Blood Red Moon Prologue: Moon Rise This is a crossover fanfic including the characters from Tenchi Muyo, and CastleVania, more specifically, the newest version out for the N64. All characters belong to their respective copyrights, and I take no credit for them beyond their usage in this story. Comments, quips, insults, flames, and death threats can be sent to Platinum_Dragon@usinternet.com This is based on the OVA characters in the Tenchiverse - but don't be surprised if you hear one or two TV references. The original concept came when I noticed that Carrie Fernandez sort of resembles Ryoko in powers and looks, save that Carrie is only twelve. This is my first crossover, so give me a little slack. ***** High on a tower, standing tall in the night under a full, blood red moon, there rose a wind. The wind swept down, around the tower, and into an ancient, dark castle. Along its corridors it blew, through long abandoned halls and dark passages stale with age. It reached a long unused drawbridge, and gusted out, the scent of the long forgotten castle strong on its breath. Through a forest nearly as old as the castle it blew, gusting through trees that had stood watch over the land for centuries. No animals played here, no human sanely stepped inside its limits. Trunks twisted and knarled as if some giant hand had reached down and molded them offered no cozy spots, no peaceful places. A strong sense of being watched permeated the forest, and then wind, as if feeling that eyeless gaze, hurried on its way. Across the land it flew, until, far away from where it had been born, it reached a hill top just as two figures crested it. One was tall, a blond haired and roughly handsome man, dressed in a thick, fur lined coat, with a woolen shirt underneath, and sturdy pants of the same material. At his right side there hung a long leather whip, bearing a sense of great age and great power; at his left, a short sword forged of silver that had been blessed by the great priests of the land. Around his neck hung a scarlet scarf, a gift from the woman that he loved. Standing next to him was a young girl, who at first glance didn't even appear to be old enough to be away from home alone. But a closer look revealed that she seemed older than her years, and knowledge of things that no mortal should have to have. Her extremely pale skin, golden eyes, and cyan colored hair gleamed a little in the light of that bloody red moon. A gray and blue dress rustled a little as the wind gusted past them. She shivered, though not from any chill that the wind brought with it, but from the stale, evil scent that it still carried from the castle. Reinhart Schnider, twenty four year old vampire hunter, looked at his companion, Carrie Fernandez. The young girl, the only survivor of her family after they were attacked by werewolves six years before, had a firm set to her jaw. For one so young, she was an extremely powerful mage, and though she was only twelve years of age, was more mature than many adults he had met in his life. For his task, Reinhart could think of nobody he'd rather have at his side. As he reached up and touched the scarf lightly, thinking of what he had lost, a long, deep tolling rolled across the land. They looked in the direction the wind had come from, to where the very top of a tower could be seen below the moon. That was their destination, the evil Castlevania. Only days before, it had risen from the sea once more, which could only mean that its foul master, Count Vlad Tepes Dracula would soon awaken. When the moon next rose full, and shone into that very tower, the Master of Evil would awaken. They began to pick their way down the hill, towards a nearby village. Dracula's foul touch could already be seen in the land, as werewolves and vampires began to become more bold. That was why they hurried this night, to reach that village, for they did not want to tempt Death just yet. Soon, they had reached the village, surrounded by its high wall. A light shown through a window high up on the walls, next to the gate. "Hello! We ask admittance to the village and protection from the evils of the night!" called Reinhart. After a moment, a man poked his head out the window. "State your names, and why you are here so late!" "I am Reinhart, and she is Carrie. We would have been here sooner, but were attacked by a group of werewolves on our way." The gate master glared at them. "What proof can you offer that you are not merely vampires or werewolves in disguise, waiting to be invited in?" Reinhart frowned. "None but our own assurances that we merely wish the safety of a village to spend our night in." The gate master looked at them a few moments more, and then disappeared from the window. The huge gate slowly opened, and they entered the town. The gate master met them near the base of the wall. "Can you tell us of a decent inn that would take in travelers at this late hour?" The man squinted at them, and then nodded. "Go straight up this road. The Morning's Light