Author’s Foreward
	This work is the result of a couple screwy ideas slamming together in my brain.  I’ve never played any of the non-NES Castlevania games, so 90% of my information on them comes from the Castlevania Dungeon (which is probably where you’re reading this anyway).  Many thanks to the Dungeon for information, sounds and pictures!	This story is set in the year 2000, so the world will be very much like the world we live in, with a twist--at least, for a while.  Cell phones, the Internet and vampires, oh my...
	A note on the names used: the pronunciation given for “Belnades” is my own, and “Dinesti” is the basis for the name Danasty as used in Castlevania 3 (again, thanks to the Dungeon for this info).
	I don’t own any copyrights for Castlevania--those belong to Konami--but Aidan Drake, Nerissa Belnades and the forthcoming Roland Dinesti are mine.  If somebody wants to use them, I’ll be overjoyed, but I hope you ask me first.

Castlevania: Millennium
One: Night Dawning

	The night has long been known to humanity as the realm of mystery and of magic, of terrible evil and, as the old legends reveal, of valiant good.  The star-pocked blanket of darkness, the home of the glowing eye of the moon, evokes to this day a sense of dreadful wonder, dredging to the surface primal terrors--and for some, powerful hope.  It is a different world, a world of beings that shun the light of day and the eye of society... a world of shapeshifters, wizards and vampires.
	As the two-thousandth year since the date ascribed to the birth of a legendary prophet of love and peace approached, the nights became pitched with the dreams and nightmares of an impending apocalypse that would forever change the world.  The last decade of the second millenium A.D. rang with cries of warning and stalwart denials, and the last day of that decade played host to the largest party in this history of humankind--a celebration for some, one last fling before Armaggedon for many others.
	The third millennium came, and nothing changed.
	The world went on as it had, wars in the Middle East, Africa and Southeast Asia, civil unrest in America and Europe, posturing of tyrants and presidents, waverings in the global economy, discoveries deep in the sea and far out in space.  A collective sigh of relief went up and many noses were thumbed.
	But there were still some who believed that the danger had not passed.  These few could feel the cycles of the world, and even fewer among them knew of one rotating wheel overdue to complete its full rotation.  A name was written on this wheel.  The name was Tepes, Dracul the Dragon... Dracula.
	Ancient whispers still flew over the mountains and forests of Transylvania of the great dread lord and his horrid armies of evil.  The stories they told warned of the coming of his stronghold, a place known simply as Castlevania, and of the cloak of despair and corruption that would be spread from it.  Many years had come and gone since Dracula had last risen, more years than had ever passed before, and the stories fell into disrepute and the realm of myth, but still they were carried on the wind, and those who still knew heard their urgent warnings.  Dracula would return, stronger than ever before, fed by the fear of the world of the year 2000.
	Now in this first year of the third millennium those whispers had become cries.  Dracula’s rise was now.  The ancient heroes would call out to their descendents to fight him, and the battle would begin anew.
	But this time, the battle would be different, for there would be no whip-swinging Belmont.  The children of the Vampire Killers had spread across the world and forgotten their ways, and the spirits of bygone warriors lamented.  Who would take their place?  Who would stand before the lord of evil and cast him back into Hell?

	Cool stillness washed over him, chilling the fever of frenzy that lingered in his bones.  The coppery-sweet taste still lingered in his mouth, the scent of it filled his head.  Golden eyes given over to the sharp vision of a predator shifted and molded themselves back into the soft brown gaze that was his natural appearance as the terrible slashing teeth retreated back into his jaw.  Dark, storm-colored fur rippled and faded back into his skin as his bone cracked and melted, the muscles flowing along them, back into the shape of a human... and not that of the man-wolf.
	The rent carcass of a buck in its prime lay before him, its eyes still wide with the terror of battle against an unnatural foe.  Saddened by the loss, he touched the unspoiled muzzle and whispered a soft prayer, thanking the buck for its bravery in taking the place of an innocent.  Its blood and meat had satiated the beast.  God’s purpose had been fulfilled, his friend the preacher might say.
