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Seven years had passed since Simon Belmont vanquished Count Dracula from the land of Transylvania.
His body filled with relief at first. He had completed his duty as a Belmont, his goal that he had trained for since he was a child. The Dark Lord had been slain by Simon’s hand, the Vampire Killer in his grasp. He would not resurrect until one hundred years had passed, but Dracula seemed to hold grudges: Dracula had injured Simon during their battle in 1691, a long claw mark running across his back, crimson blood gushing from his pale skin. After his wound was treated, Simon believed that he could finally rest.
He was terribly wrong.
Days later, Simon’s body decayed and deteriorated, not unlike a corpse. He reeked of death and rot, his skin peeling from his body. He was nearly comparable to the zombies that stalked the Transylvanian countryside under the moon, rising from their graves. He knew that his death would come soon, and he had no course of action in preventing it.
Simon and his mother had paid for the only available treatments and remedies in order to heal him, but to no avail. Most doctors refused to treat Simon, as well. The Belmont Clan was still feared by the common townspeople, despite the fact that Simon had defeated the Count in 1691, freeing the humans from his dark influence. Although his ancestor had brought the Belmonts out of exile, some things would never change, Simon supposed.
Regardless, Simon’s allegiance was to the people. He would do everything in his power to protect them, no matter what they thought of him.
Humans were creatures of habit, and Dracula’s mere existence exploited that fact each time he was resurrected. Had Dracula truly won the battle? Had Simon disgraced his family, his ancestors?
In the early morning mist, as he walked through the cemetery on the top of Angel Hill, shambling past the graves of his grandparents and ancestors, Simon could only reflect on the fate of the Belmonts.
Every one hundred years, Dracula would be resurrected. Not because he was destined to, but rather due to the fact that a human would eventually call for him, whether it be a twisted cult or a simple person with desires. A Belmont would always invade his castle to face him and strike him down. Simon supposed that was purely human nature. He was well aware that the cycle would never end.
And his mother expected him to produce an heir soon. They expected him to continue the cycle.
He still had not married, despite the insistence of his mother. He was the heir to the clan and the lineage must continue, his mother said. But Simon did not wish to subject his future wife to his illness. He had the feeling he would succumb to this curse the Count had inflicted upon him and die soon, in fact. His future wife would be left with nothing but a corpse for a husband. Was there no hope left? Was there no one to pray for him?
Truthfully, Simon knew that legacy was the most important matter to a Belmont. He thought back to his ancestors Trevor, Christopher, and Leon. They fought endlessly, determined to banish Dracula. And yet, the Count returned, again and again. Each of them left behind a legacy. What did Simon have to show for himself? A curse that slowly ate away at his very flesh?
Besides his deathly curse, Simon began experiencing strange dreams each night. In his visions, he saw a woman with long black hair and brown skin, her face obscured by layers of mist. Whenever she spoke, her words were incoherent and muddled. Before he could reach her, Simon would wake, his skin and blonde hair drenched with sweat.
Who was she? Did she only exist in his dreams? Why did he solely dream of her, every single night? He expected Dracula to plague his dreams after their battle, but the woman occupied his mind instead. Had the curse finally consumed Simon, his mind lost?
With a sigh, Simon kneeled in front of his ancestor Trevor’s grave. He sought guidance from both him and God. Trevor was the very first Belmont to defeat Dracula, as Simon felt that he would never amount to him. Would Simon ever leave behind a legacy as great as his ancestors?
As soon as Simon formed the sign of the cross, a voice consumed his surroundings, overtaking the cemetery.
“Simon Belmont.”
The voice sounded eerily familiar, but not akin to his mother. She was still at the cabin, sleeping in her bed. Simon felt as if he had heard the voice before in his dreams, but he was not certain.
“Simon.” The voice called his name once more.
It was a woman’s voice. Simon turned his head to face the owner of the voice. He spotted a woman in the distance, but she was shrouded in the early morning mist: similar to the woman that stalked him in his sleep.
“Hello?” Simon called. “Show yourself!”
The figure stepped forward, standing a considerable distance away from him, but Simon still could not properly see her face. She was much shorter than Simon, draped in a cloak that only further obscured her features. However, he could see her long, inky black hair spilling against her shoulders.
“A terrible fate has befallen you, Simon Belmont.” The mysterious woman said. “But hope has not yet been lost.”
“How?” Simon questioned, rising to his feet. “Who are you?”
“I am an oracle.” The mysterious woman replied, her voice devoid of emotion. “And I have come to inform you that you are in grave danger.”
Simon did not respond and stepped backward, careful to not harm Trevor’s gravestone.
“You will perish soon,” The mysterious woman declared. “I have been instructed to inform you that you may still be able to dodge Death himself.”
“Tell me.” Simon begged, desperation in his voice.
He truly had no idea who this woman was, but she seemed to be the only person in all of Transylvania who was willing to assist him. Simon would not refuse her, despite his growing doubts.
“Your life is threatened by an evil curse.” The mysterious woman explained. “However, if you risk your life and stand up with courage, God will grant you strength.”
The mysterious woman stepped closer to Simon. Indeed, Simon felt as if he had seen her before, somewhere in the back of his mind. She looked like an angel, draped in an orange dress, surrounded by the mist. Had God sent her to Simon?
“The curse can be lifted once the Count is resurrected.” The mysterious woman continued. “His corpse was split into five parts after your battle with him. Find his remains and bring them to the ruins of Castlevania. When he has returned, you must defeat him again.”
