Fan Fiction ❯ Maze of the Lose ❯ Through the Looking Glass ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Title: Maze of the Lost
Claimer: I won EVERYTHING!! take and DIE!!
Series: original
Genre: fantasy, horror, occult, supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: slash, lemon, gore, violence, language, AU, squick, possible femslash, supernatural, vampirism
Notes: heh. yah, I'm disturbing. and I know it! I call myself morbid and take pleasure in it. ^.^ anyway. hm... ::thinks:: that's all! =^.^= oh wait! All the vampires in this story, if you're wondering about the accent, speak with a mixture of British, Australian and Irish accents. at least that's what it sounds like, but it's really Vampiric... ::trails off:: anyway. proceed. ^.^
Symbols: |thoughts| *emphasis* :mindspeech: 'speech in Vampiric' {speech in Common Demonic}
Inspirations: Anne Rice's "The Vampire Chronicles" series
Chapter Randomness: I *don't* like Louis. all that "woe is me, I'm an evil, soulless vampire" complex he's got going on pisses me off. I don't really like Lestat. he's just WEIRD. (in the words of Spike [Buffy] from a fic I've read: "He prances around like a bloody poof; gives us undead a kind of bad image" end quote.) I DO, however, like Armand and Marius and Akasha and Enkil. they are COOL! ::blink:: and I just realized I sound like those stupid little teeny boppers I despise so much... ::sweatdrop::
Music for the Chapter:
______________________________________________________________ ______________________________
<i>"There are very few <b>*true*</b> immortals in this world. Most vampires, while difficult t' kill, will event'ally die. An' most o' them from injuries they 'ad when Turned. Only a very select few will act'ally live forever. Eternity is only granted t' those who 'ave a specific characteristic."

"Wait, what? <b>*What*</b> characteristic?"

"Pure, strong Vampiric blood. Those wi' blood granted 'em from th' First c'n survive fire an' sun. They are <b>*truly*</b> immortal."</i>
__________________________________________________ __________________________________________
Chapter 1 - Through the Looking Glass

"Vampires."

Boise[1] looked up from his notebook, frowning at the topic.

His teacher, Gaehrn[2] smirked at the surprise on his student's faces. "Would anyone care to tell me what a vampire is?"

In the back of the room, a mousy girl named Kaylin tentatively raise her hand, expression apprehensive. Gaehrn smiled and nodded to her, granting her permission to speak.

"Th-they're bl-bl-blood suck-cking fiends," she stammered.

Again, Gaehrn smiled. "Somewhat, yes," he replied. "However, you've left out some important information. Would anyone like to add to that?"

"They're petrified of sunlight," one of the more bully-like boys spoke up, voice thick with contempt. "They're *whimps*."

Gaehrn's blue eyes sparkled slightly as he smirked. "Scared? I wouldn't say *that*, exactly. More like... They burn into ash if sunlight touches them." His sapphire eyes swept over the room. "Anyone else?"

No one responded.

"They're immortal." He lifted a golden eyebrow. "Anyone like to explain what this means?"

"We don't die."

At the voice, cold and emotionless, everyone turned in their seats and looked at the doorway. Several people gasped, and all of them gaped.

The man was tall, thin as a reed with wiry, whipcord muscles. His skin was the color of snow, lips black, eyes of silver and hair like blood. His skin was oddly translucent, and seemed to reflect light. The waist-length hair, pulled back in a loose tail, was clasped with a clip of what looked like bone.

His clothing was black leather - skin-tight breeches; knee-high, supple boots with an elaborate design crawling up them; sleeveless tunic laced up the front; red-lined, hooded cloak that hung down to the back of his ankles; fingerless gloves.

The looked was very affective - and imposing - the alabaster of his skin and the ebony of his clothing contrasting sharply.

Then he moved, and the silence thickened; he moved with the liquid, boneless grace of a serpent. He didn't walk - he *glided*, almost like water.

Gaehrn smiled at the thunderstruck looks on his students' faces. "This is our guest for the next few lessons. Students mind, this is Sudhkash v-Liram[3]." He smirked. "Would anyone like to ask him anything?"

Silence reigned for one, long moment.

"How old are you?"

Sudhkash lifted an elegant, wing-like scarlet eyebrow. "Nine thousand, four 'undred fifty-six."

