The room was empty and silent, bare of anything but the one coffin that was planted firmly in the center of the chamber. The dead silence was thick and suffocating. Not a single noise arose into the air, until there was a puff of dust and the coffin’s lid began to slide to the side. It screeched and cried as it was wrenched open, the spectacle of dust blooming into a swirling mushroom cloud that soon dissipated into the darkness. From within the confines of the marble tomb sprawled out thin phalanges. The flesh was pale and translucent, void of any color or blush. With stiff motions, the fingers coiled around the edge of the casket.

The woman within gasped for breath, choking on the dust which had settled. Cobwebs flitted delicately around her resting place, until they were swept aside by her trembling hands. At first she could not find the strength to move her entire frame, and so she sat breathlessly, staring into the void above her. Her mind was as empty as the room around her; frantically she clawed for some kind of sense, some sort of memory, but she could capture nothing. Instead she focused her attention on regaining some semblance of strength. If only she could rise from her sarcophagus.

She took a great breath, filling her lungs, her chest rising heavily as she finally pulled herself up. Her thin digits slid along the smooth marble, dropping to her sides as she heaved herself into a sitting position. Still her bones ached with the lack of use. She turned her neck to one side, listening as things within her cracked numerous times, before turning her neck to the other side, once again listening to the crackling of her bones. It took a little while before she gained complete control of her body, but when she did she let out a gentle sigh and raised herself completely out of the coffin.

Her bare feet met the marble floor gently. It was cold but did not affect the already frozen flesh of the vampire. She stood hesitantly, afraid that her legs would fold beneath her and that she would soon find herself face to face with the tile. She did not, though. She gained composure, even a hint of fluid motion as she crept through the darkness, her crystal blue eyes becoming adjusted to the dim light. Clumsily her hands searched the wall when she reached it. It was smooth and void at first, until her fingers coiled around an ornate door handle.

The door clicked open almost silently. The woman pulled it barely open, only an inch of room for her to gaze cautiously out of. A long hall lined with torches that were quiet and empty of flame met the girl’s vision. Her breathing increased, though she tried to keep it as silent as she could. Slowly she pried the door fully open, stepping out into the main corridor. A light breeze suddenly rustled past, lifting the thin edges of her white dress. She turned her skull, ebon locks of hair cascading wildly down her shoulders and breasts. Nothing stood behind her, nothing waited in front of her.

She began to walk down the passageway, her eyes dancing from portrait to portrait. Most were filled with treacherous displays of war and blood shed, but a few were of a man and woman. They looked happy, perhaps even too happy. A long mirror stood at the end of the hall, giving the vampire the first glimpse of herself. She paused, her fingers grasping the very edges of her dress. She lifted it up, turning her body as she examined her form. She was pale, with contrasting black hair and azure eyes. Her body was thin, giving the hint of malnutrition. Her ghastly expression was filled to the brim with the aura of death, and it very well should be. The woman had just awoken from within a coffin.

She turned slowly, spying a winding staircase that seemed to lead into more darkness. There was no where else to go, and so the vampire began to descend the steps, until her eyes fell upon a very large portrait. It was beautifully crafted and appealed to her better senses. Within it stood a man, his long blonde hair tied neatly, his broad smile brilliant and luminous against the pale skin of his lover. His spider-like fingers were clasping her shoulders tightly, his lips parted mere inches from her ear. The vampire stepped back, almost forgetting that she stood on the stairs. What was she doing inside such a marvelous painting? And who was the man holding her so lovingly?

And then it all came back to her.
The love.
The betrayal.
The murder...

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