Simon would have to vanquish Dracula once more? Could he do that in his current condition? Was it even possible? When he first fought Dracula, Simon did not care if he perished in the battle: all that mattered to him was Dracula’s complete eradication. Simon froze as the woman spoke, paralyzed with fear by the mere notion of returning to Dracula’s Castle.
But he was aware of his duty, despite the horror slowly overtaking his nerves.
“You will finally be free of this curse, and the wound on your back will heal. It is the only way to undo the curse.” The mysterious woman concluded, finality in her voice, as if she was telling Simon that she would not argue with him or listen to any of his potential objections.
The only way.
He knew her voice.
Could it be…?
No. The woman from his dreams was purely a production of his subconscious, perhaps a way for him to cope with the curse.
Simon was not certain if he could trust the woman’s words. Was she real, or a figment of his imagination? Simon could not tell. But what else could he do? The woman had told him a method that would finally free him from his curse.
“My lady.” Simon uttered, his voice hoarse from the sheer terror. “Do you speak the truth?”
“I did not come here to tell lies, Simon.” The mysterious woman confirmed.
When Simon blinked, the mysterious woman had disappeared into the mist.
“Wait!” Simon called, frantically turning his head and scanning the cemetery. “My lady! Who are you?!”
He received no response. The mysterious woman was gone, once again leaving Simon alone in the graveyard.
Simon could not deny the information he had received. His curse was slowly killing him, and he would do anything to save himself from such a gruesome fate. He refused to let Dracula come out victorious from their battle that occurred seven agonizing years prior.
But he still feared returning to the castle. He was not certain if the mysterious woman’s method was truthful, despite her insistence that she would not tell him lies. Why was she assisting him? Out of all the people in Transylvania, why her? Why did she not fear him, just like the other townspeople?
Perhaps Simon would have to trust her. He could not handle the agonizing pain that wrecked his body, his every waking moment.
As a Belmont, his destiny was to defeat Dracula, no matter the circumstances of his resurrection. If the mysterious woman was correct, Simon would be free from the curse and the wound on his back would finally heal.
Simon had no other choice.
Despite the cryptic words from the townspeople of Jova, Simon managed to locate Berkeley Mansion, as well as the first body part he needed to vanquish the Count: Dracula’s Rib.
He placed the bone in his bag, knowing that he would most likely reek of death even further as he accumulated the rest of Dracula’s body parts. Simon wore a bodysuit, his ancestor Trevor’s armor, and a cloak to protect himself from the glaring sun, and to avoid the prying eyes of the townspeople. They already feared him, and he could not risk losing their trust.
The moment he stepped outside Berkeley Mansion, a maiden stood in the dirt path, blocking Simon’s way.
It was her: the mysterious woman Simon had met that morning. And yet, her face was not obscured by mist in that moment.
While she was still a considerable distance away from him, Simon was able to discern some of the woman’s features. She was much shorter than Simon, her limbs lanky. She was Romani, one of the many groups that called Transylvania home, her skin dark and flowing hair black. Her hood had been pulled down, revealing a red ribbon tied into her hair, as the Diklo headscarf was reserved for married women. She seemed to be younger than him as well, perhaps twenty-four or twenty-five years old. How did a person so young get involved in this?
Well, Simon had defeated Dracula when he was only twenty-two years old. If he did not break the curse soon, he feared that he would die young, leaving him without a legacy, leaving the Belmont Clan without an heir.
Had the mysterious woman finally decided to show herself to him? Perhaps, during their first encounter, the woman was just timid. Simon understood: he was quite a lonely person, truly only interacting with his mother. He did not think of himself as having any friends or acquaintances.
And yet, the woman still kept her distance, as if she feared creating a connection between her and Simon.
“You have done well, Simon.” The mysterious woman congratulated Simon, nodding to the bag in his hand. “But your quest is not over yet. Make haste; night approaches.”
Indeed, the sun was setting. Every soul in Transylvania knew to avoid nighttime as much as possible, as vampires and monsters stalked the countryside under the moonlight. He was weakened due to his curse, unable to shake the fear he felt at the idea of facing the creatures of the night.
“How were you aware I was here, my lady?” Simon asked, a bit confused by her sudden appearance.
“Have you realized it yet?” The mysterious woman replied. “We are linked, you and I. Where you go, I follow. You have done the same for me.”
“Linked?” Simon repeated in confusion. “What on earth do you speak of?”
Was it true? The woman standing before him had to be the woman from his visions and dreams. If they were linked, did the woman dream of him?
“You are running out of time, Belmont.” The mysterious woman warned, ignoring Simon’s questions. “If you do not defeat the Count in seven days, the curse will destroy you. I have had a terrible premonition of your demise. You must act!”
As soon as Simon was about to question the woman’s words, the sun had set, bathing the countryside in darkness.
“Wait!” Simon called. “My lady! Are you the maiden from my dreams? Who are you?!”
Unfortunately, the mysterious woman had disappeared yet again. She had been replaced with a skeletal hand sprouting from the dirt path. Numerous monsters and zombies appeared, determined to put an end to Simon’s journey.
Simon brought his hand to the Vampire Killer at his hip, preparing to face the creatures of the night.
What a horrible night to have a curse.
Simon sat in the back of a quiet tavern in Aljiba, collecting his bearings and musing about the long journey ahead of him.
