doing. I was murdering my friends, my family, people I've lived with since my very conception. I didn't bury their corpses; I burned their limbs so I could see, Sarah. I still feel no sorrow, or even horror at what I've done-and that frightens me all the more. How much longer will I even be able to comprehend the depths to which I sink? When do I stop questioning these actions, and become accustomed to them? Your parents tried to kill me. The Belmont clan tried to kill me." Sarah's eyes widened. Simon was shaking again, and cold sweat ran down his naked body. Honest terror shone in his eyes. "I'm beginning to remember what happened when Dracula had me, all of those years. He had... succubae, these horrible demons. Oh God, Sarah, the things they did to me… what happened in those cells…" He choked, his vision blurred by salty tears. "Sarah... help me... I can't do this alone... I don't want to become like them. Make the memories go away..." He was rocking back and forth now, his arms wrapped around his legs. "So many years... cold... and wet... the only warmth I ever felt was when I was inside… inside my own kindred. Just how damaged have I become, Sarah? How can I fight Dracula when I don't even know how deeply, or to what extent, he still exists within me?" He placed his head between his knees, baring the vicious scars on his neck and spine.
Sarah was absolutely stunned. All of her frustration and anger towards him-for his refusal to speak, his cold demeanor-immediately melted away, replaced by the burning shame at her own selfishness. She had pushed and mocked him for indulging in self-pity without ever truly realizing the magnitude of his suffering. "Simon... I..." Shock had taken her speech as well, for no words of comfort came to her lips. She couldn't help but fall to her knees in front of him, cupping his terrified face in her hands.
"Help me, Sarah... I can't do this alone." He buried his face in her shoulder and began to weep, just like he had, so long ago. "Make this all go away..." He clutched her body to his, and drew her back onto the bed. The need to have her, to lose himself in her, was too great for resistance. Suddenly his lips were on hers, and she was naked, drawing him into her womb. The salty taste of their mixed tears curled within the base of his stomach, in a savage explosion of lust. He stopped for a moment, the soft brown ocean of her hair spilling over both of them. A gentle sheen of sweat outlined her frame, and he brought a hand up to her exquisite jaw, unable to keep himself from touching her beauty. He lowered his face down to hers, and a horrible twist of love, sadness, and desperation lined his cracked voice, as he whispered to her pleadingly.
"Sarah... make me forget who I am."