This is the tale of a Vampire Slayer who became overwhelmed with her powers in the ancient Incan Empire of Peru, 1448.  She was not the only one to learn from her mistakes though...

The Weight Of The World

Peru, 1448

   Gustah climbed the temple’s steps, one after the other, with the same relentless conviction as his two companions behind him, never faltering, never loosing sight of their target ahead.  The imperial guard was rallying round the temple’s base, trying desperately to organise some sort of offence against the onslaught coming from the vast structure’s peak, but to no avail.  Civilians ran in every direction, gathering family members as they went, trying to escape out of the city before the great battle they sensed was coming was finally upon them.  And still Gustah walked steadily on. 

   His gaze never wavered from their destination, or more specifically, the girl who was standing there above them.  They were perhaps half the way up the temple’s steps, though the ferocious storm raging about them made it difficult to tell just how far the ground below them was now.  The girl though, was inescapably clear to see.  A brilliant light eradiated from her being; magicks of all descriptions shining through her very skin.  She was clothed in a simple gold-thread wrap around her waist, her naked legs and torso shone bronze in the evening sun.  She smiled, her eyes closed and arms raised, as her malicious winds tore about the skies of her former home.  Gustah’s expression became one of anger and great pity the further they got to this girl who commanded the elements, this girl who had betrayed her people and now sought to destroy them.  This girl he had loved as his own daughter. 

   The Slayer. 

   She was either ignoring their assent to where she stood, or more likely had chosen to ignore their presence until she deemed them important.  Gustah tried not to think of what would happen when she finally acknowledged them, and gripped tighter to the blade he wielded. 

   Either side of him climbed two more girls, younger than the Slayer, less powerful and fragile; they were Potentials.  These two girls, sent by the council, and now so alien in the world they found themselves in, pushed on relentlessly through the supernatural winds that threatened to sweep them off the temple entirely as if they were no more than dolls made of cloth and wool.  The first was named Yoshama from the Kochi province of Japan; she had long black hair tried firmly behind her head, and a glimmering axe balanced evenly in her hands.  The second was Olu al-Kran of Persia; slightly younger than Yoshama, but she was resigned to the task none the less.  Both girls were dressed in sandy coloured robes, both girls looked as if they did not belong on the temple, so far away from their homes they were, but in the Council’s opinion, these girls were the best chance to save the world from destruction.  It was understood that one of these two would be the next Slayer to be called after the current girl’s demise; how soon that would be was possibly sooner rather than later.  That was the plan at any rate. 

   Gustah regarded his formed charge as they mounted the steps ever closer to where she stood.  With a slight change in expression, the girl opened her eyes and looked upon the oncoming party. 

   “Hello my dear Watcher,” she called in the commanding voice she had acquired over her many years as the chosen one, “I thought you might grace me with your presence.” 

   “Chia!” he called back over the storm, “I implore you to stop what you are doing, think about the consequences!”  Chia simply laughed, and flicked her hands causing an extra strong gust in their path, almost knocking the three off their feet.  Yoshama steadied Olu, and Gustah re-addressed the Slayer, a firmer tone in his voice.  “It is your duty to the world,” he called, “you are the chosen one, and you were chosen to protect it!”

   “This world?” called back Chia, “this world that took a small girl from her home and threw her into the arms of demons? This world that took my innocence - my very soul?  This world,” she spat, crouching down so her face was almost level with Gustah’s own not so far away, “that stole my family in the dead of night to devour at it’s pleasure?”  She stood up once more, silhouetted by her own demonic storm.  “This world will weep at my feet.” 

   “This world will be destroyed!” pleaded Gustah as they reached the penultimate level of the temple. 

   “Than it shall worship me in Hell! ” she screamed, and leapt off her podium into the path of the three fighters. 

   The two Potentials lunged to meet her, only to be thrown either side by Chia’s spell.  Olu managed to roll and land on her feet, but Yoshama was flung off the level entirely to the one below, out of sight.  Gustah didn’t have time to worry whether or not she was alright, as the Slayer flung herself straight towards him.  She fired a stream of red energy at him, which he ducked, only to be followed by another steam of blue.  This one Gustah did not duck, but swung his blade round in an arch and intercepted the spell before it hit him.  Chia had only a moment to look in shock at what the sword had done to her spell before she was attacked from behind by Olu, who had taken a running jump at the Slayer in her moment of distraction.  Chia let out a bellow of rage and threw the young girl off; she landed in a crumpled heap some feet away and stayed there. 

