(16) Memories

The corridor was dark, lined by closed doors, curious lights gleaming behind them, glowing along the floor. Each step halted by the power behind these dark doors, she knew where she was going, before the end of the hall met her. With a strong twist of a doorknob, it was open, and she walked in.

It was a mess.

The D'Morts scattered this way and that as streams of inky blackness tossed their way. She watched Uncle Bartholomew slam into the ground as he was nailed, the life-force drained from his body all too quickly. Sera watched with amazement. Stepping over the rapidly deteriorating body of her dearest Uncle, Serah only felt the shared energies of her family empty more and more into her, as more members fell, the legacy of power from the Coven pooling slowly into her with each death.

"Oh, there goes another one," Serah laughed aloud, watching her young sister's body twitch upon the cold, marble floor. "Poor Margarite. I told you not to borrow that dress. Now look what you made him do."

Another peel of wicked laughter left the warlock's lips. She looked up at her lovestruck puppet, Bastion. What a good puppy he had been. Serah knew she had him around her finger--his handiwork was all the proof she needed. With cold calculation, he murdered every last child within the manor, as she had instructed. After silence took over the now dark manor, Serah found herself ushered up against the wall of the corridor.

"Now…? Gods, Serah, I'm burning for you. Come with me…I'll do everything for you, anything for you. The baby's just the beginning," Bastion murmured over her lips, entranced by the beautiful warlock. Serah smirked at the poor little puppet, and pushed him back with two fingers. He stumbled, but obeyed.

"I do not want the child."

Bastion stared, his voice cracking as he sputtered in disbelief.

"Serah! What are you meaning?! Our child…our child! You agreed you would come with me if I freed you from your family!" he nearly shrieked at his idol, his infatuation. Serah stared back, tossing back streams of blonde hair over her shoulder.

"No. I have already given it away. It impeded my studies, and I found it a suitable home."

"Your…studies. Your studies!!?? Serah, dammit, you are as mad as the rest of them! He was your son!! My son! Not some…pet!"

"No." came the simple answer from the warlock again. She looked downward for a moment, curls of pale hair falling to frame her expression.

"I demand you get him back! He is newly born! What were you thinking?!" Slowly, Bastion calmed enough to put his hands on the lady's shoulders, trying to console her. "You were scared. It is your first try at motherhood. Come, lets go get him, and we'll start over, Serah."

The cold stare in Serah D'Mort's eyes told him a different story, as did her cold, cold words.

"It is not yours, Bastion."

She watched as the man crumpled to his knees, the weight of the admittance bearing on him like a sentence of death.

"The child was never yours. It was a mistake, and it will not be a suitable heir. The blood is not pure, and it will be useless to the new D'Mort line," Serah explained with disgust inching through her voice. "He even looked like his father."

"…he is not…mine? You…you…" Bastion stammered, inconsolable. Yet, Serah pulled him to his feet, and hugged him to her.

"No, but we will have our own child, yes? And we'll begin anew, where my family had started. Their deaths would not have been in vain. Their times were just….over. Do not fret over what was done, darling. Come…"

Serah's words were a lie, of course. She used Bastion as she used many others. His infatuation was convenient, as it served her purposes entirely. His seed would bring a legacy of powerful warlocks, not hindered by the insanity of inbreeding her family was known for.

She was doing them all a favor really.

Bastion Delaurac did not play through her game, however. As he had killed her family, he murdered her as well that night, snuffing the life from her body. Somewhere, in the rubble of the D'Mort Manor, a hand stirred as the insurgence of the D'Mort energies transferred, and fused a broken body together.

*********


Infatuations passed into death. Serah's hold on the man drove him to insanity, as she watched from the little orb he had locked her soul in. Months passed as she had watched him gratify himself with her preserved body, toy with her flesh, mutilate her, experiment. Until, lo and behold, poor Bastion Delaurac could not defeat the fact that he was still, miserably in love with her.

'It's just a little death, my darling,' Serah echoed from his orb, consoling the insane man, 'And I forgive you, I do.'

And so, the plan began again. Only, her body was too mutilated by her bitter lover to be of any use.

"What should we do, love?" Bastion could only speak, holding the orb delicately.

'A new vessel, first of all. Female…gifted with magical ability…'

"Well, there are the Handhours, love…the Blackwoods…the Adier'I…"

Serah cringed as his grubby hands stroked the glassy orb she was locked in. 'Ugh, no elves. I couldn't stand to be in the body of an elf. Tell me of the Handhours.'

"Yes, many daughters born of the line, I think. They are tied with the Dalaran mages? Yes…I'm certain."

'Stop cleaning me, Bastion,' Serah's voice echoed coldly. Bastion brought the little cloth way from the orb slowly.

"I'm sorry…"

'I know you are darling,' Serah's haunting voice was an odd sort of sweet. 'Bring a daughter of the line to our way of thinking."
"Unnn…?"

'Yes, darling. Break the spirit, and I shall be yours again when I take control.'

"Mine…again. Yes…oh, my Serah." Bastion sighed in longing, stroking the orb lovingly. "I'll return you, make up for all this, I promise you." He shook the orb a bit, a rage playing through his features, crazed.

"And you will be mine."

The weak, resonant voice answered back, jostled, "…yours." It was enough to calm the madman. 'Now bring me a body, so we can be together again. I wish to touch you once more…'

"In time, my beloved," Bastion smiled greedily, a glint in his dark, green eyes. "In time." Serah's orb was placed delicately on his desk, then, a cruel smile on his face. Serah could not help but bristle with pride---he would make a fine patron for the D'Mort Family.

"Bastion…"

"Yes, my love?" he answered back, just as he creaked open the door to his laboratory.

'Make sure she's a pretty one…'

A plop of water, echoing off the stone chamber walls broke Annaliese's jaded thoughts. Her gaze refocused on the murky waters she stood at the edge of. Silhouetted figures, long dead, floated within the underwater prison of the Upside-Down Sinners. They drifted so peacefully, chained as they were, yet their tormented souls screamed up at her for release, she could hear their wails, their sense of hopelessness, trapped in this hell. She drug one of the wretched souls, pulling upon the essence, and quieted it's agonized wails as she trapped it in a soul shard. A fountain of souls for the taking--the Dark Lord had gifted the Scions with a wonderful convenience with his claiming of the new Crypt.

Annaliese walked away, down the dark halls of the massive tomb, leaving the Sinners to their eternal torment. She would come again, in time. If only to distract her shattered memory once more with the taking of a damned soul.