I glanced at the mouth of the cave, where the children remained, staring at me with caution-filled eyes. Then I glanced back at the still figure of Coldhands. "I would've expected some measure of hospitality given," I led with a raised brow. I very much doubted our first conversation was to be had under the sky, with snow falling all around us.
"Guest rights are a human contraption, created to maintain order amongst themselves. It is not an illusion that monsters allow themselves. You are no human, and whether you are a monster or not is still uncertain, yet I'm determined to figure that out before resuming hostilities."
I hummed in response to Bryden's words as my hand instinctively came up to caress my goatee as I slipped into thought. There was a certain uncanny quality to the way he spoke. A disassociation with humanity and aloofness, which clued me into something. "I'm not speaking to Bryden Rivers alone, am I?"
I asked with a small smile that showed fangs.
Coldhands instinctively stepped back, the tip of his sword raising upwards in the slightest, then it wavered before dipping back again. There was silence for all of a minute, a silence I was completely okay with propagating as I stood, a black-stained backdrop on a field of ice, Isaac somewhere behind me, cloaked in a fur coat as he watched the Children of the Forest with empty eyes.
I noticed his strategic position. He was close to the dead bodies of the wolves he had killed, and he had his forge-crafting blade out, which meant that he was prepared, at the first sign of resumed hostilities, to immediately create night creatures to fight for him off the corpses of the dead.
"Who are you?" The words left Coldhands' lips finally, and I returned my full attention to the wight.
"You may refer to me as… Vlad," I responded. This was my first time openly admitting to this, yet there was a confidence in the way it rolled off my tongue. Somehow, I knew the name Dracula wouldn't have that same fluidity.
"My question remains unanswered. Who am I speaking with?"
Cold eyes stared back at me with those pitch-black eyes of his. I returned the stare with my own bright red gaze, and he flinched first.
"For a stranger from out of this world, you seem to know a lot." The voice left Coldhands' lips again. I attempted to shrug in response, a very human-like motion, yet instead, Dracula's regal instinct came forth once more, and I simply inclined my head in acceptance, before speaking. A lie came to my lips easily.
"Your world told me."
"What do you mean?"
"It means that the moment I breached through into this existence, in that bare, immeasurable second between reality and nothingness, I had a glimpse into the truth of this world. An idea into it. The physics, the greater powers at play, the building blocks of this world. However, like I said, it's only an idea. A vague, broad thing. What little I know does not account for the greater details that give such knowledge nuances. For example, I know of the Old Gods, and the Great Other, but that is all my knowledge affords me. A broad idea. That is why I'm here."
I took a brief, unneeded pause for breath, and in that second, I watched Coldhands, the stillness of his frame, the buzz of the magical presence that surrounded him, confusion. Then I continued. "I require a… teacher. An advisor. One that would assist me in understanding this world of yours better. I deem that figure to be you, Bryden. You who art the avatar and the connection to these Old Gods."
The wight that both the Old Gods and Bryden used as a mouthpiece remained in place, thinking and weighing both my words as well as my actions so far. I was an outworlder; that part could barely be hidden. I'm certain Bryden was not the first or the only person aware of my entry into this world, but no doubt he would be one of the few close enough so my outworldly presence could not be hidden.
My story about how I got my knowledge was a bit more finicky, but unless he knew some other person who had breached into this world, he could hardly refute my words. Doubt it, sure, but it is a doubt that he would keep to himself. After all, he could barely argue that part. Magic did a lot in hand-waving a lot of things.
At last, the trinity that was Bryden, Coldhands, and the Old Gods must've finally come to a decision, because they immediately sheathed their sword. And as I watched that sword slip back into the scabbard, I felt a slight pain in my chest. There goes the beautiful Valyrian sword, yet I held back my urge to steal the blade and run off. I would have my chances to get other Valyrian swords.
"You ask who you speak to, yet you have a good enough idea already. We are Trinity. The Old Gods of earth, stone, and rivers, as well as Bryden Rivers, Bloodraven and we have come to an accord. The question as to if you're a threat remains. However, the possibility that you might be of some aid cannot be denied or ignored. Henceforth, we shall tentatively cooperate and hold a longer discussion, but not with the Old Gods present. Their's is an amalgamation of consciousness, and such a thing wears on the body. I bid thee farewell, outworlder, and hope your coming doesn't herald even longer night and shorter days."
Just like that, the Old Gods were gone, yet they remained. Now that I had a sense for their presence, I could sense them all around me. Dracula's magical senses, something I had still not gotten used to, could sense them. In the very air itself, in the stone beneath my feet, the outcroppings all around us, the trees scattered outside the clearing.
