Chapter Text
Owen is burning.
Flames have long since crawled up the kindling, the stake, the woolen sleeves tied behind his back. Smoke robs him of a voice to scream but cannot grant him the mercy of a faster death. The air smells like ash, cinnamon, and sulfur, his vampiric senses intensifying the odor of his own demise.
He prays for the relief of burned-away nerves, but he knows that afterward comes the wait. Waiting for his flesh to ignite like a candle, for the orange blaze to finally reach his undead heart, so that this horrible scene will end.
Until then, all he can do is watch as Louis—dear Louis, kind Louis—rushes out of the mayor’s house. Shock is plain on his face as he sets scarlet eyes on the pyre. Owen tries to call out to him as Louis sprints forward, burning his own hands in a futile attempt to save him. Blood spills down Louis’ cheeks as he turns on the people of Oakhurst. He screams, and Owen wants nothing more than to tell him, Run! Save yourself! It’s not worth it! I’m not worth it!
I love you!
Louis was never going to succeed in his revenge. The townsfolk cut him down quickly.
Even in his worst nightmares, Owen can’t imagine his beloved as the horrible monster that he himself once was.
Owen watches his body hit the grass, Louis’ red shirt getting darker by the second. Through flames and smoke, he keeps his eyes trained on his sire, his one and only companion, until his vision finally fades to black.
Since the moment Louis’ disappointed eyes were hidden by inky darkness, Owen has been suffering. The form of his constant torment varied. He relived the worst day of his undead life. He took the place of Louis, again and again. He personally endured every death that was carried out by his own hands.
All 2,800 of them.
Owen had forgotten how quickly the instincts of a newborn fledgling can spark unadulterated, primal rage.
He had forgotten how the color of the flames changed as they consumed Oakhurst’s most compassionate mayor.
He had forgotten how big and scary the world seems when you’re only eight years old.
He had forgotten what it was like to feel a heartbeat pound in his chest as terror grips his body.
But by all the gods, he could never forget now.
He has no agency, no choice, no willpower over his anguish.
All that was left of his existence was pain, regret, and disappointment.
Anything else had been burned away.
一一一一一一一一 ✶☽ ❈ ☾✶ 一一一一一一一一
Avid is floating.
The world around him is a dark gray void. In the center of this lonely infinity is the youngest vampire, curled into a ball, hands knotted into gray hair, magenta eyes frozen open, and cheeks stained crimson with bloody tears that dried eons ago.
He feels listless, like a leaf tumbling in the wind, as memories assail his vision—memories of Elle (of killing her), of the first few days in Oakhurst (of his paranoia), of Scott (of his terror of him), of the other vampires (of them killing him).
Stop it, stop it!
Stop!
Wait, no!
Please!
NO!
The stake didn’t accompany him to limbo, but an ache still remains in his hollow chest. His mind is occupied only by fear, any possible thoughts drowned out by the echo of his own screams.
Anxious Avid
Crazy Avid
Foolish Avid
Avid, the coward.
Avid, the liability.
Avid, the monster.
一一一一一一一一 ✶☽ ❈ ☾✶ 一一一一一一一一
Why has it stopped?
After burning alive for the umpteenth time, why is his vision still black? Why hasn’t the next act of suffering begun? Are my eyes closed? No. Is this transition taking longer? Why? What’s happening?
Owen looks around, confused, and sees nothing but darkness. He takes a moment to breathe.
Maybe God or Fate or whoever is giving me a break.
Wait, am I supposed to spend the rest of eternity like this?
Owen stops trying to catch his breath. Unnecessary for a vampire, but a human habit he hadn’t quite managed to forget. Regardless, there’s nothing here, not even oxygen.
“Tortured soul,” a voice calls through the darkness.
Avid snaps out of his stupor. “Who’s there?” he asks shakily. The voice is soft, echoing…
“Remember me?”
From out the boundless gray, pillars and cobwebs take shape. He floats down to rest on solid ground and looks around at a familiar, but nonetheless ghastly, sight.
“I am eternity.”
“You’re the one who said you cursed me.” He turns as something incorporeal woosh-es past him. “Stay back! What do you want from me?” Whoever it was, they caused him to be sick! To be a monster! They were responsible for like, 70% of all the bad things that happened to him!
Owen crouches down, baring his teeth. “I don’t know who you are, but get lost!” He feels it suddenly move closer.
Something unseen brushes against his cheek, and he pulls away. “Go away. I don’t know you, and I don’t want to know you.”
“I’m afraid we’re well acquainted, Owen.”
He flinches at his name. “Who…who are you.”
“I am cruelty.” The voice whispers. “I am mercy. I am the fate of everything across space and time. I am Death.”
Owen turns his back on, well, wherever that damn disembodied voice is. “I don’t need anything more from you,” he spits. “You’ve taken enough from me.”
“I’m not here to take something from you, Owen.”
“I’m here to offer you something.”
Avid cocks his head. “What?” He laughs, dumbfounded. “What does Death have to offer me?” Maybe they’re ending my existence, forever. A chill goes up his spine. As horrible as it is being trapped in an eternal panic attack, I’d still like to…exist…I think. Maybe I’m getting a nicer afterlife? A faint spark of hope runs through his mind, but it turns to shock when he sees the image in front of him.
