A Shadow's Weight
Chapter
A train glides across snow-covered plains. The dim glow of a town beginning to emerge from the dark horizon ahead.
(The “Danube Dawn”)
Corvus
- Stand straight.
Rubuska
- Mmh … ugh—ah!
A red ball tumbles from her head, unspooling a long strand of yarn that leads back to the knitting needles in the conductress’s hand.
Her scarred hands do not pause their work.
Corvus
- Twelve seconds. Again.
Rubuska
- Yarn is round … How can I balance a round thing on my round head for thirty whole seconds?!
Corvus
- By standing properly. You can at least do better than that.
Rubuska
- I’ve been keeping this thing on my head forever!
Corvus
- Stewardess Rubuska, I trust you have more than twelve seconds of self-control in you.
Rubuska
- …
Corvus
- This isn’t to punish you. I’m proving a point.
- A train steward’s duties are to patrol the cabins, maintain decorum, and provide service.
- They do not extend to telling stories of vampires, blocking aisles with inane chatter, or hanging upside down from luggage racks.
- Have I hired a stewardess or a bat?
She puts pointed weight on the word “stewardess.”
Corvus
- I expect you to study your handbook thoroughly, and above all else, that you keep your feet on the ground.
- Pick up the yarn, wind it back. I’ll begin the count again.
Rubuska
- … *sigh*
- But the passengers were all having so much fun …
She mutters the words under her breath, but nonetheless winds up the yarn, before returning the ball to her head.
The “Danube Dawn” churns a flurry of whirling snowflakes that rush past its windows.
Passengers doze, some write letters in the dim lamplight, and others fold creases into Christmas wrapping paper.
The stewardess-in-training rubs her sore neck as she slips through the cabin, pausing to lift a dropped blanket back onto a sleeping passenger.
With a yawn, all memory of her posture training fades, as her limbs and back droop into a comfortable tilt.
Rubuska
- Haaah … ahhh …
Aima
- Rubuska! The conductress let you go so soon?
- How did it go?
Aima holds an empty kettle. Her concern for the trainee’s progress is genuine.
Rubuska
- Mm … it could’ve been worse …
Aima
- Did she quiz you on the safety manual? Section Ten …
The two stewardesses whisper as they walk side by side down the aisle, mindful not to disturb the passengers around them.
Rubuska
- … Tomorrow she’s going to have me balance TWO!
- It doesn’t make any sense …
- Aima, did she ever make you balance yarn?
Aima
- Huh? N-no, never …
- But I have helped the conductress wind her yarn when she’s busy.
- No matter how late work runs, she always finds time to knit.
The young stewardess drops her gaze, as if caught in a peaceful memory.
Rubuska
- Why is she always knitting, anyway?
- Don’t tell me, she’s planning to make the whole train a scarf?
Her companion can’t help but giggle.
Aima
- She has much to handle in a day. The “Danube Dawn” wouldn’t be able to run without her.
- She once told me knitting gave her a chance to “wind her thoughts.”
Rubuska
- I’d say she’s thinking about far too many things …
She looks around at the roomful of knitted pieces, where even the tiniest ornaments on the table are dressed in finely stitched covers.
Rubuska
- No more hanging upside down in the cabins … I never want to balance another ball again!
- She’s always so busy. You’d think she wouldn’t find time to correct all of my “little mistakes.”
Rubuska reaches her desk and pulls out a stack of letter paper. One hand rummages for the lamp as she bites down on the cap of her pen and twists it off.
Aima
- Is she making you copy out the safety manual again?
Rubuska
- Mm … no, or well, that can wait!
- I’m writing to Annabelle and the others. I’m going to drop it in the postbox at the next station. I hope it will reach them in time.
Aima
- As long as you post it before noon, it should reach Budapest in … five days!
The young stewardess, ever quick with calculations, does the math in an instant.
Rubuska
- Great! I promised Annabelle my letter would reach her before Christmas Eve … Last time I told her the story of Arnold VI!
Letters were dropped into the station postboxes, and later replies came fluttering back from Budapest. Without realizing it, she had already told the stories of Arnold the Vampire I through VI.
Aima
- Well, then the next story must be about Arnold VI’s descendant—Rubuska I!
Rubuska
- … Eh?!
- Rubuska I?
Aima
- What’s wrong?
Rubuska
- N-no, nothing! Right … next comes the story of Rubuska I.
Her pen trembles, a drip of ink swivels over the page. But the writer reacts fast enough to keep it off her clean white paper.
The story seems to be stuck like dry ink in her pen until, at last, she forces it to flow.
Rubuska
- … Right then! Time to tell of the greatest vampire of this century, Arnold VI’s descendant—Rubuska I.
- Dear Annabelle …
- Rubuska I was born into a mighty vampire clan, a life of plenty, joy, and laughter.
- But fate tested her early, for her strength showed itself too soon … Hey, don’t worry; every vampire must face trials in their life …
Rubuska’s Mother
- My beloved, Count Arnold the Bloodthirsty, might I invite you to join us for supper? We intend to find a scrumptious human feast …
Rubuska’s Father
- Why, it would be my honor, my lady! We vampires have crept in the shadows of this new world for too long, and I can already smell their fear.
Rubuska’s Mother
- Oh, look who else has joined our table! Our most infamous young vampire—Rubuska!
Rubuska’s Father
- And this one too … another shadow to linger in the night, Kolyo! A most promising vampire indeed …
Rubuska’s Mother
- What a splendid age for our kind …
The smiling mother sets plates on a table covered by a worn cloth. On them: a spoonful of beans, sauerkraut, and chunks of boiled potato.
Kolyo
- Wow …
Young Rubuska
- *sigh*
- My lady, might I request something other than these … beans?
Rubuska’s Mother
- Why, my darling Buska, do you mean that you don’t care for these delicious tiny human livers? They’re good for a growing vampire. Besides …
A shadow slithers up the table’s edge, forming the shape of a rabbit, then a cat, a dog, a macaw …
The shadows come alive, circling Rubuska’s plate, pecking at the damp, gray-yellow beans.
