Sypha picked up a bucket filled with water and started carrying it towards the house.
The small spring was just beyond the animal shelter. She was glad she didn't have to go to the town's
well to get the water - her father, being a healer, needed a lot of water and she was the one to get it for him.
Right now she needed the water, as she was about to wash some clothes.
She opened the door and entered the house. Then she carried the water next to the fireplace and stopped for a moment.
"Sypha!!"
"Oh no. What does he want now..." she said to herself, going to check her grandfather who was sitting outside in a chair.
"There you are. Now, get me some bread."
"We don't have any."
"Go buy some then, stupid girl!" He looked angry.
"But... I was supposed to..."
"It can wait."
"But I don't have any..."
"Go on!"
Sypha sighed and headed for the town.
She walked to the marketplace, unsure what to do. She had to find her father before she could do anything,
since she had no money. She knew he had gone to see Mr. Sinclair's old mother who had suddenly fallen sick,
but he should've returned already. She looked around - maybe he was here.
People were talking loudly, as usual. They didn't pay much attention to the young girl who made her way through
the crowd, looking for her father.
Sypha stopped. What was that? People, mostly children and some adults, were gathered on the east side of the
marketplace. She went closer. Someone was telling a story.
"...with a stone pillar, made of simple gray granite. There, the great wizards would gather every forty-three years, and they were the only ones to defeat darkness..."
Wizards? She got to hear this one.
The storyteller was a woman with a well-worn cloak, traveler's clothes and some weird items hanging from them.
"Why forty-three?" a young man Sypha didn't know by name asked.
"That was the number of the first wizards... a long long time ago, in the time of the ancient Roman empire."
"Wow."
"They were the first. After them... came many others. Those with magical powers. Those who knew the language of the first ones. Those who could call rain, or mist... or shoot lightning bolts from their hands. And fire!" She snapped her fingers, and lit a small fire on her palm.
"Mr. Mage can do that," one of the children said.
"Can he? Oh well." She blew softly, and the fire was gone. "Then Mr. Mage must be a powerful wizard!"
"Nah, that's just a trick."
"Maybe it is. Now where was I... The greatest wizard ever lived about five hundred years ago. He was Meranalar."
"Mera... what?" another child asked.
"Meranalar. In the ancient language, the name means 'the shining wizard'. That was probably because he wore white robes. But he was a great one. He knew spells so powerful he could kill a vampire..." she took a dramatic pause before continuing. "So. About three hundred years ago, the wizards met again for the last time. They vowed to keep on fighting, as long there is evil in this world. Then they broke down the stone pillar and left."
"What happened to them?"
"They're gone."
"Why?"
"The church decided there are no wizards. But witches... those exist. The wizards were all hunted down and killed. Those who escaped hid their powers so they would be safe."
A man next to Sypha stepped forward.
"Now Celia, isn't it true that you are a witch?"
"Ah, but Mr. Lawson here is a religious fanatic! Oh my! Well. Have to respect a man like you. The one who have the courage to find and fight the evil ones."
The man looked a little irritated. Children giggled.
"Are you, Celia?" a young boy asked.
"Who knows. They say my father was a descendant of the ancient wizards..."
"Really?"
"Ha." Mr. Lawson looked at the boy. "You children get away from that witch. She'll cast some spell on you and you'll become her followers... or something."
Celia grinned. "Yes, I might just do that."
"I'm not afraid of you," the boy said. "Mr. Mage will come and cast a spell on you."
"I doubt that he would. Well, there is my story. I'll tell you another one later." She got up and took her bag.
People started to leave, many of the adults in deep thoughts. Some of them knew this woman. She had been here before, telling those stories about wizards and magic. A witch? They didn't know. But she had never harmed anyone, so they didn't bother to think about it more.
Sypha stayed, looking at her.
"Hey there. What do you want?"
"Do you know more stories about... wizards?" Sypha asked.
"Do I know? I know them all."
"Really? Will you tell me?"