He knew he could not rest for long, but his body ached, the curse festering inside him. He needed a moment to relax, despite his situation. He had only found Dracula’s Rib for the time being. Earlier, a townsperson had told him to receive a blue crystal from one of the vampire hunters who lived there, but Simon did not know what he was supposed to do with the crystal. Would it help him find the location of the next body part? How could it aid him in his quest?
“It will lead you to Rover Mansion.”
Simon stood up, searching for the owner of the voice. He had heard that voice before: it belonged to the mysterious woman. And yet, she was nowhere to be found. It was as if the voice was coming from his own mind, his own thoughts, but the voice did not belong to him. Was this the link the mysterious woman had spoken about earlier?
It had to be true, then. The mysterious woman was the maiden who plagued his dreams and visions, as well as the one who had visited him on Angel Hill.
When he sat down, Simon found the mysterious woman herself sitting across from him.
“It is you.” Simon said, attempting to hide his surprise and keep his voice down. “What are you doing here?”
“It rains outside. I sought shelter.” The mysterious woman replied, nodding her head to the window. “And I came to see you. Your curse is growing more deadly, it seems.”
She was not a spirit, nor a figment of his imagination. She was there.
She always seemed to be one step ahead of him, as if she could predict the future. Perhaps she truly was an oracle, as she had expressed that to Simon when they first met in the graveyard.
He had never seen her so close before. She wore her hood up again, obscuring her flowing black hair and crimson ribbon. He believed he saw a golden earring on her earlobe for a split second. Her eyes were deep brown, staring right into Simon’s very being.
When he looked at her, Simon found the woman to be incredibly gorgeous. In fact, she seemed to be the most beautiful woman he had ever met. There was something so ethereal and angelic about her. He found himself smitten at the very sight of her features.
But Simon’s life was on the line. He simply had no time.
“I believe I do not have much time left.” Simon confessed, exhaustion in his voice.
“That is why you must leave this place.” The mysterious woman urged. “Dracula’s Heart awaits you.”
“His heart…?” Simon uttered, surprised by the sheer gruesomeness.
“Quite.” The mysterious woman confirmed. “Do you fear your quest?”
“It is careless of me to admit, but… yes.” Simon sighed. “I know I must continue for the sake of myself and the people, but the very idea of facing the Count once more has planted seeds of terror within me.”
The mysterious woman hummed, seemingly considering Simon’s answer.
“Truthfully, I feared you at first.” The woman confessed. “The Belmonts are not to be trusted, I once believed. I came to realize that you were simply a dying man.”
Her words surprised Simon. They had only known each other for a short while, and she had never told him about such a personal matter. Indeed, she never talked about herself, instead choosing to warn Simon about his quest or telling him about items he would need on his journey.
“What is your name, my lady?” Simon asked. “You are assisting me, and yet I still do not know your name.”
“Do you not recognize me?” The mysterious woman responded as she stood up, answering his question in her own way. “I have plagued your dreams, just as you have plagued mine.”
Once she had finished speaking, the mysterious woman excused herself and headed through the door, leaving Simon alone with his thoughts in the tavern once more. Lightning flashed in the distance.
Despite the mysterious woman’s odd actions and cryptic nature, Simon knew that her words were true. They both dreamed of each other.
Simon rose to his feet, uncaring of the rain. If he did not resurrect Dracula soon, the curse would finally kill him.
And he wanted to see the mysterious woman again. Simon did not know why, but he felt drawn to her, as if they had met many years ago. He still did not know her name, but her words were correct: she had visited him in his dreams for seven years. He could not deny this strange, psychic connection bonding them together.
He knew that they would soon meet.
Simon and the mysterious woman were linked, after all.
Blood dripped down Simon’s hand when he retrieved Dracula’s Heart from Rover Mansion.
He had experienced countless bloodshed and violence as a vampire hunter, but he supposed he would never grow accustomed to it, despite his training. It was a bit strange, though: the blood was fresh, as if he had carved open Dracula’s chest cavity and tore his heart out. At least it was not beating. He decided not to dwell on it for another moment longer.
The morning sun shining over Transylvania, Simon eventually reached the Dead River, spotting a boat in the distance. The ferryman stood on his boat, waiting for a passenger, but it seemed a certain someone had already arrived before Simon.
The mysterious woman spoke to the ferryman, handing him a small bag of thalers for payment. She noticed Simon’s presence immediately, turning her head to face him as he approached her and the ferryman. Her hood was pulled down again, her inky hair flowing down her back and chest.
“Care to join us?” The mysterious woman asked, oddly casual.
Well, he supposed she had every right to be casual. They had this strange, magical bond Simon still struggled to understand.
Simon turned to the ferryman, retrieving Dracula’s Heart from his bag and showing it to him. Hopefully the cryptic message he had received from one of the townspeople was correct.
“You are strong indeed, Belmont.” The ferryman said, awe in his voice. “I shall take you to Brahm’s Mansion.”
Both the ferryman and the mysterious woman seemed unphased by the organ, but Simon chose not to question it. In the beginning, he believed that the ferryman would fear him, but he seemed genuinely impressed that Simon had located the Count’s heart. If it meant that he could free himself from this curse faster, then he would have to abandon his reservations.
With that, Simon placed the heart back in his bag and joined the mysterious woman on the boat, the two of them sitting across from each other. The ferryman began rowing, the river gently flowing against the wood.
