They Should Have Remembered

They should have remembered. The ancient secrets, the elder knowledge. The traditions of their ancestors that kept them alive. In their defense there wasn’t much need to remember, since no one of my kind had been seen in centuries.

Enlightenment has some drawbacks. For every two things about science, art, or philosophy that they gained, one old thing was lost. One by one the memories and traditions of the past were declared barbaric or outmoded and were forgotten or abandoned in the face of progress.

They called it a Renaissance in later years, meaning rebirth. Ironic, because the things they forgot in their rebirth allowed my kind to be reborn as well. They should have remembered.

When they found out what I’d done they locked me in a room to live out my days in solitude. A punishment worthy of the crimes I committed while still befitting my station. Well, my father’s station anyway. It would not do to see a scion of such a powerful noble house on the headsman’s block.

At first when I learned that I was to be immured, locked in a room with no exits forever, I feared that they remembered the ancient ways to deal with my kind. But to my joy I later learned that it was political, my father’s continued loyalty and cooperation to the king in exchange for my eternal imprisonment instead of beheading.

So I waited. For such as I time doesn’t mean as much. By the time they found me out I had enough blood to live for centuries. They should have remembered.

After an appropriate amount of time I “died”, just as they expected me to. It was a simple thing, really, to pretend at death. The fools buried me in a churchyard in an unmarked grave. This accidental victory kept me contained, dormant under the blessed earth for quite some time.

When the church in question was bulldozed and the land un-sanctified, for lack of a better word, I was freed. My grave had long ago been forgotten. My name was not, nor my crimes. They remembered those. However what I am was consigned to myth and legend, as it was when I was buried.

Had they remembered they would have kept the place they immured me in standing, an eternal tomb, a prison. They would have made sure I was truly dead, using the old ways. Instead I am again unleashed on this world, because they forgot.

My blood runs low, and my Life along with it. But no matter. There are plenty of people here to choose from. They buried me in my jewels, which they thought might have been cursed. I have sold them, and now I have all the money I need in this strange new world.

Much has changed since I was captured, and this new world is full of wonders. But I will adapt and learn to live among them. For now I can do only the most basic of life sustaining rituals using whatever material I can get my hands on. It’s hard work, but with every drop of blood I take I can feel my powers returning.

In time I will be as powerful as I was centuries ago, and they will rue the day that they failed to deal with me the first time.

They should have remembered.

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