"Later. Hmm. You... are supposed to buy bread. You have no money and you must find your father. And he is... back home."
Sypha looked at her, amazed.
"Now that was easy. Go home now, I promise I'll tell you those stories later."
Sypha smiled and headed home, realizing she had been here too long. Maybe her father would really be at home...
Celia looked at her as she walked away and shook her head. "Now what do I see when I look at you...?"
"She is the one."
"Ah Simon, nice to see you too. She's what one?"
Mr. Mage smiled a little. He hadn't seen his sister in years. Then his smile faded. "She was born nine years ago, on a stormy night, when the moon was full."
"And...?"
"She had gray eyes, unlike her father or late mother. When she was born, I remembered what you once told me. Now what does that mean?"
"How should I know?"
Simon looked at her eyes. "You know. But you won't tell me. Well, whatever it is, I won't let anything happen to Sypha."
Celia turned away. After a while she said, "Interesting name."
"Funny, I said the same thing to Christopher, her father, nine years ago."
"Really?"
"Yes. Now, what did you mean when you said that dark times have come when..."
She smiled sadly and put her finger on his lips, interrupting the sentence. "You shall see, my brother."
Simon sighed. "Knowing you, I will."
Sypha opened the door. Her grandfather wasn't outside any longer, so her father had helped him back inside...
Good, then he was here.
Her grandfather was sitting by the wall, carving a piece of wood.
"Ah, there you are Sypha. And the bread?"
"I didn't..."
"Hmpth. Of course, what should I expect from you." He was about to slap her, but Christopher stopped him.
"Forget it, father. Now, you used to be a wise man. Why don't you have enough brains to realize that Sypha can't buy bread for you, she needs money to do that."
"Ah, so I am not wise anymore?"
"That's right."
Christopher turned to his daughter. "So, what took you so long?"
"Er... there was this woman who was telling a story about some ancient wizards."
"A woman? Ancient wizards? Hmm..." Christopher thought about it for a while. "Dark hair, brown eyes and weird clothes?"
"Yeah..."
"Celia the traveler."
"Oh she is here again..." Jonathan muttered.
Sypha looked at her father. "Who is she?"
Christopher shrugged. "If I got it correctly... she is Mr. Mage's sister. Some kind of a seer. Knows many of those stupid 'magical' tricks her brother shows to you children."
"Oh?"
"You'll meet her again. Better to ignore most of the things she say. But I admit, her stories are interesting. Last time she was here... That was before you were born. Your mother liked those stories. Maybe I did, too." He looked gloomy when he mentioned his dead wife. Then he raised his face and smiled.
"Now, my girl, weren't you supposed to wash some clothes?"
The night.
Dark clouds were hanging over Castlevania, while most of the sky was clear. The silver crescent wasn't
enough to give light to the dark ground.
A wolf howled. The weather... the atmosphere... Something was about to happen. She knew it.
Celia knew. She could see. The past. The present. Sometimes, the future.
The shadows. Something is watching me... No, someone. A vampire. Vampire clad in dark clothes. As they always are.
His name is... Eclipse. The ruler of the castle, while the Count is gone.
Let him watch. He can't harm anyone. He can't harm me. He's watching... He moved a little towards the
trees... He is still watching.
Now he is leaving. He turned into a bat and flies towards the dark castle. He left, because he knows. He knows that the woman outside alone is not what she appears to be.
The Crystal lake. Water glitters, as the fade moonlight falls on it's calm surface. Soft mist floats upon it. The night is cold. Cold for anyone or anything outside. For the good ones. The night is never cold for those who are evil.
She returned to her brother's cabin. He was in bed, asleep. She spread out her blanket and lay down next to him. It was silent. No sounds. Not even from outside. Nothing. She closed her eyes. She could see it...
Dark skies, the fog, the stone pillar... The wizards...
And in the center, next to the pillar, stands the most powerful of them all.
Meranalar the Holy, with white cloak and soft gray eyes.