The Tale of Adamar of Calithorn

 

As every story worth telling, this one starts with a cold and rainy night.

Thunder and lightning burned through the dark sky.

Adhemar of Calithorn raced through the forest, when an old cottage came into view.

An old man opened the door and led him to the dining table, where the flames of the fireplace could dry his drenched clothes.

The old man asked Adhemar to explain how and why he was out so late into the wilderness.

He looked deep into the old man’s eyes and began telling the tale of what would become a night on infamy.

"I paced the streets at night, surrounded by the joy of lovers who walked around me, hand in hand.

"I, alone. Empty. There was a void in my soul, a suffocating blackness. Then… I saw her.

"A true beauty. An angel clad in alabaster white. Mesmerised, I followed her. Leaping from shadow to shadow, I kept her in my sight as she headed home. Every step I took was a war waged within me, a struggle to maintain a firm grip on my lust. The sound of her door closing was the final swing in the battle I lost many streets ago. I had to see her.

"The balcony curtains rustled gently as I made my way into her room. I stood above her, watching her bosom lift and drop as she peacefully slept. On that night, she would be mine.

"My queen. Forever.

"My teeth sunk deep in her silken skin. The smallest river of crimson life ran from the puncture on her neck, pooling on her shoulder. I drank my fill while she wailed her last mortal breaths. As her last drop of blood had left her body, the bedroom door flung open. Her husband rushed in the room hell-bent on taking her from me. The mere thought of her not being mine was too much to bear. Before I could catch my next thought, more men ran to the husband’s aid. The stench of life filled the room. My thirst for survival took over and I made for the balcony door.

"Two strides later and I was on the street, across of the estate. Her screams shook the nightly still, as I watched them all drag her outside. I followed closely while the deranged mob carried her to the centre of town. Before long, wood was piled and a pyre was set. She was but a whelp. A young and unfed child of the night, too weak to know just how powerful she could ever become…

"The flames lashed her hard as embers danced to the tune of her demise and the ecstasy of the angered crowd.
Her death was on my hands… all because I wanted her to be mine, NAY SHE WAS MINE! I screamed at her ashes “REVENGE! I, SWEAR, REVENGE!”.  She was to be avenged, or I was to die trying.

"The nights to follow were painted red as I tore, mauled and drank more than my fill.  Even death wept at the weight of all the souls I sent his way.  No man was to ever again feel the warm heartbeat of the woman he loved.

"They were to feel what I felt. Alone, as I.

"Their pain. Their blood. Their anguish… my revenge… my salvation."