**Notes/Warnings**

 

As I was saying before…..I will not write all of that again. Just the disclaimers.This is also my first try to a multi part series so….i don’t know how long this will be or if ever I’m going to finish this…^^

The gw-boys aren’t mine and etc………you get the idea. Amba, Yaksha, the yakshini, the Aghoran priest, the Aghor thing are not mine either, they belong to Christopher Pike the author of "The Last Vampire" which started all this. And Ishanan belongs to me, he’s the only original character and you’ll only see him in a few times….that’s it, on with the fic!

The ceremony here, came from the book too,……figures….^^ I am not that talented as to create my own ceremony and such and besides, I modified them just a little. I can’t copy every detail on the book, just the important parts…^^

Oh! Further warning, there will be some blood in this chapter soooo…..if you don’t want to get grossed out, just don’t read this.

This chapter will be focused on Quatre’s past. You’ll later understand why I used Katoru….probably on the next chapter though….^^

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I came into this world around 3000 BC, given the name Katoru. I lived in a small village in India where I met Amba, the mother of all vampires. Her name also means Amba in some language, which I cannot remember, truly. She was a good woman. She was seven years older than I was. I was about ten years old, and she around seventeen. We would always go by the river after dark, and she would start to sing and I would play my instrument, which was a violin in its ancient form. I was happy and life was simple.

Until the disease came, it struck half of our village and Amba was one of the first ones to fall ill. I don’t why I was spared because I drank just as much as Amba and the others did from the polluted river. She vomited blood for the last two days before her death and I just sat beside her bed and watch her die slowly. The grief was far greater because she was eight months pregnant. Even though I was her best friend, she didn’t tell me who the father was. No one knew because she never told anyone.

When she died, it should have ended there. Her body was to be cremated and offered to our gods. When we were about to start the ceremony, an Aghoran priest came. Aghora was the left-handed path, the dark path. He had other thoughts for the body of Amba. No one would have listened to his words if the panic of the plague hadn’t been present at that time. The priest said that the plague was the result of a demon that had invaded our village and the only way to stop it is to summon a greater being, a yakshini, another demon. Many listened to his ideas because they feared the plague that ate half of our village. Some thought that his idea was reasonable but others, myself included, doubted it. If God didn’t protect us, why could a demon do? Besides, after devouring the plague, what would the demon do? Demons had no love for humans. But the priest reassured the villagers that he could handle a yakshini. So the decision was made. A ceremony was to take place on the very next night.

Being so young, I was not permitted to go to the ceremony. I was worried about Amba’s body, she may be dead but she was my best friend. I did not trust the priest, so I stole into the woods in the middle of the night. I hid behind a large boulder as the priest started to chant while the six men, my father included, anointed the naked body of Amba with oils and things I don’t know. The chant was being repeated over and over. I did not like it. Each time the priest completed a verse he would strike Amba’s belly with a long stick, as if waking something up. This went for a long time, and the mantra that the priest was chanting grew more intense at each verse. Suddenly, Amba’s belly began to bleed; this scared the men, except the priest. I saw him smirk and that frightened me. I never believed for a minute that he had brought Amba back to life for I was with her when she died. I sat beside her all the time as her family bid her goodbye and I know for a fact that dead people don’t just come to life by striking them. The clouds covered the full moon and left the men cowering behind my father. The air smelled like serpent’s blood and smoke came out from the sides of the stone where Amba’s now bloody body lay. The priest laughed at the men, and told them to not be afraid. Everything’s according to plan, and he started the same mantra again, only louder. Each word he said, the wind blew stronger. His voice failed him when Amba suddenly sat up. By this time, all men moved away from the clearing but didn’t run. Only the priest was left gaping at Amba’s hideous image.

Her eyes were bloody and bulging. She grinned like a devil and her tongue lashed out as if licking the smoke around her. Her tongue stretched longer than any human’s did. I watched it all from afar, horribly terrified because I know I am seeing a yakshini and in my best friend’s body too. The priest was about to run and froze when the yakshini looked at his direction. The yakshini cackled like a hyena and grabbed the priest by its tongue. The priest screamed of terror but no one came to his aid. Finally, the priest was close enough to the yakshini’s face and its tongue licked the priest’s face and every skin the tongue touched burned right to the bone. The priest died screaming and I was really scared, but I stayed. I didn’t know why, but I remained where I was, still looking, still watching.

