Disclaimer: I own none of these characters or places. They belong to Stephen Sommers. I do, however, my OC's and the plot. Hopefully this time I won't be tempted to kill them.
Warnings: This is the sequel to my fic 'Ripples In Time.' I'd suggest you read that before you read this, otherwise you'll become very confused! And this has spoilers for the end of a) the movie Van Helsing and b) my fic Ripples in Time. You've been warned!
Summary: [Sequel to Ripples in Time] Free of the Order, Van Helsing has been living contentedly in Transylvania for a year now. But an old nemesis he had forgotten about (NOT Dracula) soon comes back to haunt him. The question: is he up for doing battle with a god?
Author's Note: I'm baaaaaaaack! I've been mulling over my ideas for a sequel and finally decided to get my butt in gear. I'd like to thank all the reviewers for the last chapter of Ripples In Time and I hope to see some of you again! I'd especially like to give a shout out to HyperCaz, who was there from the beginning of Ripples in Time, Irish Anor, who was my first reviewer ever, and Squeekie, who has been nothing but supportive and has just posted her first fic!
Also, this fic's plot is very much up in the air. That means I am at the mercy of my muses. Bear with me since this fic is extremely subject to change.
Prologue:
Into Hell
The night was cold and frosty; befitting the Carpathian Mountains. The solitary figure didn't seem to mind it at all. It was a slight figure, only a few inches over five feet, and made to seem smaller by the huge, thick cloak it wrapped around itself. Startling gold eyes watched from under the hood and cowl, flickering from place to place disinterestedly. Their strides were short and powerful, but graceful. The figure was entirely at ease, even though they traveled unarmed. They even gave off a powerful aura of confidence. That was well, because power was also radiating off the deceptively small figure.
It didn't not take long to reach its destination: a stand of trees bitten by the icy wind that formed a roughly circular shape. Long stripes of silver light shone boldly through the skeletal ring. The moon was full that night; somewhere in the distance an eerie howl rose. The figure smiled and threw back its head, bathing in the sound, before entering the ring of trees and standing in the center, eyes raised. It would not be long now. The moon was almost directly overhead.
When it was, the light was no longer bold and silver. It grew shifty, restless, turning the faintest shade of red. The trees began to rattle too. The figure remained completely unnerved. That was half the trick, after all. Stand completely still, in the center of the ring of trees, held in stasis between the two circles: the full, pregnant moon and the barren, natural ring. It was that special moment in time when the ethereal and the worldly would eclipse one another, and open doorways to worlds the mundane only guess at. Worlds the figure could traipse across with ease.
The time was ripe, the gateway opened. It swept the slight figure up into its grasp and suddenly there was no one at all in the clearing, not even a footprint or a shadow. All grew deathly still in the mountains bordering Transylvania.
It was not so for the figure, who was now traipsing the dimensions. They had not been taken exactly where they wanted, but this was understood as they were not expected. Normally, the being she was going to visit would have to be aware of you and want you to come to allow you into its realm, but to one as well versed in the ways of magic as the lone figure, it was a matter of timing and navigation.
The figure ended its joyride across time and space rather quickly and found itself wrapped in sudden warmth. That didn't surprise them, this was Hell after all, but it wasn't exactly comfortable.
"It's rather hot." They said dryly.
The heat vanished and the black void began to fill slowly with grey, until at last the figure found itself in a smallish stone room with a single, flickering torch. There was a man standing at the far wall of this room, staring up at the torch. He had long, silky black hair, and while his back was to the dimension traveler, they knew exactly who it was.
"It's been a while since I've seen Vladislaus, the greatest of my children. How is he?" They asked in sultry tones, advancing slowly and leisurely.
'Dracula' turned slightly, smiled, and then vanished. The room changed abruptly too. Now it was vast and well-lit, decorated like the palace of some Greek ruler. At the end of the hall was a dais of gold and lined with blue silk pillows. Lounging on them was a woman with a waterfall of golden hair and twinkling, sea-blue eyes. Her skin was white as foam and she was clad in a sky-blue Greek-style toga with golden braid wrapped around it.
"Oh, he's in quite a spot of trouble." The woman giggled. "Lucifer has grown very angry with Vlad Dracula and I must agree he wasn't doing his job. And he is the greatest of your children?"
"Don't try flattery with me." The figure advanced, throwing off their hood so that the woman she addressed would recognize them in full. "He was meant to be the greatest of my many, many children, but he grew blinded by rage and hate for a certain Gabriel Van Helsing. The man you failed to lure to his doom."
"Well let's not point fingers. Remember what power I wield... I could so easily realign a few threads and have you take, say, a left turn where you might've made a right and end up against a group of vampire hunters eager for blood. And then you'd be nothing but a pile of dust." The being known as the Wavewriter said silkily, toying with a lock of golden hair.
"You know full well that I cannot be so lightly disposed of." There was a deadly edge to the voice now.