Simon was at a loss for words, unsure what to say to the mysterious woman. Considering this bond of theirs, Simon believed that she could simply read his mind.
“I am certain you have many questions.” The mysterious woman observed, breaking the silence between her and Simon.
“I do, my lady.” Simon nodded. “I believe we should start with something simple. I do not even know your name. Who are you?”
“... Rosetta.” The mysterious woman, Rosetta, replied. “My name is Rosetta.”
“Rosetta.” Simon repeated, the name foreign on his tongue. “Thank you.”
Rosetta. Simon quite liked the name. It was as beautiful as the woman bestowed with it.
“And you are Simon Belmont, descendant of Christopher.” Rosetta nodded. “Now, we know each other. What else troubles you?”
“Why do you assist me?” Simon questioned. “The Belmonts are feared by the townspeople, and yet you have warned me about my curse. Why?”
“I shall be honest with you, Simon, just as I have been since the moment we met.” Rosetta said. “After Dracula was vanquished in 1691, I began dreaming of you. You always spoke to me, but your words were muted and obscured. I did not understand why.”
Our bond, Simon thought to himself. Whenever I dreamed of her, she dreamed of me, our minds linked together.
Rosetta paused for a moment, considering her words as her brown eyes drifted from Simon’s face to the river surrounding them.
“In the beginning, I detested you, invading my dreams.” Rosetta spat. “I thought I had been cursed, just like you. I wished for my constant visions of you and the Count to end. When I first learned of your curse, I was frightened.”
Simon did not reply, wishing to hear more of Rosetta’s story.
“However, my visions were not out of the ordinary.” Rosetta sighed. “Ever since I was a child, I had premonitions of the future, my mind plagued by disasters and death. I became a bit of an outcast within my own family. Once, I had a terrible vision of when my mother would pass. When I told my parents about this, they began to fear me. I believed that I was a mistake. A part of me still does.”
Simon’s heart ached at Rosetta’s words. He understood her pain, as he too was an outcast, shunned by the people of Transylvania. But he could not imagine being shunned by his own family, as Rosetta had. He deeply sympathized with her.
“I am terribly sorry.” Simon frowned.
“Do not be.” Rosetta replied, holding her hand up. “I soon realized the truth. My constant visions were messages from God Himself. Warning you of the curse and assisting you was my holy mission. And I swore to God that I would not fail both you and Him. I left my family behind to seek you out. I will not return until you are free from the curse. I saw a future where the entire world was bathed in darkness and bloodshed. You are the only one stopping this world from falling into eternal darkness.”
Rosetta leaned forward, staring into Simon’s blue eyes, capturing his gaze and refusing to free him from her grasp. Simon felt himself freeze, entranced by Rosetta’s words, as if he had fallen under a spell.
“I am indebted to you, as well.” Rosetta explained. “My mother was killed by the Count’s forces when he was resurrected seven years ago. My premonition was correct. My father, sisters, and I ran, but I turned my head. I watched her die. However, when you killed Dracula, you avenged her. For that, I will always be grateful.”
She took his hand in hers. His hand was much larger than hers, a stark difference between the two of them.
“We are bound together, you and I.”
“Rosetta…” Simon’s breath hitched. “Tell me, is all of this true?”
“I would never lie to you, Simon.” Rosetta answered, removing her hand from Simon’s and leaning back.
“I will not fail you.” Simon said. “I will vanquish Dracula again.”
“I can still feel your fear.” Rosetta hummed. “It cuts through the air like a blade. It festers inside you, just like your curse. You are terrified.”
“Then I shall kill him, regardless of my horror.” Simon declared.
Simon and Rosetta sat there in silence after that, listening to the quiet waters beneath them.
“We have arrived.” The ferryman announced. “Thank you for your patronage. Safe travels.”
Simon had honestly forgotten the ferryman was even present, too caught up in his conversation with Rosetta and his own thoughts. They had reached land, a large mansion standing ominously in the distance, the sun obscured by dark clouds. Simon stepped onto the shore and held his hand out towards Rosetta, gently helping her out of the boat. They thanked the ferryman once more, but Rosetta stopped Simon before he could head to Brahm’s Mansion.
“Wait.” Rosetta said, gently grabbing his wrist. “Before you go, I must warn you. Brahm’s Mansion is inhabited by a formidable foe. I am certain you have faced him in the past. Please, proceed with caution, Simon. God will protect you.”
“Thank you.” Simon expressed his gratitude. “I shall do my best. We will meet again, my lady.”
Rosetta nodded in reply, watching as Simon walked towards Brahm’s Mansion.
Simon looked back for a moment, discovering that Rosetta had disappeared again. He reflected on their conversation, knowing that her words were true and her mission was holy. He still felt her touch, lingering on his hand.
But was he truly prepared for the battle ahead of him?
Despite the curse eating away at his body, Simon defeated Death himself for the second time.
Death had choice words for Simon when he encountered him. He belittled him, stating that the curse would kill him before he could resurrect Dracula. He would protect his master’s remains without question.
Simon wished to ask Rosetta about how Dracula’s body parts had been scattered across the mansions, but he assumed it was the work of Death and the rest of Dracula’s followers. They believed he would succumb to the curse, that he was weak, that he would fail. A small part of Simon agreed with them, but he would not rest until he was finally cured.
