Leonidas De La Cruz - Unboxed Pt 3

Twilight Melody

I woke after the sun went down. I knew Leo would be returning to continue his interview, and I wanted to be ready.

As I was freshening up, I heard music drifting in from the living room—soft, aching, familiar.

The notes came from the baby grand.

The piece was one I had heard before: Echoes of Heartbreak. It was the first composition Leo had written after meeting Liam.

As I walked down the stairs, I listened to the music. It was melancholy and haunting, but in the midst of the melody, there was a thread of hope. It wove in and out of the dark melody like shafts of golden light.

I waited, just outside his line of sight. I was loathe to interrupt him—the emotion flowing through the music was breathtakingly sad, yet it filled my heart with hope.

I realized I was listening to Leo express what his life had been like before the miracle of finding Liam, and how everything had changed when Liam appeared.

As the final note rang out and lingered, I wiped the tears from my cheek and walked into the room.

As I sat down in one of the leather wingback chairs, Leo turned around on the piano bench and looked at me.

2260: I haven’t heard that piece since you played it that morning for Liam.

Leo: Yes, I remember. I had written it that first night after he fell asleep. I was so full of emotion—joy, sadness, excitement, fear, hope. Too much to process. So I wrote.

2260: Did you play and compose before you were changed?

He chuckled a bit before answering.

Leo: Ah, yes—picture it: the young, handsome Greek farmer who toils under the sun by day and writes sonnets and symphonies by night.

No. My music was a gift from my sire.

After my rebirth, I had a difficult time forgetting the events that led to my new life. I spent a hundred years locked in a mental prison not of my own making. Fernando was beside himself—helpless to ease my suffering.

It was Genevieve who suggested music. She said music could heal, could soothe, could tame the beasts that tormented me... and maybe unlock the prison I was trapped in.

So Fernando spent every day with me, violin in hand, playing music that gave me peace. This went on for a decade, until one day he handed me the violin and showed me how to play.

When I heard that first note—drawn from the instrument by my own hand—its pure, haunting beauty sounding as only the violin could sound... it was magic.

From that moment, I hungered to learn. Every day I played was a challenge to the darkness that kept me trapped.

2260: Was your change traumatic, or was there something else that haunted you?

As I asked the question, I noticed the change in Leo—it was as if he had faded away, drawn back into the past, to the time before his rebirth.

I waited, giving him time to process, to draw out the memories and force them into submission. I could see that there was pain here, and the retelling would not be easy.

After a moment, he shook himself and smiled sadly. I could see he had made peace with the memories—at least enough to hold them without shattering.

But I still had to ask. As a writer, it’s my job to care for my characters. They are my children in many ways, and when they hurt, I hurt.

2260: Leo, are you okay? Do you want to continue with this part of the story, or shall we talk about something else?

Leo: No, no—this is important. This part of the story, though painful, is necessary. I can continue, Hamilton. I’ll be alright.

Leo smiled again, and this time, it was as if I could see the sun peeking through the clouds of the past.

Leo: We left off last time with Alexios’ drunken visit on the night of the harvest celebrations. After I confessed everything I had been going through to Fernando, Genevieve—who had been quietly busy by the fire—brought me a cup of valerian root tea to help me sleep.

As I was drifting off, Fernando asked me if I wanted to start a new life—to leave all of this behind and come with him and Genevieve. At that moment, I had not felt such love since losing my parents, and wrapped in that love, I responded the only way I could. I said yes.

2260: So, were you changed that night?

Leo: No. Remember, I didn’t know what Fernando was. I think he intended for me to go with them as a human. It was his large heart—seeing another in pain and reaching out to help.

The next evening, Fernando and Genevieve rode to Athens to seek passage on a ship bound for Spain. I was packing my belongings, and I had resolved to leave the farm to a neighboring farmer whose land bordered the lordling’s estate. I planned to tell him the next day, and then that evening, I would leave with Fernando and Genevieve—and never look back.

But as I was packing, the lordling returned—with two of his friends. Drunk again, and screaming for me to come out. I went out to reason with them, to tell them to leave my land. I never spoke the words. I was struck from behind.

We are often told that wild beasts are savage by nature—the jackal, the hyena, the wolverine. But all of nature’s savagery pales in comparison to what man will do to man.

In the hours that followed, I became a toy—broken by a cruel child, then discarded once I no longer amused. Then I felt it—a parting gift from Alexios—a knife between the ribs.

Leo’s hand moved, almost of its own accord, to rest against his right side. I held my breath, afraid to speak, afraid to break the spell of memory that had captured him.

Leo: I knew I was facing my death as they rode away. As I lay there, my blood spilling into the soil I had spent my life on—had tilled and planted, had given my love and care to—I thought, at least my life will nourish it in the end.

I slipped into unconsciousness until I heard hoofbeats. I thought Alexios had returned to torment me again, but I was too tired to care. But it wasn’t Alexios. It was Fernando.

He knelt beside me and gathered my broken body in his arms, tears in his eyes. I reached up and touched his face—I wanted him to know how grateful I was for him in these last moments. Tears spilled, anguish written across his face. Then Genevieve was there, a hand on his shoulder, a whispered urgency in her words.

“There is no more time, my son. You must choose now. Will you accept him?”

I saw Fernando nod, tears still falling.

She spoke again, softer. “Then do it.”

I sat there, frozen—unable to fully comprehend the pain and trauma that had ended his human life and become the catalyst for his immortality. For centuries, authors have written vampires as villains, creatures who rip away their victims’ humanity and thrust them into eternal bondage.

But Leo was telling a different story. His was one of salvation—where immortality wasn’t a curse, but a healing balm offered in the final moments of life, a gift meant to soothe the trauma of death.

After a moment, Leo continued his story.

Leo: Fernando cradled me, holding me close. Then, suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my neck—followed by a sensation so intense it bordered on ecstasy. It was as if I had died and gone to heaven. The pain vanished, and the world fell away.

When I opened my eyes, I saw his mouth was bloody. My blood. Then he took his arm—and Genevieve’s—and opened a vein in each. Together, they let their blood drip into my mouth.

And in that moment, I saw everything.

I saw Fernando’s life—his long, lonely centuries before he found Genevieve. I saw Genevieve’s journey before Fernando, and the way her life had changed when they found each other. I understood what they were. What I was becoming.

All of it passed in the space of a single breath.

Fernando kissed the wound on Genevieve’s arm, and it vanished. He touched his own, and it healed. I could feel their mingled blood coursing through me like molten fire. It seared me, burned me to ashes, and then remade me. It healed the wound in my side. It closed every hurt that had been inflicted on me.

Fernando stood and pulled me gently up with him. He held me, and I cried—not from pain, but from joy. I had a father. I had a grandmother. I was loved.

“Today you are my son. I have begotten you and made you mine. All I have is yours.”

Those words echoed in my mind, etched into my soul.

Genevieve took me in her arms and smiled. “Welcome to the family, grandson.”

We returned to the house, and I fetched water to wash. To cleanse myself of the last vestiges of the crime that had been done to me. I was not who I had been. Not anymore.

Leo had shared so much—the pain, the despair, the love, and the joy of finding a family again. So much, in so little time. I knew there was more for him to tell, but I needed a moment. A moment to absorb what I had heard, to understand how it made me feel—and most of all, to grasp what it revealed about who Leo truly was.

2260: "Leo, I think we should end here for tonight. You’ve given me a lot to process."

Leo: "Sure, Hamilton. We can call it a night. Tomorrow will be soon enough to finish my tale. Sleep well, my friend."

Leo rose, placed a hand on my shoulder in quiet farewell, and walked past me, disappearing through the French doors.