A Letter to a Distant Future

A young boy sat on his chair, in his hand was a quill and underneath was plain white paper.

His phone buzzed. It was a call. “Cousin Mara,” he muttered. His face changed expression to a bitter one upon seeing the name. He picked up anyway.

“Speak,” he simply said.

“Leader. They are almost here.”

“I'll be there shortly.”

“Yes.”

The conversation ended there.

The boy, with jet-black hair, blue eyes, and fair skin, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I cannot believe this is happening. Again.”

He dipped the quill into some ink just in front of him.

He looked up and started writing:

『Dear Descendant.

My name is Cassian Forthwith. As I write this, I am the current leader of the Clan. I write this to you with a heavy and troubled heart.

The fact that you're reading this means I am dead and have been killed by the vampires. Furthermore, since you're reading this, it means you are now the head of the Clan.

This may all be confusing, so it's best to start from the beginning. At least, my beginning............

For me, it started fifty generations back.

The year was 782.

The entire village was in a panic. But I knew nothing. The naive twenty-year-old me back then only knew of hunting and gathering.

Of course, my peers always mentioned something about 'vampires,' but I took it as every other story the old ones told us.

The village was in an uproar. The villagers tied my uncle to a tree for reasons I couldn't begin to understand.

I thought the villagers had gone mad.

A part of me felt a little pang of pain. However, I did nothing to help him. Family back then wasn't as important as it is today.

I went back to my father's house, the chief.

I stepped inside. The first thing I noticed was how overturned the home had become. My father shouted in a loud voice. It overlapped with my mother's voice, which was louder in comparison.

“HOW ELSE?!” my father shouted.

I tiptoed closer. Something fell, a knife.

“NO! I won't let you sacrifice my son, Accam! You bastard! He's your only child!”

I gulped. 'Sacrifice? Are they talking about me?' I thought.

I felt a shiver run down my spine. Of course, me. Who else?

Now that I think about it, I should have run.

Abandoned my family. Perhaps I wouldn't have been tied in this cycle of sacrifice and killing. Maybe, I could've died and not be forced to live for 1,250 years.

I heard my father's footsteps approaching. He pulled back the curtain. As he dropped to pick up the knife he was looking for, he spotted me.

He widened his eyes. My mother, who was still in the bedroom, would not know the following events until it was too late.

My father, picking up the knife, checked if my mother was coming, whilst simultaneously gesturing for me to come towards him.

Of course. I had a thousand questions. Who else to answer them besides him?

I approached him.

Without warning, he made a little cut on my hand. From inside his garments, he pulled out a scroll.

On the scroll were several smears of what I presumed to be blood. My father then smeared my own blood on it.

I frowned.

He opened the scroll and held it up for me to see. “Read and say out loud what you see.”

The writings on the scroll, most of them, were in a strange, unrecognizable language. And even today, with the advancement of technology and translation software, I still have failed to translate it all.

However, there was a little section which I could read. Without question, I read it aloud.

“Oh. Who rules all. Hear my plea. I come before you this very day with a request. Grant me Your pardon. I come incomplete. But with my sacrifice I hope to meet you and say my piece.”

After that, I didn't notice a change.

That is because it had already happened.

I now stood alone in the house. Father, who had been holding the scroll, wasn't there. The ruckus that had been happening had gone quiet.

And behind me, I heard a melodic voice. Even today, nothing comes in comparison.

“First and only son of Accam Forthwith, Cassian Forthwith. Welcome to the Trials.”