Dracula’s Eyeball had stared back at Simon as he held it between his finger and his thumb, slime oozing down the orb and onto Simon’s white gloves. With a grimace, he had placed the eyeball in his bag, continuing his journey.
Jam Wasteland was a desolate, empty area. The trees were completely devoid of any leaves or flowers, long, spindly branches protruding from the trunks. A fellow vampire hunter had instructed Simon to head to Deborah Cliff, which would presumably lead him to Bodley Mansion. Simon cursed himself for barely knowing his way around his own homeland, forcing him to rely on the townspeople, vampire hunters, and Rosetta on occasion. He did not spend much time outside his mother’s small cabin. When he was young, he could only be described as a sheltered child.
As Simon walked, the sun set over the horizon. Nightfall would soon approach, but he had no place to rest. He would have to survive the night then, praying that he would reach the morning, that his body would not shut down before sunrise.
The moon rose, the sky turning to a pitch black with very few bright stars. Simon soon felt a familiar presence jolting through his mind and his nerves.
Simon spotted Rosetta in the distance, surrounded by a group of monstrous eagles with strikingly sharp claws. She backed up into a tree, her expression neutral, but Simon could feel her fear, just as she had done the same for him, sweat rolling down her dark skin.
“Rosetta!” Simon called, urgency in his voice.
He charged towards the commotion and grabbed the Vampire Killer, cracking his whip at the eagles, the monsters exploding into nothing more than a pile of flesh and feathers.
“Are you hurt?” Simon asked.
“I am fine.” Rosetta shook her head, still a bit shaken up by the ordeal. “Thank you for saving me.”
“Do you have experience in combat?” Simon asked as a group of undead mummies lurched forward, their bandaged arms sticking out.
“I do not.” Rosetta replied, a bit solemnly. “In my life, I have always fled from confrontations.”
“No matter.” Simon said. “I shall protect you. Stay close to me. The night will be difficult.”
Rosetta followed after Simon as he fought his way through Jam Wasteland, protecting her from the onslaught of mummies and skeletons. Vanquishing creatures of the night had become second nature to Simon, as he was trained for such things since he was a child. While he focused on the monsters, he would look back to Rosetta from time to time, just to be certain that she was alright.
He swore he saw her reach for his hand, just as she had done the same when they rode down the Dead River together, but she never did grab it. Simon could not say what she was thinking of, but he knew she seemed troubled. How peculiar.
Once morning arrived, Simon felt a sudden surge of pain, as if a blade had sliced through his skin. It was completely unlike the constant aching of his body that the curse afflicted him with. Had he felt Rosetta’s pain, their psychic connection amplifying?
He turned around to see Rosetta’s hand wrapped around her arm, the faintest hint of blood on her skin.
“What happened?” Simon questioned worriedly.
“One of those dastardly eagles sliced me.” Rosetta sighed, removing her grasp from her arm and allowing Simon to inspect her wound. “I was reckless. I should have-”
“Come.” Simon ordered. “I will treat your wound.”
Simon and Rosetta sat by a nearby tree, as Jam Wasteland has practically no resting spots. Rosetta held her arm out as Simon grabbed a cloth and a bandage from his supply bag. He had purchased the materials from a merchant in Aljiba as a precaution, even if he did not have a clue on how to treat the wounds that his curse tormented him with.
“What brought you here, Rosetta?” Simon asked as he cleaned Rosetta’s wound and gently wrapped the white bandage around her forearm.
“My premonitions.” Rosetta explained. “I knew you would be here.”
“You endangered yourself by waiting for me.” Simon said.
“What does it matter?” Rosetta huffed. “Your will and mine are one. I must assist you on your quest.”
“I very much appreciate that,” Simon continued. “I simply wish you would stop worrying about me.”
“Says the man bandaging my wound.” Rosetta hummed, a small smile forming on her lips.
He supposed it was a strange image, the normally stoic, hardened vampire hunter Simon Belmont treating a young woman’s wound. It did not bother him, though. His mother always did describe him as a gentle giant.
Simon smiled in return. It was an odd sensation. He had not smiled in what felt like centuries. Not since Dracula had cursed him.
“I must go.” Simon said as he stood up. “There are only two body parts left. I can practically hear the Count calling my name.”
“You will be cured soon.” Rosetta observed blankly, as if she was lost in thought.
“Indeed.” Simon replied, placing the rest of the materials back in his supply bag. “I pray that all of this ends in a timely manner.”
Rosetta paused for a moment, rising to her feet.
“Simon-” Rosetta began, but immediately closed her mouth.
“Yes?” Simon tilted his head. “What troubles you?”
“I…” Rosetta’s voice grew quiet. “My apologies. I said nothing. You should return to your quest. There is no time to waste.”
Simon only nodded, a bit confused by Rosetta’s words. He could feel her confusion and a twinge of guilt, as if she was hiding something from him. Simon decided not to dwell on it: he knew that she had only told him the truth since the moment they met each other. She genuinely wanted to help him, just as he wished to protect and assist her.
They said their goodbyes, but a small part of Simon wished that Rosetta would walk with him.
Simon kneeled in the pews at the local church in Doina, his fingers knitted together in prayer.
He desperately needed to rest, as well as to speak with God. The church was just as empty and desolate as Jam Wasteland, a large cross positioned before the altar, stained glass windows lining the walls. He was surprised that the priest had let him inside the church.