is the only inn left open at this hour." Reinhart thanked the man, and then they walked into the town. The streets were empty. Not even a stray dog howled at that baleful moon. Men huddled inside their homes at night, hoping that the village walls or the locks on their doors would be enough to keep werewolves or worse out. But in many villages, indeed, in many large cities, vampires and wolf-men walked the streets at night. Sure enough, only a little down the street they found a building with lights streaming through its windows. Above the door, their hung a sign of the sun coming up over the horizon. Reinhart pushed the door open, and they went in. A couple of people were still in the common room, and the innkeeper, a short, portly man with a white apron and a somewhat grimy towel over his shoulder turned to them. In a soft tenor, he spoke. "Welcome to the Morning's Light. May I help you?" They bartered, and got two rooms, and a couple plates of thick, steaming stew. After eating in relative silence, they both retired to their room. Reinhart tossed his pack on a chair, and shrugged out of his coat. He winced as he saw the large blood stain on the side of his shirt; hours before, his entire side had been lain open by a werewolf's claws. It was thanks to Carrie that he was still alive. Sighing, he pulled the shirt over his head, and tossed it into the fireplace, where it smoldered a minute and then burst into flame, belching a little black smoke into the smoke stack. He had not been infected by Lycanthropy, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Digging through his pack produced only two more shirts. One was tattered nearly to rags; he saved that to use when cleaning his sword. The other was decently serviceable, and he lay it over the chair. Laying down on the bed, he set the whip on the counter next to him. He had no worries that it might be stolen. The holy whip of the Belmonts could not be touched by evil. He made a mental note to buy some more clothes the next day before they left town, and then the darkness of sleep stole over him quietly. ***** Reinhart grinned as he entered the bustling town square. A whole week off training, while Aarin, his teacher, took some of the older students on a training mission to kill a vampire that had been appearing north of the village recently. And what perfect timing, for today was the birthday of one of the greatest heroes of Romania, Simon Belmont. Not once, but four times had he battled Dracula, and forced him back into his hundred year slumber. All ready, the square bustled with activity, people rushing back and forth on errands to get things ready. Delicious smells of roast pig and lamb wafted through the air on a light spring breeze, tantalizing hints of what would come that evening. Reinhart picked his way through the throng, looking for something to wear to the dance. As a student at the vampire hunter's training school, most of his clothing was made for functionality rather than formality, and he was there to pick up something to wear to that night's festivities. As he straightened from one stand, he accidentally backed into a young lady whose arms were loaded with packages. With a startled gasp, she stumbled backwards, the packages flying in all directions. Her foot caught on a partly overturned stone, and she began to fall. Before she came close to reaching the ground, though, Reinhart had caught her, reflexes tuned to dodging attacks from creatures that could move faster than the eye automatically setting him into motion. Standing her back on her feet, he got his first good look at her. She wore a simple red dress, with just a tiny bit of lace at the ends of the sleeves and around her neck. Her skin was a slightly tan colored alabaster, though it was now red with embarrassment. She had a rosebud of a mouth, a pert, slightly upturned nose, and deep blue eyes. A thick bun of sun-golden blonde hair rested on the back of her head. Now it was Reinhart who felt like he was falling. He noticed that she was only a head shorter than himself. "I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, once she was steady on her feet again. "I didn't realize that you were behind me!" She blushed again, and shook her head. "No, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. It was my fault," she said in a voice that seemed ready to sing, bending to begin gathering the packages. He jerked into motion, picking up the parcels quickly. She looked at him in surprise. "Please, let me help. It was my fault, and the least that I can do after being so clumsy." "You don't-" He smiled, and shook his head. "I insist. Please." Blushing scarlet to her hair line, she finally gave in and nodded. Standing, his arms now laden with the packages, he followed her as she led the way through the town. "I should like to know your name, so that I may properly thank you," she said quietly. He looked at her. "Reinhart Schnider, at your service. May I ask the same?" She looked up at him, and smiled