Dear Journal,  
           I write this entry, not upon the sheets of your pages but in my consciousness as a brutally murdered and wrongfully accused soul from beneath the grave. Death was dark; a never ending abyss of nothingness. I was cold, alone and indignant.
                - 𝓔. 𝓢𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓮
(?)

Elias heard laughing.

If one were to explain to him what death would feel like, this would have been the furthest thing from his mind.

He had died but he was still conscious. Unable to move, unable to speak, unable to be. It was terrifying how his spirit remained in the dark limbo of the unknown.

Trapped within a decomposing body, he could feel the earth worms crawl into his ears, the insects trample upon his stretched skin and after a visit from the grave robbers who had discovered his foul-smelling corpse to rob him of 2 of his rings and his father's pocket watch, maggots had now began to infest his body after a very poor reburial.

His poorly dug grave had plagued the cemetery with the rotten smell of decay, causing the vultures to circle over head in the day time and commuters to take the long route over to the next town.

He remembered everything about his life and his death. It was easy for bitterness to infest his spirit. He was angry, angry at being killed at a young age for something he knew nothing about, angry the knights had abused his wife right before his eyes, angry he couldn't do anything about it, angry that the King and Prince would order such a cruel command on the people who supported him and most of all, angry he had died a man unworthy of his father's words.

Perhaps it was his anger that had kept his consciousness alive. He thought that maybe it was his rage that had ignited his sentience and this notion was enough to slightly quell the strange feeling of death.

The bizarreness of the situation however, was not his actively alive mind but the fact that he believed death was suppose to be quiet. And still, he heard laughing.

Elias had stopped counting after day 365 but throughout the year, the cackling grew louder each day. He had thought it to be the people from above ground enjoying their lives but no, this sound resonated deeper and the more he heard it, the certain he was that it was no ordinary human.

Over the days, the laughing was soon accompanied by whispers, causing Elias in his decayed state to believe he had finally gone mad.

"Young spirit," It whispered daily. "Finally! Someone will set me free."

These whispers became louder. So loud that their clarity could have fooled Elias into thinking he had said it himself. Someone or something was indeed speaking to him.

"Young spirit, I've finally gotten through to you." The voice rang in his head, cackling as it rejoiced.

"Wh-who are you? Where are you?" Elias thought.

"Well, I'm a witch but I am buried far beneath you. Rest assured however, it is not for long. I can help you, you know. In fact, we can help each other." The voice inveigled.

Elias was quiet.

"Tell me spirit, what is it that has kept you awake so long? Have you been wronged like I have?" the witch asked.

"M-my wife and I were brutally murdered by..."

"The crown. Yes yes! I can feel it in your soul. We are similar you see, young spirit. Say no more, I shall help you afterall. All you have to do is help me out of this hole," she said.

"Is that all?" Elias asked puzzled.

"It is," She assured him.

"Why were you buried? This doesn't seem right," Elias thought.

"Are you not buried as well? Or should I assume you a criminal like you have done me? Perhaps you would rather the both of us to consciously rot away here forever!" The witch cackled once again.

"Okay fine, I will let you out. Just please, help me. I feel as if I've been dead for an eternity," Elias admitted.

His words were immediately followed by silence and death was quiet once more.

After a moment, the strangest thing began to happen, Elias was able to move his fingers. Soon enough, his entire arm became mobile so he used the opportunity to thrust it above ground, flexing his fingers in the air. He groaned as he wriggled his way out of the dirt, his body finally obeying him.

As he rose from the earth, he inhaled deeply before releasing his breath with a sigh. The moonlight illuminated the lonely graveyard as it lessened the inky blackness of the night. His head swiveled from left to right as he observed his surroundings with wild astonishment.

Elias soon glanced at his hands, disbelief washing over him as he stared at his decayed limbs. His skin was black and rotten while his fingernails were missing from their positions.

Placing a skeletal hand to his face, he touched the sunken crevices that were once his cheeks before running his fingers across the spot where his nose once resided. He no longer had lips as his teeth were bare in his mouth. He was also aware that he was not breathing at all. He could not feel his heartbeat nor his pulse and this in turn made his mouth as dry as a bone.

