 
# Legacy of Kain: Mortality

# By Andreas Leachim

# Smashwords Edition

# Copyright 2019 Andreas Leachim

# Cover art and design by Andreas Leachim

# 

# This is a work of fan fiction based on the Legacy of Kain video game series. All characters and names and related trademarks are the property of Crystal Dynamics and Square Enix. The author of this work receives no financial compensation from it and does not seek to infringe upon the owner's copyrights in any way.
# Part One

# The Pillars of Nosgoth

# Chapter One

"You are now the Guardian of the Pillar of Death."

Mortanius could not hear the voice of the vampire standing over him. He was screaming too loud to hear anything. Pain washed over him, seeping into his body and searing his nerve endings, filling him with a previously unknown sense of agony. His hands, placed upon the huge marble Pillar, burned like fire.

Finally, he went numb, and collapsed in a trembling heap on the marble platform that formed the base of the Pillars. He rolled onto his back and stared straight up into the sky. The sun was beginning to set behind the mountains, painting the sky a glorious red-gold. Piercing that beautiful sunset were the nine Pillars of Nosgoth, soaring up into infinity, reaching so high into the sky that they disappeared into the clouds.

A vampire, he couldn't tell which one because they all looked the same, lifted him up effortlessly and carried him over one shoulder. Mortanius gazed weakly at the Pillars as the group of vampires left the platform. He was too tired to speak, too exhausted to ask them what was happening and why it was happening to him.

Just hours before, young Mortanius had been helping his father pick vegetables from the garden. He had just celebrated his tenth birthday a few days before, and was finally old enough to tend the garden by himself while his father could spend more time on the crops. Just hours before, he had been plucking tomatoes from the plants and placing them gently in a basket. Just hours before, he had been watching his sister playing in the grass with her wooden dolls. And then the vampires came for him.

Despite his weariness and pain, Mortanius could not find the strength to even pass out. The vampire carried him like a sack of flour across a meadow to a wide, flat building made of dark gray stone. Now that twilight had arrived, torches had been lit around the building's entrance, and they cast a fierce orange glow across the features of the vampires guarding the arched doorway. They raised their clawed fists in greeting and allowed the other vampires to pass inside. Mortanius could still see the Pillars as they went inside, but the vampires turned a corner, cutting off his line of sight.

The inside of the building smelled of candle wax and blood. The vampires themselves always smelled like blood, and Mortanius could not escape the odor, slung over the vampire's shoulder as he was. He could see thick tapestries adorning the walls of the building and long tables covered in silver and gold dishes and goblets. The candle light reflected and glittered off all the metal, making Mortanius's eyes hurt, and the hazy smoke from the candles and torches began to make him light headed.

Weakly, he lifted his hands and looked at them. Despite the unbelievable pain he had felt when they made him touch the Pillar, his hands were unharmed. There were no burns or blisters, and even now, the memory of the pain was fading rapidly, leaving only the vague imprint of a distant injury. He felt as if it had happened years ago instead of minutes ago.

Suddenly, the vampire carrying Mortanius knelt over and set him down on a straw-filled mat on the floor. On a small metal tray beside him, was a hunk of cooked meat, some fresh fruit, and a tall goblet of sugar wine. Although Mortanius still felt too tired to move, he managed to lift his head and look up into the vampire's shimmering eyes.

"Eat this," the vampire advised gently. "Regain your strength. Someone will come talk to you in a few moments."

"What's happening to me?" Mortanius managed to choke out.

The vampire looked down at him with a peculiar combination of reverence and pity. "You have been chosen," he said simply, and left the room.

Mortanius had heard that already. When they came for him to take him from his home, practically stealing him out of his parents' arms, they said it over and over again, as if it explained everything by itself. Mortanius had been chosen. He was one of the chosen ones. The Pillars had chosen him. If the vampires thought that explained everything, then they were wrong. To Mortanius, it explained nothing. For all he cared, the vampires and their stupid Pillars could go right ahead and choose someone else.

The smell of the food was too strong for him, and he managed to grab the knife and fork they gave him and cut into the meat. He ate all the food ravenously and washed it down with the wine, barely coming up for air. It was the most delicious food he had ever tasted.

Again, the questions began nagging at him. Why had the vampires taken him? He had nothing to do with the Pillars, he had never even seen them before. He had never even seen the vampires up close until today. He just didn't understand why they had to take him away from home. What was going to happen to him now? Was he allowed to go back home or was he stuck here forever?