Rubuska’s Mother
- See how the shadows love them? Feast, Buska, darling; it would be impolite to refuse such a bountiful gift.
Rubuska’s Father
- Indeed! Lady Rubuska, I know you must long for the days when we lounged in the finest silks and supped on only the most tender cuts of flesh.
- But to be strong, a vampire must have a rich diet, including these bea—tiny livers.
Young Rubuska
- Mm … you are right, my lord!
Rubuska’s Mother
- Much better, my darling! We must sup on more than blood alone to sustain an immortal life.
Rubuska’s Father
- Savor all of life’s many colors and wonders, my dear.
Rubuska’s Mother
- Eat well, my children.
The glow of her arcane skill fades, and the small shadows sink back into the threadbare tablecloth.
Rubuska’s eyes flit over her mother’s hand resting on her worn gold ring, then to the plate before her—once the finest china, now chipped and cracked.
The roof leaks, the table creaks, and in the corner lies the cramped and sagging bed they share. Yet it seems to mean nothing when she returns to the cheerful smiles of her parents.
Her home is smaller now, but it is still home.
Rubuska’s Mother
- In the still night, Arnold V prowls his lands …
- The beasts awake from their slumber, sniffing his outstretched hand, knowing his strength and his justice.
Tiny shadows flicker again in the worn gray corner, black silhouettes of animals hopping merrily through the dim room.
Rubuska’s Mother
- They leap and call from dusk to the breaking of daylight, and Arnold roams with them, bringing peace to all beneath the canopy of his twilight forest …
The children watch a Shadow Theater performance as they huddle together beneath the covers, lulled to sleep by their mother’s gentle voice.
But the sweet weight of sleep is ripped from them by the hammer of gunfire.
Young Rubuska
- Mама, it’s starting again …
Rubuska’s Mother
- Hush … my child. We must stay quiet.
Young Rubuska
- Will they leave?
Her voice is nearly a whisper tinted with fear. The gunfire erupts again, closer now, so close it seems ready to pierce the walls of their tiny sanctum.
Yet, even that whisper is enough for her mother to clamp a hand on her mouth.
The enemy has occupied their town.
Rubuska’s Mother
- Sleep now, child. Sleep.
The hammering continues, never frequent enough to become a rhythm, never rare enough to settle. She presses her hand over her daughter’s eyes. Her wavering voice whispering a promise neither believes.
Rubuska’s Mother
- It will be over soon … Very soon.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Rubuska
- But the end would come, sooner than we thought.
- Count Arnold VI and the Countess have, for now, fallen asleep …
Young Rubuska
- … Where’s Dad?
- It’s already dark. Why hasn’t he come home?
- Did he get lost in the forest? I hope not … Imagine the great Count Arnold lost in his own twilight realm …
Her mother sets down three plates as the girl giggles to herself. Each with a meager pile of “livers” that have gone from yellow to grey.
Kolyo
- Mама, the shadows, the shadows …
Rubuska’s Mother
- … Eat your dinner.
Her voice is thin and rasps with each word. No shadows come out to play.
A sudden, violent pounding rattles the door.
Young Rubuska
- !!!
Kolyo
- Mама …
Her hand shoots out to cover the boy’s mouth, muffling his frightened whimper.
Rubuska’s Mother
- Rubuska … quick! Take your brother and hide!
- Not a sound … Don’t you dare make a sound!
The words come out as a sharp breath; her face twists with terror. The pounding at the door grows louder.
Young Rubuska
- Kolyo, quiet … quiet …
Kolyo
- M-Mама …
Young Rubuska
- Come with me!
The woman’s steps are soft and shaky as she moves toward the door. Rubuska throws open their small wardrobe and tucks her little brother inside.
Young Rubuska
- Not a sound, Kolyo, not a single sound!
Kolyo
- Sister …
His eyes brim with tears as he is shut inside the cramped darkness.
There is no time for her to find a place of her own. So she crawls beneath the sagging bed.
The door gives way with a crack. Wind, the stench of gunpowder, and the smell of blood pour into the one-room house.
Rubuska’s Mother
- …
Garrison Officer
- Night patrol! Who is in this house?
Rubuska’s Mother
- Just me.
Garrison Soldier I
- Is anyone from the militia hiding here?! Answer honestly!
Rubuska’s Mother
- I don’t know anyone in the militia. Please, you’re looking in the wrong place.
From under the sofa, the girl hears her mother scream. She clamps her shaking hand tightly over her mouth.
The screaming stops. Heavy boots storm into their home, objects smash on the floor, doors and cabinets fly open.
Young Rubuska
- …
- Mама …
A strange face appears at the edge of the bed; she chokes. Yet, in the dark, wedged beneath the sagging mattress, she manages to avoid notice.
Two children, frail from hunger, squeeze into impossibly tight spaces. Escape their search, and by that, escape capture.
Garrison Officer
- Nothing. The bastard got away.
Garrison Soldier I
- Damn it!
The footsteps draw close to the door. Yet before it closes, a small sound cuts out from the little wardrobe.
Kolyo
- … hic!
Kolyo has never once complained about his beans. That good behavior may now spell his doom.
Garrison Officer
- What was that?
Garrison Soldier I
- There’s someone else in here …
Young Rubuska
- …
Boots rush back inside, closing in on the source. The small wardrobe is flung open.
Kolyo
- … Ah!
- M-Mама …
Garrison Officer
- A child …
Garrison Soldier I
- His son … No doubt about it.
- Take him!
Young Rubuska
- !!!
Kolyo is thrown to the floor. Rubuska sees it all, paralyzed with terror.
Young Rubuska
- Mама … Kolyo …
The door slams shut.
(Street, Combat Zone)
The militia launches a final desperate effort against the occupiers. But disorganized and underprepared, their attempt at liberation turns into a final massacre.
Rubuska staggers over once-familiar fields toward an outcropping, avoiding bodies that stare up at her with vacant eyes. Until, in the distance, she spots them. Her parents kneeling together before a line of men holding rifles.
Young Rubuska
- Dad …
- Mама …
Rubuska’s Mother
- Rubuska!
Young Rubuska
- Mама!