	He had lived with his affliction for too long to be upset with what had happened to him.  No more tears, no more sleepless nights, just a heavy resignation to his place.  He rose from the ground, his naked body covered in sweat, blood and earth, and looked through a break in the trees to where the gleaming eye of the full moon had sunk to just a silver-white sliver overtop the hills across the valley.  It was over, and he could go home.  Leaving the buck to be found by forest scavengers, he made his way through the blackened trees.
	A log cabin lay in a cut in the hill, surrounded by trees and passed on one side by a leaping stream that made its way to the valley far below.  He had built this cabin with his own hands as a refuge far from the world of normal people.  It was a place he could retreat and undergo the change in total privacy.  He pushed his way through the heavy oaken door into the deeper darkness of the cabin’s cozy interior.  He knew every step by heart, and needed no light to make his way to the small bathroom, one of his few concessions to modern society, or to start the shower to wash away the evidence of his change.
	Scalding streams embraced him, purified him, made him feel forgiven.  He scrubbed off the blood, sweat and dirt and let himself believe once more that he was nothing more than a man.
	Soon the sun would rise and the night would be safely tucked away into the bed of the past.  He would rest, then return to the city some hours distant and resume his life.  Hair still wet from the shower, he slipped into a ragged pair of jeans and sat on his porch, looking up at the slowly changing sky.
	The senses of the wolf had left him and he did not hear or scent the approach of another.  When the voice touched his ears he leaped up like a bowshot into the sky.  “Aidan Drake?”
	The words, his name, had been tinged with an accent, something Aidan could not identify.  As his heart continued to pound in his chest his eyes scanned the slowly brightening forest.  “Who are you?”
	From behind a tree stepped a tall, slender woman, her waves of dark brown hair unbound and spilling across her shoulders.  She was dressed in tan trousers, a light tan jacket and brown hiking boots, but it was her eyes that caught Aidan’s attention first, for even in the moonless dark they glittered.  “My name is Nerissa Belnades, and I’ve been looking for you.”
	Aidan felt the back of his neck tingle in the primal warning that all beings shared as the sound of the woman’s name trickled into his brain, three syllables that evoked a memory he didn’t know he had... Bel-nah-des...  “What do you want?”
	“I know what you are, Aidan, and I’ve come to tell you that the world needs you.”
	“Lady, I don’t know who you are or how you know what you think you know, but you can rest easy that the world doesn’t need me,” he said to the woman.
	Nerissa stepped forward, holding her hands out, palms up.  “There are a great many hidden things in this world, Aidan.”
	“Tell me something I don’t know.”
	Exasperation touched the womans features for but an instant.  Persevering, she went on.  “I know that you, Aidan Drake, are a werewolf.  I watched as you slaughtered that deer tonight, and I could feel the primal savagery, the power of the beast that lurks inside you.”  All through this Aidian’s expression had never changed, but it quickly became a visage of startlement when Nerissa said to him, “And I can help you control it.  Learn to use it.”
	Aidan recovered from his shock enough to glare at the woman as if to melt her with his eyes.  “I don’t want to control it.  I don’t want to use it.  I just want to get rid of it.”
	“Perhaps in time you can,” Nerissa said, her softly-accented voice gentle on the predawn breeze.  “Let me tell you a story, Aidan.
	“Centuries ago, my foremother, Sypha Belnades, used the power of the magic that runs in my family to battle the Lord of Night, the vampire known as Dracula, who every hundred years would rise from his grave to plague the living.  Dracula’s evil sorcery was stronger than Sypha’s own witchcraft, and he bound her into a statue, helpless.
	“Sypha remained as stone for several years, until Dracula’s continued rise drew the attention of a man by the name of Trevor Belmont, one of a long line of Belmont men and women who have stood against the Dark One.  Whip-swinging Trevor and a pirate named Grant Dinesti defeated one of Dracula’s monsters near where Sypha stood silent, and when the cyclops fell, a portion of Dracula’s power was lifted away.  Sypha was able to break free from her imprisonment, much to Trevor Belmont and Grant Dinesti’s astonishment.”  Another new name, Dinesti.  For a moment Aidan considered this.  He had heard the name Dinesti once, a rival family of the Tepes...
	“Though Sypha did not travel with Trevor and Grant, for she sought her own path into Dracula’s fortress, called ‘Castlevania’, she was able to help them from afar as they plunged deeper into the lands help in Dracula’s filthy grasp.  When they met with Dracula’s bastard son, a dhampir--a half-vampire--named Alucard in mockery of his progenitor, Sypha appeared for a short time as a vision, exhorting them to work together.  She would ease their progress into Castlevania, and together the four would stand against the Lord of Night.