Sarish, the girl who'd asked the previous question, frowned dubiously. "No you're not!"

A liquid shrug. "Believe what you will. I c'n no more influence tha' than I can th' weather," he replied smoothly.

"*Can* you affect the weather?" a boy chirped up.

A smirk. "Sometimes."

"Can you be injured?" Kaylin asked hesitantly.

"Can *you*?"

The girl blinked. "Of course I can!"

Lift of an eyebrow. "Well. There's your answer."

This went on for a while, before Gaehrn glanced at him. "What about you, Boise? I haven't heard any questions from you. Surely there is something you'd like to ask...?"

He merely shrugged. "I know *everything* about vampires," he retorted. He didn't notice the smirk on the vampire's face. "They're susceptible to sunlight and fire, they can move 3 times as fast, hear 4 times as well, see 3 times as well, and smell 4 times as well as humans. But they can't die."

A short bark of laughter followed that, harsher than the cry of a crow. Boise felt himself flush slightly in humiliation. "Oh you foolish, ignorant child. We *do* die."

A pretty blonde named V'kalhi nervously raised her hand. "But when you walked in, you said you don't die."

Inhuman eyes merely looked at the blonde, holding millennia of knowledge they, as mere humans, would never discover. Finally, he spoke, voice somewhat haunted. "There are very few *true* immortals in this world. Most vampires, while difficult t' kill, will event'ally die." He paused, eyes roaming around the room as he let that sink in. "An' most o' them from injuries they 'ad when Turned. Only a very select few will act'ally live forever." A smirk pulled at the thin, onyx lips. "Eternity is only granted t' those who 'ave a specific characteristic."

"Wait, what?" Boise frowned, confused. "*What* characteristic?"

Silver eyes met his own black, and he found himself unable to look away. "Pure, strong vampiric blood. Those wi' blood granted 'em from th' First c'n survive fire an' sun. They are *truly* immortal."

Then he broke eye contact, and the spell was broken.

A boy in the front row, one of the more troublesome students, snorted in disgust. "You're no vampire," he sneered. "You're just a disfigured elf playing a trick. How *else* could you walk in sunlight?"

Sudhkash smirked, and suddenly, there was a sickening snap, and the snow-skinned face seemed to melt. The snapping sound continued, and Boise realized with a start that the man's facial bone structure itself was shifting.

The silver eyes became slanted and longer, a film of gold shimmering over the entire eye. His cheekbones lifted, cheeks hollowed. His smooth forehead was now a mass of ridges, a large, deep one replacing the thin vermilion eyebrows. His upper lip was pulled back into a snarl, revealing a pair of glistening ivory fangs and razor-sharp teeth.

Even smirking, the snarl remained in place. "Boy, I *am* an 'Ampir[4]. A Garihm[5], a' tha'."

Several people blinked, confused. Even Gaehrn lifted an eyebrow. "'Ampir? Garihm?" he asked.

"'Ampir is th' Ngampíriam[6] term for vampire. Garihm is an Ancient," he explained. "Ngampíriam is more commonly known as Vampiric."

"So you speak Vampiric?" Kaylin asked - she'd grown more and more sure of herself as the questioning went on.

The vampire snorted. "All vampires do," he replied instantly; his fangs made his s's, z's, and sh's more hissing, almost like a snake. "Th' instant we're turned, our Sire inserts th' entire language int' ou' 'ead."

Boise frowned for a moment. "Do *you* have the blood of the First?" he asked.

Again, the silver eyes locked with his, and the world around him seemed to disappear. "No' directly *from* th' First, bu' me Sire did. Th' True Blood runs for five generations in a specific line o' Vampires, an' then it begins t' thin rapidly."

One of the smarter girls in the class, Arif looked up, a puzzled look on her face. "Is you current coloring the same as what you had *before* you were Turned?"

A small shake of the head was her reply. "No. B'fore I was Sired, I 'ad dark brown 'air an' black eyes. An' I was very tan." He glanced around the room. "If you become an 'Ampir, all you' color lightens drastically." Then he looked deliberately at Boise, but made no eye contact. "There a'e, 'owever, a few special cases whe' ev'rythin' bu' skin color will remain th' same. People wi' black eyes an' black 'air will quite often keep tha' colorin'."