A soldier forces her mother back to the ground. She runs faster toward them.
Rubuska’s Mother
- Buska …
- Buska, RUN!
Young Rubuska
- Mама … I don’t want to …
Rubuska’s Mother
- RUN!!
Her mother’s eyes are two black pits. Muscles twist across her face. An image of dark horror, robbing every trace of warmth from her face.
She freezes in her step. She wants more than anything to run toward her parents; she doesn’t want to listen. Yet her body does what her mind cannot.
She feels herself stumble back, adrenaline surging through her veins as she turns and runs. Bullets pepper the ground around her, throwing up clouds of dust, followed by another deafening blast.
Young Rubuska
- Mама … Dad … Kolyo …
- Ugh …
- What should I do?
The town is burning. Smoke rises into the sky, and rain comes down. The thunder of war drowning out her thoughts and the screams of the dying.
She searches desperately for her brother. Only to come upon a scene of horror.
Kolyo
- Sister … my legs … I can’t move them.
Young Rubuska
- It’s fine, I’ll carry you, Kolyo. We’ll find Mама and Dad together …
Kolyo
- Sister … everything hurts …
Young Rubuska
- We’ll go home, Kolyo. Just don’t fall asleep! Please, talk to me, Kolyo …
She pulls him onto her back and carries him across the blood-soaked ground. Unsure of where she’s going, hoping vainly to find sanctuary.
Her brother moans with every step at first, until he falls limp and quiet.
She awakens in a jolt, unsure of whether from sleep or a daze, unsure even of the passage of time.
The night passes as she struggles toward home; her legs are bruised and sore, and her brother has fallen silent.
Young Rubuska
- Mама, Dad … Where are you?
- Kolyo, wake up, enough sleeping …
- No more beans tonight, okay? We’ll have some nice warm potatoes instead …
The air is choked with ash.
She studies the bodies lying in the filthy street, one by one, searching their faces, caught between hoping to recognize them and fearing she will.
Young Rubuska
- Mама …
She returns to the field. An old man lifts bodies onto a wooden pushcart, closing their eyes as he does. A childish thought comforts her. “They’re only sleeping,” she says—they’re only sleeping.
Young Rubuska
- Kolyo … let me set you down first, okay? I’ll have to find Mама and Dad.
- What would Mама say if she saw you lying about like this? This is no time for sleeping …
Corpse Collector
- Child, he is already …
Young Rubuska
- One second, Grandpa … What’s that, Kolyo? Yes, of course. I’ll put you down here …
His body slumps off of her like a stone.
Young Rubuska
- Now be good, little brother. I’ll be back in just a moment …
Her voice cuts off as her eyes catch on something in the old man’s cart—her parents lie there side by side. Eyes closed.
Young Rubuska
- …
Corpse Collector
- … Your parents?
Young Rubuska
- Yes, Mама, Dad.
Corpse Collector
- I’m sorry, child.
Young Rubuska
- What?
- Why are you sorry?
The words come out blank, without a tinge of emotion.
Corpse Collector
- They’re dead, girl.
A simple mistake for a human, of course. Those ashen faces and their still, unbreathing bodies.
Young Rubuska
- They’re not dead.
- They’re just asleep …
A chill runs through her as blood drains from her face. Bloodless lips tremble as she bites her tongue.
She kneels, letting her hands brush over each of their cold faces, straightening their hair and their torn clothes.
Young Rubuska
- Mама, Dad, Kolyo, it will be alright; just sleep for now …
The rain starts again.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
(Cemetery)
The cart creaks under its heavy load as it wheels toward a wide pit. There’s no space left on the cemetery grounds.
Young Rubuska
- Dad, you can sleep here. Mама on the right. And Kolyo … I know you’d choose the middle …
Her small hands clutch a rough branch, digging out a shallow spot in the pit; she can’t make it much bigger. But it’s enough, just like their old cramped bed in their shabby old home.
But as she lays them down, it feels different. There’s no warmth in this bed.
Young Rubuska
- It’s alright, Mама … Tonight I’ll blow out the candle for you …
Dirt falls over their faces, and she dutifully wipes it off. Her cracked hands not numb enough to deny the coldness.
Young Rubuska
- Oh … you’re freezing.
- Mама, we should’ve laid the quilts to dry in the sun … You always say everyone deserves a warm bed, even vampires!
- Now … wait, I know what to do!
She curls her arms into a cradle, gathering layers and layers of fallen leaves and twigs, anything she can use to cover them, until she can’t see their wounds.
It isn’t a warm quilt. But now at least, they seem peaceful, and the girl nods with satisfaction.
Young Rubuska
- Mm-hm! Not cold anymore, right?
- Mmh … Ah, I should sleep too …
- Mама, Dad, can I be in the middle with Kolyo?
She lies down in the pit, nestling herself into the space between their bodies. Remembering the snowy nights where they huddled together, safe and warm. Mама would tell her stories in her soft, sweet voice until they drifted off.
The night deepens. The girl closes her eyes with a smile.
(Farmland)
Kolyo
- Buska, the birds are pecking at our crops!
Young Rubuska
- Hmph … we’ll see about that!
The girl skips forward, then breaks into a dash over the field, startling a flock of birds.
Young Rubuska
- Stay away! Or I’ll deal with you myself!
The flock lingers overhead as the child below waves her small fists.
Kolyo
- Maybe the birds are just hungry …
Hunger is a feeling these children know well. They’ve grown up in the midst of war.
Young Rubuska
- But we can’t let them eat! They’ll leave nothing for us. Maybe once the harvest comes, we can share …
- But not now.
- Go on! Stay away from our crops!
The flock splits into smaller squadrons, diving back to the field. The children run hard, screaming and yelling to drive them away.
Young Rubuska
- Kolyo! Swing your arms, don’t be afraid …!
Kolyo
- Sister, they’re pecking me …
Young Rubuska
- I’ll help you!
- Go away! Go away! Stop eating!
Rubuska scrambles to protect her brother.
Young Rubuska
- If only there were four of me …
- Hm … four of me?
- That’s it!
