Castlevania: Sonata of Seasons Zine
SEASON | Summer
RATING | T
WORDS | 3.5k (...plus another 1.6k of footnotes lol)
FIC SUMMARY | During a vicious attack on the city he calls home, Olrox inherits a legendary power. Burning with an unendurable need for retribution, he knows just what he'll do with it.
[Spot art and mini animation by @mysteryanimator] - [Download the Zine @castlevaniaszn ]
[Read on AO3]
Olrox ignored the sound of someone ascending the temple steps as he prepared the incense. The summer sun would be rising soon, and the nighttime symphony of crickets would be replaced by the bustling of people through the streets below. People who would soon learn that they were no longer Tlaxcaltec–but Mēxihcah.
The footsteps reached the top of the temple and stopped. “I can hear your heart's song, Olrox,” came the high priest’s gravelly voice. “You go about angrily.”
Olrox unclenched his jaw and held the incense over the flaming brazier until it caught fire, filling the air with perfumed smoke. “I am certain that your decision was made with a wisdom which I am too young and inexperienced to understand, Quetzalcōātzin,” he gritted through his teeth.
The high priest scoffed. “You are not my student anymore, Olrox. You may speak plainly with me.”
He set the incense down and faced him. “This decision is going to get us all killed.”
The man returned a placating smile. “...Let us bleed together,” he offered, gesturing to one of the benches. “I can tell you of the vision I had.”
Olrox fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You honor me, Quetzalcōātzin.”
They sat and unrolled their kits, each plucking from their contents a maguey thorn and scrap of parchment. Olrox watched as the older man pinched the sagging, bruise-dappled flesh of his thigh and drove the thorn through it–then out the other side. His blood was slow to begin flowing, its color dark with age.
Pressing his lips together, Olrox pricked his own thigh–wincing at the brief sting of pain. His blood bursted through immediately, bright red with vitality.
“I saw a quetzal perched upon the city gates,” the high priest began. “An eagle dove to snatch it up, but then it flew away–and the eagle only smashed its head against the stone.”
Olrox held the parchment to his thigh, catching the blood before it could dribble down his leg and onto his freshly swept floor. “...Fascinating.”
“And then I saw a Jaguar, watching from the bushes. It waited for the quetzal to return, thinking it was safe–then devoured both it and the eagle's remains.”
Olrox scoffed. “And am I supposed to be the eagle?”