"There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights." ─ Bram Stoker, Dracula, 1897

Prologue: Parasite

Darkened ideals run rampant in the hearts of mortal men, disillusioning them to the true faces of the monsters of the night. For none can truly define what a monster truly is in light of historic atrocities. The spirits of good and evil have fragmented over the eons, masking truth and trust behind deceit and treachery. Yet, in spite of this horrid deconstruction of morality, man still considers himself to be wholly good, forevermore disregarding any evidence to the contrary. This is the darkest of ideals; a false concept of inherent good that consumes the soul of man as like a parasite.

With those thoughts of moral and immoral fabrication, the Heiress stalked her prey, eager for the feast of corrupt blood to come. The man was a local magistrate, placed into power due to his pious nature and outward love of God. To think of him as anything less than a holy man was damnable and unthinkable. Unless, of course, one knew of the young boys he kept under lock and key in his cellar at his modest estate. Ah, how the Heiress was going to enjoy draining him dry.

How lovely and quaint a night it was, ever calming and peaceful. None would ever dare question why a young woman such as the Heiress would be going for a brief night walk on such an evening. After all, due in part to the magistrate himself, the streets of fair Vale had never been safer as thieves and violent criminals alike had one by one met with the same fate; a swift drop and a sudden stop. Even the magistrate himself did not question her presence when he caught sight of her. He simply tipped his top hat to her with a polite "Good evening, ma'am," as he went by casually, swinging his cane to and fro in an idle fidget.

And the Heiress, to her credit, returned the smile in kind and nodded in return, though she refused to give him a proper curtsy. She waited for him to pass by before she slipped herself into the shadows out of sight and out of mind of any who may now pass her by. Silently, carefully, and purposefully she watched him. Step by step, yard by yard, she stalked him. From the central promenade of the city center, to the now closed for the evening market square, to the hangman's gallows in front of the courthouse, and even the apothecary, where the Heiress suspected the magistrate may have purchased an illicit substance. No apothecary of good repute would be open so late. And still the Heiress stalked him.

Until, after a time, he found himself alone as he approached his personal home. He always claimed to live modestly, but this was, of course, a lie. A lie, the Heiress thought, none felt was worth questioning. For he did all he could to service the great city of Vale, so surely the citizens could forgive him for living comfortably. The house was three stories tall, four if you count the "wine" cellar, with at least seven bedrooms, two sitting rooms, a personal library, a study, a fully staffed kitchen, a dining room built to seat thirty, and the magistrate could even boast to be one of the few in Vale among the wealthy to have fully functioning plumbing and running water for his privy.

It sickened the Heiress to think that out of all of his servants and house guests that none knew about the secret within his cellar. No, that simply could not be possible. The Heiress inhaled quietly, contemplating what sort of solution she must come up with for this dilemma. The magistrate unlocked his front door and entered his home. Before he could fully shut it, the Heiress's body "melted" into liquid shadow, slipping between the cracks just as it was closing and hiding in the shadows of the dimly light interior. The decor was elegant and expensive, and the Heiress despised every inch of it for what it was; pompous and outwardly farce. It was a disgusting display of false aristocracy masked by the illusion of legal standing and power.

"Ah, home sweet home," the magistrate said as he removed his gentleman's coat and top hat, placing them on a nearby rack. He then reached into his pocket and retrieved a small key as he casually walked down the hall and began to unlock a door on the left; the door to the cellar.

The Heiress made her decision right then and there. At first, she thought this choice would disgust her. Make her hate what she was even more than she already did. Make her choose to end her own existence once and for all after all these centuries. Or, at the very least, to retreat to her castle deep in the Emerald Forest, never to return.

But then, she heard the muffled cries for help from downstairs. She heard the sound of leather whips cracking, and two voices that didn't belong to the magistrate shout angrily at the pitiful moans of the young boys below.

And the Heiress smiled, her fangs poking through as she misted herself to follow the magistrate into the cellar. Only a single thought pervaded her mind.

Everyone dies.

Song: Parasite - Freakangel

Author's Notes

Surprise! Holy's here with a new story!

Long time no see, friends. How have you been? Me? I've been busy as all hell with work. And work. And even more work! But, alas, let's get into The Eternal Heiress!

I had this idea before work about four days ago. A Victorian style AU of Remnant where Weiss is a vampire in Vale in the 1800s, where Vale is similar to London within Bram Stoker's Dracula. I don't know, we'll see how it goes. I have some vague idea of what I'm doing for this story. I have a chapter list ready, and yes I am once again using song titles. Let me know what you think so far, though this is just the prologue to set the tone. Nothing truly story related has happened yet. In any case, please leave a review.

Fun Fact: One of my best friends is getting marries tomorrow, so I get to go to the wedding! Whoo!

Till Next Time~!