She pulls out her flute and blows a note. Shadows rise up from the ground.
Young Rubuska
- Kolyo—don’t be afraid! I’m here to help!
Kolyo
- Haha … your shadow is sooo tall!
- There’s a Rubuska, and a Dad, and a Mама, and even another Kolyo!
Young Rubuska
- Hah … hah … I can’t make that many …
- Darn you birds, even pecking at shadows!
A sharp, acrid stench jolts her awake.
Young Rubuska
- Mmm … mm …
- Kolyo, Mама …
Young Rubuska
- It was just a dream …?
Her stomach gnaws with hunger as she adjusts her eyes to the light of day. Only to be confronted by a carrion bird perched on the ridge of the pit, pecking at her family.
Young Rubuska
- Ahh!
- No … no! Away!
- Go away! Go away!
She screams, flailing her trembling arms at the bird.
But the bird fights back, beating its wings and stabbing at her with its sharp beak.
Young Rubuska
- Ouch!
- No! No!
Staggering to her feet, she seizes a stone and hurls it at the bird.
Young Rubuska
- Don’t hurt my Mама!
- Don’t you ever do that again … Go away! Go away!
The bird dodges the stones and veers away, circling high above the cemetery.
Rubuska stands frozen in place, stunned. Reality presses in, inescapable.
Young Rubuska
- Mама … Dad …
- Kolyo …
- Wake up … Please, don’t leave me alone … *sob*
Corpse Collector
- You need to bury them, child.
The old man lowers his cart. Another pile of dead, taller than the last. The old man is hunched over, having exhausted his fading strength.
Young Rubuska
- Bury …?
Corpse Collector
- Yes. Their bodies have already begun to …
Young Rubuska
- They’re … they’re just sleeping!
She tries again desperately to plead for her family, not wanting to hear that awful word again.
Corpse Collector
- Ah, you poor thing. I know it’s hard to admit it.
- They’ll never open their eyes again.
- It’s the same for all these others.
Young Rubuska
- No, no, no … they’re not the same!
- They’re different!
She leaps up to protest, but her weakness pulls her back to the ground.
Young Rubuska
- We’re vampires. We can’t die …
Corpse Collector
- …
Young Rubuska
- I-I can prove it!
The girl pulls a flute from her pocket. Fingers trembling as she blows the first note.
Following her wavering melody, a shadow slides down to the pit, then rises up from their cold bodies, taking on three familiar forms.
“Rubuska’s Mother”
- Buska, my darling, why do you look so afraid, so sad?
“Rubuska’s Father”
- Lady Rubuska, do you not know this isn’t eternal sleep, but only a trial?
“Rubuska’s Mother”
- Of course. A vampire’s strength must be tested … My child, we need you.
“Rubuska’s Father”
- You need to rouse us from our slumber, to rouse us from this darkness.
“Kolyo”
- Sister … hurry, free us.
- Don’t let these birds peck at us anymore …
“Rubuska’s Mother”
- Rubuska, my dear Rubuska, my lovely girl … Mама loves you, loves you most of all.
“Rubuska’s Father”
- Dearest Rubuska, you must not forget us …
Young Rubuska
- Mама, Dad, I promise I won’t …
- Kolyo! I’ll never leave your side. Those birds will never dare touch you again!
She swears each promise in turn, but before her words are even finished, the shadows scatter, melting away.
Young Rubuska
- See! They can’t be dead. They can speak. They’re here.
- Death can never touch us. Never …
- Mама … Dad … Kolyo …
- I’ll find a way to wake you!
Corpse Collector
- …
- Ah. Child …
- If thinking this way helps you bear it.
He looks down at the poor arcanist child who has lost her entire family.
There’s no point in trying to comfort her. He just takes up his cart again and trudges away under the weight.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Rubuska
- And so, the great Rubuska discovered a way to speak with her kin, vampires enduring their trials in the darkness—through shadows.
- But this was only the beginning of her own challenge. Once again, she called on her uncanny wit, searching, sensing …
- Until at last she found a way to deliver them from the dark.
Orphaned Child I
- Mama … I won’t run off again …
- Please wake up, Mama, please!
Orphaned Child II
- Grandpa, they burned down the house. There’s nothing left.
- And sister’s gone too …
- Now it’s just me … Grandpa, what should I do?
The cemetery fills with more and more bodies, packed tightly together. Soon the dead outnumber the living.
Mourning floods in over mourning.
Mourning Father
- Penka … my son … ah …
- I’ll avenge you, I swear it …
Grieving Mother
- Sleep now, sleep, my dear …
- Go to that place where there’s no pain, where tears will never fall again.
Young Rubuska
- Dad! How did you lose your way in the forest? And how did you get out again?
- We waited for you five whole days … I must say, holding a feast without the great Count Arnold was most dreary.
- Oh, shh—yes, yes, I know. The venerable vampire count, lost in the woods … not the most dignified tale to spread, is it?
In the corner of the cemetery, her voice takes on a light, playful lilt as she speaks to the shadows.
Young Rubuska
- Now … you live in the shadows! That means we’ll never be apart again.
- Hm? Kolyo, you want your shadow to be taller?
She lifts her flute, and as the melody strings together, her “Kolyo” stretches up taller and taller.
Young Rubuska
- All right, all right! I know you’ll grow up big and strong, just like this …
She continues to grow his shadow, until “Kolyo” takes on the form of a young man. She can’t help but giggle.
Young Rubuska
- Mама … is this what our Kolyo will look like all grown up?
She lies down in between her family’s bodies, whispering softly to their shadows.
Yet one shadow stays silent. It is small, curled up in the corner, with long hair falling over it.
She chooses a clear day to cut away her long hair.
???
- “In the light of the blood moon, they rise and stride under the veil of night …”
- “Freely, they live, without fear of death …”
- “For through blood they live forevermore.”
The shadow speaks in a childlike tone, retelling the words of their bedtime story for what feels like the thousandth time.
The girl mimics her younger self, imagining the warm bed, the patterned plates slick with gravy, and the candle blown out at the story’s end.
“Young Rubuska”
- Mама, Dad, Kolyo … your souls will never fade …
- Not until the end of the story … and even long after the story has ended.
