A flash of uncle Zeroch’s face displays , forced out of his own memories, in front of Sebastian. Half his face severly damaged by fire, the poor man always wore a mask to hide his unsightly side. A great deal of his misfortune and the incidence of the castle, he openly blamed on his only nephew without hesiation. ‘Its because of you and your human heritage’ he hissed, often with no motive to hide his hatred for him. And although it was just one eye that Sebastian needed to worry about, the other eye being a false one on replacement for the lost eye..the stare he gave was enough to make Sebastian’s heart shiver . A half, completely destroyed, with large popping doll’s eye that moved around in all directions even while he slept; the man looked as frightening as the character out of the horror movie. And, the white fibrous edges of his muscles randomly bridging his frontal bone to cheek bones and to the jaw bones with hollow depression inbetween them, added to his repulsive features. Just by grinning, his appearnce ensured, nightmares would follow.
Sebastian slowely unlocks his fingers from the pole at the thought of that terrible Rrmishap happening to him.And if this was going to occur and he was going to die somehow here, he wasn’t planning to go easy without a fight as well. ‘ A death of honour ‘,was a prestigious decree that he didnot want to be robbed of.. Infact, for creatures like him, who had limitless time to dwell in their hands, nothing mattered more than ‘honour’ and above all honours, an honour of death’ was the most valued. It was a pride they boasted for generations. So, for Sebastian to embrace death, it would have been nowhere, except for a battlefield, fighting for a cause or at the end of his silver jubilee century, embracing the morning Sun.
Called as ‘kiss to death, only The Count’himself, his great great grandfather had survived that long to make it to the history among all the immortals that walked on the realms. With noone to challange his throne and no one standing up victorious on one-one combat with him, he had lived for ages and ages, a time scale perhaps no historians death or alive could have traced back to.This was his heritage of birth in ‘The Royal Blue’ family. And as a half blood, he was expected to atleast follow the age old pursuit of honourable death.
Sebastian takes cautious steps to the window inside the coach again, exhaling a long breath. Beads of sweat leaves his forehead and his heart starts pounding back to the annoying noise. Carefully examining around, he lets his cat’s eye glow in the dark, one more time and magnifies his binocular vision. What?? he exclaims. Was his brain playing tricks on him? Was he finally going insane? Because, what he was seeing now was entirely different to what he saw then. He was sure there were barbed wires and the sparks of fire hitting the ground but now, it looked as though his fears had been for nothing. He adjusts his binocular vision to get a clearer view. This wasn’t an ordinary train and those weren’t the bare electric lines…Those were neurons ‘the brain nerves’. Thousands of them bundled together, firing electric impulses..recalling, reprocessing and rearranging slates of memories in Raven’s brain. The very fuel,charging his travel now to the deepest storage section of memory files, perhaps, back to the origin of the reaper himself. Sebastian stands shocked.
No sooner had he discovered it, the train comes to a stop with screeching cry of it’s tires against the metal tracks. Unsure what to do, he stands still while the floor beneath him moves around slowely. Within minutes , the metal platform is replaced by a thick red antique carpet and the walls of dimly lit coach is substituted by brightly lit white walls. Infront of him, he sees a dining table neatly set. The beautiful china clayed plates are out, forks and knives are placed on sides. A double layered white forest cake with fully riped cherries on top sticks out in the middle, holding a card on its base. Curious, Sebastian picks the colorful card. Inside, tiny dots raised together compactly and haphazardly filled the whole length. It didn’t take long for him to guess who the card was from and why. The person despite his amateur effort to print the braille neatly had spent hours on drawing the cake so meticulously detailed that any blind could hav excatly described the cake infront him, without having seen it.