just a trifle. "I am Rosa. Please, tell me a little about the gentleman that has come to my rescue." Reinhart stumbled in surprise - if his teacher found out that was all it took to make him lose his step, he would be extremely displeased with Reinhart - and had to step fast to keep from sending the packages flying again. He heard her giggle quietly. "There isn't really much to tell. I was born to a small, but proud family. Two years ago, I was bundled up and sent to Aarin's school without so much as a goodbye kiss from my mother." Rosa stopped, and stared at him in surprise. "You are one of those who train under Aarin? My brothers have always wanted to go there, but Father forbids it. Tell me what you do there," she asked, as she began walking again. "Mostly we train. Learning the sword, how to avoid being attacked, exercises to train our minds to not be controlled by a vampire's mind control - in short, learning how not to leave this coil early." "Sounds interesting. My brothers would love it." "It is not a profession to be taken lightly, as one of the older students learned when a vampire handed him his own head on a training mission." The somber comment brought them to an uneasy silence. They walked a ways farther down the road, until Rosa stopped before a tall house. Reinhart found himself tilting his head far back just to see the top. "This is where we must part, I'm afraid," said Rosa. Reinhart set the packages down on the porch for her. He wondered suddenly if she would be going to the dance that evening. As if she was reading his thoughts, she spoke again. "Are you by chance going to the dance this evening?" He looked at her in surprise, as she blushed a little. "I more than likely will be, though I am going alone. Are you?" She smiled. "No, though I would very much like too. Father said that none of my sisters and I could go without an escort. He took us all long ago, but now he just doesn't get the chance; his position on the town council sees to that." She sighed. "I wish that he would stop treating us all like we were breakable porcelain." She looked at him a minute, and then, realizing that she had said her last thought aloud, blushed scarlet again. Inspiration struck, and Reinhart smiled. "Well, if you would have me, I would be glad to escort you." She looked at him in surprise, and then smiled broadly, laughing. "It seems that you are going to come to my rescue again. I would be glad to have you as an escort. You won't have to worry about Father - I can talk him into almost anything," she said with a mischievous grin. Reinhart suddenly found himself wondering if she had purposely led the conversation in that direction, so that he would... No, he realized upon reflection, that was just his own ego talking. Wasn't it? "Is seven o'clock a good time to come back for you?" She nodded, and then to his great surprise stood up on her tiptoes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Then she spun, picking up the packages, and disappearing into the house, leaving a very bewildered Reinhart to stare after her. That was just an accident when he had bumped into her, wasn't it? He turned, though, and hurried back into the town proper, to get clothing for that evening, the fact that he was going to be escorting what had to be the most beautiful girl he'd ever met to the dance that night sank in. He began humming a quick tune, and grinned. ***** Reinhart approached the house again later that evening, as the sun slid beneath the horizon. On the other side of the sky, the moon, large and full, was already rising into the oncoming night. The festival was already in full swing. He squirmed uncomfortably a little in the new coat and pants that he had bought. They felt gaudy compared to what he was used to: black pants, a white shirt, and a formal coat with thread-of-gold embroidered sleeves. At his side, he had his silver short sword, tied with a thin blue ribbon to show that he intended no violence with it. Aarin said that it should never leave his side, even if he was just poking his head outside the door for a breath of fresh air. Sighing, and straightening the carnation pinned to his collar a little, he moved up the steps, and knocked on the door. It was opened by a man that was head and shoulders and then some taller than Reinhart was. He was old; steel gray hair covered his scalp, and his mustache was only just peppered with black among the gray. Dark blue eyes gazed at Reinhart with an intensity that reminded him of a vampire's gaze, but no vampire could possibly root him to the spot as well as this man was. "You must be the young man that Rosa is so interested in," he said in a deep voice. The older man looked Reinhart up and down, and frowned a little at the short sword. "I'll tell you now, and I'll tell you simply. I think that that Vampire Hunter's schooling is foolish business. Children trying to do what should be left to their elders. But I never could refuse Rosa anything. So I'll give you your chance. But so