Young Rubuska
- Long after the story has ended …
- That’s right. As long as your souls are here, we’ll always be together.
- I swear … I’ll never let anything harm you again.
After driving the birds away, she gathers rainwater and berries, arranging a little feast for her family.
She eats only her portion despite her growing hunger and lies back waiting for sleep to overtake her.
Mourning Father
- … Wait. This one’s still alive.
- There’s a girl sleeping here!
Grieving Mother
- My God.
- Poor thing …
The firelight breaks a patch of the night. The sleeping girl stirs awake at their voices, sitting up warily.
Young Rubuska
- You …
- What do you want?
She sits covered in mud and dirt, hugging her knees, cheeks sunken, eyes like black hollows.
Mourning Father
- Child, I think … it’s time you said goodbye to your family.
- Just as we must too.
Grieving Mother
- Pray for them, won’t you?
- Pray their souls have already found peace …
The torchlight wavers over their closed eyes. Their bodies are still and rotted, but she cannot accept the plain truth.
Young Rubuska
- You’re wrong.
- Their souls are right here.
Grieving Mother
- Child …
The woman’s voice is calm and nurturing.
Yet Rubuska pierces the night with a sharp note. As a familiar desperate melody follows, and black shadows rise against the night.
In the glow of the flames, the outlines sharpen, like living figures standing over their lifeless forms.
“Rubuska’s Mother”
- My dearest girl … why do you look so afraid? Has someone disturbed our rest …
“Rubuska’s Father”
- Don’t be afraid, Buska. We can take care of things now. No one will harm you …
“Kolyo”
- Sis, I’m not scared of the dark anymore! Because now we live in it … I’m all black, see?
“Kolyo” waves his little shadow hand, curious and playful.
Young Rubuska
- Mама! Dad! No one disturbed me. I just wanted to tell them … your souls are still here.
Those who lost loved ones stand in silence, unable to comprehend the scene before them.
“Rubuska’s Mother”
- Oh, of course … my dear. The souls of vampires are eternal and undying.
- I may have embellished some of my stories … but that part is beyond doubt.
“Rubuska’s Father”
- That’s why loneliness can never touch a vampire, my child.
- And if you ever feel sad, we can always meet in this way … here in the place where shadow meets the light.
“Kolyo”
- Sis, even if we can’t hug anymore or keep warm together … we can still watch shadow theater and play hide-and-seek!
Young Rubuska
- Of course, Kolyo!
- Mама, Dad, Kolyo … you’re still here with me. You never left.
Grieving Mother
- Child … do these souls really … truly remain?
The three bodies have begun to lose their features to rot and exposure, yet the shadows she conjures feel vivid, alive.
But they do not speak, not really; she only shapes their voices with her own, mimicking their tones, as if all three souls were speaking from within her.
Young Rubuska
- We are a vampire family, you see. They just temporarily stepped into the night.
- But our souls can never be parted!
Pale and dizzy with hunger, she still speaks with total conviction.
Grieving Mother
- Then could you … help me? Could you bring my child back, let me see her again?
- Oh, my Milena … I just want to see her one more time. She was gone before I could say a single word …
She buries her face in her hands, weeping.
Mourning Father
- And my Penka. His body wasn’t even whole when he died …
- Who could do such a thing to a boy? He was only seven!
- Please, child … let me speak with him, just once more …
Orphaned Child I
- Please … I want my mama to come back too.
Orphaned Child II
- If only Grandpa were still here …
Their pleading eyes weigh heavy on the girl, pressing down like a tide. She is their last hope.
They do not ask for eternal life. Just one final moment. One last meeting.
“Rubuska’s Mother”
- My child, you should help them. There’s been so much loss here.
- I believe you can do it … You’ve already found a way to reach us again.
“Rubuska’s Father”
- Rubuska, this is why vampires are strong. We are united, and in that, we are eternal.
Young Rubuska
- Mама, Dad, you’re right.
At last, faint smiles and hope return to their pale faces. Before them, the girl stands as a symbol of salvation.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Young Rubuska
- One, two, three, four, five, six …
- Ah …
She takes on the burden, counting softly with a solemn expression.
Young Rubuska
- To call back souls that have strayed into the dark, I must understand them.
- And souls hide in shadows, so there must be enough light.
- When the moonlight hits their grave, they’ll find their way back.
Rubuska’s Mother
- Oh, Buska, you’ve inherited my skill with shadow. How wonderful.
For the first time, the child reshapes her own shadow, turning it into a crooked circle.
Young Rubuska
- Mама, I want to make animals too …
Rubuska’s Mother
- Hehe … my dear Buska, we must begin with the simplest things first.
A circle, a triangle, a table, a tree.
Under the candlelight, her little hands fumble at shadow shapes, painting with the darkness.
Rubuska’s Mother
- Play your flute, child. The first time I dwelt within your shadows, I did the same.
- Let them shift and leap with each note … so they might become what you love most.
The girl blows a note, then another. On the wall, shadows jolt to the broken melody, hopping with every sound.
Rubuska’s Mother
- Very good, Buska!
Young Rubuska
- Wow … hahaha! This is so fun, Mама!
- That’s Kolyo!
- That’s Dad!
She plays her melody, bending light and shadow, shaping all the things she loves most.
Young Rubuska
- And last is Mама … Mама.
Rubuska’s Mother
- Oh dear, Buska, do I really look like this?
Young Rubuska
- Mm … Mама’s face …
Rubuska’s Mother
- Rubuska, my darling …
- Look at me.
- Do I look like this?
- This. Is. What. Mама. Looks. Like.
The girl lifts her gaze. In the gentle yellow glow, “Mама“‘s brow splits open, revealing a dark red hole seeping blood.
Her face twists, muscles contorting, jaw clattering open and shut like a machine as it presses close to Rubuska.
Young Rubuska
- AHH!!!
Young Rubuska
- Ahhh …
- Mама …
Moonlight pours into the cemetery. She murmurs beneath its silver glow, walking past row upon row of bodies.