Almost like Castlevania
"Master Dracula. The little ones are moving," Isaac called out, an act that dragged my attention back to the mouth of the cave, where the diminutive creatures that were the Children of the Forest walked out carrying two well-carved pieces of logs between the four of them.
A clearer sight of the Children, compared to the previous night vision image i saw previous confirmed a suspicion that had been growing. This was not the ugly, diminutive men and women that served as the Children of the Forest from the TV show. The figures before me were clearly inhuman and could hardly be mistaken for diminutive humans. Not with their tilted ears, their rabbit-like noses, or their cat-like eyes and fur-dappled skin. One even had the balls to hiss at me like a cat, revealing canines that were fit to be on some kind of carnivore.
The Children of the Forest were probably a far more literal label than I'd originally assumed. They shared traits from every natural creature in the woods, predator and prey alike. Their bodies were subtle amalgamations: the shimmer of owl feathers beneath cloaks woven from moss, the cautious twitch of a deer's ear, the slit-eyed gaze of a hunting cat. Even the forest floor clung to them, twigs, dry leaves, knotted vines poked out from their hair and tangled around their rough-spun garments as if the woods themselves were reluctant to let go.
"A wonder, are they not?" Coldhands said, his voice carrying a strangely human warmth now as he moved to sit where the Children had placed the logs. "A beautiful race… driven near extinction by humans."
His words trailed off, fading like mist as he watched them scurry and flit about, never too far but never close. Two stayed near him, cautious but curious, sniffing at him the way half-wild dogs might sniff at a burnt offering, eyes darting often to me. There was no curiosity in their gaze when it came to me. Only wariness. Ancient. Instinctive.
"Humans," I muttered. "An unsightly group, sometimes. Yet… every so often, something beautiful emerges from their ilk." I moved and took my place on the opposite log, which still allowed me to loom over every figure present.
There was venom in my words at first, resentment sharpened by time and decay, but by the end, it bled into something else. Not hope. Not quite regret. Just… weariness.
He glanced at me again, frowning ever so slightly. "You're not a great fan, I take it?"
He'd picked up on it, on the tired hostility in my tone, the low disdain woven into my words. Or more accurately, Dracula's tired hostility. I let out a slow breath, shaking my head.
"I possess my share of reservations," I admitted, eyes tracking the Children as they vanished and reappeared among the roots and brush. "Their hypocrisy. Their bullheadedness. The sheer stupidity that makes you wonder how they survived long enough to reach the top of nature's food chain. And then…"
I paused, letting the fire crackle between my thoughts.
"…then you watch closely. You observe. And you realize that's not all they are. There's something else. Something buried under the rot and blood and failure. They create art. Build gods. Defy death. Sometimes," I said, my voice lowering, "they even love."
Coldhands was silent. One of the Children blinked slowly at me, unreadable. I didn't know if they understood me, or if they felt me. But they hadn't fled, and so far the only Child of the forest conversant in the old tongue was Leaf, who had disappeared after her brief speech.
Coldhands finally spoke. "You sound like someone who's lived long enough to see both the worst and the best of them. Which begs the question…" His eyes narrowed slightly, mist curling from his mouth in the frigid air. "Which one of them hurt you more?"
I didn't answer immediately. My gaze drifted back to the fire.
Lisa's smile. Her body strapped to a cross. The jeers. The insults. The fire. Her screams.
I'd felt that. Even if it wasn't my pain at first. It was mine now in an intimate way. From the moment I accepted the name Vlad.
Eventually, I said, "That's the wrong question."
Coldhands tilted his head.
"It's not about who hurt me," I clarified. "It's about how many times I forgave them for it." My lips curled slightly, not quite a smile. "There's a cruelty in humanity, yes. But there's something far more dangerous than that: hope. Hope that they'll learn. That they'll change. That they'll rise."
I almost felt Isaac twitch in response. Good. The speech was for him just as it was for Bloodraven. He didn't have an all too wise Night creature to whisper sense into his head, which just meant i had to do it instead.
Coldhands grunted thoughtfully, as if turning the idea over in his half-dead skull. "Sounds exhausting."
"It is." I leaned forward slightly. "But I'm not entirely human anymore. And hope is a hard thing to kill."
At that, one of the Children stepped closer.
It was small, barely three feet tall. Its limbs were bark-like and delicate, but moved with the grace of a cat, each step barely disturbing the snow. Moss grew along its shoulders like epaulettes. Its eyes were huge and almond-shaped, a dull green glowing from within, like trapped starlight.