	“Sypha never saw Trevor Belmont, Grant Dinesti or Alucard again.  As she battled with staff and enchantment against the demons that filled Dracula’s halls, she was again imprisoned by the vampire.  Only when Trevor slew the ancient evil one did she break free once more, and fled Castlevania for the wilds of the Carpathian Mountains.
	“Sypha gave up the path of sorcery and married, having several children before she died.  She never forgot the names of Belmont and Dinesti, and in her dying breaths Sypha prophesied that one day Belmont, Dinesti and Belnades would stand together to face the Dark One once more.
	“Over the centuries, the Belmonts faced down the vampire again and again as Dracula returned from the graves they continually put him in, most notably Simon Belmont, whose exploits are still legend, and Richter, the last known Belmont to face the Lord of Night.  Dracula appeared for the last time in 1897, only to be defeated once more.  He is long overdue to return... or rather, was until recently.”
	Aidan studied Nerissa for a long moment in silence.  Her lips were pursed in a thoughtful frown, as if she could make him believe what she had told him by wanting alone.  Why would she tell him of these Belmonts?  Why would she be looking for him unless... “Lemme guess.  I’m the next Belmont.  Somewhere down the line the name changed.”
	The brown-haired woman’s derisive laugh set his nerves atingle with anger--and a bit of fear.  “No, Aidan Drake.  You are not the next Belmont.  The Belmont family will crack their infamous whips in the face of evil no longer.  Loyal minions of the Lord of Night shepherded them into extinction years ago through careless interbreeding and belittling of the legends.  None remain with the purity of blood enough to wield the whips, daggers and holy water against Dracula.  You, Aidan Drake, are my last chance.”
	His head reeled.  Being a werewolf had made him come to accept quite a bit tht the average person would dismiss out of hand.  This woman knew his name and what he was.  Something in the back of his mind told him to trust her, and that made him more afraid than any of her words ever could.  “So why me?” he asked her as he turned to reenter the cabin.  He had a feeling it was going to be a long, long day, and he wanted to face it dressed.
	Nerissa looked away into the forest as if to study the trees as she spoke through the open door.  “There are others of your kind, to be sure... but of them, only you remain free of the Dark One’s yoke, Aidan.  Dracula has gathered the monsters of the world to him, both superhuman and human monsters.  Werewolves and businessmen, vampires and lawyers serve his banner of blood now.”
	“My father’s a lawyer,” Aidan grumbled in her direction in a fit of pique and yanked his boots on.
	“Is he a good lawyer?” she asked him point-blank.
	He recoiled a bit from the question.  Of course he was a good lawyer.  “Yeah, why?”
	“Then he might be at risk.  But that is not our concern now.  Our concern is to find the one who will join us.  We must go to England, and find the one named Dinesti.”
	Irritation flared once more inside Aidan.  “Presumptive, aren’t you.  I never said I’d go.  How are you going to teach me to control the wolf?”  Leaning on the frame of the door, he glared at the woman standing outside.
	“I have my ways.  An ancestor of mine, Anya, studied lycanthropy as a hobby, and she was able to discover some little useful information.  But you must come with me, Aidan, if you want to learn these things.  I need your help, and I’m willing to bargain for it if you do not feel altruistic enough to do it on your own.”
	The woman held the key to freeing him from his curse, and all he had to do was walk into a vampire’s lair.  Wonderful.  “And your teaching me will help us take on Dracula.”
	“Correct, Aidan.  Castlevania has risen once more, in the age of private jets, cellular phones and the Internet, and we must fight it with all our strength.”  Nerissa brushed slender fingers through her long, thick hair.  “Dawn will come in just a few minutes.  If we leave now we can make it to England...”  She paused in her speaking as if someone had pressed a knife to her throat, her eyes freezing in place.  The hair on the back of Aidan’s neck stood straight up.  Some things he didn’t need the wolf to know.  Danger.  “The sun comes not soon enough.  We must flee, Aidan.”
	“From what?”
	“Minions of Dracula.  They followed me here.  Hurry.”