Those painful, disturbing thoughts occupied him until he heard someone picking up the empty tray of food beside. He opened his eyes and realized that he had fallen asleep, although only for a few minutes. He looked up at the vampire standing over him.

Like all the others, he was tall and muscular, with blue skin and shimmering golden eyes. He was dressed in a white and gold robe of sorts, and visible above his shoulders were his large, feathery wings. He smiled gently and knelt down beside Mortanius.

"How do you feel?" the vampire asked. His voice was soothing and soft as velvet.

Mortanius swallowed nervously. "What happened to me? What am I doing here?"

"The Pillars have chosen you to be one of their Guardians. It is an honor, although I'm sure you do not feel that way right now."

"Is my family all right? Do they know where I am?"

"They're okay. They resisted when we came to get you, but that was unavoidable. I regret that we didn't warn your family ahead of time, but I feel it would not have made much difference."

"Will I ever see them again?"

The vampire smiled, and Mortanius got the impression that the vampire was pleased by his questions. Most people, if vampires had kidnapped them, would be asking about their own safety first. But Mortanius had to know about his father and mother and sister.

"In time. You must stay here for a few days, perhaps weeks, until you begin to understand your new destiny with us. But you may visit your family after that. You are not our prisoner."

"But why me?"

The vampire sighed, as if expecting the question and not liking the answer he had to give. "I wish I could explain it to you, but in time you will understand. How much do you know about the Pillars?"

"Not very much," Mortanius admitted.

"You will learn more in time. We will teach you. For now, just understand that when one of the Pillars needs a new Guardian, someone is chosen by a natural force we do not understand. We have no control over it. You have been chosen as the new Guardian for the Pillar of Death."

"How do you know that it's me?" Mortanius tried to argue. "Maybe it's someone else with the same name as me."

A friendly laugh came forth. "It is not just your name, young Mortanius. Those who have been chosen possess an aura that identifies them to other Guardians. I need only look at you to know that you are one of us now."

"They made me touch the Pillar," Mortanius said, looking once more at his hands. "It burned me, but my hands don't look hurt."

"Yes, I'm sorry that we didn't warn you, but we didn't know that would happen. It's been many years since we have required a Guardian of Death. The pain you felt was the beginning of your powers in relation to the Pillar. Every Pillar is different, and the others do not cause pain like that."

"How many are there?"

"There are nine Pillars, and a Guardian for each."

Mortanius had so many questions, he didn't even know where to start. What powers was the vampire talking about? Were there any other humans here, or only vampires? How long was he going to be the new Guardian? For the rest of his life?

But instead, he asked, "Why did the Death Pillar need a new Guardian?"

"Because the previous Guardian died," the vampire said, a trace of regret entering his soft voice.

"Was he a human like me?"

"No, the previous Guardian was one of our kind."

"But I thought vampires were immortal," Mortanius said.

The vampire sighed sadly. "We can live for very long, that is true. But we can die, just as humans can."

"How did he die?"

The vampire paused and his voice lowered. "He took his own life."

Before Mortanius could ask another question, the vampire stood up and smoothed out the front of his robe. "You should get some sleep now," he suggested. "Tomorrow is going to be a very trying day." He smiled and walked to the doorway.

"Wait," Mortanius said, sitting up with some effort. "Are you a Guardian too?"

The vampire stopped, turned, and looked at Mortanius over his shoulder. "Yes, I'm a Guardian as well."

"Which Pillar are you guarding?"

"I'm the tenth Guardian, the only one who does not have a Pillar to guard. I am the Reaver Guardian."

"What does that mean?"

"I protect a very special sword."

"Okay," Mortanius said, lying back down. "What's your name?"

The vampire smiled once more. "My name is Janos."

Chapter Two

Mortanius was woken up early the following morning and led, still sleepy and bleary-eyed, into an adjoining chamber where half a dozen vampires were waiting for him. He realized that it was actually an inner courtyard, as there was no roof above him and he could see the stars above. Four large torches burned in the corners, spreading flickering orange light across the vampires' sharp features.

Mortanius tensed up, suddenly afraid. He hesitated, but one of the vampires urged him forward into the center of the area with a steady grip on his arm.