The same bully who'd comment on how "whimpy" vampires were sneered at him. "Why are you wearing black lip paint?" His voice was disgusted.

The ebony lips curled into a smirk. "'And me a water bowl, please." His smirk deepened as he received one testing the temperature. "Ice water will wash off lip paint, no?" At the cautious nod, he cupped some water in his hands and dipped his head down, before splashing the liquid onto his face.

The color remained the same.

He lifted a blood red eyebrow, and Boise suddenly realized that somewhere along the way, he'd lost his vampiric features. "Th' color is natural. When Turned, yer lips b'come blood red, black, white, or blue."

At that moment, the loud peal of the bell, announced the end of the class, and everyone gathered their texts and filed out the door. Boise was the last one out, and he pondered about the direction his Species of the Olde World class was taking.



"What does your name mean?"

Sudhkash lifted a scarlet eyebrow. "Me name? As in Sudhkash?" He smirked slightly. "It's Ngampiriam for 'bleed'."

The boy Boise frowned slightly. "What about v-Liram?" he asked, and the vampire grew more intrigued by him.

"Th' v- roughly translates as 'from'," he replied. "Liram means 'beaten'." He turned and stared out the window for a moment, visions of ebony hair, violet eyes and gray skin flashing in front of his eyes. He managed to shake it off, and glanced back at the rows of students before him. "Liram was me Sire."

One child he'd observed was more perceptive than others leaned forward with a thoughtful frown. "So do *all* vampires take their Sire's first name as their own surname?"

He nodded, somewhat impressed. "All except for some special cases," he replied. "Those Sired by th' First *'ave* no surname."

"Why not?"

A thoughtful frown crossed his face. "No one knows th' First's name, or ev'n if th' First *'as* a name," he finally replied. "Th' First is nearly as old as time itself. Any records o' th' First's name 'ave either been destroyed or lost."

"Is the First male or female?"

That was Gaehrn.

He hesitated, frowning. Liram had never told him, and giving away information on the First was strictly forbidden. He'd already broken that Law by telling them that no one knew the First's name. "I don' know," he finally lied.

He *did* know, however, that among vampires, the First was rumored to be genderless.

"Where *is* the First?"

His eyes shuttered, turning colder than ice. "No 'uman will *ever* know tha'," he hissed. "An' I 'ave already broken Law by tellin' you 'bout th' lack o' knowledge o' th' First's name."

There was a moment of silence.

Finally, someone asked, "Law?"

He nodded. "There is a Code o' Law all 'Ampires[7] - that's th' plural o' 'Ampir - must follow," he explained.

"What are some of these laws?" the boy Boise asked.

"Th' first an' most important is tha' we reveal nothin' o' th' First," he replied instantly. "Th' second is tha' we make no Childe tha' was unwillin'. We c'n make unwillin' minions an' fledglings, but no Childer."

The mousy girl in the back raised her hand, and he lifted an eyebrow expectantly.

"What's the difference between minions, fledglings, and Childer?" she asked.

"A minion is normally turned by an 'Ampir wi' nothin' else t' do," he explained. "They're weak, slow, an' stupid. Fledglings are Turned so we c'n take out ou' anger on them. Childer, 'owever, are Turned as fledglings, but given more of ou' blood over a long period o' time." He paused for a moment. "They're th' equivalent o' our children; we teach them, train them. They are also often used for ou' own pleasure."

There was another moment of silence.

"Th' third Law," he began, breaking the silence, "is tha' we 'arm no 'uman when not feeding. Th' only exceptions are if they are willing, o' 'ave injured our Childer or Mate."

"Your Mate?"

"Our Mate is..." He trailed off, trying to find the words to explain the Bond between 'Ampir and Mate. "Ev'rythin'," he finally said. "For an 'Ampir an' Mate, life revolves around th' other. Th' Bond b'tween an 'Ampir an' 'is Mate is stronger that tha' b'tween Sire an' Childe. Their love for each other is eternal. They share a mind an' a soul. If one dies, th' other follows in a 'eartbeat."

He paused again, lost in his thoughts. After a while, he finally spoke again. "When separated for long periods o' time, they go through something similar t' withdrawal symptoms."

