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She stirred in her dream. The sudden darkness was more than she could bear. But what was this place … It looked like a land of fairytales, of dark and impossible dreams. It was all natural, the lush green meadows and forest floors reminding of a place far North, like an island of Arthurian legend - so mystical the deep colors did seem. Yet what colors … All she could discern was a deep dark green, the black of the shadows - if it was just before nightfall or the middle of the day, none could tell in this treetop jungle - and the grey of ancient stones. The stones seemed alive and breathing with hidden tales, yet the rest of this realm couldn’t be more silent and withdrawn. She didn’t like the place. She dreaded a grey shadow that could brew over her head, overcome, devour her. She lifted her head, and there was none. Aware of her own feet below her on the dewy grass - clad in heavy leather shoes -, she ignored her shivers and stepped determinedly forward.
Then, all of a sudden, as if summoned by wizardry, a crypt appeared in front of her. She turned her head and beheld no progress - as far as she could tell, she still stood in the same place as before, in a shadowed glade amidst two forests. Unafraid, she drew nearer. Fascinating, these stones - colored in so many shades of grey and white, while suggesting no definite color she had ever known before. The most unusual thing about them, however, was the odd notion that they gave forth a light that felt unearthly, altogether foreign to her. Che stupido, she scolded herself. Give yourself a break, this is a dream. Soon you’ll wake up in your cosy master bed and forget all about silly stones.
Spurred by renewed curiosity, she grabbed the black bars - the gate to this tomb. If it was anyone’s tomb. Her knowledge about druids and magicians, or rites of old wasn’t profound enough for her to decide upon any former use of this little piece of picturesque architecture. Suddenly impatient, she tore at those bars, which didn’t even move. She gritted her teeth. Well, behaving like a defiant little girl wouldn’t help her solve this tiny riddle, either.
The gate is closed, she reminded herself. No use here. Better turn around and head for home. That is … if she had known where to turn. This place was as alien to her as her Master’s weird guests of late. Her gaze fell on the slender column erected high above her head at the centre of the roof. Strange colors once more, none she could ever name. Some yellowish, brownish or red, she was reminded of hearsay about the paints people of antiquity once used for their temples. Was this such an antique place …?
She headed to the other side of crypt, expected another lancet arch gate, but there was none. Her heart rose. An open entrance! Driven by the urgent impulse to finally descent these stony steps and discover this curious little place, she moved her left foot. Wait, left …? A sudden shrieking noise stopped her thoughts and sent her flying backwards.
Mumbling, she set out to rise from the wet grass when she beheld a human figure standing at the entrance of the tomb. What the …? "Who are you", she whispered in surprise. Looking up into the man’s face, she could stir no more. The person’s eyes were gleaming with a light she didn’t know any human could possess, or, indeed, no breathing creature on this planet. There was something of that shine in her Master’s gaze, too, but such brilliance as she felt confronted with now was beyond all recall. This must be a God, she couldn’t keep back the thought. This must be a dream indeed. The man’s face was all white, beardless and seemingly immaculate, though he held something of a Southerner in his features. Rich black curls fell down to his slender shoulders, and despite his all-magical eyes, he appeared a genuine youth. No expression of alarm in his eyes. But Mirabella couldn’t keep her heart from racing.
"All I wanted was to take a look", she rushed to explain. "Didn’t mean to disturb, Signor …" "You do not disturb me, Mirabella", the man said in a clear, steady voice. "I welcome you to the gathering and bid you take a look inside."
Inside … Inside the sepulchre? She couldn’t explain the sudden lump in her throat, but she nodded in excited obedience. There was no more weight to keep her feet on the ground, she was free to get up. The two of them didn’t descend the staircase, but remained in the inner hall of the shrine. Curious colors, and this time even more curious faces as well - there were the wall sculptures of faces of beasts and mythical creatures she had never laid eyes upon before. "What or who is this?", she asked as she stood before the sculpture of a giant-mouthed creature that looked like a crossbreed of wolf, bull and sphinx. "Silence now, my apprentice", answered the man. "The ceremony is about to begin."
Ceremony … Right. Another dream-element. But an interesting one, for a start. Suddenly she couldn’t help herself, she almost burst out laughing. The man showed no reaction. As her gaze fell between one of the round-arch window openings and out at the sombre meadow, she became aware of another figure in the distance. Clad all in black, he stood at the edge of the wood, face hidden, almost cowering as though he wasn’t sure if he should stay and listen, or flee.
Blinking her eyes, she turned back to her ‘host’. "Gathering, you say? What sort of? What’s my part here anyway?" When no answer came, she was urged to look at this man’s stunning green eyes again. At least this one wasn’t clad in black, he wore a clean white toga-like garment not unlike the patricians of old. Maybe this was meant to happen in Avalon, after all, and this was the high priest of the druids. "Mirabella, you will get all your answers in time. Fear not. It will be a test of worthiness, that’s true, but if you remember your inmost strength, you cannot fail."
