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Sykorasek; [Do Not Reply][GSS Jun - Aug 2017]
Topic Started: Sun Jul 30, 2017 5:38 pm (22 Views)
Vaska
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Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor and echoed. The mansion ruins were still smoking. This was what being dead would be like, Vaska thought. Meaningless silence.

Everything was black or grey. The portrait of the first Sykora to settle Balefire was split down the middle, removing the blue eyes that used to stare down at her every day. Vaska ran her gloved finger over a sculpture of a war hero and it came back covered in a layer of ash. She flicked the soot away. Continued past the foyer and deeper into the mansion.

Black lines crawled over the eyes of smaller portraits lining the stairway. She felt like she was being watched. A house centipede ran along the edge of the floor, cutting tiny arcs into the dust. Ribbons of red mist drifted overhead, adding a splash of color to the bleak scenery. Vaska stopped to watch them twist and writhe as they flew, then tracked their path through the corridor upstairs.

The ruins whispered her name with a tone of acknowledgement and then delight. Voices overlapped. Red smoke -- demon spirits -- caressed her as it passed. "You came back," one said. "You'll always come back. The only one we can trust."

"Where are the other servants?" More voices asked the same thing.

"They're gone," Vaska told the ruins. "I couldn't find anyone in the colony. Are they dead too?"

"Betrayers!" another voice hissed. "Worthless pseudo-vampires!"

Vaska's eyes hardened.

"No need to be so hasty, Krystof. Clan Lakatos has worked for us for centuries. If this one came back, others surely will." That voice sounded like Cecilie Sykora, the shipping tycoon.

"What happened?" Vaska said, walking through a tangle of demon spirits.

"Our enemies turned us against each other."

Blood on the walls. Bodies. Vaska turned over one and found that it belonged to Emilie Sykora, her childhood friend. Ripped apart by Sykoran claws. None of this felt real.

"Remember your duty," the dead whispered.

She picked up her pace. More and more thick red smoke bled from the cracks around the door ahead. Opening it unleashed a torrent of spirits that passed around and through her, screaming over each other in the voices of people she remembered.

Inside was the private study of Dusan Sykora. One wall was half-collapsed. The man himself lie dead under a heap of rubble, only his legs visible. Demon spirits whirled around a large book sitting on a stand near the center of his old collection.

"This is what you were born for," they whispered. "There is nothing beyond this singular task. This is your life now."

The half-vampire slid her palm across the book cover to push aside the dust. Its title was revealed: SYKORA FAMILY REGISTRY.

"Find the survivors."
"Bring us back."
"Do your duty."
"Rebuild."

Vaska hesitated. If the other Lakatos were gone, where did they go and why should she be here? She wondered if they moved the colony somewhere else after their protectors killed each other off. If so, why didn't they tell her? Why did she end up the only one to answer their summons?

The demon spirits sensed her misgivings. "You are only half! You will die as soon as you leave us. This is the only way to secure your own safety."

"You're the last hope," another hissed. "You can save us. You can be the hero of House Sykora."

"There is no happiness to find outside these walls. Why would you ever leave your family and your house in this sorry state?"

Vaska touched the metal ring around her neck and shut her eyes tight for a few seconds. When she opened them, she took a deep breath and wrapped both hands around the heavy tome. Demon spirits scattered, praising her.

She'd be lying if she said she didn't live for their praise. It gave her a rush of relief.



It took weeks to build caskets, bury the bodies, and scrub away the blood. Vaska laid a bouquet of flowers at the head of the family graveyard. The Sykora Family Registry sat against the back of her hips, chained to her belt. Demon spirits hovered around her, drawn to the names of the surviving members written inside that tome.

"When will you begin your search?" one asked. It sounded vaguely like Belegor Sykora, the patriarch of an offshoot family.

"Soon, sir. I'd like to restore at least some minimal spaces before I begin. It's an insult to the family to leave the whole building in ruins. And when I retrieve your wayward relatives, they ought to have a nice place to reside."

She spent the rest of her week cleaning and repairing one of the bedrooms as well as the kitchen and laundry rooms. It was a long, tedious process alone, but it at least kept her with plenty of work to do.

The walk between the Sykora estate and the Lakatos colony was long and lonely every time, though. She crossed the courtyard and opened the gate to an artificial cave. The walls were made of smoothly cut stone and engraved with images from Sykora history. Vaska made a beeline down the staircases to her living quarters. Water dripped from the ceiling and into a puddle on the floor. Her bed was immaculately made and all of her meager possessions were in their proper place. She fumbled with the lock on her storage chest and then whipped it open. Water vapor billowed out. Vaska grabbed a flask of blood and tipped it up to her mouth. Eyes half-open, she guzzled it so fervently that blood ran down her mouth and chin. When one flask ran out, she swallowed another. Even after two or three she always felt like she was starving to death.

Vaska couldn't sleep for long. The silence in the colony was more disturbing than any of the gore she'd seen in the aftermath of House Sykora's demise. It made her wonder why she was still here. Who her family really was. Who she owed or didn't owe. Yet all of those thoughts were wiped away each night when she returned to work on the mansion. The fallen Sykoras showered her with praise, saying such nice things that she couldn't even think straight.

"Find the survivors," one of the demon spirits said. "Bring us back."

She finished packing up her things. Her carriage was outside and the horse was harnessed. Vaska tied a fur-lined cloak over her jacket and switched to her driving gloves. "I will, ma'am. Absolutely."


Edited by Vaska, Sun Jul 30, 2017 5:39 pm.
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