help me, if you hurt her..." He trailed off, and let the threat hang implied in the air. Turning, he entered the house. When he realized that Reinhart wasn't following, he looked back at him sourly. "Well, are you just going to stand there looking a fool, or are you going to come in?" Reinhart jerked into motion, and came through the door, closing it behind him. The older man, Rosa's father he guessed, disappeared into another room, and Reinhart simply stood in the hall. After a moment, he returned, with Rosa ahead of him. Reinhart had to force himself not to gasp in amazement. She had changed out of the simple red dress that she had worn before into a blue silk dress. Frothy white lace surrounded her neck, and spilled down to follow the neckline of her dress, which plunged just enough to catch the eye, but not be too revealing. More lace adorned the sleeves of the dress. The material followed the natural curves of her body, and then flared out over her hips, reaching nearly to the ground. A slit reached up each side of the dress nearly to her thigh, so that she could move freely. Her golden hair, which had been tucked into a bun before, was now undone and spilled down to her waist, swaying freely as she moved. A touch of rogue colored her cheeks, and her lips were painted red as a ruby, and around her neck was a thin chain of gold, with a sapphire set in silver. She smiled softly, and blushed as she saw him staring at her. The silence began to stretch, and then it was snapped in two by her father. "I expect that Rosa will be back by midnight. Beyond that, you are to enjoy yourselves." He turned to face his daughter. "Have a good evening, Rosa." He kissed her on the cheek, and then gave Reinhart one last, firm look. Then, he turned, and disappeared back into the study. Rosa came towards him. "I hope that he wasn't too hard on you. As I said before, he treats us as if we are porcelain," she said softly, in that musical tone. He smiled. "Just a few words to the wise," he answered, offering her his arm. She smiled, took it, and they stepped into the night. Music drifted toward them from the square as they walked toward it, and they could hear people laughing and shouting. As they walked, Reinhart noticed that while he was a nervous wreak, she appeared to be crystal calm. With an effort, he forced himself to mirror her serenity. She saw him struggling with this out of the corner of her eye, and smiled slightly. They reached the town square, where a large platform had been erected to dance upon. Already, dozens of people were there, turning and swinging about in pairs, though the stage was no where near full yet. A band played a tune with a quick beat, and aside from them a small orchestra was getting ready to join in. Multicolored tents had sprung up, inside which games were played or food made. Well away from the dance stage, a huge bonfire blazed, lighting the night. They looked at each other, and Rosa laughed as she pulled Reinhart toward the stage. It was just as they reached the stage that Reinhart remembered that he had two left feet when it came to dancing. Aarin always said it was the strangest thing that he had ever seen. Reinhart could flow with a grace akin to a ferret when he was practicing the blade, but the second that he tried to dance, it was as if his bootlaces had been tied together. Praying silently, he let Rosa take the lead. To his amazement, Reinhart found that he actually managed to keep from toppling down, or worse, tripping her. They danced through a couple songs, and then Rosa nodded toward an empty bench. Reinhart was surprised to see that the moon was now high in the sky, though not yet to its high point, he noticed with relief. They made their way off the stage, and sat down. Rosa's face was flushed, and sweat shone faintly on her forehead. But she laughed, and smiled at him. "You are a very good dancer," she said. He grinned weakly. "Actually, I'm just having a run of terribly good luck. I'm a terrible dancer. Half the time that I was up there I was afraid I'd end up tripping and bringing you down with me." She stared at him in surprise. "You must be joking. I thought that I was the one who didn't know how to dance." They both shared a laugh, as the orchestra began to play a slower song. Rosa looked at him and smiled, and they went back up on the stage. Reinhart fumbled through his mind for the way to hold a girl during a waltz. It finally came to him, and he hesitantly placed his right hand on her side, while grasping her right in his left. She placed her left hand on his shoulder, and they began to move in time with the music. Reinhart would turn, and she would follow, than she would spin, her hair flying out to brush against his chest. He found himself very aware of the feel of her body through the material of the dress, and the moonlight touched her face in such a way that made it seem almost angelic. The music came to a height, and their eyes locked. Slowly, he bent down somewhat. Just as his lips