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Martyn didn't know how it went downhill so fast.
For a second, the two sides had seemed evenly matched. However, as more and more of them fell to natural deaths or to the dark curse, the town's strength had dwindled. Until finally, it seemed almost inevitable that this day would come.
Ren hadn't let go of Martyn as they ran out of town, past the burning remains of the gate and walls, past the swarm of bats chasing down Legs, past Apo and Owen's fight until they were in the woods.
Even then, they could still hear the laughing, still feel the watchful eyes of the vampires. It wouldn't be long until they were found.
Eventually, they stumbled into the crypt, both shaking.
"I think we lost them, Specs," Martyn said, panting. Ren just nodded, too tired to speak. They both slumped against different walls. It took a second, but they both finally regained their breath.
"Not for long," Ren said. "They'll know to check here eventually, dont'cha know."
"We can fight them," Martyn said.
"I cannot, since I did not have time to grab my stakes."
Neither did Martyn. He had been chopping lumber when the attack, started. The axe wasn't even silver, just stone. Crude at best.
"What do we do?" Martyn asked. They could surrender, but he doubted Goldsmith would be in a merciful mood. And even then, was being turned into a vampire even a mercy? They could go down fighting.
"Did anyone else make it out?" Ren replied.
"I didn't see Pearl in town," Martyn muttered. Cleo had probably gotten her to leave, maybe even negotiated her safety with the vampires. Martyn cursed them in that moment, that they wouldn't go through the extra effort to protect the whole town. Then again, maybe Cleo had tried. He didn't know.
"I don't think it's safe to look. We don't know who's been turned." Ren said, and Martyn nodded.
"So then we wait?"
"I guess we wait." Ren agreed.
They both walked deeper into the crypt. Maybe the vampires wouldn't look in there fully, and it would buy them some time. Or maybe the book in there would have the key to their salvation.
It was a force of habit to look through the chests, looking for the books. Ren took one side, Martyn took the other. Empty chest after empty chest greeted them, and Martyn felt himself begin to despair. But he couldn't yet. Not now.
That's when he opened the last chest and saw the book. Now, Martyn had gotten his hands on many of the crypt books, and had seen countless more, but he had never seen any like this. The cover was made of soft leather, and embossed with gold. There was a discoloration on the side, and Martyn realized that it was dried blood, in the shape of a hand. As Martyn picked it up, he felt the rush of power, both familiar and not.
"What is that?" Ren asked, seeing the book in Martyn's hands.
"I don't know, Specs." Martyn set his ax down, and moved closer to a small patch of light to read the title. "The Kingdom of Dogwarts. Ever heard of it?"
"There have been many kingdoms in years past, dont'cha know." Ren said, and Martyn opened the book slowly, almost reverently.
But the entire book was not written in any language Martyn had ever seen, and he considered himself a worldly man. Characters that swirled into each other and seemed more confusing the more he tried to identify them. Page after page he turned, trying to find something intelligible. He knew it was stupid, but there weren't even any pictures. For all he knew, he could have been reading an ancient grocery list.
Then he found himself stopping on a page that he could understand.
…And for the king, he laid at the altar, kneeling with his head bowed. The hand raised his ax, and declared that Red Winter would arrive, then he severed the head from the body of his king.
"Well, that's bloody," Martyn remarked.
It took a moment for the Red King to rise, but the hand was not afraid, for he knew that Winter was inevitable. But rise it did, and it brought with it a power the land had never seen before.
And under the words was a great illustration of the act, with little labels. "Why would we be receiving this book now?" Ren asked, and Martyn understood.
"It wants us to re-enact the sacrifice." Martyn whispered. He didn't want to say it at first. It felt absurd. But he knew it to be true the moment the words left his lips. And based on his expression, Ren realized it as well. They both stood there for a moment. The crypt felt sinister now, as Martyn realized that they may well be caught between two powers, both for whom loyalty was paid for in blood.
"You should do it," Ren said, breaking the silence. "Swing the ax."
"I can't," Martyn said on impulse. He could kill in the heat of battle, sure. But like this? To Ren?
"I would rather be dead than a creature of the night, Woodhurst." Ren got onto his knees and looked up at Martyn.
"But if it doesn't work, then you'll leave me alone." Martyn said quietly. He didn't know where that came from, but he felt the pain in his chest so viscerally he could barely handle it. He didn't want to be alone.
"Please." Ren's voice was calm. There was no waver in his words, no sign of hesitation. In his eyes, there was only peace. Acceptance.
Martyn closed his eyes, and grabbed his ax. He took in a breath, and raised it high. In the distance, he could hear voices. He had to act quick.
"Red Winter is coming," He whispered, and he felt a power flow through him. His hand went cold, and the handle of the ax felt like it was made of ice. Red winter better come, whatever it was.
Then he swung down.
Martyn was no expert with the ax, and it took him two attempts to sever Ren's head from his body. He had closed his eyes the first try. He heard footsteps. Vampires. Shelby and Pyro. They sounded excited.
Ren lay there for a while, head staring into nothing, and for a moment Martyn doubted himself. He stared at the cracked glasses on the floor of the crypt, and the growing pool of blood. Had he just done this for nothing? Given the vampires a free meal? It was nauseating to think of Ren as little more than food.
That's when he felt the temperature drop.
Immediately, Martyn tried to use his fire abilities, but he found they were unable to be activated. Something was stopping them, and he think he knew what. There was a howling in his ears, like he was in the center of a blizzard. Red Winter had arrived.
Slowly, Ren began to sit up, blood still dripping from the stump where his head once was. Then, it grabbed the head and lifted it high. But it didn't look like the Ren Martyn knew. The skin seemed almost translucent, his extremities tinged blue with frostbite. And as the head was lowered onto his neck, Martyn saw the crown. It was made of pure gold, and there was blood dripping into his hair, which was still tinged with gray.
Shelby and Pyro stopped at the entrance, staring at Specs— no, that wasn't Martyn's friend any longer— as he stood up and approached Martyn.
"What threat faces us today, me hand?" His voice was calming, invigorating. It was the first cold snap and the fire awaiting at home. Martyn wanted him to never stop talking.
"Vampires, me lord." The answer came naturally to Martyn.
"Vampires?" The Red King laughed and extended a hand. "Well then. Let us show these creatures what the true meaning of cold is."
Martyn took the king's cold hand in his, and grabbed his bloodstained ax, though he doubted he would need it. The overwhelming feeling of winter pervaded the room, embracing all who entered it.
It was cold, and it was merciless. But in a strange way, Martyn felt like he was home at last.