They’re already rotting. But the living wander beside their dead, clinging to a new hope.
Grieving Mother
- Child … might I see my Milena tonight?
Mourning Father
- It’s Penka’s birthday. How is he feeling now? Oh, how I long to see him once more …
Orphaned Child II
- Grandpa, I found my sister … She’s sleeping, just like you.
Orphaned Child I
- Miss … will my mama ever open her eyes? I just want to hold her again.
Young Rubuska
- …
She has come to know the lives, passions, and memories left behind by the dead and their unfulfilled wishes.
Day and night, she practices her arcane skill, preparing to call these wandering souls into new shadowy bodies.
Just as she had done for her family.
Young Rubuska
- I will. I will summon their souls and wake them again.
She climbs the tree. Though her hands and feet still tremble from weakness, she is light enough to pull herself up onto a branch.
She takes a deep breath and plays her seven-holed flute underneath the moonlight.
Her shadow spreads out beneath her like an overflowing pool, flowing into the silent bodies and slowly standing them up.
Grieving Mother
- Milena! My God … my child!
“Milena”
- Mаmа …
- Why are you crying, Mama?
Grieving Mother
- *sob* … Because you’ve come back, my darling. You’ve returned to me … You don’t have to be afraid anymore, Milena.
“Milena”
- Mama, everything was dark. It was so strange.
- I feel heavy and light, like I was here and gone. But now I’m inside the shadows … I wish I could hold you again, Mama!
Grieving Mother
- Milena, why not? I want to hold you, to hold you tight again, my dear …
She stretches out her arms, sharing a hollow embrace with the shadow of her child.
“Milena”
- Mama … this feels so nice.
Grieving Mother
- Oh … Milena, me too. Mama feels the same …
Mourning Father
- Penka! Penka!
- I’m here …
“Penka”
- Papa! Did you bring food for Tervel? He keeps howling, I couldn’t sleep …
The shadow of a shepherd dog happily circles beside the boy.
Mourning Father
- Penka! Tervel is still with you … So loyal!
“Penka”
- Of course! He was always right beside me!
Mourning Father
- Oh … you look well, you look … intact. I’m so glad …
- I couldn’t find your right hand. I hope you won’t be angry with me …
“Penka”
- How could I, Papa? I’m with Tervel here. We’re safe, and we both miss you!
Mourning Father
- Penka …
The man breaks down, sobbing.
Orphaned Child I
- Mama, I’m so scared … Will you come back?
“Mama”
- I will always be here for you, don’t cry …
Orphaned Child II
- Grandpa!
“Grandpa”
- Yordan! How’s our land … Oh Lord, let the rain fall steadily this year. These old bones of mine won’t be hauling water anymore!
- Don’t cry, child! I don’t need to eat or drink now, much easier that way!
Orphaned Child II
- You’re so silly, Grandpa …
In the graveyard, shadows stand tall. Through the girl’s mouth in the tree, the dead once again commune with the living.
Rubuska’s face is pale, her forehead covered in fine sweat. Even near collapse, she still pushes herself to maintain the shadows.
“Rubuska’s Mother”
- My darling, you’ve awakened so many souls.
“Rubuska’s Father”
- Newborn vampires! I doubt they ever truly knew a vampire before or imagined they’d become one themselves!
“Kolyo”
- Doggy …
Young Rubuska
- Mама, Dad! And Kolyo! You’ll never be alone again!
“Rubuska’s Father”
- Far from it! This place is livelier than ever! Even the balls at Castle Arges would pale in comparison!
“Rubuska’s Mother”
- I think it’s our duty to take responsibility, to guide them, to care for them.
- After all, our lives are eternal, and their path has only just begun.
Young Rubuska
- Yes! Mама, Dad, we must stay close together …
- No matter whether we walk in light or in shadow.
She sits in the tree, watching the shadows as they stir the hearts of survivors, giving them courage and hope to carry on.
Until a shot rips through the night.
Garrison Officer
- What are you doing here?!
The shadows scatter with the sound, dissolving into the night. And the living jolt in panic as if being ripped from a dream.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Rubuska
- And so, the great vampire Rubuska began gathering more companions.
- Together they resisted the darkness, resisted eternal slumber …
- They were close to victory! Of course, their trials would go far beyond this.
Garrison Officer
- What are you all doing here?
- Did you forget the curfew? Civilians are not allowed out at night!
Garrison Soldier I
- Hands up!
The cold muzzles of rifles are raised, aimed at the unarmed civilians.
Garrison Soldier II
- Step forward one at a time, no running! Keep still!
The soldiers raise their lights, checking the gathered people for any hint of rebellion.
Garrison Officer
- Hmph … suspicious.
Before they can approach, a sharp note cuts through the air as a shadow sweeps past them.
Garrison Officer
- Ahh!
Garrison Soldier I
- What the hell was that!
Young Rubuska
- RUN!!
- RUN!!!
Her words burst out from her perch on the tree.
The mourners freeze for a moment, stunned by the weight of the moment. Until at last they break into a desperate run, scattering, ignoring the rifles pointed their way.
Garrison Officer
- In the tree!!
- Aim there!
Gunfire erupts, but the black shadows throw off their aim. Bullets fly off harmlessly into the sky.
Garrison Soldier I
- I can’t see a thing!
Garrison Soldier II
- … Don’t let them get away!
The soldiers chase after shadows as they dart in every direction, giving the civilians precious time to escape.
Garrison Officer
- Damn it!!!
Garrison Soldier I
- Commander, I think these must be the bodies of their families.
Garrison Soldier II
- Ugh … they’re rotten, disgusting!
Garrison Officer
- They’ve just been here watching them?
The graveyard reeks of rot and death. The soldiers roughly prod at the corpses with their boots.
Garrison Officer
- Burn them.
- Burn them all.
The decayed bodies are piled together. Fire catches on cloth first, then hair, then skin …
Flames roar high, smoke billows up until it swallows the pale moon. The graveyard glows blood red.
Garrison Officer
- Wait for them to return. We’ll stage a lovely reunion.
