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ARCHIVIST
Statement of Lady Cleo Somby, regarding her teenage years, amd time as a 'thrall'. Original statement given October 17th, 1994. Audio recording by Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.
Statement begins.
ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)
I know you don't believe in vampires. I know this whole facility doesn't, and, frankly, I don't care whether you believe or not. You can go and burn this letter for all I care. But I want to get this statement out there, so that at least someone has a record of this happening. Maybe then I can finally move on with my life.
I was not a normal child. Growing up in a vampire coven would do that, wouldn't it? An aversion to crosses, a preference for staying indoors during the day… A taste for blood… I'm not trying to pretend my life was normal before all this kicked off. But I need you to understand that all of this… This was not how things generally were for me.
I was not a normal child, but Mother gave me as normal a life as I could have had, given the circumstances. I was not her biological child, I need you to know this. I don't know how she came in possession of me, but when a Coven Leader wants a child, she will have one, by any means necessary. She loved me, but in the kind of way someone loves their favourite pet. No matter, it was the closest thing to a proper parent I could have, given the circumstances.
I can still remember the day it all changed vividly. The one day that time didn't wear the memory down, because I replayed it in my head so many times. Maybe now it won't be burned into my memory.
It was a sunny day, on the day it happened. For most, that's a good thing. Sun means fun, a nice day. For me, it was always a foreboding sign. I was used to clouded over days, where those from my coven could come outside without getting burned. A sunny day was a rarity. I suppose that was a sign.
Mother had been acting strange. She called me over, and told me to stay indoors tonight, and to make sure to feed the cows. I, stupid and young, agreed. I didn't think anything of it. I fed the cows, made sure they were extremely well-fed. Rich and plump. A good meal. And then I went home, and sat inside as the sun disappeared below the horizon.
An amber glow filled my window. One that hadn't come from the sunset. It was stupid to leave the house. Although… I suppose it wouldn't have made any difference either way. It just sped up the entire stupid process. The cobblestone path of the village was cold, but warmed up significantly as I got closer and closer to the source of the blaze.
Closer to that pyre.
I don't remember what he said to her. I was much too young to remember specific details like that. All I remember was seeing Mother tied to the pyre, and screaming out. I tried to untie her. But… I never got close enough.
Aric, and his Blood Cult made sure of that.
Long, clawed hands grabbed my arms. I remember blinding white smiles, and Aric saying… Something. I couldn't tell you what.
Not when the next thing that happened was his long nails digging into the back of my skull. Not when his nails on his other hand slid across his neck, drawing blood. Not when my face was pressed to the wound.
Becoming a thrall is not an experience I'd recommend. It's… A slow process. By drinking a vampire's blood, they become your master. And when a vampire is your master, they can make you do terrible things.
The foreign blood disappeared down my throat, and I knew something was wrong. It tasted… I don't even know if I can describe it. A sensation of something else falling through your body. A seed taking root in your stomach, strings gripping your insides. Twisting intself inside your body, solidifying into iron, until your insides aren't your own. Nothing's your own. The more I drank, the less I could think. It was like… A cloud had drifted into my mind, and as my body was becoming less and less my own, my mind was being gradually dulled. A cloth placed on top, to stop me struggling.
I struggled a lot, to begin with. I tried desperately not to drink it. But it was no use. I wasn't in control anymore. I couldn't… I couldn't stop it.
When Aric let me go, the iron in my veins stopped me from running away. I wanted to scream, to cry. I was only a child. But everything felt so heavy, and I heard a voice echoing in my head. Reverberating in my skull, telling me to stay still. To smile. To wave goodbye to Mother. To take the torch I found being handed to me, and to throw it at Mother. And, to my horror, I found myself doing just that.
The next eighty years—yes, eighty—were some form of torture. After Aric had killed Mother, he and his Blood Cult took over the coven. Every day, I found a knife in my hand, and Aric's voice telling me to kill the poor soul in front of me. I didn't want to. I really didn't want to. But when your body is moving without your meaning to, and you're exhausted, every inch of you fighting but to no avail, there's not much you can do…
I won't try to guess how many people I killed. One person a day for eighty years… That's a lot. And I remember every single one. Every single fearful face. Every single tear, every single scream. Every single plead to be spared. Every single drop of blood from their corpse. Every single fang that then peirced their skin to drain the blood. Every single bowl of blood I got as pity.
I tried to fight. I tried not to. But the more I struggled, the more I tried not to listen to Aric's voice echoing throughout my mind, the less control I had. I was terrified. For every day of my life. To watch yourself do horrible things, to see your own hand hold a knife, and to not be able to scream, to stop yourself from plunging it in, breaking flesh and causing blood to come spilling out… It's not an experience I'd wish on anyone.
I am a monster. And I know that. A murderer. But I am not as much of a monster as that feind who took my Mother's life, and reduced me to nothing more than a passenger, an audience member for my own life. Do what you like with this statement. I know your institute doesn't like to admit vampires exist. But if this brings anyone any closer to stopping the likes of Aric and his Blood Cult, then I'll have counted this statement a worthwile letter. Or, maybe it'll just be a useful story for your Eye to consume.
Cleo
ARCHIVIST
Statement ends.
If this statement is to be believed, it appears the Mother of Puppets has been working with Trevor Herbet's vampires! This came from a small town in the North of England, named Oakhurst. I will admit, this is not the first statement I've found regarding vampires in Oakhurst, though this is the first that didn't directly corroborate an… Incident that occured there. It appears Lady Cleo did not wish for any further communications with the Insitute, as there is a strongly-worded letter here that mentions contacting them further would result in 'serious consquences'. Accompanying this, is a hastily written note, reading 'DO NOT ENGAGE'. I do not doubt that this Lady Cleo, due to their own admissions of being a monster, would be willing to go to extreme measures to make sure they aren't disturbed.
Whether this statement is one to trust or not remains to be seen, but I will admit, it is a very clear sign of the Mother of Puppets' influence. I'll see if Martin is willing to do some more looking into the events of Oakhurst, as this appears to be a rather intruiging tale, if this statement links to the other Oakhurst statements.
End recording
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