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Crimson Vision

This was it. She thinks. This is where it ends.

Deep within a crumbling palace, strides a woman in white. Her crimson eyes flicker with fire as she strides down the dark and empty hall. Piercing gaze locked on the large ornate door at the end of the corridor.

In her right hand she holds an obsidian blade, shimmering with white heat. In her left, iron chain wrapped haphazardly around her wrist, she holds a sapphire pendant. A last comfort from her mother.

She marches, her breath puffs of smoke from her lips, towards a fate she knows she will not live to enjoy. Her eyes burn, and if she were not an undead, she knows her heart would be pounding. Still, she marches onward. The cruelty of fate has never stopped her before, it will not now.

She is a seer first, a turned vampire second. Her visions have never failed her before, have never not come to pass. And in her visions, she sees the events that lie beyond this final obstacle. She sees the wretched creature that has cursed her, sees it’s gleaming fangs stained with it’s latest kill, hears the echo of it’s voice. She knows the madness in its veins, and swears that will not be her.

She will not be another monster waiting to be slayed.

With every step closer, she sees snapshots of a mighty battle, her visions echoing back in her head. Of claws, snarling teeth, and too dark blood. She sees her seer robes stained red, and the shattering of her mother’s pendant chain. Sees the rage that will consume her, if only for a moment, giving her the strength to finish the fight.

(The predatory smirk that will consume her expression for a horrifying moment. The joy that will taint her mind at the sight of a kill.)

She sees her blade strike true, sees her monster fall and turn to ashes. Sees that last ditch effort of a bleeding limb take her own blade, and run her through.

In her burning vision, she sees her own death — and longs to meet that destiny head on.

(She sees herself, lying in a pool of her own blood, shattered pendant in hand, a smile on her face as she shuts her eyes one final time. She wants that peace.)

She will become a monster if she lives past today, and this young seer refuses. She refuses to kill and eventually fall in love with her bloodlust. Refuses to learn to fight with claws and teeth instead of her trusted enchanted blade. Refuses to live of she cannot be herself.

So she strides down this dank hall, walls stained and crumbling, towards her own death. With a smile on her lips. She has said her goodbyes, put her affairs in order, and kissed her beloved one last time. She is as ready as she can be.

Finally, she stops before the door, hearing the muffled sounds of tearing flesh and the crunch of bone. Her beasts final meal.

She breathes, ties her mother’s pendant around her neck, and rolls her shoulders. She breathes again, kicks open the door, and rushes in to meet her destiny.

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