It stopped just a few feet away and stared at me. No words. Just raw, pulsing awareness. A silent test. So I met its gaze without blinking.
"You feel it, don't you?" I said softly. "The castle. Me. Whatever strange thing I've brought into your world."
The Child tilted its head. Then slowly, it reached out, not to touch me, but to hover a knotted, twig-like hand near my arm. I let it. I didn't move. The air shimmered faintly around us. It was magical. It was as if the forest itself were holding its breath.
"They know you don't belong," Coldhands murmured. "But they also know you're not a threat. Not yet."
I turned to him. "You said yet."
Coldhands nodded solemnly. "Everything becomes a threat in Westeros, eventually. Especially to them. The Others were never a threat till they became one. The humans were never a threat till they became one. Now there is you..."
The Child lowered its hand and stepped back. Still watching.
No fear. Not like the others. Just… curiosity. Wary curiosity.
That was a start at least. It would've hurt to know that such an interesting magical species was wary of me, when all I wanted to do was to see more of them.
I slowly rose to my feet. "Tell them," I said, my voice low but steady, "that I'm not here to steal their woods. Or cut down their trees. Or burn their gods." I remembered clearly how the war between humans and the Children started on this world.
"Do it yourself. Most of them do not speak the Common Tongue," Coldhands replied. "But they'll understand your intent. They always do."
"And if they don't?"
"Then I'll try not to be too surprised when a tree tries to shiv you in your sleep."
I gave a dry chuckle at that. "Fair enough."
The Child turned and vanished back into the shadows, absorbed again into the underbrush like a wolf at home in the forest.
Coldhands stood too. "You've made a small impression among their ilk. That's not easy."
"Impressions are cheap," I muttered as I further tracked it with my enhanced senses. "It's trust that's expensive."
Then I turned back to Coldhands. So far, we had managed to build some form of rapport, which was good. He had also eased somewhat, which was a telling sign. "I assume I'm speaking to Bryden Rivers now, correct?"
Coldhands nodded slowly before replying. "Although Bryden Rivers is dead. All that remains is Bloodraven. You may simply refer to me as Coldhands, as you already have. It is an interesting name. I would have invited you into the cave, but your presence might very well unravel the wards that protect me from the Others." Then he looked to the distance. "You've already led one of their creatures here, unknowingly or not. And I fear it shall return with one of its masters or more."
My brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"An Ice Spider followed you. When they will it, they're near invincible to the physical, and camouflage extraordinarily well. Especially if you don't know what to look for."
"Oh, the creature doing all the chittering? I assure you it is dead by now."
Coldhands smiled at me. "If it were, your strange flying beast would've returned by now."
My eyes widened in realization, before my head snapped to the side at Isaac. He had been close enough to hear the conversation, and with a single look from me, he moved immediately, jumping on his nightmare horse and galloping into the night.
"I appreciate the effort, Vlad, but it is a wasted one. They were bound to find me sooner or later. I've seen it. The comet in the sky means they will be more active now, as the Great Other wakes and magic returns to the world." Then Coldhands looked away from the sky and the still glowing trail in the sky to turn to me.
"You say you have come to learn. Unfortunately, I have little to offer and even less time to do so, as I am incapable of movement, and skinwalking into Coldhands for too long is not… safe. Fortunately, there is another coming that would take my place. I shall guide him to you, and he shall expose to you broader mysteries than what I can offer."
I nodded in response. I had a vague idea of who he was talking about. The strange and unkempt man that had been scrying me when I stood above Castlevania's rampart. He was not a figure I recognized. "So what can you tell me then?"
"I can tell you about the great evil, the Great Other, and the Others that serve him. I can tell you of the Old Gods and the magic of these lands. All I ask is a single favour."
I blinked scarlet eyes, then nodded in response. "Speak."
"Whatever your machinations, whatever your plans for this world, whatever you seek to do. Leave the Children of the Forest out of it. They are old, and they are few. Allow them to go gently into the night."
I stared back in silence. It was a difficult ask, and a painful one. What had the species suffered so? What had they endured during their long lives as caretakers of this world? What had been their reward? Extinction and extermination two times over. Was it really such a difficult ask to tell me to leave them alone? Yes, it was. They were my first magical species. A curious group of beings, yet I could hear the pain in Coldhands' voice, so I nodded in response and replied in a somber tone. "I promise you."
Black eyes stared into red once more and must have seen the truth of my words, because they nodded in response. "Thank you."