With each step, his body ached, his limbs crying out in pain. He practically forced himself to walk, despite the constant agony he endured. Perhaps the priest took pity on Simon, noticing his injuries.
He found Dracula’s Nail in Bodley Mansion without much issue, as there was strangely no guard, unlike Death’s post at Brahm’s Mansion. It felt a little too easy, slightly discomforting Simon, but he was not one to complain. There was only one body part remaining, with only two days left. It would all be over soon. He could finally live the rest of his life in peace.
Over the course of his journey, Simon found himself questioning his legacy once more. Would he be remembered for his quest? Would he write about it or tell his children, who would then tell his grandchildren? Or would his mother shun him for being cursed from the beginning? Would he be regarded as a failure?
Simon supposed he was overthinking. When he told his mother about his curse, she did not reprimand him. She had always been a caring woman, supporting Simon throughout his life. His father passed away sometime after Simon killed Dracula in 1691, leaving Simon to care for his mother alone. He considered writing a letter to her, but he did not want to cause her any worry. He would not return home until Dracula was eradicated.
But would history look back on him fondly?
Simon was brought out of his thoughts when he felt Rosetta’s presence in the church. She stood in the aisle, staring at the cross.
“Hello, my lady.” Simon greeted. “It is good to see you among the living.”
“Likewise.” Rosetta nodded in agreement.
“Are you safe?” Simon asked. “Have you encountered any monsters?”
“I am fine, Simon.” Rosetta responded as she sat down beside him, kneeling in the pews. “But my visions continue to torment me. I fear we will not find an end to this suffering.”
“Worry not.” Simon reassured. “Only one body part remains. I will locate it soon.”
Rosetta merely nodded with a sigh, looking away from Simon. He noticed her distress, similar to their interaction from the previous day. He did not wish to pry, but he still felt that she had not told him everything. Regardless, he wished to alleviate her worries, and to know more about her.
“Tell me, my lady,” Simon began. “What is your family like?”
“An odd question,” Rosetta hummed. “But my parents have always been hardworking. My mother was a homemaker, while my father trades livestock. My parents initially told me to use my premonitions as a fortune teller, but they decided to put me to work selling flowers with my sisters. My visions were always catastrophic and ruinous, you see.”
“Your visions were never positive?” Simon asked.
“I am afraid not.” Rosetta frowned. “But the ones that involved you were not so bad in retrospect. It is a good thing that we met.”
“Indeed.” Simon agreed, attempting to ignore the blush spreading across his face.
Rosetta seemed to notice this, but she did not comment on it.
“And you, Simon?” Rosetta proposed. “What about your family?”
“I come from a long line of vampire hunters.” Simon explained. “My father was a great hunter, training me to defeat Dracula since I was very young. He told me tales of my ancestors each day. My mother is very caring and supportive, but she does not have any powers. I believe it is up to me to continue the bloodline, but I fear I am too old at this point. I have not yet married.”
“What is your age?” Rosetta asked, seemingly amused by Simon’s romantic woes.
“I am twenty-nine years old.” Simon confirmed.
“You still have time.” Rosetta said with a small laugh. “Do not worry. I am certain you will be able to rest and settle down once you lift the curse.”
“What will you do once this is all over?” Simon questioned, a bit stunned by Rosetta’s beautiful laughter.
“I… I do not know.” Rosetta stared at the altar. “I have not thought about that.”
Simon hummed in response. He sympathized with her: he knew that he would return home once he had killed Dracula again, but what would follow? Would he truly know peace again? Perhaps “peace” was a foreign term to vampire hunters and oracles. Simon and Rosetta had that in common.
The two chatted for a while longer, primarily in relation to their childhoods. Simon soon noticed that it was midday. He needed to reach Laruba Mansion before sunset. He could not waste time, even if he enjoyed speaking with Rosetta. Before he could excuse himself, Rosetta gently grabbed Simon’s hand.
He did not pull away.
“Laruba Mansion is guarded by the deadly vampire countess Carmilla.” Rosetta warned. “Do not underestimate her.”
She removed her grasp and looked through her satchel, handing a shining glass bottle of holy water to Simon.
“It is not much…” Rosetta began. “I believe it can help you. I used the last of my thalers to purchase it. Please, take it.”
“Thank you, Rosetta.” Simon sighed in relief, as he had used all of his holy water earlier, and the vendors at the market refused to sell him a single drop. “I cannot express my gratitude enough. I promise I will be careful.”
He accepted the holy water and placed it in his bag, but he could not stop thinking about his conversation with Rosetta. He greatly worried about her. He knew that she was an outcast like him, both of them on missions from God Himself, but he could not shake the feeling that she would somehow be harmed while assisting Simon. Was he simply unaccustomed to genuine kindness from a person who was not a member of his family?
“Rosetta…” Simon remarked. “Will you ever return to your family? They must miss you.”
“Goodbye, Simon.” Rosetta simply said, avoiding the topic. “I have put my faith in you.”
Simon only nodded, hoping to speak more about this with Rosetta in the future. For the moment, Laruba Mansion beckoned him.
Rosetta stood in the aisle of the church once more, watching Simon pass through the wooden doors.
After Carmilla released her last breath, Simon felt that he would do the same.
He had managed to find Dracula’s Ring, the last item he needed to end the curse once and for all, but his death charged towards him, rendering him hopeless.
He collapsed on his knees to the carpeted floor of Laruba Mansion, shards of glass from the shattered windows of the manor surrounding him. An excruciating pain surged throughout his body, the most agony he had ever experienced while being afflicted by the curse.