Grieving Mother
- Milena …
- My child, I’m sorry …
Orphaned Child I
- Mama …
Mourning Father
- A pack of devils … damn bastards … they’ll burn in hell … my son …
Orphaned Child II
- Grandpa, the fire’s burning again …
- Just like when they burned our homes … now they’ve burned you and sis too …
- Everything’s gone.
The air fills with grief, hatred, and pain.
Rubuska retreats into the forest as the fire devours what is left of her family, the rising flames turning the graveyard into a hellish scene.
Young Rubuska
- You can’t just burn away the souls of vampires.
- No fire can. No fire ever could.
She affirms those words with complete conviction.
Young Rubuska
- They don’t need their bodies. Nothing can destroy them completely.
- Because their souls have entered the shadows, and shadows can’t be destroyed.
- “In the light of the blood moon, they rise and stride under the veil of night …”
- “Freely, they live, without fear of death …”
- “For through blood they live forevermore.”
She lifts the flute to her lips. Firelight dances across her face, and she plays a tune as it flickers.
Black shadows rise—one, two, three …
They stand in silence, remaining beside their loved ones in another form.
Her song becomes a requiem, mourning the perished and their homeland left in ruins.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
(Rubuska’s Home)
Young Rubuska
- What’s his name?
Mourning Woman
- Viktor … his name was Viktor.
- He loved yogurt, the sour kind with no sugar. I used to find him sleeping in the fields just after harvest …
- This was his hat. He never left home without it.
Her trembling hands clutch a felt hat charred at the brim.
Mourning Woman
- You can’t really bring him back, can you?
The girl raises the flute to her lips and breathes a short note. A small shadow rises slowly, wearing a hat.
Mourning Woman
- God above … Viktor!
- My child … Oh!
The girl who calls herself a vampire travels her town, “reviving” the dead with her arcane skill.
With so many lives lost to this war, people cling to the hope she brings desperately.
Yet in a world so choked with death, her “resurrections” seem like a fairy tale.
Widowed Elder
- This was her keepsake …
Orphaned Child I
- Rubuska, my mama … is she still okay today?
Grieving Mother
- Rubuska, I brought some food. Please, take it …
- My Milena can’t eat anymore, so at least you should. It would make her so happy to know you’re fed …
Orphaned Child II
- Do you need some buttons or hair clips? I found these … Take them.
- I even found oranges … Grandpa used to love oranges.
Mourning Father
- Rubuska! Is this the red potion you wanted? I found it!
- Take it, Penka and Tervel must be driving you mad. They never settle down.
- When Penka was little …
Her arms fill with offerings, and Rubuska stands there, at a loss.
People scour the ruins for food, medicine, scraps of their former life. All to pay tribute to the little vampire.
Some plead, some give thanks.
Young Rubuska
- …
Her mind stirs with familiar voices. Now, without even calling on her shadows, she can hear her family’s voices.
“Rubuska’s Mother”
- Take what you need, darling. Preserve your life. You’ve already brought so many souls together …
- You make us so proud.
“Rubuska’s Father”
- These are tough times for vampires. I can only imagine how much more difficult it must be for mere humans!
- If only it were not this way. This war is terrible indeed.
- Ah, but though we vampires are strong, it is a shame that so much has been put on your shoulders, my dear …
“Kolyo”
- Buska, you’ve become a real vampire queen!
- Just like Arnold V, everyone looks up to you. Right?
The crowd fixes their desperate eyes on Rubuska, waiting for her to summon her shadows again—to call forth the lost.
Her claims of being a vampire are an afterthought; they care only that they can see their families again. Truth and legend mingle in their grief.
Young Rubuska
- A vampire should never use her powers to bargain for favors.
- Your loved ones, like mine, already live inside the shadows.
- I give you my word!
- I don’t need these things …
Her eyes fall on the paltry food they’ve come to offer her, trying to silence the protests of her aching stomach.
Young Rubuska
- … Ugh!
- I’m not … I just …
The starving child cannot keep up her performance; she leaps into the crowd to grab the offered food.
Grieving Mother
- Eat, eat! Rubuska!
- You vampires can still eat human food, can’t you?
Mourning Father
- It doesn’t matter. You can’t keep starving yourself, girl!
- You’re still just a child!
Young Rubuska
- Child …
She whispers it, then hesitantly picks up a cold meat patty and takes a bite.
Young Rubuska
- Mmm … mmm …
- I haven’t had meat in so long …
- Th-thank you …
She takes the red potion and some food—enough to sustain her a little while longer.
Looking through the glass vial, the world before her bleeds red, and her eyes are stained the same.
She blinks once, twice, into a world turned crimson.
Garrison Officer
- Who is this “Rubuska,” the one they claim can raise the dead?
Garrison Soldier I
- All we know so far is that she appears around grieving villagers.
- The captives won’t say where she is, but this resurrection thing … they really believe it.
Garrison Soldier II
- Why don’t we just kill some of them then, to bait her out?
Garrison Soldier I
- She’s been clever so far … and those shadows …
Garrison Officer
- We’ve lost our share of officers to the militia. Perhaps this Rubuska can bring them back …
- We have to find her.
Garrison Soldier I
- We’re ready, sir.
The officer grinds his boot into the dirt, raising his voice.
Garrison Officer
- You had the right idea.
- If she shows up when people die, then we just need a few corpses.
- Bring them here.
Garrison Soldier I
- Yes, sir!
???
- That won’t be necessary.
A figure steps out from under the dark trees.
Young Rubuska
- It’s true—I can bring the dead back to life.
- But … only a vampire can be reborn.
- So when they return, they’ll return as vampires.
Garrison Officer
- I don’t care what they turn into as long as they can be of use.
He signals his men with a glance.
Young Rubuska
- …
A pistol lifts quietly, aimed at her small feet.
Garrison Officer
- Little girl, if you give us what we want, then we will reward you.
Young Rubuska
- Reward? What reward?
Garrison Officer
- Whatever you want, girl.
Young Rubuska
- Mm, I want …
Her words cut off, as if sinking into a greedy kind of thought.
BANG! A bullet bursts from the barrel, flaring in the dark night.
The shot is true. The figure beneath the tree drops with a groan of pain.