Test! Now, this was just getting better and better! She shook her head in disbelief. "And when will you allow me to wake up? This starts to bore me, honestly said", she pressed out in anger. No more answers. Of course. But even in the moment of strongest rebellion, she couldn’t shake off the feeling of overwhelming awe.
And then the man disappeared down the stairs. WAIT FOR ME, her heart screamed in panic. She had to follow … Looking for whatever task that lay before her. There was a grey-haired man lying on the great stone sarcophagus in the centre of the tomb. The only light came from the narrow staircase, and stunned she watched as the white-clad man bent over the unconscious figure as if to breathe life back into him. Trembling, she drew closer. Noble he looked - chalk-white face, serene and smooth and undecayed, like a heroic knight just laid to rest. Something ached deep inside her woman’s organs when she beheld the tall curlyhead kiss the man’s lips, reverently but passionately, even running his tongue over the line of his mouth. She had to look up and stared directly into the primitive eyes of a cat with a bull’s nose. Her heart shrank.
Ceremony … Wild, unspeakable thoughts of orgiastic rites rushed towards her, claiming her the victim, never letting go again. This wasn’t worth it, she scolded herself. She wanted to leave this place at once, to storm out into the open landscape and warn the stranger never to draw close. She knew what was about to happen before she turned her eyes to see. The black-haired man had bent even closer to the unmoving sleeper, with his mouth at the front of his throat. Vampire … blood-drinker! The realization and the memories jumped back to her, leaving her no place to calm down or to breathe. Suddenly she knew … if this was a dream, she had to act. Now.
"Keep your nasty teeth away, will you! Stop it, now!!" All furious she rushed at the man, tearing at his clothes, his hair. The man himself didn’t move. Slowly, he turned around. His mouth was clean, but there was a thin river of blood leaking from the sleeper’s wound. You despicable monster, she wanted to say. Be glad that this is just a dream … The man looked genuinely surprised. "This is part of the ceremony, my child. It is the price we all have to pay … I’m claiming back my Divine Right. And you’re all part of it."
With that, he bent back over the man’s throat. Mirabella sighed. But even in sighing, she was filled with an unnamable lust. She couldn’t believe her luck when the man finally stopped and told her to drink. It was too easy.
But there was something in the commander’s aura that she couldn’t resist. Trembling still, she closed her soft woman’s lips over the bleeding wound and drank. The fantasies swarmed back. She wasn’t in this place anymore, but the place was inside and all over her, inevitable. Hot primal lust. Insane pulsing hunger. Real and unreal. She felt herself being bent over a stony altar, legs spread apart … phallic wooden fetish ramming inside her flesh, so large … fanged tribal idol flashing his tongue out, grinning … or was she becoming the tribe leader’s bride now? Hands all over her shaking body, carrying her away. Where was this luscious nectar … the source had stopped. She wanted to weep or scream with the agony of the loss, then looked down upon the bloodless figure. No more than a corpse now. She - they –-had done the deed. Awful, not to know anything about this man’s history. Or the origin of that place. The jewel-eyed killer - she didn’t care. No, she was the killer. The tomb was full of people. Three of them carried the body away, the rest followed in mournful procession.
Before her went a glorious black-haired woman who looked like the spitting image of the leader. Next to her a brown-haired, lightly tanned man who with his poise and mysterious eyes looked nothing short of a God himself. A gathering, she was told … But what was her part in that game? She, a common stranger, a killer now …?
They had dug a simple earthen tomb for him. All bent down for one last glimpse. Then the woman, the one with the shining green eyes and long black curls, stepped forward. The body of the grey-haired went up in fire. Mirabella’s heart jumped in momentary shock. But she recovered soon when she felt the leader’s warm hand around hers. "Don’t fear anymore, Mirabella. You passed the test. The nectar of life is now yours, as ours, forevermore." He flashed a bright smile at her. His teeth were fangless. "Do not think about death anymore. To take life is no longer our task, as it is us who keep it."
She felt herself going limp against him, showering his neck with kisses. A God. And she wanted to have him. Feel him. Then she suddenly got startled. "Where’s HE?" "Who, my beloved?" "The man …" Her eyes searched furiously for the black dressed stranger. "Is he not here …" A crying fit forced her into silence. She felt such an overwhelming love for all those gathered here. A love that shone brighter than the emerald colors that lit the shrine’s walls, or the living image of a God whose breath she now felt against her neck. The stranger, she wanted to scream, before she sank numbly against him. I want to give him this life, too, I want to feel his lips, his throat against my teeth … Sharp pain thrust deep into her neck, and she lost consciousness.
She awoke in her serene master bed, to hunger and daylight.
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