were about to brush hers, a blood curdling scream of terror shattered the night, followed by a howl of rage. Seeing a flicker of movement to his side, Reinhart reacted automatically, spinning away, pulling Rosa with him. A werewolf hurtled through the space they had just been in, landed, and then spun to face them. Reinhart drew his short sword, snapping the ribbon, as the wolf-man leapt at them. He sidestepped, pulling Rosa along with him, and held out the sword. To late, the werewolf tried to stop, but impaled itself on the silver blade. It jerked, and then died. Yanking out to sword, Reinhart turned to Rosa. "Run, quickly, get the City Watch! I'll do what I can!" He gave her a slight push in that direction, and she took off as fast as she could. He looked back toward the center of the stage. A dozen werewolves were there, along with the remains of several villagers. A couple of men had grabbed weapons and were fighting with them, but even as he saw them, one of them was torn to ribbons by a pair of wolf-men. He rushed at them, and caught them by surprise, his blade biting deeply into the neck of one of the werewolves before they even realized he was there. Pulling his blade out of the neck of the wolf he had just slain, Reinhart spun, catching the attack of one werewolf on his blade. Pivoting, he blocked another attack, and then flipped his grip on the sword, driving it into the gut of the first wolf that had attacked him. It gurgled, and then fell to the ground as Reinhart leapt backwards to avoid the swipe of another werewolf's claws. Three of the creatures approached him now, watching him warily. Reinhart saw one look a little behind him, and dropped to the ground. He felt the close brush of fur as the werewolf that had been coming up behind him flew over him and crashed into the one that was in front of him. He rolled as the two remaining wolves slammed their claws into the stage. Leaping up, he introduced his boot to the stomach of the closer one, and drove his blade down and through it. Yanking it free, he dove to the side, and then slashed at an approaching werewolf. It howled in pain as his blade drew a line across its forearm, and leapt away to lick its wounds. Reinhart turned, to face another, and shouted in pain as a werewolf whipped his claws across Reinhart's chest and shoulder, leaving deep gashes. Gasping, Reinhart thrust his blade forward, and pierced the wolf-man's heart. He turned, looking for another opponent to battle with. With a start, he realized that the werewolves were retreating. He turned, and saw a large group of the city watch coming toward them, Rosa in the lead. He smiled, and then looked down in surprise at the bloody gashes across his chest. They throbbed dully. He should do something about them, he knew, but what? Rosa came onto the stage as the short sword slipped, forgotten, from his grasp. "You'll have to excuse me, my dear, but I seem to have made a bit of a mess of myself," he said apologetically. He looked at her, and wondered why she had such a worried expression on her face, as he took a step toward her. But when his foot landed, he toppled forward, to land flat on his face. He struggled for a moment to get back up, but settled for rolling over to face the sky. Rosa was at his side suddenly. "Reinhart, just rest there. The city watch has called the doctor." Reinhart looked at her in surprise. "I don't know why, you look to be perfectly fine. Just give me a moment, and I'll be back up. I just seem to have lost my balance for a moment." There was a ringing in his ears, and darkness was beginning to wash in from the edges of his vision. He smiled. With the moon shining down from above her, she really did look beautiful, ringed in an aura of silver light. "Has anybody ever told you that you are the most beautiful woman on earth?" he asked. No, wait a moment, he shouldn't have done that, it was much to forward for an escort. She blushed crimson, but the worry in her eyes wouldn't leave. "No, nobody but you. Thank you. I think you are pretty handsome too, and brave. But for the moment, please just rest. The doctor will be here soon." He smiled, glad that she hadn't taken offence at his comment. "Hmmm... Rest... Yes, I do feel tired... Would you mind staying... awake... while... I..." he trailed off, as he lost consciousness. The last thing that he saw was her smiling down at him. ***** "...blood he lost, he shouldn't even be alive." "Is he going to survive?" That soft, musical voice... It seemed familiar, yet fear danced just under the surface. But he couldn't see anything to help him identify the voice. Why? "He's just sleeping now. I've sewn the wounds up - its amazing he didn't catch Lycanthropy with the severity of them. I'd say that he's out of danger." Who were they talking about? "Good. When he became unconscious, I was certain that he would die." Unconscious? He became aware of a dull throb in his chest and right shoulder. Were they talking about him? "It seems that you have picked quite a solid fellow, child. Given a few hours to sleep, I think that he'll be back up and about." "Thank you, doctor." This was a new voice, gruff and deep. "Rosa would have been... unhappy had he passed away, and I will be glad to have the chance to thank the man that saved her life." He strained to remember who that musical voice belonged to, but couldn't, and then the mantle of sleep passed over him once again. ***** "Hey... what's a guy gotta do... to get a drink of water around here..." croaked Reinhart, after opening his eyes to see Rosa's back to him. She turned, surprise on her face, which quickly turned to relief. He found himself in a large bed, under several thick coverlets. Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position, the coverlets falling back enough to reveal his bare chest. Looking down, he saw bandages wrapped around his chest and shoulder. Rosa poured a glass of water for him out of a pitcher close to the bed, and handed it to him. He swallowed it down, and breathed a sigh of relief as it wet down his parched throat, and then looked around in confusion. He was in a fairly large room, with a tall oak dresser, wardrobe, and dolls crammed into just about every nook, cranny, and corner. "Thank you," he said weakly. "Where am I, and how did I end up here?" Rosa sat on the bed next to him, and touched a moist cloth to his forehead. "Werewolves attacked. You sent me to get the watch, while you fought them off. They counted ten bodies, and the guard captain said he'd never seen anybody survive more than four attacking at once, much less killing ten at a time." He grinned. "That still doesn't explain how I ended up here, and where here is." She smiled. "One of the wolf-men managed to get you pretty badly. The doctor came up and sewed up the wounds. You're in my home, at the moment, my room, to be exact." She blushed a little as she said that. Reinhart swallowed the quip he had been planning about the dolls, and instead set about getting up. Just before he pushed away the covers, though, he realized that his pants were gone too. He had been stripped down to his breeches. Rosa lay a hand on his chest. "Doctor Flemming said that you should stay in bed for a couple of days." He looked at her a little flatly. "I really need to be up and back to the school, or Aarin will make me wish that that werewolf had gotten me." Rosa looked at him, a mischievous glint in her eye. She removed her hand from his chest. "Fine. If you can get up, and get dressed without falling flat on your face, you can try and convince Father to let you leave." She then stood up, and crossed her arms under her breasts, staring at him quite intently, a faint smile on her face. He looked at her minute, considered how much trouble he would be in if her father caught him traipsing about half naked in her room, and weighed it against how much trouble he would be in if he didn't get back to the school on time. Reinhart threw back to covers, and swung his legs over the edge. She kept watching him, her smile growing wider. Frowning, he carefully slid off the bed, and slowly stood. His legs wobbled threateningly at first, but through an effort of will, he kept on his feet. He looked at her in triumph. "You still have to get dressed." His expression fell a little. "No chance that you'll actually tell me where my clothing is, I suppose." Rosa shook her head. "I kinda like this view." He raised his eyebrow at her in surprise, and slowly began to look around the room. He found his boots first, tucked under a chair. Next came his sword belt, complete with silver short sword, which he noticed had been cleaned of the werewolf's blood. "Well, at least I'll be able to defend myself." He felt his muscles groan at the thought of doing anything more strenuous than breathing. "Maybe not." Tucked behind a pair of dolls, he found his socks, and sat down on the bed long enough to pull them on. "Ready to give up?" she asked him. He looked at her - and then at the chair right behind her, upon which his pants, a fresh shirt and light coat were neatly folded. She sighed in frustration, and moved aside so that he could get to them. While he pulled them on, she sat down on the bed. "Do you do this to all the men that save your life?" he asked. She laughed. "Only the stubborn ones. Which, considering that you're the only one to have ever saved my life, means yes, I do." Wincing as he pushed his injured arm through the sleeve of the shirt, he looked at her. She was looking at him entirely innocently, and suddenly his words from the previous evening came back. He blushed furiously, and she suddenly broke into laughter as he went red to the hairline. Gah! How did she do that to him? "There, I'm dressed. May I leave now, before I make an even bigger fool of myself?" She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then shook her head no, instead standing and guiding him to the bed, sitting down next to him. "We... I was very worried, when you fell. It was my fault that you