1I have only played two Castlevania games so far, with Order of Ecclesia being my favorite of the two and the one I finished most recently. Being stuck at home and being sick, I have been thinking a bit about the game. I started to entertain this idea, which has become a full blown fan fic.
I hope my pacing and length of chapters is suitable. I also hope I touch into some things well, because I've never really written scenes like that before. I also really hope that whoever reads this enjoys it.
Not too long ago, Shanoa never would have pictured herself outside of Ecclesia. She had never really explored the outside world, only knowing the inside of Ecclesia. Her life had changed so much in such a short time, but she had come to find Wygol Village almost like a second home. She enjoyed the villagers and their stories, the cats who would wind between her legs, and the children who would beg her to play with them. She had not intended to settle into the village that had been, in many ways, the start of her journey, but once she returned, she felt little pull to leave.
Days kept her busy. It was only at night, when the village fell into slumber, did she feel troubled. Her nights were plagued by dreams, dreams that any person would fear after all she had gone through. She had fought her way across the land, fighting countless monsters that would pop in and out of her dreams. The hot, rancid breath of giant floating heads, the howl of a werewolf, the clicking noise of the claws of creatures half woman, half cat, the shrieks of the banshee and wails of cursed women, the lumbering footfalls of hulking creations, the betrayal of the man who had raised her, Death himself floating against a full moon, and the calm demeanor of Count Dracula were enough to make anyone not want to sleep again, but she had to sleep.
She also dreamed of Albus, the adoptive brother who gave everything for her. Good dreams of sweet memories the two of them shared together. Then there were bad dreams, dreams in which his defection and attempts to kill her were not ploys but true efforts. She would wake from those dreams with tear-stained cheeks and trembling hands.
But for the past few weeks there had been a new elements to her dreams: a young woman that she recognized and yet she had no idea how she did. She knew that face, those dark green eyes framed by heavy lashes, the upturned nose with a smattering of freckles, the chestnut brown hair that always seemed to fall in her face. She never spoke in her dreams, not yet at least, and she was not in her dreams every night. The last time she dreamed of her, the woman had been looking away from her, then turned and laughed a genuine, happy laugh. She did not appear intimidating or threatening in the least.
That had been three nights prior, yet Shanoa still found herself distracted as she tried to figure out who this woman was. She had little doubt the woman was from her past, but at what point? Her memories and emotions had been stolen at the start of her journey, but they had been returned to her. So why was this woman, whoever she was, just on the outskirts of her mind?
Much of her daylight time was now spent trying to figure out who exactly this dream woman was. Shanoa would sometimes walk through the village, going through the motions of greeting everyone, human and animal, and offering her assistance when asked without really seeing who she was speaking to or helping. One morning, as she walked through the small village, she heard a voice call to her.
"Here you are, looking gloomy again."
Shanoa looked up in surprise to find the village jeweler, a woman named Laura, standing beside her. She greeted her, her tone distracted. "I wouldn't say gloomy," replied Shanoa. "I'm just... thinking."
Laura studied the other woman and shook her head. "Whatever could you be thinking of that has you looking so sorrowful?"
"Am I? I did not realize I looked so sad." Shanoa leaned against the wall of Laura's little shop and sighed. "There are these dreams I've been having," she started to say.
Laura immediately cut her off, looking sympathetic. "Oh, dear. I'm certain Abram can make you something for dreamless sleep. And if you ever wish to talk, I'm free."
"Could we talk now?"
Without a word, Laura ushered the other woman into her shop. Immediately, she heard a meow from Tofu, the cat who belonged to Laura. The cat leaped from the chair he perched on and trotted over to Shanoa. She knelt and scratched under the feline's chin.
"I do not know what comfort I can give you, but talk whenever you're ready."
"Thank you." Shanoa turned her attention away from the cat and back to Laura. Laura had taken the chair that Tofu left and she gestured to the one across from her. Shanoa sat down. Tofu quickly jumped on her lap. She began to stroke the cat's head as she admitted she was unsure of speaking about her dreams. "It sounds so silly to think about," murmured Shanoa. "I know what you were thinking, and it isn't a horrible nightmare that is bothering me. As of late, I have these occasional dreams about a woman, one I know from my past but I cannot place her. Who she is nags at me, because I know her. I just cannot recall her name, how or even from where I know her."
Laura was silent as she thought of what Shanoa said. The only sound in the room was a faint purr from Tofu. "That is tricky," admitted Laura, "and I can see why it weighs on your mind." She leaned back in her chair and began to muse aloud. "You have been here for some time, so it is unlikely you crossed paths recently. Could you have wronged her?"
"I don't believe so. She doesn't appear vengeful."
"Hmm. Well, then. Perhaps she is thinking of you?"
"Maybe..." Shanoa rubbed between Tofu's ears pensively. She could not answer that in any certainty. "I hate to sound disrespectful to whatever controls my dreams, because I am not. I would rather this woman's warm presence than any related to a particular castle."
"But it weighs on you. I will be happy to help you in any way I can, and I will think about this further. Consider talking to Father Nikolai, as well. He may have better input than I."
Shanoa thanked Laura for her hospitality and stood, scooping up Tofu as she did. He meowed at her and tried to snuggle closer to her, but she returned the cat to Laura and left. She did feel a little better, having spoken of those dreams to someone else. She just was not ready to speak to Father Nikolai, or anyone else, yet. The villagers were kind, but she feared they still did not fully understand her. She was also afraid of being pushed out of the village, though no one had made any effort to do such a thing.
She decided the day would be spent busying herself. She would still fetch items requested from the villagers, whether that be herbs, materials for fabric, metal, or even jewels. She had a knack for finding such. She also was a skilled fighter. Even with Dracula gone, creatures still lurked nearby. They did not step foot in the village; either they knew better or, more likely than not, there was some magic involved. Shanoa did not question it, nor did the villagers.
Villagers called out greetings or requests to her as they saw her leaving the village. She returned their greetings, but she made no promises to come back with what they asked for. She did, however, promise to return before nightfall.
A few hours outside the village did her well. Hunting up sage, berries, spidersilk, and whatever else she could come across was a welcome distraction. She returned that evening, as promised, with a bag full of sage, deep red berries for fabric dying, and even a chunk of emerald for Laura to use in her jewelry. A hot meal awaited her, as did several of the villagers wanting to hear about her adventure that day. She assured them it was not as adventurous as they assumed and that the worst thing she ran into that day was a large fish in the stream where she found the emerald.
It was times like that when she really felt like the villagers were like a family. The only place she had felt such closeness to anyone else was at Ecclesia.
That night, as she settled into bed, her thoughts were at ease. The night was bright, the moon nearly full. She was tired and fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
The room she dreamed of was comfortable and inviting. The floor was covered in a plush, dark red rug that muffled footsteps. The walls were lined with shelves, many of them full of books though others held various trinkets. The high windows in the room were uncovered, letting sunlight filter through. A large desk dominated one wall in front of the windows, but off to the side was a sitting area, complete with a couch the same shade of red as the rug.
Movement in that corner caught her attention. There sat the mysterious woman, one foot tucked under her as she gently kicked the other without realizing what she was doing. Her attention was on the book she held. She turned the page, the sound crisp in the otherwise silent room. To Shanoa's surprise, she heard the woman begin to hum as she read.
"Who are you?" she longed to ask. As if the woman could read her thoughts, she glanced up. Her gaze drifted back to the book before she looked up again. She jumped as she was not alone.
"Were you trying to frighten me?" she asked. She marked her place and closed the book, placing it on the couch as she did. "If so, that is very unkind."