A dark boy - chocolate hair, dark hazel eyes, olive skin - sneered slightly. "That's pathetic," he announced.

Sudhkash merely stared at him, not saying a word, until the boy flushed with shame and looked away.

"To become Mates," he continued, "they 'ave t' perform a ritual. Both 'ave t' be willing, an' 'ave no doubts about th' situation for it t' work."

The peal of the bell rang out through he room, and the students left the room so fast they almost flew.

He himself left more slowly, nodding at Gaehrn before moving outside and into the painful sunlight. He winced, feeling it scorch his skin, the itchy tingle as his flesh healed itself.

While able to walk in sunlight, those true immortals were not completely immune to the rays fatal to others. As was obvious from his bubbling flesh, they burned five times as quickly and severely as an albino.

Several people around him gave him odd looks, but he ignored them with the ease of long practice. A shop display to the left caught his eye, and he veered off his intended path and entered the building.

The cool darkness of the building soothed his burnt flesh, and the itching tingle intensified with the lack of sunlight beating down on his abused skin. He glanced around, taking in the scatter of miscellaneous merchandise; pendants, amulets, wands, various gems, potion bottles (empty or full), spell books, boots, gauntlets, and cloaks. He noticed with satisfaction there was not a single speck of dust in the place, nor a whiff of anything musty.

He'd noticed when the little silver bell in the doorway chimed when he opened the door, and apparently so had the shopkeeper.

"Hold on, I'll be out in a moment!" a voice, deep and gravelly, rang out from the back.

A few moments later, a short, bushy man completely smothered in the blue, star-spattered robe of a magician bustled into the room, carrying a pile of books and several staffs. Sudhkash, feeling generous for some reason, moved to ease the man's load, taking the pile of books (about ten) with ease an setting them lightly on the countertop.

The man blinked, before shrugging and carrying the bundle of staffs behind the counter and leaning them in a corner. "Thank you," he said. "That was very heavy-how did you do that, anyway?"

He let his eyes flash gold for a second, and the magician's snowy eyebrows flew up to his hairline.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "We don't get many vampires here, and-" He seemed to realized something. "During the day...?"

"Th' First was me Sire's Sire," he explained; all magic-folk (magicians, witches, warlocks, wizards, enchanters, sorcerers, and mages) were the only non-vampires who knew all about the First. They were, of course, the First's protectors.

Again, the bushy eyebrows rose. "Well! You don't say!" He held out a hand, speckled and wrinkled with age, and Sudhkash looked at for a minutes, before clasping it in his own, ice-cold hands. The magician didn't flinch at all; a good sign he was used to working with vampires. "I'm Bolka."

"Sudhkash," he supplied.

"So," Bolka began, "what's an 'Ampir like you doing in Evrin? Shouldn't you be in Guru helping the mages?"

"I'm 'ere fo' Gaehrn's 'Species o' th' Olde World" class," he replied. He glanced around again. "Nice establishment you've got 'ere. I can't smell a single speck o' dust, an' no mold 'r anythin' musty."

"Oh, good!" Bolka smiled widely, blue eyes disappearing into a mass of wrinkles. "I'm very careful about that."

At that, he took an immediate liking to the magician. "I came 'ere t' see if you 'ave any 'ooded cloaks wi' sleeves," he remarked.

The magician frowned thoughtfully, and Sudhkash could practically see the gears in his head turning as he mentally went over the list of merchandise he had in stock. After a long moment where all that could be head was the constant hum of people outside, he sighed regretfully and shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't," he answered. "There's a shop down the street that does, but I refuse to send you somewhere with low-quality goods."

His respect for the man grew another few notches at that. "Surely you could 'ave one custom-made."

"Well I could," Bolka replied instantly. "But it would be expensive. Nine hundred gold as least, depending on the fabric and quality. I couldn't sew if you paid me to, and paying the seamstress costs money."

The vampire merely shrugged. "I c'n spare a few 'undred gold fer good quality," he returned.

"Well..." The man hesitated, searching his eyes for something, before sighing and nodding. "All right. I'll need your measurements-"

"I'll be back t'morrow," he replied instantly. "Same time."

A bushy eyebrow lifted. "All right, then. I'll have the seamstress send some of her girls over. Then I'll take you to the fabric shop and you can choose what you want it to look like."