"Oh, but the form you are trapped in on earth can." The Wavewriter shot back with an almost flirtatious giggle. It was cut off when strong fingers were wrapped around her throat and she was slammed into a wall. She only continued to smile, knowing what granted the person she talked to the ability to move like quicksilver across the floor and pick her up one-handed like some kind of toy.
"But I am not bound by those rules here, am I? I am at my full glory when I am not trapped down there. And you would not want to try my patience," They punctuated this with a suddenly tighter grip that cracked the woman's trachea like a twig. "Would you?" The Wavewriter slid to the ground and ran her hand over her throat, which healed on its own.
"No, I would not want to try you." She whispered. "But if you know ways to reclaim your former glory away from the mortal world, why do you linger there?"
"Because the husk I must call home is not so easily taken. It puts up an awful fight sometimes, you understand?" The figure backed away, ambling around the large hall. "And I happen to like that place. So much joy to be sucked out still... But, you understand, I'd like to be able to live in it without that pesky mortal shell business."
"But I thought that your shell was no longer mortal?" The Wavewriter said slowly, confused. "I remember the day it became otherwise, and I know that I have not altered that fate"
"Oh, compared to me, it is a mere mortal." The figure whispered. The room rumbled slightly with the burst of power it exuded. "And besides... my full nature cannot be unleashed up the world it now resides in. Of course, I don't want it to... yet. First, that world must be in a state suitable to my name."
"Ahh yes, Dark Anarchy they used to call you." The Wavewriter smiled.
The figure grinned back, wickedly. "I need your help. I need to melt the walls between the dimensions and let them all bleed together and fill that world with the essence of places like this that allows me to be what I truly am."
"Can't you do that on your own?" She asked quizzically. "Your power exceeds even mine."
"Oh, I can do that on my own and I intend to. There's just one pesky problem... Gabriel Van Helsing. I don't need you to kill him, just... distract him awhile. I know this is within your capabilities." The figure smiled.
"It certainly is." The Wavewriter cackled. "I'll toy with him, torment him, turn his life into a living hell far before you turn the world into it."
"Good." The figure purred. "Very good. It may be that I will have a hand in this too. It may be that he will help me, unknowingly... for my guise is not one he would guess."
The Wavewriter smiled. "It will be as old, won't it? When our ilk roamed the world and crossed the dimensions at will, nightmares wandering all around us and filling our ears with the sweet shrieks of anguish..."
"Oh, no." The figure smiled, gold eyes flashing. "It will be far better."
A/N-- Yes, the chapter title is a play on the title of Ripples In Time's prologue. I couldn't resist! Oh, BTW, I actually do own something... the plot, the Wavewriter, and our mystery guest. Review and tell me how you like!
Warnings: This is the sequel to my fic 'Ripples In Time.' I'd suggest you read that before you read this, otherwise you'll become very confused! And this has spoilers for the end of a) the movie Van Helsing and b) my fic Ripples in Time. You've been warned!
Summary: [Sequel to Ripples in Time] Free of the Order, Van Helsing has been living contentedly in Transylvania for a year now. But an old nemesis he had forgotten about (NOT Dracula) soon comes back to haunt him. The question: is he up for doing battle with a god?
Author's Note: I'm baaaaaaaack! I've been mulling over my ideas for a sequel and finally decided to get my butt in gear. I'd like to thank all the reviewers for the last chapter of Ripples In Time and I hope to see some of you again! I'd especially like to give a shout out to HyperCaz, who was there from the beginning of Ripples in Time, Irish Anor, who was my first reviewer ever, and Squeekie, who has been nothing but supportive and has just posted her first fic!
Also, this fic's plot is very much up in the air. That means I am at the mercy of my muses. Bear with me since this fic is extremely subject to change.
Prologue:
Into Hell
The night was cold and frosty; befitting the Carpathian Mountains. The solitary figure didn't seem to mind it at all. It was a slight figure, only a few inches over five feet, and made to seem smaller by the huge, thick cloak it wrapped around itself. Startling gold eyes watched from under the hood and cowl, flickering from place to place disinterestedly. Their strides were short and powerful, but graceful. The figure was entirely at ease, even though they traveled unarmed. They even gave off a powerful aura of confidence. That was well, because power was also radiating off the deceptively small figure.
It didn't not take long to reach its destination: a stand of trees bitten by the icy wind that formed a roughly circular shape. Long stripes of silver light shone boldly through the skeletal ring. The moon was full that night; somewhere in the distance an eerie howl rose. The figure smiled and threw back its head, bathing in the sound, before entering the ring of trees and standing in the center, eyes raised. It would not be long now. The moon was almost directly overhead.
When it was, the light was no longer bold and silver. It grew shifty, restless, turning the faintest shade of red. The trees began to rattle too. The figure remained completely unnerved. That was half the trick, after all. Stand completely still, in the center of the ring of trees, held in stasis between the two circles: the full, pregnant moon and the barren, natural ring. It was that special moment in time when the ethereal and the worldly would eclipse one another, and open doorways to worlds the mundane only guess at. Worlds the figure could traipse across with ease.
