R. A. Moriel

Raphael Ambreu Moriel was born on May 9, 1817, in the small Banjudo village in Asturias, Spain, which brought a Spanish accent later in life. He was born to Raphael Ambreu and Rosá Moriel. His mother didn't even live to be thirty, and he didn't get along well with his father. Moriel had two older siblings: Avia and Cotrello, and one younger: Tirso, all under the Moriel family name—a family of pitch dark hair and bright green eyes. He was quite popular as he grew up, but that was centuries ago. He hardly remembers anyone’s name from that time. At 19, he left home and set out to “make a name for himself.” He even started going by his last name because it was more memorable than Raphael. On his travels, Moriel had heard tales of immortality—people who lived forever. Then and there, he decided that’s what he wanted. Moriel didn’t ever want to die, nor worry about death. At that moment, he dedicated his life to this newfound goal. Immortality could be achieved through many means, though the easiest for him seemed to be vampirism. The only setback: he had to find a vampire. 

He spent fifteen years searching, and when he finally found one, she didn't want to change him. She wanted to use him for her own blood bank. Her name was Cypress, though not the lover Moriel would one day find himself with. This Cypress was mean, abusing him for her own gain and entertainment. She promised to turn him, but it always fell through. Moriel was tired of being used, but there was nothing he could do about it. He really was at her will. A year turned into five, turned into ten. While he was aging more slowly, the years seemed to stretch much longer. Each day, doing as she wanted and slowly being drained of his own blood, his own life force. Finally, the day arrived. She had gotten a little tipsy, and while the abuse was worse, the death came much quicker. Moriel embraced it like a cold, ancient friend he had longed to see.

Gah! Where am I!? I'm underground! Let me out--Free me! LET ME OUT! That's the light, finally! The moon... BLOOD! I need blood! Food! I smell it. Where- where!? THERE, HER! You’ve lost control. Finally... Oh... Oh, what have I done!? She's dead. I didn't want this... I didn't want to hurt anyone... It’s your fault. What do I do--? Hide her. Bury her. You scum. Nobody knows…

Moriel was loopy; he felt he had lost his mind. He just killed a woman out of his own bloodlust. Was this what being a vampire was like? His mind raced, his hands shook. Fangs had pierced through his gums and had been stabbing into his pursed lips, leaving deep cuts. His blood tasted cold and metallic. It was thick, too. And now that it was done, now that she was buried, he could regain some composure. While his vision twisted and his mind raced, his pulse remained nonexistent. He was dead. The living dead, technically. His body was cold, but he didn't feel cold. He didn't breathe; he didn't feel like he needed to. Sitting on the dirt floor of the graveyard, his back against a cool stone, Moriel's face fell, buried in his dirty hands. 

What had just happened was a part of the process. He knew that now. And somebody had to pay. A woman, about 25, by the name of Estella. Black hair like his, but with starkly blue eyes. Instead of leaving her like what had happened to him, Moriel watched over the woman as she turned, crawling up from the same grave as he had. He brought her blood from an animal, so she didn't have to experience the feeling of killing someone. They helped each other, learning together what this new world meant for them. 

Years went by, centuries. They're still friends, visiting every 20 to 40 years. Each had their own vastly different life to continue living, though. Moriel built himself a manor in the middle of a forest. He had the time, speed, and strength to get it done, and only had to live off the surrounding forest animals' blood. He didn't need to leave, nor see anyone. He was free to experiment with different blood types on his own, hoping at least one would grant him true immortality. Moriel wanted to truly live forever, and never even have to worry about death, be it sickness or a stake through the heart. 

Now living in the fantastical world, he was introduced to mermaids, sirens, unicorns, faeries, demons, werewolves, and much more. Only a few blood types affected the vampire, and often temporarily. However, one of the lasting effects was from a fae. While the fair folk weren't pleased, he did receive permanently golden cat-like eyes and a slightly more youthful appearance than he had when he died. This was a slightly less deathly look, appearing closer to his early-mid thirties than forties. Another effect was the brand new claws he’s ashamed of. Moriel no longer has fingers, but long talons that protrude from his hand, sharp and black, with a distinct gradient against his otherwise pale skin. This came from a mix of demon and warlock blood. Demon ichor is unbearable to him, but mixing it helped him get it down. However, mixing the two made the effect permanent and a rather painful process. 