All too suddenly, the yakshini dropped the priest, dead. It glanced around the clearing, seeing the men as if mocking them to destroy it. No one moved. Then, it’s eyes looked beyond the clearing, beyond the trees to where I was cowering behind a huge boulder. I saw it looking at me, with those cold and dead eyes. I caught my breath then, I was sure that I would die in the hands of that demon yet I did not. It smiled at me. After that swift glance it closed it’s eyes and laid back down.

The men waited for a while and when Amba’s body stayed still, they moved closer. My father took a stick and poked the priest and no doubt that he was dead. Next, he came a good distance to Amba’s body and poked her, she didn’t move either. I heard them talk about cremating both the bodies right then and there. Behind my boulder, I am nodding vigorously. I was scared, and I don’t want to see that thing again. They started to gather some woods but before everything was prepared, my father saw something move in Amba’s belly. He cried out to the others that Amba was not dead, or if she was, her child was not. He reached for a knife to cut out the child from Amba’s belly.

It was then that I ran to the clearing and tried to stop my father. "Father!"

Everyone looked at me. "Father! Amba is dead. No dead woman can give birth to a live child."

My father was angry with me but he had patience so he calmly kneeled in front of me and said, "Katoru, your friend does appear dead and we were wrong to perform this ceremony but the priest paid for his life. And by not saving the unborn child, we would be performing another sin. A death of an innocent one. Remember when your cousin was born? His mother died giving birth, too. This is the same."

"No!" I spoke with clenched teeth. "That was different. His mother died while giving birth, Amba has been dead for almost two days! How can she still give birth?!" I knew I have raised my voice against my father and the other men were looking at me with disapproval, but I did not care.

"Then how do you explain that?" My father gestured to Amba’s still moving belly.

"That is the yakshini inside. You saw how it smiled before departing, it is tricking us." I tried to say it calmly but failed miserably. I was in an uncomfortable situation as it is because I disobeyed to stay home and now I am going against their wishes.

My father’s expression was thoughtful. I saw how he was pondering at my words. He knew that I was intelligent for my age. He looked at the men for any clues; some wanted to use the knife to stab the life out of the creature inside Amba while others were like my father, afraid of committing a sin. It was evenly divided.

I was waiting when my father looked back at me. I was surprised when he gave me the knife. "You were the closest to Amba, you know her best. Do what you must. No one here will blame you."

I was appalled. I was just a child, ten years old and he wants me to do this act. I didn’t move. I just held the knife. My father was wiser than I took him for. He shook his head and took back the knife. "You see, you are not even sure if what you say is true. We are humans, child. In a matter of life and death, we choose life." That said he walked over to Amba’s body and cut it open to let the child out. He spanked it so it cried, it was a boy. The men cried and applauded but I can see the fear in their eyes as well. He handed it over to me and since I am Amba’s best friend, he asked me to name the child.

I hesitated but my father urged me to. "Yaksha," I said calmly as I took the child, "because it has the heart of a yakshini." So that was his name, it remained as it was. Some considered it a bad omen but later they would know how true and appropriate the name was to the child. And the plague stopped that night. No one other than the six men and me spoke of that incident that night ever again.

Yaksha grew up too fast in three years he already looked like my age and we had grown close. He was also wise beyond his years. The elders respect him and expected him to be our next leader. He was kind and respectful but there was always something about him that scared me. On the third year that we had been friends, he started to scare me. He tried to pursue me but I stayed my distance. He was beautiful, indeed and I was attracted to him but he never ceased to scare me. He had long black silken hair and blue eyes, like mine. A deep voice even at the young age. Sometimes I would see a strange glimmer in his eyes and be reminded of the sly smile that the yakshini gave me. It was then that one of the six men disappeared. One by one they disappeared and no one knew where they had gone. Up to the time that it was just I and my father who was left among those who knew what happened on that unfortunate night.

The next day I found my father dead in the clearing where it all started. I had a feeling it was Yaksha but he never returned to the village after the last of the six men disappeared or died. I knew he was going to come after me next but he did not come. Over the year I started to live a life again and forgot my grief. When I met Ishanan, I forgot every lonely thought I have had since the disappearance of the six men and my father and Yaksha. He loved me, and I loved him. The first time I saw Ishanan, I knew we were meant to be. And I was glad that he felt the same way as I did. We lived happily together for two years. One night as I laid beside Ishanan, I dreamt of Amba. She was the same as the time when we were out during the night but her words were dark. She warned of the blood of the dead, never to touch it. I was bewildered but my love took care of that. That was the best years of my life, but I didn’t know it was to be my last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

That's chapter one......quite dark, isn't it? I am scaring myself, I have never written dark fics. Just tragic....but not like this...

opinions and everything are always welcome