“Elle…” he breathes. He reaches out to touch her, but she vanishes into smoke. Avid’s face falls. The formation of Limbo around him recedes back into the emptiness. “Are you here just to make fun of me?” Somehow, he feels Death shake its head no.
“Why did you curse me?” His voice is shaky, unsure, but he has to know. “If it wasn’t a vampire, or a werewolf, or some other monster…what happened?”
Death’s sigh reverberates. “It was…an experiment on the living. I was once…resentful. I put more of my power into the mortal coil in the form of a demonic curse. I watched as it…”
Avid takes a deep breath, staring at where he thinks Death is.
“It is one of the few things I regret.” Death admits. “I overstepped. I am the impartial reaper, the progenitor of darkness, the one who allows the undead to rise. I am not to cause more suffering in life than life causes in itself. That...invention...of mine…should never have entered the world of the living.”
Death can regret things? Avid wonders.
Death can apparently read his thoughts too. The primordial being chuckles. “I am intertwined with humanity and all other living beings. I am the consequence of life, and life has…rubbed off on me, in turn.”
“So…so what are you offering me?”
“A challenge.”
“Absolutely not.” Owen walks “away”. He’s going nowhere, but the movement of his feet at least makes him feel like he’s leaving.
“Patience. You may want to listen, first.”
“You can just leave me alone in this void now, thanks.” It would be boring, but still better than…all of that. Though…do I deserve to escape all of that?
“Well, why me?” he bites back. “Haven’t I done enough? Haven’t you done enough to me?” I caused so much death, and now you’ve cursed me to relive it eternally. You took people from me, you took L—
Louis.
His pale appearance glows against the darkness. Owen tries to run, but he’s still getting nowhere, gasping in desperation. He reaches out, only for the image of Louis to dissolve the moment his fingertips touch. The lumberjack falls to his knees.
“Someone…someone believes that you may be a good contender,” Death continues hesitantly. “Someone still considers you…worthy of a chance, shall we say.”
Owen chokes back a sob. Of course he does.
“A challenge?” Avid blinks. “What? What challenge? Why me?”
“First, you can help me eliminate the curse from your world. Second, you fit certain…criteria.”
The alchemist steels himself. “What’s the challenge?”
“I am curious about the nature of your kind. So adaptable, so inventive. You all make choices throughout your short lives.” A glowing white line appears beneath his feet; Avid watches as it splits and twists into thousands of different branches. “You all live with those choices.” Some branches fade back into gray. “You all live with who you are and what you become.”
He feels hands rest on his shoulders. “You made choices, good and bad, Avid.”
“I know,” he replies stiffly.
“I don't believe that you are happy with all the choices that you made. So, I’m giving you the opportunity to make more choices.”
What? He spins around, mouth agape.
“I can put you back into the mortal realm.”
“I thought…I thought you said you can only bring me back once?”
“Death is my domain; I am it in its entirety. I follow my own rules. This time, I will bend them, because I need to see for myself…”
“See what?” The emotions rushing through Owen are steadily growing into a hurricane. What is going on? What does this all mean?
“You will show me, young vampire, whether souls are truly capable of changing, of redemption.”
At that, Owen’s face falls. Fat chance. He didn’t want to change when he was alive. He tried to control his fate by choosing to die, and then he had no control over his miserable afterlife! “Find another damned soul for your experiment.”
“If you succeed, I will reunite you with your companions of both past and future.”
The hazy mirage of Louis appears again, but this time…
“Legs…” The doctor, not as the living corpse that Owen made him but dressed in pristine white robes, stands frozen next to Owen’s beloved.
“Wait, wait, waitwaitwait—” Avid gasps. Scott?! He looks just like how Avid remembers him. Perfectly styled white hair, black cape, proud appearance, deep red eyes that are staring straight past Avid. To his right, Elle fades into view once more.
Avid immediately agrees. “I’ll do it, I accept,” he declares, gazing at the motionless appartions. Even the slightest chance is worth it.
"Are you sure? Some things may remain from your past while some may not. There will be certain...conditions to your new life, not all of them good."
“Nobody from your past will recognize you.” Death adds. “At least, not until you have proven yourself. You must show that your motivations are not external, that the ability to change comes from within.”
Yet if I fail, at least I am granted a reprieve from this hellscape, however brief. “What other conditions are there?”
“If you squander my mercy and continue in the same path you walked before, I will bring you straight back to your afterlife. I will not, however, place a time limit on this, as long as you make progress. Time, I believe, is the constraint that prevents most mortals from changing, and so in order to truly test your capabilities, I will not enforce such a restriction.”
Owen isn’t confident he’ll succeed…but Louis. To see those eyes again without pity or pain or disappointment, to live once more… I suppose, maybe, just maybe, I'll try. He sets his jaw and nods.
Death begins to retreat into the void as the sound of rushing wind approaches. “For the purposes of this experiment, I need to know, unbiased, whether you are capable of redeeming yourself.”
“However…I hope the answer is yes.”