Moriel's last mistake was the unicorn blood. It's an extraordinarily rare experience to even see one, even for him, but he captured and killed the creature. Everyone knows that drinking the blood of a unicorn could bring you back from near death, but it takes half of your life force... For being already dead, it came as a startle to Moriel when he started to age again, though very slowly. A white-grey streak appeared in his hair. His body hurts slightly after using any sort of super speed. Needless to say, he stopped experimenting after this incident. 

Here we are, finally. Enough to cause a--hopefully--minor effect if you did it right, while the rest I've finally gotten stored away. Nothing..? Strange. Perhaps I need another sample. Wha--what's that? My hair--! Why is it GREY!? Why's it just one strand-- Where--where's the antidote? You were wrong. What could I even use!? Fae... Vampire..? From Antheas, backstabber. I hate to do this, but--what? My muscles. They ache? Another symptom? Why do I feel... Old? 

Over the years, there's no doubt that people stumble across his manor. Rumors spread of the "castle in the forest," with "a man with glowing eyes and pointed teeth." Naturally, some were drawn to the lore. Many of them, if respectful, were met with silence and got to come and go without harm. However, many teenagers, regardless of the era, like to vandalize and disrespect others' property. That never went over well with Moriel. Those foolish mortals would be met with quite the angry and threatening vampire. If they chose to be "the hero" and act bravely, they wouldn't make it out of the manor alive. And after Estella, Moriel never made the mistake of accidentally turning another human into a vampire. 

Along with visits, he also received invitations, especially as more people knew of his existence. Important people of different times and places wanted to know who he was and, specifically, why and how he had such a vast manor, especially for only one man. These were often accepted, allowing Moriel to get out in the world a bit more and meet some rather important people. One of these invitations was specifically to a meeting with other supernatural creatures, similar in some ways to himself. People talked about recent threats, enemies, allies, and changes in their world and humans’. The convention was a massive meeting with many well-known social figures from different werewolf packs, vampire clans, witches and wizards, good and bad, warlocks, the fae, djinnis, spirits, elementals, and even lesser-known shapeshifters were there. Anything Moriel could think of and more. 

There are definitely a few hundred beings here, but not a single mortal among them, I’m sure. I've never seen this before. I recognize a lot of them. Estella and her new friend, Theresa. The warlock you scared. A third girl is following them, whom I don't recognize. James, Antheas’s brother, and his wife. Doctor Hugo Moon. He's speaking with Prioska. The demon-mech you disrespected. Henry waltzes by, a new woman at his side. You don’t have any women. Marin is talking and laughing with his packmates. They almost ate you. I spotted Fouka and Seven chasing each other through crowds. A small group of warlocks is speaking. Leave them alone. Who is that woman? You’re staring. Taller than any in the group, with a familiar mystery and perfection. She’s gorgeous.

This was the second time he had laid eyes on Cypress–different than the one that brought his death and rebirth. The first time was in France. A woman with dark brown hair, pulled neatly in a perfect bun, and straight bangs cut just below her eyebrows. The air around her shimmered from something other than the golden jewelry she adorned herself with. Necklaces, bracelets, waist chains, earrings, hair pieces. She looked like royalty. And upon closer inspection, Moriel could see through the magical facade to keep her hidden among mortals. A pair of dark, spiraled horns sat atop her head, perfectly nestling a black, pointed tiara of sorts. To match, her eyes were covered with a sparkly black–what appeared to be–mask. At that time, she had been sitting, but now, Cypress was up and walking about. This made a grand difference in her appearance, even if he still recognized her. Cypress stood at a startling 6'2" (188cm). 5 inches taller than him. She towered over Moriel. Realizing that was the same woman who had caught his eye a few months ago on a visit to France, he froze–mid-conversation. This shocked the vampire to his core. But, oh man, could she pull it off.

Finding out her name, he was almost unbothered. Moriel was more than happy to associate “Cypress” with this woman than the one he had known before his vampirism. Cypress claimed she was a sort of demon, though Moriel never saw it that way. While she could be a bit manipulative, he could read her well, and they fit together perfectly. She brought him out of his shell, forcing him to make friends with more than the powerful and/or supernatural. He grounded her–she would say–brought her back to Earth. Granted, they both had their struggles and fights, but they came out on top together. Though it really bothered Moriel that she would flirt with other men, even right in front of him. Then again, she hated the way he'd starve himself until he almost couldn't control the hunger. And dating a vampire, that could be scary and even dangerous. Nonetheless, they made it work and stayed together through thick and thin for almost a century.

