BY: REBEKAH SPAKE

The master bedroom was dark, illuminated only by the light of a full blood red moon. The room was merely one inside the tiny four-room cottage. The owner had yet to make any additions. The reason? That was simple. One only had to take a look into the master bedroom.

In that master bedroom, Reinhardt Schneider sat by his beloved wife Rosa’s bedside fearful for her life. She had fallen ill so suddenly. Worriedly he glanced out the window. The moon remained the same. Blood red. As a Belmont, he knew that the sudden appearance of such a moon, and the odd disasters that were happening was around the country side was no mere thing. Castlvania was returning to the Earth. <<AN: I’m not sure if that’s true, but it sounded really cool. ^_^>>

He tore has eyes away from the moon to look at his wife.

"Reinhardt?" Her voice was so weak and hoarse.

"Yes, Rosa?" He asked, going to his knees by her bedside.

"I’m dieing, Reinhardt." Before he could protest, she weakly put up a hand and continued to speak. "Don’t argue with me, I know I am. CastleVania is returning; you must stop it. For me and our son."

A door connected the bedrooms. That door was open. Reinhardt barely turned to gaze at their sleeping son. At three years old he was as stubborn and proud as his father. And as calm and as quite as his mother. Their son, Taylor, inherited that along with his father’s dark reddish blonde hair and blue eyes.

He then returned his gaze to his wife and love. She coughed and then lay still. Deathly still.

"Rosa? Rosa??" He shook her shoulder. No response. He slowly placed his hand over her heart and sobbed. It was just as he had feared. Her heart beat no more. He tenderly closed her eyelids and pulled the covers up over his beloved’s face. He rested his head against his arms on the bed. He sobbed again silently, not knowing how to answer his son’s questions when morning came.

Not too far away from the recently widowed Reinhardt Schneider, was another small cottage. This one was a two-room cottage, small and cramped, but it was out of the way, which was all that mattered to the owner.

That owner was Tara Draco*. She sat up in bed as the sounds of intruders came to her. Her enhanced senses told her that there were several undead enemies out side her small cottage. A figure leapt through her bedroom window, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. She leapt at the assailant with the phenomenal speed passed to her from her dhampire blood. She swung at her assailant with a clenched fist. With the inherited dhampire strength she possessed she literally knocked her assailant’s block off.

Another attacked her. She used a roundhouse kick at this assailant’s head. The rest of the undead apparently had enough sense enough to value their existence. They fled. She looked about her bedroom and sighed at the mess. Then sighed again, for what Tara knew, what she had dreaded, denied to herself was happening. Castlevania had returned. And it was up to her to stop it. Him. Dracula…

It was midnight. And there was a large, unnaturally dark and misty forest. And it was raining. Three things Tara Draco was not fond of. Tara Draco was not fond of midnight. Tara Draco was not fond of large, unnaturally dark and misty forests. And most of all, Tara Draco was not fond of the rain. She began to jog through the forest, the soggy, muddy, ground attempting to suck her down in to the ground.

Tara stumbled. Halting, she looked about her. Seeing a white object poking out of the soil, she crouched down and pulled it from the soil. With a soft suction noise, the ground gave up a long femur bone. A human femur bone. It smelled of Dracula’s magic. It must have been one of his reanimated forces. She sighed. Someone else was here hunting Dracula. Who? Well, if she met up with him/her, surely they would ally together against Dracula.

To Tara’s highly sensitive ears came the sound of ancient bones unearthing themselves. To her left, by a cluster of trees, two meters away, two human skeletal warriors arose. Their sightless gaze fixed on her. Tensing, she brought up her sacred bow and blessed arrows. She drew back the bow and let loose an arrow. A skeletal warrior was destroyed instantly. The other went to attack. She drew back another arrow, sited, and fired. It too was destroyed.

She began to jog once more. She reached a crevice in a stone. She stepped towards the crevice. Her enhanced senses told her there was a lever in the stone. She approached it cautiously. She gave a wary glance around the lever. She then reached out and pulled the lever. At first nothing happened, then from behind the lever came the groaning screech of rusted metal against rusted metal. A rusted metal gate opened. She carefully approached the gate.