were there." He looked at her, confused. "What do you mean? I was glad to take you." She smiled at him. "So innocent... I have a confession. It wasn't exactly an accident that I bumped into you yesterday. I... wanted to meet you." She began to blush as she spoke, while Reinhart had to concentrate to keep his jaw from dropping. "So, you... shouldn't have been hurt. It was... my fault. I'm sorry." She looked away, and he stared at her a moment, then put a finger under her chin and lifted her face to look into her eyes. "Don't blame yourself for me getting hurt. I would have been there anyway, and I would have done the same thing. Its just a question as to if I would have come out as well as I did. I can think of no better reason to have gotten hurt, than in your defense." She looked at him in surprise. "But..." "Listen. Did you enjoy the evening, before the werewolves attacked?" She nodded. "Than I consider this little scratch to be well paid for." She stared at him, understanding in her eyes, and slowly, they began to lean together, as they had the night before. Just as their lips met, though, there was a loud clearing of a throat, and they both jumped in surprise. They turned to see Rosa's father. "Oh, don't mind me, I didn't mean to interrupt," he said. Rosa and Reinhart both blushed a deep shade of red. "I'm starting to wonder if somebody is watching us so that they can find some way to interrupt..." he heard Rosa say, very, very quietly. Reinhart nodded, and then stood. Rosa's father came fully into the room, and smiled slightly, extending his had. "I want to thank you, young man. You proved me wrong. Perhaps at least some of you at the school are old enough to be at this business. You kept my daughter safe. You are welcome under my roof." Reinhart shook his hand, a little confused, but glad that he had apparently passed some test in the elder man's eyes. Rosa's father turned to leave, but paused on the brink of exiting the room. "Rosa. You have my permission." On that note, he left, leaving a very confused Reinhart and a suddenly ecstatic Rosa. He turned to her. "Permission?" he asked. She grinned, and walked up to him. "To see you." It took a moment for her words to sink in, but he did finally understand her meaning. He grinned, as she hugged him, and then stood on her toes. Their lips met, and they kissed gently. "Rosa, is - Oh, I see that he is awake. Quite awake." They looked up to see two girls in standing in the doorway. Rosa sighed, and accidentally leaned against his injured shoulder. He gasped in pain, and she backed up, face crimson red. Her sisters laughed, and she purposefully walked over, and calmly closed the door in their faces. The laugher faded slowly. Reinhart pressed his hand to his shoulder, and grinned at her weakly. "Sorry, I forgot," she said apologetically. He laughed weakly. "I had better get back to the school. At least there I see the accidents coming." She stared at him, and then realized that he was joking, and laughed too. She crossed the room, and retrieved a long, bright red scarf. "Here. Something to help keep me on your mind while your training." She wrapped it around his neck, and he smiled, kissing her on the cheek. "How could I get you out of my mind? I don't think I would, even if I could." She showed him the way out the door. He hurried back to the school, arriving just in time to see Aarin entering the school. "I hear that you were quite the hero during the festival." Reinhart nodded. "You will be chopping wood and cleaning the mess for the next month, child. That werewolf should have never come close to you. Maybe some extra chores will teach you to pay more attention to the battle?" Reinhart groaned, and stumbled back to his quarters. The scarf flapped in the wind, almost as if it were laughing. "Oh, and Reinhart!" called Aarin just before he reached his quarters. "Good job in town. Ten werewolves isn't bad, even if they did almost hand you your head." Reinhart collapsed on the bed, and wished that he had of taken Rosa's advice and stayed in bed. ***** Carrie Fernandez sighed as she entered her room. Placing her pack down on the chair, she stretched out, wincing as she heard her spine popping loudly. She shucked out of her dress, and pulled a clean shift over her head. Looking at the bed in envy, she instead sat down in the chair, after retrieving her spellbook from her pack. Opening the ancient tome, she smiled wearily as she heard a loud snoring coming from the next room. At least one of them would get some sleep this night. The spellbook that she began to read from had been the heirloom of the Fernandez family for decades, and before that the Belnades, all the way up to Sypha Belnades, some four hundred years before. Sypha Belnades, the beautiful sorceress, who, with Grant Dynasty, Alucard, and Trevor Belmont, had placed Dracula back into his hundred year sleep. Now, his evil was wakening again, and she and Reinhart Schnieder, heir to the Belmont bloodline, went to do battle with