"Do not be afraid," a female voice said, and Mortanius turned to see who it was. He was strangely relieved to see another human in the courtyard, standing to the side. She was tall and thin, with pale skin and long blonde hair tied behind her head. She was dressed in a dark violet cloak and her hands were hidden within the flowing sleeves.

"Who are you?" Mortanius managed to ask.

"My name is Lora," the woman said. "I'll speak to you again later."

"Quiet," a vampire commanded. He stood before Mortanius, arms crossed, a glittering copper and blue robe hanging from his broad frame, tied at the waist. His skin was a darker shade of blue than some of the others, and he had a long braid of silver hair over one shoulder. There was a vampiric rune on the front of his robe.

"What's going on?" Mortanius asked, looking up, unable to keep his voice from trembling slightly. Part of him, a very small part, wanted to act brave in front of the vampires, as if they might kill him if he showed any weakness. They believed that being a Guardian for the Pillars was some kind of honor, and maybe they felt it would not do to have a human coward in such a sacred position. But he was only a child, they must understand that, even if they didn't have children of their own. He was a child and he was afraid. Surely they'd forgive him for that.

They stood him on a small white section of marble in the middle of the courtyard and the vampire with silver hair pulled out a piece of black fabric from somewhere behind him. Another vampire removed Mortanius's dirty woolen tunic and left him standing there in only his grass-stained deerskin trousers.

"What is your name?" the vampire asked, his voice deep and commanding.

"Mortanius."

"And what Pillar do you serve?"

Mortanius felt the eyes of the vampires upon him. He was terrified by them at some basic level, though they had never actually harmed him or even threatened to, but the strangeness of this ceremony, if that's what it was, calmed his nerves. They had made him touch the Pillar last night, but this must be the formal declaration of his new role.

"They told me it was the Pillar of Death," he said uncertainly, not liking the sound of it.

But the vampire nodded and the barest flash of a smile appeared on his face. He took the black fabric and unfolded it, showing that it was a sleeveless shirt with a vampiric rune stitched in gray on the front, like the vampire's robe. The rune on the shirt was different though; two vertical lines close together, one longer than the other and curved inward, intersected by a vertical line.

The vampire slid the shirt over Mortanius's head and helped him get his skinny arms through the holes.

"This is your symbol," the vampire said, pointing to the rune. "You are one with the Pillar now. You are the physical embodiment of its power and its strength, and as such, your health runs parallel to the health of the Pillar. When one is strong, both are strong. When one is weak, both are weak. And the health of the Pillars is reflected in the health of the land itself. Bear this in mind."

"I don't know what any of this means," Mortanius said.

"That's because you are human. In time you will understand. When you are truly one of us, then you will understand."

Mortanius didn't have time to ask what he meant before he was whisked out of the courtyard, through the building, and out into the field heading back toward the Pillars. The sky was just turning blue-gray with the coming dawn. The horizon was tinged with orange. The vampires led him to the Pillars and directed him to the Pillar of Death. He expected to see charred hand prints on the front of it, but there was only pure white marble with a black stripe about twenty feet up in the air.

"Put your hands on the Pillar," the silver-haired vampire said.

Mortanius shook his head. "But it hurts when I touch it."

"It will not hurt this time. Only the first. This time you will begin to feel the power that you now possess. Now put your hands upon it."

Mortanius reached out tentatively and touched the Pillar with just his fingertips. When he felt nothing but cool marble, slightly damp with the dew, he pressed his palms against it. He still felt nothing.

But gradually, he felt his vision distort, as if someone had placed tinted glass in front of his eyes. When he looked at the vampires, he could see something surrounding them, like a very fine mist, or maybe it was a shadow. He squinted and it seemed to clarify in front of him. Through their skin, he could see something glowing, and somehow he knew that he was seeing their life force, their soul. Shocked, he looked down at his own hands and almost cried out.

His skin looked pale, and under the surface, he could see his bones as if they shined through the skin. His whole vision seemed to burn red. He gazed out across the field beyond the Pillars and saw the grass turn brown and crumble to dust. The trees beyond lost their leaves and rotted in his gaze. And in the air, floating everywhere, he could see glimmering half-human shapes turning and wandering as if blown by the breeze.

This is the power of Death, he thought. I can see spirits. I can see things grow old and die.

He covered his eyes and collapsed to his knees, tears streaking down his face. He didn't want this power, he could not handle it. The power to see death in everything was no power at all, it was a torture.

"I don't want it," he whimpered. "I don't want this, please make it go away. Just make it go away."