A dark wave of nausea rushed over Simon. He hunched over and vomited, an unfamiliar glossy substance painting the floor. He felt horrible, as if he would never see the sun rise again, his life meeting a pathetic end.
He soon felt a hot flash of pain running across his hand.
Hurriedly, his face drenched in sweat, Simon removed his glove to inspect his finger, only to discover that his skin was peeling from his right hand, along with the dermis and hypodermis, blood and tissue oozing onto his skin and descending to the ground. He believed he saw his phalanges for a moment, but he refused to look once more.
Simon keeled over, his own body shutting down, finally succumbing to his pain he had become so familiar with for the past seven years. His fate had been sealed.
He would never escape this mansion. He would die in these halls. He would never see his mother or Rosetta again. The curse would take him.
And he would not leave behind a legacy.
Simon’s blue eyes fluttered open.
A fireplace blazed beside him, filling his senses with warmth. He found himself lying on a comfortable bed, sheets draped over his muscular form. He attempted to sit up, but his body violently ached. He laid back down in defeat, staring up at the cream-colored ceiling.
He was shirtless, bandages wrapped around his torso, as well as his injured hand. His bodysuit, armor, cloak, and the rest of his gear, including the bag of body parts, were neatly placed in the corner of the room. He seemed to be in a cabin of some sorts, but how he came to the cabin remained a mystery.
Had he been kidnapped or rescued? Was he merely trapped in an illusion?
“You have awakened.” Rosetta’s voice entered the room.
Rosetta stood in the doorway, carrying a bundle of firewood under her arm. Her cloak had been discarded, her orange dress and brown sandals remaining, her ruby ribbon still tied into her long black hair.
“You… you brought me here.” Simon said. “You saved my life. Thank you so much. How will I ever repay you?”
“You saved me in Jam Wasteland.” Rosetta replied matter-of-factly as she placed the wood into the fire. “I was simply repaying my own debt.”
“I suppose…” Simon’s voice trailed off as he watched Rosetta sit on the chair next to his bed, well aware that he could not argue with her.
Their shadows reflected against the pale walls of the cabin, the fireplace softly crackling.
“How were you able to find me?” Simon asked. “Besides our… link.”
“I waited outside Laruba Mansion.” Rosetta explained. “When you did not come out, I feared the worst and went inside to look for you. I felt your pain, seeping through my body. I believed that you were dead when I initially saw you.”
Rosetta paused for a moment, her brown eyes locked onto the only window in the bedroom.
“But I felt your heart beating as if it were mine.” Rosetta’s breath hitched as she spoke about the memory.
She seemed genuinely distraught, as if reflecting on the memory caused her great pain. Simon sat up to place a comforting hand on Rosetta’s shoulder, despite his continuous agony.
“It is alright, Rosetta.” Simon encouraged. “I would not be here if you had not saved me. I owe you my life. I can continue on my journey because of you.”
Rosetta only nodded in reply, staring at her calloused, worn hands in her lap, surely pricked by a rose’s thorns from her work selling flowers with her sisters.
“Is this your home?” Simon questioned.
“No.” Rosetta replied bluntly as she grabbed a wet cloth from the bedside table. “It has been abandoned for years. I brought you here to treat your injuries.”
“Thank you, but I am afraid they cannot be treated, my lady.” Simon said. “This curse… it is killing me. If you had not found me, I would have become a memory.”
“And yet you have located all of the body parts needed.” Rosetta nodded to the frankly disgusting bag.
“I must go to the ruins of Castlevania.” Simon agreed. “Tomorrow is the final day. I shall resurrect the Count and be rid of this nightmare.”
The mere mention of Dracula seemed to cause Rosetta to become tense, similar to their previous interactions. She did not reply for a long time, seemingly lost in thought. Simon desperately wished to know what she was thinking of. Unlike Simon, Rosetta’s premonitions would continue to plague her, regardless if Dracula was defeated.
Although Rosetta no longer perceived her visions as a curse, Simon wished that she would see her psychic abilities through a more positive light. Simon was aware that he had no say in the matter, as he knew practically nothing about magic and he wished to be respectful to Rosetta, but her abilities were a gift. He had not realized just how important their very first meeting was.
“I must confess something, Simon.” Rosetta said, severing the silence between her and Simon. “I have not been fully honest with you.”
“Go on.” Simon urged, surprised that Rosetta was speaking so openly. “I will listen.”
“There is a sixth body part.” Rosetta breathed. “Dracula’s Fang. You will find it in Dracula’s Castle, in his chamber. Only then will he be resurrected.”
“That will not be an issue, Rosetta.” Simon remarked, despite his belief that the curse would kill him soon. “I will find it. You need not worry.”
“You misunderstand.” Rosetta spat. “I… I had a terrible vision. I saw him. The Count. He beheaded you, your blood staining the ruins of Castlevania. I could not tell you. I feared that you would shun me. Hate me.”
She paused, tears running down her cheeks, her words filling Simon with terror. Her premonitions had always been true, regardless of their grim nature.
But Simon had the power to change it.
“If you never wish me to see me again, I understand.” Rosetta sniffled. “We can pretend this was all a horrible dream.”