As she began to go through, nothing happened at first. Then a skeletal soldier attacked her. It was able to land a blow on her bicep. She snarled and lashed out with her fist. Its jaw shattered. Out of nowhere spiked leather whip wrapped around its spine. Then the skeletal soldier’s spine snapped. Startled, she turned to face her ‘savior’. And then her eyes widened. Before her stood Reinhardt Schneider, one of the two warriors whom had defeated Dracula four years earlier.

"You really should be more careful." His voice was a deep rumble.

It was pleasant until Tara realized the words. Then she scowled.

"I was doing just fine thank you. I have everything under control." She then lifted her booted foot and smashed the still fighting skeletal warrior.

He merely raised a brow.

"But if you are not the one whom is preceding me, who is?" She said, still scowling.

"What?" He said.

"Someone is ahead of us. Another hunter." She sighed, "I don’t know who it is, but the scent in the air is well… familiar."

"How do you know this?" He asked her, eyeing her with suspicion.

"I possess dhampire blood." Reinhardt tensed, beginning to draw his whip. She then chuckled huskily, "I won’t hurt you, Schneider. You’re not my type."

He paused mid-motion, uncertain to be insulted or relieved. He then decided to be relieved. He replaced his whip.

"Shall we continue then?" He said, gesturing for her to precede him.

"Reinhardt? Reinhardt Schneider!" A voice shouted from behind them.

"Henry? Henry Oldrey!" Reinhardt exclaimed, "It’s been forever it seems!"

A man of Reinhardt’s age (29 or younger) skidded to a halt by them. He wore an exuberant amount of armor, medieval in fashion, almost covering him from neck to toe. He had Reinhardt’s build of over six foot and a well muscled frame, but his hair was blonde and longer, worn back in a tail, his eyes a deeper blue than Reinhardt’s his features smother and less rough hewned.

"You’re a walking death trap in that costume," Tara said, haughtily.

His gaze swung towards her, finally noticing her. His deep blue eyes widened as they took in her appearance. She was about less than half a foot shorter than he, her hair a pale blonde. Her skin was a milky cream, her eyes gray; no impossible as it was, were silver. Her clothing ~if it could be called that~ Henry thought was almost molded to her lean body, her shirt was a deep blood red with a diamond cut out of the front revealing the expanse of skin between collar bone and the swells of her upper breasts (which the man in Henry couldn’t help but notice) and wore a broad leather chocker collar (also a deep blood red color) from which dangled a crucifix. Over that she wore a double-breasted black jacket.

But what was most astonishing to Henry <<AN: the church raised him, remember? >> was her pants. Or lack of. They were cut off at the hips. Accompanied by that were her thigh high heeled black leather boots. Strapped around her waist was an ancient oriental sword, with a carving of a dragon wrapped around the handle, its jaws clamped around a large blood red ruby. In her hands was an ornately carved long bow. Strapped to her belt was a quiver of arrows.

"And you would be?" Henry asked, raising his left eyebrow.

She gave a mocking bow (which to Henry’s secret delight, exposed more of her cleavage) and said in a most aristocratic manner, "Tara Draco, of the bloodlines of Draco and Tepes."

"Tepes?" Henry inhaled sharply, "You are of Dracula’s bloodline?!"

"Yes. He is my grandfather." She said this with a haughty glare.

Reinhardt chocked on the sip of water he was taking from his canteen. Not that Tara and Henry noticed. They were to busy staring each other down. Then Tara’s delicately pointed ears twitched.

"Down!" Tara grabbed Henry by his hauberk, and threw him to the ground. She pulled back an arrow aimed and let it fly into the heart of a man-lizard, whom was attempting to sneak up on them. It screamed and flew back, the arrow attaching it to a near by tree.

"Umm, thanks," Henry said, a bit dazed.

"Shall we continue on our journey?" Tara asked, walking away from them and heading towards the darkly brooding Castlevania.