He smirked and nodded in easy acceptance. "Well, I'll be seein' you t'morrow, then."

Bolka nodded, smiling, and Sudhkash left, walking down the cobblestone street towards the bakery, having the sudden urge for pastry.

The rich, warm smell of baking bread assaulted his senses long before he was even within a block of the bakery, and he inhaled deeply, the sweet scent fueling his craving. The shop display made his mouth water, and he pushed the door open.

The baker, a pretty young woman in her mid-twenties, looked up and smiled brightly. "What c'n I getcha?" Her brilliant emerald eyes sparkled, and even though her flame red hair was tide back tightly, a few loose tendrils hung down around her face. Her cheeks, flushed cherry-red, were spattered with freckles.

He glanced around, looking at the model displays of food, and finally decided. "A coupl'a lemon tarts, some cherry cobbler, a couple slices o' apple pie, an' a frosted pastry ring," he answered.

Thing eyebrows rose, and the grin widened. "Comin' right up!" she chirped.

Mentally, he winced at her upbeat attitude.

A few minutes later, she came out with several packages wrapped in cheese cloth, all of them still steaming.

"Careful," she warned. "They're still hot; I nearly burned myself on one."

He took them, the heat welcome as it warmed his cold hands in seconds.

"That'll be 25 gold, please."

He dropped the coins on the table, one piece worth 20, the other five, and turned and walked out without thanking her. He could taste her indignation and smirked.

"Bloody chit was prob'ly lookin' for a lap dance," he muttered, voice low enough in tone that no human could hear him.

Then he looked to his left, and, catching sight of a familiar human, he smirked, increased gravity's pull on him so that it was the equivalent of him weighing five tons, and stopped moving.



Boise frowned, re-reading the not from his grandfather as he walked down the street. He knew he should be watching where he was going - he'd gotten beaten one too many times for bumping into the wrong person - but the letter had thrown him off.

And almost as if he'd jinxed himself by thinking that, he collided with what felt like a mountain, and fell backwards, landing gracelessly on his rear. He shook his head to rid himself of the stars he was seeing-

"Well, well, well. Look what we 'ave 'ere."

-and froze at the mocking voice, so familiar. Cautiously, he looked up through the sable fringe of his bangs, and stiffened at the smirk on the vampire's face.

"Sudhkash," he said, voice flat. He stood up, scowling. "What are you doing here?" He glanced at the sun. "And during the day, at that."

"Eating pastry while me skin is getting burnt t' a crisp," the vampire replied primly, lifting an eyebrow as he took a bite out of-

"Cherry cobbler?" His voice was incredulous.

Sudhkash blinked at him, feigning confusion, before looking at the pastry in his hand. "Huh! Would you *look* a' tha'! It *is* cherry cobbler!" In mock sorrow, he shook his head and sigh heavily. "Well, I fear me old age 'as been gettin t' me 'ead."

Scowl deepening, he snapped, "Stop with the act! I'm not stupid."

The vampire stopped chewing and gazed at him for a moment, eyes unreadable. "I know," he replied simply. "Never said you were, pet."

Boise opened his mouth to retort, then blinked and closed it with a snap. That'd been no insult. He frowned, confused, at Sudhkash' blank look. "So what does Vampiric sound like?" he finally asked, having nothing else to say.

"Dhavri ghiram[8]," was the answer. "Ga óm-iav Ngampíriam día'ver[9]."

His ebony eyebrows lifted, and several people had turned to stare at Sudhkash. "Wow," he managed. "That's..." He searched for the right word to describe it. "Pretty," he finally supplied.

An inelegant snort followed that statement. "Common Demonic is a *lot* prettier," he retorted.

Boise raised an eyebrow. "Well? What does *that* sound like?"

The vampire frowned, before smirking. "Akielbeth jhirn al vira," he murmured. "Watch for the sapphire dawn."

"The 'sapphire dawn'? What's *that*?" he asked, bewildered.

A liquid shrug answered that. "M'not sure," Sudhkash replied. "S'part of a prophecy tha' should take effect sometime in th' next millennium."

He frowned, confused. "Prophecies actually come true?"

Again, Sudhkash snorted. "Course they do! They're no' some sort o' babblin' drivel wi' no purpose, y'know," he chided.