Truthfully, Simon had never comforted another person before, as he had always been a lonely man. He helplessly watched Rosetta, unsure what to do with his hands, her head hanging low. Simon knew that her family had made an outcast of her, and she feared that Simon would do the same. It was a vicious cycle, one that Simon would not repeat.
Without another thought, Simon wrapped his arms around Rosetta’s smaller frame, gently embracing her. She froze, clearly having not foreseen this encounter in her future. She smelled faintly of lilac, perhaps due to her work. He held her for as long as he could, silently hoping that his embrace had slightly eased her worries.
“I would never hate you, Rosetta.” Simon said softly. “You saved my life. You have watched over me. If you had not warned me on Angel Hill, I would have joined my ancestors in the cemetery. You have a warm heart, Rosetta, and you are an exceptional woman. Do not let a single soul convince you otherwise. You are not a mistake.”
He gently pulled away from her, facing her once more with a calm expression.
“I am aware that your premonitions are always true,” Simon began. “But I will not rest until Dracula is dead. I refuse to let him steal my life away from me, and I will not let him harm you either. I have defeated him before, and I shall defeat him again. I will alter fate if I must.”
Rosetta wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, taking a deep breath. He had never seen her so emotional before. In the week they had known each other, Simon regarded her as a strong, mysterious, unpredictable woman. He greatly admired that about her.
But her sudden display of vulnerability did not deter him. She was still human.
“I believe it will take me a long time to truly internalize your words,” Rosetta sighed. “But thank you. You are a good man, Simon Belmont.”
Simon smiled wearily. Rosetta gently took his hand in hers, her thumb caressing his scar.
“Tell me.” Simon asked. “Do you believe in fate?”
“I suppose.” Rosetta hummed. “I do believe that I was fated to meet you, Simon.”
Simon and Rosetta embraced once more, their arms wrapped around each other, the fireplace softly crackling.
Simon kneeled before Dracula’s grave, the lake below the cliff shimmering in the morning sun.
Finally, it was over. Simon vanquished Dracula once more in the ruins of Castlevania. His curse had been lifted. The wounds on his back and hand had healed. Rosetta’s premonitions were true, but not entirely: Simon had changed his fate.
He built the grave for Dracula and prayed for him. Although Dracula had caused so much suffering to both Simon and the people of Transylvania, Simon respected his adversary. They both fought bravely during their final battle. Even a man as vile as the Count deserved dignity beneath the grave. He was once human, after all.
Although his body no longer ached, Simon’s heart and mind did.
His blood and sweat had penetrated the earth. He had constantly put his life on the line. He had realized just how close to meeting death he actually was. The burden of heroism continued to weigh heavily on his shoulders.
However, Simon felt slightly comforted when a familiar presence stood behind him.
Simon rose to his feet and turned to face Rosetta for the last time.
She smiled at him, her hood pulled down and black hair flowing in the wind.
“It seems we have reached the end of the road, Belmont.” Rosetta observed.
“Yes,” Simon nodded. “But it seems we are still tethered to each other, albeit less so.”
“Not exactly.” Rosetta’s lips curled into a slight frown. “I feel your presence growing weaker and weaker. I can barely feel you. I believe God is telling me that I have succeeded in my mission. I suppose I am no longer needed.”
“Maybe so.” Simon replied. “It is odd to admit, but I will miss this… connection of ours.”
“We saved each other.” Rosetta smiled. “I believe we are as close as can be.”
Simon nodded. He did not know how to feel about sleeping without being visited by dreams of Rosetta, but he supposed it was for the best. Simon was no longer cursed, and Rosetta had done her duty. Perhaps it was time they went their separate ways.
“What will you do now?” Simon asked.
“I… I believe I will return to my family.” Rosetta responded after some thought. “I will tell them my true feelings. To be honest with you, I miss my sisters. They were always more understanding compared to my parents.”
“They will be happy to see you again.” Simon said with a smile.
A natural silence fell between the two, but Simon was not certain if he would be able to say goodbye to Rosetta. They had been through hell together. Truly, she was one of the few people who understood Simon. Could he genuinely leave her? Was that what she wished for?
Rosetta stepped away from Simon and towards the cliff, her brown eyes watching the still lake beneath, the sun reflecting on the calm waters.
She was beautiful. Simon could not look away.
“Every night, I dreamed of my own death.” Rosetta said, her words surprising Simon. “Each time, my deaths differed. One night, I drowned in this very lake. One night, I succumbed to a deadly illness. In the beginning, they frightened me.”
Rosetta paused. Simon urgently approached her, fearing that she would act out this nightmare of hers.
“But I have come to realize that fate can be altered.” Rosetta faced him. “And you helped me to come to terms with that. I will not be defined by the visions I have been plagued with since I was young. I can create my own future.”
“Rosetta…” Simon said in awe, taken aback by Rosetta’s ultimatum. “There are no words to describe how happy I am.”
“What I do fear is saying goodbye to you, Simon.” Rosetta confessed, gently taking his hand in hers.
“Perhaps we shall meet again.” Simon offered, attempting to ignore the tears forming in the corner of his eyes.
“Yes.” Rosetta agreed. “I will pray that the Lord makes it so.”
With that, Simon gently lifted Rosetta’s hand, placing a kiss on the back of her hand. She accepted the gesture, her brown eyes twinkling.
The first time he laid eyes upon her at the peak of Angel Hill, surrounded by the graves of his ancestors, Simon was not even certain if Rosetta was real.
But there she stood, as radiant as the morning sun itself.