Cypress and Moriel had been together for 74 years. For immortals, this wasn't much time at all, but they intended to spend forever together, and you have to start somewhere. Their 75th anniversary was only a month away. It was the spring of 1976. Moriel and Cypress were walking through the Valdivian Rainforest in Chile. Moriel considers himself a sort of scientist, so when he discovered a genus of Chile’s national flowers–completely different in color from the main genus–he took it home to study. Unfortunately, the Chilean bellflower harbored a dormant virus with magical properties. The magical virus infected Cypress and left her bedridden.

What could I do? She’ll kick this infection, I’m sure. How do you know? Nothing has held Cypress down for more than a week. She’s been complaining of dizziness and headaches, and she’s been bruising really easily… Her magic hasn’t been working, either. It’s strange… It couldn’t hurt to take a look at her blood, if she’ll let you. I already have the tools.  Maybe it’ll reveal something. I wonder if I could get sick too.

Upon further inspection, Moriel discovered it was a virus, but couldn’t deduce where it came from. It never occurred to him that the flower he brought home was the culprit. During his studies, he discovered all the magical properties of Cypress’ blood set it apart from both human and his own vampiric blood. The symptoms worsened as Cypress began spitting up blood. She stopped eating and stopped getting out of bed because the dizziness and blurriness that followed made her nauseous. Moriel stood by her side the whole time, praying to whatever force beyond his understanding that Cypress be healed. He called other warlocks and medics in his home to look at her, but none of them recognized the illness, let alone knew how to remedy it. Days turned into weeks, and Moriel was losing sleep over Cypress’s illness. His time was split almost evenly between his studying and her bedside.

Their 75th anniversary came and went. Cypress began spending whatever time she could sleeping and slept through the anniversary. Moriel was at a block and didn’t know what to do next. He was already giving her nutrients and water through IVs and regular injections, but it wasn’t enough. Her heart rate was slowing, and it seemed as if the IV was blocked. Moriel took another look at her blood and realised the cells were swollen and expanded. He stopped all injections and IVs and turned to bloodletting–a practice that’s been discredited in the medical field. It was a temporary fix that only reduced her symptoms for a short time. Estheia, a friend of Cypress, who spent a lot of time at her and Moriel’s home, suggested a new, yet still uncharted discovery called “blighting.” She had explained how it eliminates the use of magic. Not much research had been put into it at the time, and only a few sources knew it was temporary. 

The first challenge was getting the substance needed for blighting. Between Moriel and Estheia, they were able to pull strings and received only one dose. They were assured that’s all they needed. With that out of the way, the next challenge was convincing Cypress to allow the injection, which would remove her magic. She told them that she’d rather die than give up her magic forever, especially since they weren’t even sure it would heal her. By this time, she was stuck in bed and could barely move. Her skin itched, and her joints swelled, yet she still chose to–as she said– ”Tough it out.” Moriel was by himself, pleading with her not to leave him, begging her to allow the injection. Finally, she relented, but wouldn’t tell Moriel why.

Cypress began to heal over the next month. Her blood cells returned to their normal bioconcave shape, shrinking back to the correct size. Her swelling and bruising decreased, the dizziness and blurry vision subsided, and Cypress began eating again. After three months, she was completely healed. The only change was that she was without her magic. Moriel didn’t realize how much she used her magic until it was gone. Cypress fell into a shallow depression and stopped leaving their home. She stopped seeing friends and hid in their bedroom when guests came over. “I feel like a different person,” she had told him, “someone I don’t like anymore.” Moriel tried his best to comfort her, but couldn’t lift her spirits. 

Within the following year, Cypress was fully healed. As time went on, she started to feel better about the loss of her magic. However, some days were still spent in bed or locked away. Old hobbies were lost within a couple of weeks, and she found less joy in Moriel’s cooking than before. Moriel was scared to leave her alone and stayed by Cypress’s side every day. When she didn’t want to travel with him, he asked a trusted friend to stay with her.

