illusionsofthedark;i_1500字

　　 The slayers had existed as long as the human history was recorded. However, there used to be a short period of time when humans didn’t develop such hunting skills and evil took over the world.　　 And there’s plenty of food to spare. Easy prey to catch.　　 Snapshot. 　　 Back when the Mesopotamia culture rose between two rivers Euphrates and Tigris, before the Babylonians and Assyrians took over. The starting point of Western civilization.　 　　 Eridu. It was the lost city of Mideast.　 　　 Small grains of mud and straw are visible in the sun-dried brick house.　 Nightfall in semi-deserts looked never so seductive. As Phoebus gave his last generous gleam of light across the silent ancient town, a darker tone was added to the color pallet. As if saying—It is almost lunch time.　　 “When kinship from heaven was lowered, the Kingship was in Eridu.”　　 Although the knowable saying was recorded, the human’s god and goddesses can no longer be protective; the ability to walk in sunlight can no longer be effective when endless dark nights come. Some hidden powers are ready to burst, ready to be fed.　　 If you’re able to drill a deep enough hole in the Sumerian ground , you might get to a place known as west American continent today. Or if plate tectonics moved arranged things a little differently, you might land in the North Pacific Ocean. 　　　But if you’re not a very nice digger, you might come across tar pits, tunnels, sinkholes and caverns.　　 Graves. Tombs.　　 Also, hell.　　 Vampires at rest do not like being disturbed. Unless, someone brought them a very satisfying meal. Which would normally be themselves.　　 A Sumerian peasant lie died on the desolated land, eyes popped with fear. 　　 He needed to learn a lesson.　　 It was completely dark before Blade came out of his coffin. He just had a decent amount, but that could not satisfy his growling appetite. More. He said, now that he serves for the master, for the whole and common good, and now that he had finished Judora, he has to take more than he needs. 　　 Killing without a blink of guilt.　　 Even royal houses seemed crowded around ziggurats, where pyramid-like temples were built for the pleasure of their gods.　 Desert plants were grown on flat roofs, blocking the heat away. Blade came close and listened without a sound.　　 A girl wept in sorrow and pitied herself. She was well dressed; all princesses are well dressed in Eridu. And it was a pity, indeed, that none of them could resist a life in ziggurats as a priestess. It had always been a rule for the king’s daughter to remain her virginity for the god she serves, and that was believed as an only way Eridu and the great Sumer could keep its flourish life forever. 　　 “I’m not going to that goddamn place for the rest of my life.” She was a rare one who dared to react against the old traditions.　　 The old king signed a long sign. 　　 “But you have to. December, for the rest of us, for Sumer. For yourself.” His voice was firm and nothing could change his determination.　　 The Sumerian girl wept a little more. She protested in her choking voice, “For what? If we’re all going to die someday for who-knows-what reason and be dumped in some grim hell where everyone goes into darkness and eat dust, what’s the point?”　　 “No you won’t,” The old king eyed her meaningfully. “You will live immortally.”　　 “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll be forever and ever when my body’s being ripped up by carnivore birds or man-eating demons.” She was being bitter.　　 “Bullshit.” The king rarely cussed. “God will protect you.” 　　 “Oh yeah?” December was like a never surrendering lamb, strangling to have everything her way.　 “Then what do you say for Winter? She did exactly what you told her and what happened to her? You tell me.”　　 The old king could not stand the shock at the mention of winter. Winter had been his first daughter, December’s elder sister who disappeared and was reported to be dead the next day after she had gone to the ziggurat. 　　 Blade listened to every word. He wasn’t exactly smiling, he wasn’t exactly feeling anything. But he wasn’t absolutely feeling nothing.　　 “Vampires” The king said. There was emotion in his eyes which December could not catch a glimpse of.　　 It was burning hot in mid-summer. Winter is now one of us, as long as Blade remembered.