   Chia barely gave her a look of spite before turning back to her Watcher.  She looked at the weapon in his hands as they began circling one another, each staring the other in the eyes. 

   “So - the Council has given you a new toy Gustah? Or perhaps it was your Coven friends from the South?”  Gustah did not answer, he merely readjusted his hold on the hilt and flexed his shoulders.  The Slayer looked critically at her former Watcher and shook the many gold bracelets adorning her arms.  “You have grown weary looking this past year Gustah,” she said this mock concern,” surely you were not worried for my welfare?”

   “We were all concerned that this would happen, Chia, none more so than me,” was his response.

   Chia tried another spell; it was deflected once again, though this time slightly slower than before.  His borrowed power is waning, she thought with a smile.  “You should have known it would happen, Gustah,” she spat, “I promised you it would.”

   “You promised me many things, Chia,” said Gustah, growing weary with the supernatural weight of the blade, “you were a particularly disobedient Slayer towards the end of our time together, but I had hoped it would not come to this.”

   “Curios,” cried Chia over her storm, “this is exactly what I hoped it would come to.”  Tired of magick, she swiped her right leg at him in an expert attack he himself had taught her.  “I was not yet twelve when you took me from my home to fight these creatures of the night,” she yelled at him, becoming increasingly upset and agitated, “I was a child, and you did nothing to warn me of the suffering I would endure!” She aimed a blow at his head which connected accurately and sent him sprawling across the stone floor.  “And now, it will end,” she shouted at him, and kicked him once again as he made a charge at her with his shoulder.  “I am the one with the authority, I decide what I will use my power for, and now I am going to use them to kill you.”

   “Five years I Watched over you,” called Gustah to the girl, sleek and powerful as she was.  “I thought of you as my own daughter, knew you were one of the more gifted Slayers, not least by your lengthy tenure - but you never saw it that way - did you? You never stopped seeing yourself as a victim of some heinous crime.” He stood once more and faced his formed charge as her face contorted. 

   “I was the victim!” she screamed, “I was a child told to protect strangers with my powers whilst my family were murdered!”  Unseen behind her, Yoshama crept back up the steps and stealthily made her way over to her fallen comrade who was in turn beginning to stir, recovering from the blow she had received. 

   “Your strength and ingenuity,” anguished Gustah as he took another step back closer to the Slayer, “your unusual skill with magicks - you could have been one of the greatest - but you threw it way - you ran away and chose the selfish path of self-woe and pity.” He felt a cold lump rise in his throat as the wind tore at his hair and clothes.  “And now it must end!” he cried, and brought the enchanted blade down upon his Slayer.  She made to block the attack, but the two Potentials chose that very moment to launch themselves at her and grab hold of her arms.  Chia bellowed and threw them aside yet again, but the split-second of distraction they had caused enabled Gustah to lunge with the sword for a final time and plunge it into her soft brown stomach. 

   Chia’s head snapped round in shock and looked a gasp at her Watcher, then at the wound in her torso.  He yanked the weapon from her and she stumbled backwards, looking at the bloody sword in disbelief. 

   She held her hands over the wound and muttered something incoherent as Yoshama once again crawled over to where the younger Potential lay, and they watched together the scene unfolding in apprehension. 

   Chia looked up to where her Watcher stood, still with the sword in his hand, looking on at her with remorse and grief lining is face.  “I - I cannot heal it,” she cried in desperation, tears springing to her eyes, “why - what have you done?”  Her knees buckled underneath her and she fell unceremoniously to the ground.  Gustah dropped his blade which clattered on the stone floor and rushed over to where Chia lay; Yoshama and Olu looked to the sky as the storm began to dissipate and the twilight found its way through the thinning unnatural clouds. 

   Gustah cradled the Slayer in his arms.  “The blade is enchanted to deflect your powers,” he told her, his voice shaking as she looked up at him.  “It will only last a short amount of time, but…it will be enough.”