Boise paled drastically.

The vampire frowned at him, noticing his color. "Wha's wrong wi' *you*?" he demanded.

He swallowed thickly. "There's a prophecy that apparently involves me," he whispered. "I always thought it was nonsense, but-"

"Show me it," Sudhkash interrupted.



"Y' 'ave t' invite me in, Pet."

Startled, Boise turned and looked at Sudhkash.

The vampire lifted an eyebrow, before pulling back an arm and punching the air directly in front of him. The air quivered, and his hand got not further than two inches in front of him.

He blinked; that had never occurred to him. "Come on in, Sudhkash," he welcomed.

Liquid and boneless, he slithered into the room, glancing around with interest. "Nice place," he commented, before looking at the room to the left and pulling a face. "Tha' room's very musty though. An' dusty."

He shifted uncomfortably. "We...don't go in there often."

A scarlet eyebrow lifted at that. "I c'n see tha'," he retorted. "Now. 'Bout this prophecy y've b'n tellin' me 'bout."

Slowly, he moved in the direction of the house's library, and ran his hand along the spines of the books until he found the right one. He pulled it out and opened it, flipping through until he found the right page number.

"It's in the Ancient Tongue [10]," he said. "So I can't read it, but it's this page."

Sudhkash nodded, gently pulling the book towards him. Then, he began to read.

"Shavh'kaim mahri-ahm dovarima karam
Ara'amorir kevaldiohl dash i de-am.
Gorimo ner vraya dvi-a no kal doriv,
Jiahr-hhke harima d'umiam nav,
I avrigo la'v 'Ampirish chovshezh dehv.
G'iamn deg a tivro ashiav komeya'.
Dia'vor a komiarv Sh'dearm d'v-Liram,
Iv nov'ar gamhri vroy ji derv'mal."

The vermilion eyebrows lifted. "Int'resting conjugation o' th' word 'derimo' there," he murmured. "'Derv'mal' is not a word often found in this tongue, an' certainly no' in *tha'* tense. An' I've never *seen* 'hhke' followin' 'jiahr'." He read through it several times more, frowning. "Th' grammar's all wrong," he muttered. "Th' correct order f'r th' last sentence would be 'Dia'vor a Sh'deram d'v-Liram komiarv, iv vroy ji derv'mal nov'ar gamhri', *not* th' way this is written!" He glared at the book. "I' *should* translate int' 'Th' Blooding shall rise aft'r th' birth o' th' Childe o' v-Liram.' But i' translates int' 'Aft'r th' v-Liram Childe is birthed, th' rise o' th' Blooding.'"

All of this, Boise watched in awe. Then... "The 'Blooding'?"

Sudhkash looked up in surprise, seeming to have forgotten he was there. "What?"

"What's the 'Blooding'?" he asked again.

There was a long moment of silence.

Then, quietly, Sudhkash said, "I am."
____________________________________
[1] Boise: (BWAW)
[2] Gaehrn: (GAYRN)
[3] Sudhkash v-Liram: (SOOD-kawsh vuh-LEER-umm)
[4] 'Ampir: (AWM-peer) Vampiric for "Vampire"
[5] Garihm: (GAWR-imm) Vampiric for an "Ancient" - a Vampire over 5000 years old
[6] Ngampíriam: (zhawm-PEER-ee-umm) Vampiric for "Vampiric"
[7] Dhavri ghiram: (DAWV-ree GEER-umm) "like this" (lit. "similar to this"
[8] Ga óm-iav Ngampíriam día-ver: (gaw OHM-ee-awv zhawm-PEER-ee-umm DEE-aw-vayr) "I am speaking Vampiric now." (lit. "I am speaking Vampiric at this time.")
[9] Akielbeth jhirn al vira: (aw-kee-ELL-beth ZHEERN awl VEER-uh)
[10] the Ancient Tongue: language spoken by all when the planet was 2 million years younger
____________________________________
-:::LITTLE NOTE:::- the prophecy in the Ancient Tongue: each vowel is pronounce separately, and any h's not following a c, s, or z is silent. everything else is pronounced like it looks.

so. how'd you guys like it?

feedback, while appreciated, is not necessary. but feel free to comment if you wish. ^.^ I won't mind!