A/N- The sequel, as promised! Now, I'm working to finish up some of my other stories, so this one's updates will be slow coming. However, I'll get this chapter up now, and I'm going to try to get the first chapter up next weekend, at least. I'll try to keep the updates coming faster than the beginning of Untested's updates did. I hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer- I don't own Castlevania. It all belongs to Konami. Believe me; I'm making no money off of this. This applies to all chapters.


Prologue

There had to be something here!

Dr. Brownton removed his gold-rimmed sunglasses and wiped the sweat beading on his forehead. Even with his short cropped hair—as close to the scalp he could get without being considered "shaved bald"—it was still hot as hell. In the middle of the fall, it shouldn't have been so hot. But he was in the middle of a surprisingly bright-lit forest, and it seemed as if God was holding a magnifying glass between the sun and the exact spot on which he and his fellow archaeologists stood and worked.

Well, at least he had been liberal with the sunscreen all over his naturally milk-chocolate colored skin. And it probably didn't help that he had chosen a thick, woolen blue sweater, tan khakis, thick socks, and heavy brown boots to work in. He knew that he would be doing a lot of excavation on this dig. Apparently, he had overestimated the coldness of Transylvania's fall weather.

He shook his head and pocked the sunglasses, taking a careful step onto a large, gray stone-piece of ruin. He cast his eyesight out as far as it would reach, trying to see every inch of the ruins under study at the moment by he and his team. Of course, this was impossible. The ruins were clearly the remains of an immensely large castle, now crumbled to bits and pieces…but it was still finding itself necessary to Dr. Brownton.

Overhead, the call of some songbird sounded from the trees, seeming to urge him forward. Brownton stopped over the shoulder of each of his fellow team members as he came by them, asking on their progress. All gave him very negative responses. Nothing but rubble to be found. He made his way to the center of the excavation area marked off by the team already—in reality, a very small piece compared to the total size of the site, and slowly retrieved his sunglasses from his pocket. Once he had brought them up, equally as slowly, to the level of his eyes, he threw them violently upon the ground, stomping on them twice.

"Damn it all!" he yelled, causing many of his team to look over at him. He sighed and mumbled his apologies. They shrugged and went back to dusting and cataloguing every little square of stone.

Sure, in the three weeks since they had begun to excavate the ruined castle in the middle of the forest that the people of the local town called Eternal Night, they had found little things. Carvings, pieces of statues, but these were not the things he needed. He needed something big. No, not big. Huge.

It was review time for his grant. He needed more money, an extension on it. However, his proposed archaeological/historical pursuit had thus far produced nothing. Brownton had decided, as soon as he had completed his doctorate, to pursue something that had always fascinated him about Transylvanian history. In doing research for his dissertation, he had come across one family name, mentioned usually off-handedly—almost deliberately so, that came up more often than any other. Belmont.

Although he had decided not to pursue it further in his dissertation, as soon as he was able to apply for a grant for an archaeological dig, he decided that research on the history of the Belmont family, a largely secret history, would be his goal. He had a theory, one that most of his colleagues called foolish daydreams of fantasy. He supposed that these Belmonts, whoever they had been (and were now, since he knew for a fact that at least one of this family line had family in the next town over), had somehow shaped the history of Transylvania and maybe, though he had yet to mention this one aloud to anyone, even the world's history. All he needed was something. Some little scrap of proof of something, anything! Then there would be no way the review board could deny the extension of his grant.

But without it…his career would be, effectively, over.

He shook his head, not wanting negativity to invade his thoughts. He was normally a very positive person, committed to seeing the brighter side of life. But, he only had two weeks before the board's final decision. And this was a huge sight…most of which would be unable to be explored without the damned extension.

As if in answer to his problems, a slight breeze blew by him, and drew his attention to a small gathering of brush twenty feet outside of the marked-off excavation site. He blinked as the breeze began to move some of the brush, revealing something that was so white that Brownton was sure that that color did not appear naturally in the wild. His breath caught, and he dared hope that this was just what he needed. Throwing all he knew about safety on the excavation site to the wind, he hopped the thin red line that marked the end of the surveyed site and took off at a run towards the white thing.

Immediately, yells and calls of "What are you doing?" and "It's not safe!" rose up from his team. He ignored them and threw himself into a kneeling position in front of the white thing. Reason caught up with him for a moment as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a pair of thick safety gloves, slipping them on. He began to slowly tear at the gathered brambles, revealing more and more of the white thing. Eventually, when he was convinced of the solidness of the thing—he had refused to take it all in yet, although he had unveiled a good bit of it in moments—he began to tear at the brush more and more frantically. Finally, and after having to do some moving around the rather large object—a bit larger than a person and much wider than one by far—he stood to look down at his find and gasped.

Lying before him on its side, apparently carved only of bones, was an elaborate throne. Its back would rise, Brownton figured, a good bit over the head of whoever was sitting in the throne's rather perfectly preserved blood red velvet backing and seat. At the end of the armrests were two carved skulls—or at least, Brownton thought they were carved—and the legs of the throne were reminiscent of what he imagined demonic claws must look like.

By this time, his team members had gathered around him, staring down in awe at the throne. Whispers were slowly rising, questions about the evil looking object.

"Whose do you think it was?" he heard off to his left.

"What's it made from?" someone asked from the back of the group.

"It looks rather…off, doesn't it?"

Brownton felt his face break into a small smile. His grant was secure now.


End Notes: Ominous beginning, I'm hoping. Also, this continues my tradition of starting the Untested stories with someone other than Ria. I hope everyone enjoyed this, and, as I said in the author's note, I'll have the first chapter up here soon! I know that this is rather short, and I do apologize for that. Please review!