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Madness Such a fickle thing, no? To be on the cusp of never returning to what life once was, to be mad but not fully mad and then mad once more? Insanity. A multifaced state of mind indeed. To be perceived differently by all, it is such a human thing. There was an elf who was mad once, who could blame him? It was guaranteed after everything he'd gone through. A life of loss at first, just outside Haelun'or, his own mother lay dead in front of his blissful eyes. Confusion racked his youthful mind for years, why had his own mother been killed? Why were those he hung out with bad? He was given to a man who hadn't cared for him for a moment - wishing to confine him within pearlescent walls for as long as he was a child. For who would dare keep a child within an unfamiliar place? Why was it so wrong to want to adventure by himself - he'd been doing it for as long as he'd been born up until he reached that untasteful day. It mattered not in the end, for he escaped, pretending to drown himself in front of a trustworthy friend. Lubba Keep, the first place he ever called home. Two aunties to continue to raise him, Sarah and Fae, a lesbian couple - a great one though. He stayed there, going back and forth between it and Celia'nor. Soon, an elf by the name of Mika Anarion adopted him, taught him how to fight, taught him how to mix drinks in a bar - which landed him his first ever job, taught him how to care... Remember the elf who did not care for Alucard? His forgotten son, did Alucard soon meet. Nehtamo. They had much in common, despite being unrelated by blood. A loving father was absent in their early years, a yearning for something more. By the time Alucard met Nehtamo, he'd already been adorned as a Baron of Castle Black - an underground lair of vampires - of course, he was no vampire, but that didn't stop him from being a loyal friend to them. He'd also been a citizen of Serheim, a frozen winterland of Frost Witches and Necromancers alike, cultists gathered in harmony. But, Nehtamo introduced him to a new group, a new way of life and thought. Asioth, and the Nephilim that followed it. He met The Prince of Nephilim, a son of Azdromoth, a prophet, The An-Gho. Crimson cloaked and seemingly all-knowing, the two, as he would find out later, were not so different. Thus began his trials, writing his views, fighting a herald, learning the path of flame. He earned the flaming eye that would be scarred into his chest - right over his heart. Oh his weeping heart. Tears his heart cried often, for the world, for his family, for his friends, for his enemies. He followed alongside those of Tor'Azdroth, alongside those of Mul'naar too at times, leading up to his meeting with Azdromoth. Words were not said, he didn't dare speak to the one he'd heard so much about, much less make himself known. It was not his place, not his... purpose. He was soon Ordained, by the Prophet himself alongside his brother Vothdrem; flames they bled onto his skin, wisps of the dragon who made the Nephilim hiding within them. The next time he heard such of the melodic voice of Azdromoth was right before they embarked to give offerings to a corrupted drakaar, Cloudbreaker. Within his time alive, he met another following the path of Asioth, one who had been around for decades before him. Remon. Remon became akin to a brother for Alucard, guiding him in some ways. The first mistake he made, trusting a maddened elf. Despite going on various adventures with him, such as meeting a tree who spoke of the death of Azdromoth but was really... Alucard never really found out what the tree truly was. Definitely wasn't Widu though. One time it haunted him with the stench of a swamp after he'd spoke of destroying it. Remon soon told the golden eyed elf of his past, a spirit Bezaleel grasping onto his soul, forcing him to slaughter and reap chaos. Little did the Ordained one know, he'd soon find out more of this spirit. He came across a foreign and desolate realm, Karkosa. Invested with spirits that had treacherous intentions, but also allies he'd continue to **** over by accident. Alucard was nothing short of a child, making mistakes left and right in a place he shouldn't have been nor returned to constantly. The Hexers definitely hated him, he was alongside an enemy of their past afterall. Just when he had gotten their trust up a tad, he sold it away. From what Remon had told him, Bezaleel wasn't all that bad - he wanted to help the people in the place he'd once call home. Whether or not Remon lied, Bezaleel was not like that. He was a torturous and tricky spirit, in exchange for the power to vanquish the other spirits of Karkosa - Alucard gave his loyalty. Which unfortunately for the pale elf, translated to soul for Bezaleel. Cursed rituals and sacrifices he did in Almaris to please the annoying spirit, all done in vain. He'd been manipulated. Just like Remon. Nehtamo spoke concerns of his little brother to Morur'ei - a cast out Nephilim for his nefarious intentions against Tor'Azdroth. In return, Morur'ei forced Alucard to return to Karkosa - to finish out his pact with Bezaleel. All he had to do was sacrifice the entire Hexer camp... and everyone in it. Sacrifice the people working against the stupid mistake he made? Why was it so simple to Morur'ei? How could he go back to Karkosa, just when he thought he'd escaped, and kill those who don't deserve it? To selfishly live longer? No. He ran from the camp after an arrow whizzed inside of it - shot by the Nephilim aside him. Dipping down in a tree trunk to hide from his own choices. Futile of course, the Hexers appeared just outside - demanding they show themselves. Blade in his hand, Morur'ei whispered to him. "Kill yourself if you refuse to kill them." Alucard mulled it over. Of course, a sacrifice is what Bezaleel wanted. He took off his helm, tossing it ahead before bringing his freezing dagger up to his throat and dragging it across. Then quickly stabbing it straight into his forehead without a second thought. Awaken once more. Come back to finish what you wish to. A ritualistic chanting rang out, he rose, staring right at a Wight he once knew. Glancing downwards he'd see his new form, a translucent specter. He wanted only to protect those he cared for, those in Lubba Keep - suddenly known as Lurin, those in Tor'Azdroth. When hellfire rained down, he vanished, retreating to a peaceful spot of solitude until it was ready to leave. He didn't realize he'd be leaving Almaris. Aevos was certainly.. something. He'd not explored it, and he wasn't going to - he only had one objective, to continue his protection. He met his family in Lurin once more. His friends in what is now Tala'nor once more. He spent a few years searching for the Nephilim, slowly losing hope before one of his own family members came to him - speaking of how she'd begun on the path of Asioth. His hope restored, he went alongside her to their new home. Morur'ei. On a path to redemption, kicked him out. Threatened to end his unlife if he did not leave. In the end, he had to be dragged away - he didn't want to go. He hadn't even seen Nehtamo yet, or the An-Gho. Not even Remon, who he'd hated now. Why was he forsaken everywhere? Why was it so wrong to want to bring peace? In his eyes, he was still a Herald. Still who he once was. Days passed, him contemplating every possible way to find his way back. He went up to the top a volcano, magma boiling. Oh how it reminded him of his own molten gold eyes. How it reminded him of... The An-Gho. There the Prophet sat on a rock within the middle of the magma. He rushed towards him, wave after wave of emotion overcoming him. Content. Nostalgia. Familiarity. A talk. It's where he began on his true path and it is where the path shall end. ✧ "I will not welcome you in my halls, but I will not destroy you out of sheer cause." "Perhaps you should. I am ne welcome anywhere. My purpose is destroyed." "You can find peace, Alucard." "I... believe I already have. Van'ayla, my llir, The An-Gho."