the dark lord. Though she was only twelve, she knew that her duty lay in stopping the ancient vampire once again, or die trying. The ancient tome in her lap was one of the weapons that she had in her quest. She had owned it for six years, and yet was still only a quarter of the way through, but the magic that she had already learned from it had been a great help in her quest. There had been a downside, of course. Her hair, once black, had become a light cyan, her eyes gone from shining blue to glittering gold. Her skin had become so pale as to make her seem death walking, and though she was indeed death to those who followed the ways of evil, she herself was as alive in body as she could be. Yet, for the warmth that her body held, she knew that her soul was shattered beyond repair long since. Her heart perhaps did beat, but it would never hold warmth for another in the way that it should, she was certain. For a moment, she looked up from the spellbook, and thought back to that terrible time. A child she had been, returning home from playing with her friends. She had found the twisted and burned bodies of werewolves by the dozen surrounding her home, the door in splinters. Carrie had searched inside, and found her mother, surrounded by dead wolf-men, in a pool of her own blood. Perhaps it had just been shock, perhaps it was that she hadn't been able to fathom the meaning of the red fluid spilling from her mother, but she had tried to save her. Her mother, the woman who had just that year begun to teach her the ways of the Art, who had always seemed invincible. But her mother had stopped her, told her to save her strength. And then she had told her the secret that she and Carrie's father had intended to never tell her. That the woman she thought of as her mother, that she loved as such, was not her true mother. That she had met her father five years before, carrying a young babe with him, and that they had fallen in love and then married. Carrie had listened, uncomprehendingly, but slowly began to understand the truth. After finishing her story, her mother had told her of where to find the book, the heirloom of her family name. Then, whispering words of love, she passed away. In a stupor, Carrie had mechanically found the book, and looked at it. At first, she couldn't understand the words, hard as she tried. And then, it was as if the words written on the pages read themselves to her. Slowly, she had began to understand the spells, and her role in the coming battle as Dracula awoke once more. In the back of the spell book, there was a note from Sypha to her descendants. It said that in order to truly battle Dracula, she would need to find the holy whip of the Belmont clan, for that truly was the only weapon that could place the Count back into his slumber. And so had began her six year long journey to find the whip. After searching fruitlessly to find her father, whose body was neither in the house, nor among the dead werewolves, she began to track it down. She had traveled all over Romania in search of it. Starting in the birthplace of the first Belmont, she had followed clues on a path that, while giving her time to refine her control of the Art, also forced her to grow up before her time, as if the death of her parents had not killed her soul. Finally, in an ancient church in southern Romania, five and a half years after she began, she found the tomb of Grant Dynasty. Inscribed on the doors was the message, 'The Belmont's Holy light shall ever more shine within their final rest.' She had set off for the province of Walachia, where the tomb of the Belmonts watched over a sleepy burg far to the south of where Castlevania appeared every hundred years. Try as she might, though, she had not been able to open the door to the mausoleum, which legend said 'would only open to the blood of the holy line.' It was there, in that sacred place, that she had met with Reinhart for the first time, and found out that he was the descendant of Richter Belmont, last of the Belmont line. He had opened the door, and claimed the whip, and there they had joined forces, to destroy Dracula. Sighing, she looked back down at the spellbook, but tonight the words just refused to come together. She grinned. The thing would never let her study if she needed rest. Which was likely a good thing, as a tired mind could make deadly mistakes. "You win, I'll get some sleep," she said. The pages rippled slightly. Setting the book aside, she climbed into the bed, and closed her eyes. Sleep blanketed her, and held her in his embrace till the dawn's light. ***** "We have a long day ahead of us, Carrie. Let's get going. With luck, we'll reach the castle before it is too late." Carrie nodded, and they set off once again, the sun low in the sky. "I had a dream last night, Reinhart. I think that it was the first one I've had in a long, long time." "There can be pain in dreams, Carrie. There can be pain, and there can be joy. I hope you had one of the latter, my friend." *****