Cypress’s symptoms began to return in the early months of 1978 in rapid succession. It was the same dizziness and swelling as before. She was spitting and coughing up blood. She stopped eating due to pain, nausea, and depression. New research revealed that blighting was only temporary and wears off within about 8 months. Cypress needed semi-annual blighting injections to keep herself alive. This sent her into a downward spiral where she locked herself in her and Moriel’s room for months. She didn’t eat, except for the crackers and quesadillas Moriel could fit under the door. Friends tried talking to Cypress, but ultimately, Moriel was the one who stayed on the other side of the door the longest. The day Cypress opened the door for Moriel, he had to hold himself back from completely enveloping her, fearful that she might go back into hiding. 

The door handle is turning… The handle’s turning! Get up, you fool. She’s okay. My poor love, she looks starved… What do I do? Be calm. Hold her. Is she crying? Why? Don’t ask; you know why. She’s okay… She’s okay. 

“I’m so happy to see you, love…”

A year later, Cypress seemed to be doing well. She wasn’t back to her old self, but she was eating regularly, enjoying old hobbies, and spending more time with her friends. Moriel was happy to see her happy. She seemed to be coming to terms with the regular blighting and not having magic anymore. Moriel felt bad to have taken something so precious away from her, but it was the only way they knew to keep her alive. Another year passed, and Cypress was able to perform the blighting injections herself. She began sharing more of her past. Having been closer to death than she’d liked, Cypress figured it was time someone knew everything. Over the next three years, Moriel learned a lot about her past. By the end of 1983, Cypress had shared all that she had ever done and experienced. Moriel told her he’d write a book all about her adventures and about the woman who gave up magic for love and life forever. He remembered clearly how she smiled at him. At the time, he thought she was tired and maybe a little annoyed with his ambitions. Looking back, Moriel understands that she didn’t intend to live forever with him.

Cypress has been blighting herself for a few years. In 1984, she purposefully skipped both blightings. Moriel didn’t find out until the very beginning of 1985. She had been hiding symptoms as they returned, until they couldn’t be hidden anymore. By the time Moriel found out that she had been sabotaging herself, she had explained that if it was her time to die, she didn’t want to delay it. Cypress asked Moriel to let her go if death wanted to take her. She wouldn’t let him argue or disagree; having said that, if she didn’t go when told, death would come for more than one. It took weeks for Moriel to relent and give her his word. He would not stop her death anymore, nor resurrect her. They had delayed it long enough. Cypress was at peace with the decision. Moriel tried his best to come to terms with it, but he never could. For her, he would tell himself, it’s what she wants.

Moriel sat at Cypress’s bedside, his hand wrapped around hers. Please, he had pleaded with her, begging to fix it. All he needed was more time. She looked at him and smiled. Moriel had already asked a dozen times in that same hour. Every time she shook her head and smiled. Every time she rubbed his hand with the little strength she had left. There was nothing more that Moriel could do except be next to Cypress as she welcomed death. She didn’t want it to be fixed, Cypress whispered back, as she beckoned Moriel closer, it was finally time for her soul to leave the world. And they both knew that. He looked at her, fear and anger twisting in his heart. Moriel was terrified. He knew what was going to happen, but his mind didn’t want to accept it. Write that book, she had told him, to share what she’s done, to remember what they’ve accomplished together… Find somebody else someday. Cypress didn’t want Moriel to stop living after her passing.

He couldn’t believe she’d suggest he move on, but he didn’t want to spend her last minutes disagreeing. As time went on, one second at a time, he felt his mind’s pace speed up. His thoughts, often sentences became single words. His hands began to shake. He pulled her into his lap, sitting on the floor. He held her tight, his face buried in her neck as he wept. His face and eyes burned, his grip tightening as she ran her fingers through his hair. Please, please, please, please, he begged anyone who might hear his prayers. Moriel couldn’t lose her–the love of his life. His other half. He pulled himself away for a moment to look at her again. He realized he didn’t want her last sight to be over his shoulder. She wiped the tears off his face, his hand finding hers. He watched her strain to breathe, gasping in short breaths. He could feel the pulse in her hand as it slowed. He looked at her eyes, her smile calming the panic in his mind for just a moment. They’d reunite someday, she told him, her voice straining. 