He tried to stand but stumbled back to the ground, his limbs obviously no longer use to the action.

"Oh, young spirit," the witch sang into his mind, "My turn."

Crouching on his knees, he began to dig. Whilst doing so, he was impressed with how strong he was given that he had just risen from the dead. His boney fingers sifted through the loose dirt easily before grazing a solid object. He took care to uncover it beneath the soil, brushing the dirt away from what appeared to be a wooden coffin box.

His face made what he would like to believe was a frown before he forcefully pried it open, flinching as he witnessed rats running through the skeleton's eye sockets.

It was a corpse, he thought. Its grey hair a stringy nest ontop of its head. It wore an old tattered dress that made like a potato sack over its body and its hands were in thick metal chains that no longer hugged its wrists.

"Don't just gawk at my beauty! Help me up!" The witch chimed in his head, startling Elias.

Carefully, he removed the bag of bones from the wooden box and laid her onto the cold earth of the cemetery.

"Now, beneath the shallow dirt of that yew tree over there, you'll find a grimoire and a flask. Bring them over to my body," she said to him.

Elias tried to stand once more, walking slowly before eventually getting the hang of being mobile again.

He dug quickly to find the objects she had sent him for and brought them back to the skeleton.

"Turn to page 15. Recite the words you see and then throw the contents of the flask onto my bones," she instructed him.

"What is this?!" Elias demanded.

"Do what I say! You wont be able to hold that corpse form for much longer. I have to be whole to bring you back completely," she told him.

Elias hurriedly spun to page 15, squinting at the words in the moonlight. It was another language in which he did not understand.

As if she could read his mind, she began to encourage him. "Don't worry, read it slowly and pronounce the words carefully. Try not to make a mistake."

Elias began to chant, "id est ut numquam de vita et morte morieris in circulo magno. Odelina oriri! ex favilla iterum omnis terræ, et facti sunt."

"What is dead may never die in the great circle of life and death. Rise, Odelina! from the ashes of the earth and become whole again."

He then hurriedly poured the contents of the flask onto the witch's bones, watching as the thick, black liquid resembling that of poison flowed slowly from the flask on to the skeleton, steaming as it made contact.

The corpse was soon engulfed in smoke as Elias watched in horror and awe as it rose into the air, lost in a whirlwind of vapor. The trees seemed to stop and watch the phenomenon occur as the corpse eerily positioned itself vertical while the smoke subsided to reveal a woman.

With her hands still shackled, she tilted her head to the sky, her mouth spreading into wide smile. The mane on her head sat in black and gray tufts and her dirty, ramshackle dress flowed in the night breeze.

Slowly, she descended to the ground, landing on barefeet. She looked young and old at the sametime, late 20s at best, early 40s at worst. It was hard to discern with the type of vision he had now.

"Intermissum." She spoke, causing the shackles to break open from her hands.

"Free at last." she rejoiced. "You've done it, young spirit!"

"What are you?" Elias stared at her in horror.

He began to feel weak, falling to his knees as the familiar sensation of death creeped into his body once again.

"Ah, before I answer any questions, it's time to patch you up," she told him.

He watched as she used her sharp fingernails to slit her own wrist before approaching him.

"Drink," she instructed.

"What?" Elias asked confused.

"Do you want to live or not?" She asked, her furry eyebrows rising.

He remembered the feeling of being unable to move in the cold ground and decided it was something he no longer wished to experience. He no longer wanted to be apart of the earth, trapped in his own mind as his limbs failed to obey his commands.

Grabbing her wrist, he drank as the coppery taste of her blood that was tainted by rot and power flowed down his gullet. He felt no different than he did before but he did not stop until she withdrew her hand from him, holding his sunken cheeks into her hands as spoke above his head.

"Quid est ne forte moriatur in circulo magno vitae. Cum autem sanguis Vylisians, ut inmortuos ex mortuis facti sunt."

"What is dead may never die in the great circle of life. With the blood of the Vylisians, may the dead become the undead."