   “I hate you,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face as the magickal forces faded around her, “you stole my life and I hate you.”  Gustah held the girl tightly in his arms, so small and weak she seemed now, and could not find it in his heart to blame her. 

   “I’m sorry,” he whispered back, “I’m so sorry my beautiful Chia.”

   A cold tear slipped gently down his face as the magick vanished entirely from the Incan city.  He lent into the young girl and squeezed shut his tired eyes, gripping her tightly; she did not feel a thing.  Olu look strangely at Yoshama as they stood and watched on, the sweltering day’s heat fading as night set upon them.  Though neither girl spoke the other’s language, they knew what had happened.  The next Slayer had been called. 

   Yoshama squeezed the younger girl’s arm and smiled; Olu held her hand, then turned back to look at her fallen predecessor.  The Watcher picked his charge gently up and took a step back, never taking his eyes from her face. 

   “Goodbye Chia,” he said softly, “may you finally rest in peace.”  He walked over to where the other girls stood, eventually lifted his gaze from the dead girl’s sleeping features, and then began to lead them all back down the long flight of stairs.  As they passed, Olu picked up the blade that had defeated the traitorous Slayer, no longer enchanted but quite dull, and prayed to Allah that her time as the chosen one would be better. 

***

California, 2003

   Waking with a jolt that smacked her head into the wall behind, Faith spun out of her bed and hit the concrete floor below her with a hiss of a curse on her breath.  She gasped and looked around her; hand on chest to steady her fervoured breathing.  Dawn was breaking through the bars or her familiar cell window, the prison dorms were silent.  Calming down, Faith looked at her trembling hands; it was only a dream, she told her self as her cell-mate turned in her sleep, only a dream. 

   She stood up and walked over to the chipped porcelain basin and splashed her face with cold water.  Leaning on the basin, she took a deep breath before sitting back down on the floor and leaning her back against the cold brick wall.  Weak sunlight shone on her face and she closed her eyes in thought. 

   She had always had dreams of the past Slayers, every girl did her first Watcher had told her.  When she was younger, before her calling, they had been wide and varied, of girls from across the ages and continents in all kinds of scenarios.  Faith had enjoyed the thrill and excitement of them then; the adventures fuelling her imagination and aiding her in her own battles.  But since becoming the chosen one they had changed; she had seen them die.  Not always though; there were still tales of victories and triumphs to be shared, but the realness of her own mortality had been pressed upon her, perhaps to stop her from killing herself too quickly through cockiness, she thought. 

   Or perhaps it was another reason.  Perhaps it was also to remind her of her responsibilities; that her powers were not to be abused.  After waking from her coma, the dreams had altered once again, and the story of Chia’s demise had haunted her frequently.  Faith understood this girl, and she saw many of her own failings in the Incan peasant; the lust for power and the egotistical destruction she brought upon those around her.  However, after giving herself up to the police in L.A., Chia had more or less left Faith alone; until now.  Faith frowned and opened her eyes as the rest of the inmates began to stir for roll call.  She honestly felt she had learned from Chia’s mistakes; after all, that’s what the dream was for she supposed.  Why had she returned?

   She stood as her cell-mate tumbled out of bed and stood by the railings, waiting for the guard to come round and release them for the day.  Faith ran her fingers through her long wavy hair and thought about the regret she always felt as the blade struck Chia.  Her final wish, although she never managed to say to Gustah, was to have another chance, and this was especially troubling to Faith.  She did not want her final thoughts to be of remorse for a missed chance at redemption for her mistakes. 

   Frank, the guard that generally saw to them on the morning shift, eventually stopped outside the two women’s cell and called their names as being present.  The other girl walked out into the complex, but Frank stopped Faith before she could leave. 

   “You have a visitor,” he said simply.  Faith frowned; she never got visitors. 

   “Who is it?” she asked, curious. 

   Frank shrugged his shoulders.  “Lawyer,” he said, then moved onto the next cell.  Faith frowned again as she made her way to the guards outside the visitor’s centre.  My lawyer? she thought as they cuffed her up.  Could this day get any stranger?

The End