Die. She’s going to die. Death. She’s going to leave you. Gone. Forever. It. It’s it. This is it. What do I say? Stay–please stay–please. Remain. Here. With me. Don’t go–don’t leave. Don’t. Don’t leave me. I can’t. Can’t. I can’t live without you. You can’t. Please, help. My love. Love. I love you. My love. Precious. Please. Please. Stay with me. Selfish–You’re selfish. I am selfish. Just stay. She’s gorgeous. Her soul. Stay. A little longer. Longer. I can fix it. Fix it. You should have fixed it. Fix it. Too late. It’s too late. You’re too late.

“I love you.”

He watched her lips move, but no sound came out. I love you too. All at once, his mind went silent. He watched the life leave her body. Her breath stopped, her skin grew cold and pale–more than his own. She looked so peaceful, lying there in his arms. He was scared to move, fearful that she’d turn to ash or fade away. Moriel spent over an hour in that spot, staring at her. He didn’t want to admit to himself that she was gone, but this was impossible to deny. Finally, he broke and pulled her body into himself. His shoulders shook as he sobbed. He held her against him for the remainder of that day and all through the night. They both sat, silent, neither heart beating nor a single breath taken. Moriel was careful not to hurt her, even as his arms tightened around her body, even as he forced himself to face the fact of her death. 

Cypress died at 5:42 P.M. on Friday, March 29th, 1985. It was three weeks before anybody else knew about Cypress’s death. Moriel extracted her blood and buried her body underneath a garden they had tried to build together long before. The garden’s been long dead, as neither of them could remember to water it. He spent a lot of time in the garden, and when he couldn’t be in the garden, he stared at her portraits. Unread letters started to pile up, and close friends began to worry. Finally, Estella came to his home. She found Moriel in the garden, on his knees, slouched forward. He held a letter, gripped tightly in trembling hands. His shoulders shook as he sat in front of a freshly placed pile of dirt and soil. Moriel? Estella had called his name, but he didn’t answer. He didn’t even look away from the mound until the sun rose, forcing him back inside. Moriel didn’t need to say anything for Estella to know that Cypress had passed.  

They got hold of Estheia, who organized the memorial made for Cypress. It was Friday, May 10th, 1985. Moriel didn’t say a single word through the whole thing. It was as if he wasn’t even there. He felt like he was listening to the world while his head was under water. Estella did most of the talking for him, speaking to people while Moriel stared off silently. The whole memorial was a blur to him. People spoke, most of whom he didn’t know personally, only from stories Cypress told. There was food, which he couldn’t eat, even if his vampirism allowed him. Some people cried, and some gave their condolences to Moriel. He just nodded in response, hoping they’d leave him be. He heard some of the guests talking about him, but he didn’t care enough to listen. It didn’t matter to Moriel what they had to say, as long as none of them disparaged Cypress’s name. Moriel was among the first to leave the memorial, despite what guests might think of him. He just wanted to go home and mourn.

Even after the memorial service, Moriel refused to speak. He spent many days awake, only sleeping when he physically had to. A few friends visited, but he never met them at the door. They either left or let themselves in. Estella visited regularly to make sure he ate, and after a while, she was the only visitor he had. Estella told him about the world outside of Moriel’s manor, her relationship and hobbies, and constantly assured him that people wanted to see where he had gone. Moriel didn’t listen to most of what she said. He didn’t want to see or be seen by others. He just wanted to be alone, and so he was. Days passed, weeks became months, becoming years. He didn’t speak or read. The only writing he did was short snippets of information he didn’t want to lose, all pertaining to Cypress. 

The world around Moriel continued to develop, though he stayed silently in his manor for 23 years. By then, he had forgotten many things about himself, including his original eye color, most of his life before becoming a vampire, and his name. Only letters written to “R. A. Moriel” gave him an inkling of who he was and how people knew him. He remembered people more than himself. Estella, Hugo, Estheia, Antheas, James, Marin, and above all, Cypress. He believed she was his reason for living, but even with her gone, he remains. He thought about her a lot while locked away. The past she talked about, the people she knew, and the book he wanted to write about her. Moriel never wrote that book. Many of his friendships fell apart. Estella helped Moriel tremendously, but he and his other friends stopped speaking. The only guests Moriel receives are Estella and the crickets in spring. Beyond that, he’s content by himself, despite the depressive episodes and crippling anxiety–and his memories.