These strange words were followed by the witch blowing a strange, white powder into his face, causing Elias to fall to the ground as he convulsed in agony.

Shrieking in pain, he could feel his bones break and then reform while blood began to flow through his dried up veins once more, tingling and burning as it ran throughout his body.

His head pounded painfully as his chestnut hair turned black, like shadows on a starry night. His once green eyes were overtaken as they turned into the color of honey, a brilliant gold that seemed to pierce the darkness.

His body soon began to morph as his fingernails extended into long, black claws and his decayed skin regenerated to become smooth and refined. Previously absent, his nose had also reformed and straightened, while canines extended in his mouth, sharpening and glistening like a thousand newly forged swords.

The complete transformation left him bent over on the ground, his newly polished body adjusting to their surroundings.

"Young spirit?" The witch called joyfully.

His head snapped up as he raised it to the sky, letting out a piercing cry with his fangs bared at the heavens.

His breath was ragged after he had finished shrieking and he could now feel his heart pumping abnormally slow. His muscles had become swollen with strength and power began to flow through his veins. His soul was on fire and he felt invincible.

He looked down on his black, claw-like fingernails, gazing at his hands as his last silver ring began to steam and burn his newly formed skin. He whinced in pain as he quickly pulling it off to drop it onto the ground.

"What-what am I?" he asked as he stared in wonderment at the burn marks from the rings. They had slowly began to heal, leaving behind no trace of their existence.

"The word was coined from the Hungarian word vampir but the Vylisians of ancient Europe called themselves Vampires." she said, falling to her knees to face him.

"A reanimated body of a dead person believed to come from the grave at night to feast upon the blood of humans," she laughed, clapping her hands.

"I cannot believe it finally worked," she stared at him, awestruck.

She used her boney fingers to move a strewn of his long back hair from his face.

"You're perfect." she muttered, gazing into his golden eyes. Their glow was fluorescent and extraordinary in the dark, like a sea of treasure waiting to be discovered.

It was true. Every single imperfect thing that had been on Elias's human body had been corrected. His skin was as pale as snow and just as flawless, his crooked nose had straightened, his chestnut hair was now silky black and his jawline was toned and chiseled.

"I'm... a monster?" He looked down at his hands.

"You are not!" the witch protested. "You're immortal."

"I can't wear my ring." Elias said in panic, glancing at his silver ring in the dirt.

"They are silver are they not? I'm afraid that metal and the sun is your only weakness." she said looking at the ring as well.

"But I'm a silversmith!"

"You were," she corrected him.

"However," she started to say as she picked up the garnet gem encrusted ring. She spoke a few words in her foreign tongue before grabbing his hand to place it on his ring finger. "This one is the exception. It will protect you from the sunlight so never remove it."

Elias cursed as he stood up slowly, only it was incredibly fast. He looked down at his legs in disbelief, wondering what had just happened.

"Do it!" The witch told him. "Try to run."

He did as she said and sped over to the yew tree and back to face her in just a second. His speed exceeded all aspects of normal as it had become preternatural.

"I bet you could uproot that Yew tree as well" the witch beamed at him and Elias could swear the leaves of the tree howled at him as the wind blew roughly across their branches.

"How is this possible?" He asked her as he rubbed his throat. Even his voice had become deeper.

"Anything is possible with a little magic."

Elias didn't know if he wanted to jump for joy or cry. He didn't feel like himself at all but the feeling of who he was now was far from horrible. He felt powerful and unreal. But most of all, he felt angry.

"What do you get out of this?" He asked her skeptically.

"I get to be free," she said dancing and twirling around him, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

"So what do you want from me?" Elias questioned.

"I want you to be yourself. You've been given a second chance my friend and I owe you my life... literally. You're no longer Elias the silversmith, you are Elias the god. Go do what gods do!" She told him smiling.

"What exactly is that?"

"Bring down judgement," she answered.

She was right. The only feeling that had never left him from the moment of his death up until his rebirth was his rage. Also, he was experiencing a new feeling, a thirst actually. What he wanted now more than ever was blood , not only to quench his thirst but to paint the world red.