Garrison Officer
- Grab her!
Boots scrape hard against the ground. The soldiers rush in, but all they find is a fading shadow.
Garrison Officer
- …
Young Rubuska
- A vampiric “resurrection” can only be done on a bright night.
Her voice changes direction, echoing from far away.
Young Rubuska
- I will wait for you here on the next full moon.
- Don’t forget to bring the “reward” with you …
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
The full moon rises as a troop of soldiers marches into the cemetery.
Garrison Officer
- Keep your nerves steady. This “vampire” may try to trick us.
- Just remember! Those shadows of hers have no flesh to them. They can’t hurt you!
- She’s just a sly little brat. Now, we put an end to this.
He hisses out his orders.
All across the town, rumors spread of “the dead rising” in the cemetery, reaching even the soldiers of the garrison. Now bathed under the stark moonlight, the place is especially eerie and cold.
His words do little to calm his soldiers’ nerves.
Garrison Officer
- We catch her tonight.
- If we can’t take her alive, then we put her down.
His face twists, his voice a snarl through gritted teeth.
A single flute note splits the silence.
Garrison Soldier I
- She’s here!
Garrison Officer
- Don’t panic! Find her.
Garrison Soldier II
- Ah … Ah!
As the sound of the flute grows closer, the soldiers scramble to find its source, only to find something far more terrifying.
Shadows surge up like giants towering over the cemetery; they close in, looming over the soldiers below.
They grow until the cemetery is consumed by darkness.
Garrison Officer
- Steady, men. Do not shoot.
His voice is drowned out by the music and the panicked murmurs of his soldiers.
The dark figures looming above them suddenly crash down, forming into different shapes, covering every surface. The graveyard becomes a pitch-black hell.
A hell in which all their worst nightmares are magnified.
Garrison Soldier I
- Ahh! AHHH!
Garrison Soldier II
- Demons … demons!!!
Gunfire cracks, bullets shred into the dark, but find no purchase.
Garrison Officer
- Hold your fire! They’re only shadows …
???
- You’ll never become a vampire.
The officer keens his ears, trying to find the source of the voice; he fumbles for his pistol, but finds his hand trembling too much to aim it.
Young Rubuska
- You’ll only die in terror.
- The moonlight will burn your skin, the darkness will devour your soul, and even in death, you’ll never find peace. You’ll be cursed—tormented forever by the endless longing to be what you never can.
- I swear it.
Garrison Officer
- …
The officer empties his pistol in a blind panic.
Silence. The shadows stand unmoved among the graves.
Garrison Soldier I
- Huff … huff …
Garrison Soldier II
- W-what the hell …?
They thought they had heard wailing cries. Now, only silence. The soldiers pant, guns still raised, ears straining.
Only the wind answers.
Rubuska
- And so, the great vampire Rubuska was finally reunited with her family …
- And they had more companions. Together, they guarded their land so that no one could trespass there again.
- Once peace had returned to her hometown, Rubuska sensed a greater calling, so she set out once more …
Aima
- Wow …
Aima sits beside her, eyes sparkling in awe at the tale of Rubuska I.
Aima
- That was incredible …
- Clever, brave, and unyielding. Truly a remarkable vampire!
She praises her sincerely, warm words stacking one after another, until the storyteller’s cheeks flush red.
Rubuska
- W-Well, you’re not wrong!
- That’s the end of Rubuska I’s story. As for next time …
- Next time, what should I write about next time?
She puffs her cheeks and balances the quill under her nose, frowning in thought.
Aima
- It’s obvious, now you must tell them what happens to Rubuska I next!
Rubuska
- Huh? Next …
Aima
- Her adventures are still going on, are they not? So she will soon have all kinds of new adventures.
She smiles softly, her voice filled with warmth and encouragement.
Rubuska
- Huh, you’re right …
- It’s time for a new story … Oh! Aima!
She pushes the written letter toward her, her tone pleading and serious.
Rubuska
- This letter—will you help me make it better!
- You’ve already taught me a lot. I fixed all those spelling mistakes I made before!
- Heh … How did I do this time? Is it any better?
She gazes at her friend with eager anticipation.
But Aima simply slides the paper back.
Aima
- I don’t think it needs any edits.
- This is your story. The Story of Rubuska the Vampire.
- You should keep it just the way it is.
Rubuska
- …
Her lips curl into a smile—so sweet it warms them both to the core.
Rubuska
- But maybe you can look for any spelling mistakes …
- I’ll check it over one more time …
A knock comes at the door.
Aima
- Come in!
A tall and slender figure steps into their cozy room.
Corvus
- Isn’t it a little late for you to be up?
Aima
- Conductress, we’re writing letters! We’re going to drop them in the postbox tomorrow at the station.
Corvus
- You should both be asleep. I see my training hasn’t quite set in, has it, Rubuska?
Rubuska
- …
She presses herself flat against the desk, terrified another “special training” session is about to begin.
Corvus
- Relax.
- You think me a coldhearted taskmaster, don’t you?
She pulls out two pieces of knitwork in different colors.
Corvus
- I’m glad you’re still up. I wanted to give both of my best stewardesses … a special Christmas gift.
Aima
- Oh!
The seasoned stewardess pounces on the gifts. The white shawl belongs to Aima, the red to the newly promoted stewardess—Rubuska.
Aima
- Here, Rubuska! This one’s yours!
Rubuska
- M-Mine?
- Conductress, all this time you were knitting this for …
She recalls how she grumbled beneath that red yarn ball balanced on her head.
Corvus
- You should reread the section on “employee benefits,” Rubuska.
Rubuska
- I … I …
- Thank you, Conductress!
She unfolds the red fabric, but rather than a shawl, she finds it drapes much lower, like a crimson cape.
It may not be as grand as a true vampiric cloak, but it is warm and soft.
Corvus
- Merry Christmas.
Aima
- Merry Christmas!
Rubuska
- M-Merry Christmas!
She hugs the knitted red cloak tightly to her chest.
Rubuska
- I … I’ll never hang upside down in the carriage again.
- Cross my heart!
(THE END)