The time was ripe, the gateway opened. It swept the slight figure up into its grasp and suddenly there was no one at all in the clearing, not even a footprint or a shadow. All grew deathly still in the mountains bordering Transylvania.
It was not so for the figure, who was now traipsing the dimensions. They had not been taken exactly where they wanted, but this was understood as they were not expected. Normally, the being she was going to visit would have to be aware of you and want you to come to allow you into its realm, but to one as well versed in the ways of magic as the lone figure, it was a matter of timing and navigation.
The figure ended its joyride across time and space rather quickly and found itself wrapped in sudden warmth. That didn't surprise them, this was Hell after all, but it wasn't exactly comfortable.
"It's rather hot." They said dryly.
The heat vanished and the black void began to fill slowly with grey, until at last the figure found itself in a smallish stone room with a single, flickering torch. There was a man standing at the far wall of this room, staring up at the torch. He had long, silky black hair, and while his back was to the dimension traveler, they knew exactly who it was.
"It's been a while since I've seen Vladislaus, the greatest of my children. How is he?" They asked in sultry tones, advancing slowly and leisurely.
'Dracula' turned slightly, smiled, and then vanished. The room changed abruptly too. Now it was vast and well-lit, decorated like the palace of some Greek ruler. At the end of the hall was a dais of gold and lined with blue silk pillows. Lounging on them was a woman with a waterfall of golden hair and twinkling, sea-blue eyes. Her skin was white as foam and she was clad in a sky-blue Greek-style toga with golden braid wrapped around it.
"Oh, he's in quite a spot of trouble." The woman giggled. "Lucifer has grown very angry with Vlad Dracula and I must agree he wasn't doing his job. And he is the greatest of your children?"
"Don't try flattery with me." The figure advanced, throwing off their hood so that the woman she addressed would recognize them in full. "He was meant to be the greatest of my many, many children, but he grew blinded by rage and hate for a certain Gabriel Van Helsing. The man you failed to lure to his doom."
"Well let's not point fingers. Remember what power I wield... I could so easily realign a few threads and have you take, say, a left turn where you might've made a right and end up against a group of vampire hunters eager for blood. And then you'd be nothing but a pile of dust." The being known as the Wavewriter said silkily, toying with a lock of golden hair.
"You know full well that I cannot be so lightly disposed of." There was a deadly edge to the voice now.
"Oh, but the form you are trapped in on earth can." The Wavewriter shot back with an almost flirtatious giggle. It was cut off when strong fingers were wrapped around her throat and she was slammed into a wall. She only continued to smile, knowing what granted the person she talked to the ability to move like quicksilver across the floor and pick her up one-handed like some kind of toy.
"But I am not bound by those rules here, am I? I am at my full glory when I am not trapped down there. And you would not want to try my patience," They punctuated this with a suddenly tighter grip that cracked the woman's trachea like a twig. "Would you?" The Wavewriter slid to the ground and ran her hand over her throat, which healed on its own.
"No, I would not want to try you." She whispered. "But if you know ways to reclaim your former glory away from the mortal world, why do you linger there?"
"Because the husk I must call home is not so easily taken. It puts up an awful fight sometimes, you understand?" The figure backed away, ambling around the large hall. "And I happen to like that place. So much joy to be sucked out still... But, you understand, I'd like to be able to live in it without that pesky mortal shell business."
"But I thought that your shell was no longer mortal?" The Wavewriter said slowly, confused. "I remember the day it became otherwise, and I know that I have not altered that fate"
"Oh, compared to me, it is a mere mortal." The figure whispered. The room rumbled slightly with the burst of power it exuded. "And besides... my full nature cannot be unleashed up the world it now resides in. Of course, I don't want it to... yet. First, that world must be in a state suitable to my name."
"Ahh yes, Dark Anarchy they used to call you." The Wavewriter smiled.
The figure grinned back, wickedly. "I need your help. I need to melt the walls between the dimensions and let them all bleed together and fill that world with the essence of places like this that allows me to be what I truly am."
"Can't you do that on your own?" She asked quizzically. "Your power exceeds even mine."
"Oh, I can do that on my own and I intend to. There's just one pesky problem... Gabriel Van Helsing. I don't need you to kill him, just... distract him awhile. I know this is within your capabilities." The figure smiled.
"It certainly is." The Wavewriter cackled. "I'll toy with him, torment him, turn his life into a living hell far before you turn the world into it."
"Good." The figure purred. "Very good. It may be that I will have a hand in this too. It may be that he will help me, unknowingly... for my guise is not one he would guess."
The Wavewriter smiled. "It will be as old, won't it? When our ilk roamed the world and crossed the dimensions at will, nightmares wandering all around us and filling our ears with the sweet shrieks of anguish..."
"Oh, no." The figure smiled, gold eyes flashing. "It will be far better."
A/N-- Yes, the chapter title is a play on the title of Ripples In Time's prologue. I couldn't resist! Oh, BTW, I actually do own something... the plot, the Wavewriter, and our mystery guest. Review and tell me how you like!