In every direction it was the same; sand as far as the eye could see.
Kushim had to hand it to them. It was a very imaginative way to send a vampire to an almost certain death.
He, a creature of the night, a master of the darkness; left with nowhere to hide, no shade in sight, to keep him from the flaming Helios which would begin its journey across the sky any moment soon.
He laughed, as best as he could. He would die by the collective will and hands of his dearly beloved spawn – those to whom he had given the dark blood, the gift of immortality.
If he had to be honest, he would admit that they were right to feel slightly hurt. He had been at times, over the centuries, what one might consider a bad father. But he could not help it. He was from a different time and place; a harsh corner of human history where callousness was life and to draw breath for any decent length of time required a man to be cold and dead on the inside.
Whatever; it didn’t matter. Now, at last he would rest.
His fate was sealed long ago. He knew his end had come once they caught up with him over a century ago.
Since then, they had chained him in a dark sarcophagus, starving and torturing him until he withered down to a pale leathery bag of bones, barely able to blink, let alone move.
Old and strong as he was, his powers were of no use to his unfed vessel; and truth be told, he was curious to know what the true death would feel like.
After centuries of sleeping in dark mausoleums, he found himself awake in a reinforced palladium-glass coffin in the middle of a desert, naked and delirious; an unholy sacrifice. The sun would finally look upon him for the first time since he died the death of a thousand lifetimes.
His body began to experience a foreign sensation, almost as though it were tingling. He forced a smile.
The faintest hint of the rising sun; a warming glow on the edge of the horizon.
In the distance far away, a figure drew near at great speed, leaving sonic booms in its wake. It was another one of his many children. One that had not consented to the death of his father. He was a son of Kushim’s immortality, and a descendant of his mortal flesh.
With haste indescribable, the hooded figure sprinted across the desert sand over to the coffin, pausing only briefly to look at the unrecognizable figure of his father, before effortlessly digging a hole in the dunes into which he dropped the glass coffin unceremoniously before wrapping it with a heavy black damask cloth and covering the hole with sand.
In less than a minute he had successfully secured the coffin from the deathly ultraviolet rays and had disappeared. He would return for his father the moment the sun hid its unforgiving face.
Recuperation would take time, but once his father was whole again, there would be bloody vengeance and retribution upon the fucking bastards who had attempted this act of profanity: Sacrilege! They would all beg to burn before he was through with them.
Inside the buried coffin, Kushim closed his eyes, not out of fatigue or relief but rather out of self-loathing. His cowardice had made him to telepathically summon Yuval, his protégé, to his rescue.