The Vampire King's Only Antidote

Raven black shoulder length hair…. Fierce eyes that give equal ferocity in gaze with baby blue orbs that darkens or exceptionally reddens, whenever he is angry - which he almost always is… Thick brows not considered to be bushy… Romania nose set in a pert form to the Creator’s pattern.. Slightly thin lips that are rarely opened… Sharp jawline that seems to be capable of opening a package and has spotted no beards or sometimes a stubble… Broad shoulders that his shirts were always stuck with and many persons wished they could be his fabrics to be that close to his bronze like skin… Tall and brooding… Intimidating and territorial… He is deemed beautiful in every way… His beauty which isn't feminine in any way and would be rather demeaning to classify his chiseled masculine features as handsome was in every way…Ethereal But… Indeed there was a ‘but’... But, no one dared come close to this beauty of a man with god-like characteristics - because his features are the stark opposite of his acrid personality. His name - Lord Ragnar Kamazotz. Kamazotz meaning The Death Bat because people saw him as the one who brings death. But that was all in the past - in ancient times - because presently, he is regarded as one of the most eligible and wealthiest bachelors in South Adabbon. His empire spread in the land without strong restrictions and competition and like The Iron Army, he seemed unstoppable, breaching beyond the country and influencing other parts of the world. These raised brows had brought about a lot of questions, praises and expected criticisms but no one dared stand up to him still. His enemies increased as swiftly as his riches did, but he was never bothered about that in the least. He couldn't be…how could he, when he surpassed the whole lot of them by time and had been present when their bloodline began. ‘Yapping little humans’ He would comment in his heart. He knew their plans and was very much aware of what they would think or say even before their brains formed the information. ‘How pathetic!’ He’d say again and with a sigh, he'd gulp on his red Alpine wine - the only wine that seemed to please him…sooth him even. Today is the thirteenth day he has gone without resting his eyes. His personal assistant - Norma Falkur - was beyond bothered and worried for his Lord, his boss, because this was the longest Lord Ragnar had gone without a nap but he could not bring himself to do anything because he knew the reason. This time of the year was the time when he reminiscenced the most about her. Her- his first and only love - Zeda Altair. She has ceased to exist for more than seven centuries but he awaited her return and reincarnation. Patiently sometimes and some other times wildly, by going on a rampage but none of his actions had brought her back to life and The Prophecy sometimes was doubted. On the eighteenth day, Falkur could no longer sit still and watch his boss go through the pain he was going through because even though he was well aware that it would take more than half of the world to bring Kamaz down, he knew that his boss was weakening and dying inside. Because of how he had neglected himself, his body system had obviously reacted and unknown to Kamaz, Falkur had seen when he had spurted blood from his mouth. But quickly, he wiped it off and cleaned it from his lips and the corners of his mouth. It would only be a matter of time before this would make him lose his human sanity and self to his vampire side and Falkur was beyond certain that the episode that would break out if that was to happen, would be uncontainable. He feared for his boss because even as much as they were not supposed to reveal themselves because of their super abilities, the humans were not to be undermined because over the years, they have improved and improvised and have waxed stronger. They would not like to know that such a creature lived among them and was even adored by them. Humans are terrified of what they have no control over. The Vampire therapists and Special Doctors have tried all they can to help him sleep and have his body rest but nothing was working. Suppressant drugs no matter their route of administration was totally useless and all they could come up with was that he should be involved in whatever hobby that brings him comfort and pleasure - anything that drives stress far from him. Falkur knew what it was, what could bring Kamaz’ mind to rest and hopefully his body too. It was The Cello playing. In ancient times, what had kept Kamaz under control and had brought him peace was The Pipa and not just any Pipa, the sounds from The Pipa played by Zeda…Kamaz' Zeda. Immediately, Falkur booked for all the Cello concerts that were going on for a whole month in South Adabbon. He cleared all Kamaz' schedules and placed trustworthy persons over the diverse businesses for a whole month. Kamaz knew Falkur was highly concerned for him and since he also wanted to get some calm in his mind that was working non stop every second, thinking of her, he agreed to go on the Cello tour and he hoped the artists would be skilled enough to calm his raging inner beast. He sure had been craving to see some red on green. Red - blood- splashed on a green field, sounded like a delectable idea to him but he wondered whose blood it would be. Their luggages was packed, excess security dropped, tickets ready and they started the journey in search of what truly made more sense than drilling the heartless minds of businessmen.

Tears rolled down her eyes as she listened to the voicemail they had sent her. They wanted her to either kill herself or give her body up, accepting their s*x slave community and becoming their s*x toy. Llike raping her and inflicting her with a trauma that no one might be capable of curing wasn't enough. She knew she was beyond saving…she felt it deep within her. She shivers whenever she is in close proximity with a man and all she wants to do is flee. She can no longer hold properly the bow of her cello and that was enough to end it all. The cello was her life and it was either she does their bidding or they kill her students - those she has taught how to play the cello. For every day she has hesitated, one child has been killed and it has been three days already. It meant three children were dead already because of her… She had watched the videos they had sent her and she felt sick because of how they had killed the children. The bruises on their bodies were a different story