He felt a vampire holding him, lifting him back to his feet. And a voice in his ear, saying, "You can control your powers. You must concentrate on what you want to see. You have been granted a terrible gift, it is true. Guardianship of the Pillar of Death is not something to be envied. Your fear at this power is only proof that you are worthy to possess it."

"But ... but I don't want to see things die," Mortanius cried, still covering his eyes. When they were closed, he saw nothing. Nothing was better than nothing but death.

"The Pillar grants its Guardian great powers, but with those powers must come an understanding. To be the Death Guardian, you must witness death in all its terror and glory. You must learn the truth about death in all its forms, you must embrace your knowledge without fear. You must control your perception of it."

The vampire pulled his hands away and Mortanius opened his eyes. Blurred by tears, he could see the grass and trees once more, now brightened as dawn began to stretch across the sky. The spirits hovered in the air all around, and he felt as if they could see him and knew that he could see them as well. The vampires nearby seemed to glow, their spirits visible inside their bodies, their skin changing from blue to gray and back again.

He didn't want to see death, and by an act of will, the grass turned green once more and grew right before his eyes. The trees grew tall again and blossomed with leaves. The spirits faded into nothingness. His world returned to normal.

"I can see now," Mortanius whispered, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "But I don't ever want to see that again."

"That is good. It is a heavy burden you now bear, but no more heavy than that of the other Guardians around you. Each of the Pillars gives knowledge, and even the most harmless subject can become terrible if too much is known about it."

"But I don't want to learn about death. Can't I be the Guardian of one of the other Pillars?"

"You were chosen. There is nothing you can do about it." For a moment, the vampire seemed to be truly saddened. "I am sorry for you. I do not believe humans are meant to be Guardians."

"Then why did your Pillars call me?" Mortanius asked, fear and anger seeping into his voice. First the burning pain when he touched the Pillar, now the visions of death and ghosts. Guarding the Pillar was no honor, it was like a curse. He remembered his talk with the other vampire last night and suddenly realized clearly why the last Guardian of Death had taken his own life. He broke out in a cold sweat at the thought of having to live with this nightmare the rest of his life. Would he wind up doing the same?

"Our race is dying out," the vampire leader said. "We cannot bring children into the world. Surely the humans know this."

"Yes," Mortanius said. "I knew that."

The vampire knelt down beside Mortanius and set his strong hands on Mortanius's weak shoulders. He looked right into Mortanius's eyes. "The Pillars must be maintained at all costs. If that means that humans are called to serve as Guardians, then so be it. The very fate of the world rests in the strength of the Pillars. When you become one of us, you will understand better. For now, you must believe us and trust in the Pillars."

Mortanius looked upward and saw that dawn had broken. The sky was now a clear blue-gray, growing brighter by the minute. The sun was sneaking over the horizon, its light touching the tips of the Pillars. He shivered even though it was not cold outside.

The vampire let go of his shoulders and stood up, looking around at the gathering of vampires around him. "Varash will be missed, but I believe that the Pillars have chosen wisely. I think Mortanius will become a fine Guardian in time." He looked down, smiled crookedly, and touched Mortanius's head before walking off. Mortanius stood nervously as the vampires either walked off or jumped into the air and soared away. After a minute, only a few vampires remained, and two humans who walked over to him. One of them was Lora, the woman in the purple cloak, and the other was a man wearing a red tunic over a dark blue shirt and trousers. A weapon hung from each hip; a long sword from his left and a mace from his right. Mortanius noticed that both of them had a vampiric runes stitched into their clothes, just as he now did.

"Come," Lora said softly. She had the hood of the cloak up around her head, covering her face in shadow. "They told us to take care of you for now. They don't deal with humans very often, and children almost never."

Mortanius wrung his hands and glanced at the Pillar as he stepped away from it, relieved at doing so. Lora held out her hand, but Mortanius didn't take it. He was ten years old, old enough to tend his family's garden by himself, and was not about to take a woman's hand like a baby.

"My name is Romanen," the man said, hands resting casually on the handles of his two weapons. "I'm a Guardian as well. The Pillar of Conflict."

"And I'm the Guardian of Mind," Lora said as they walked to the building across the field. "We are the only other human Guardians. The other seven are vampires. I was the first human Guardian."

"I don't want to be a Guardian," Mortanius said, crossing his arms defensively, feeling free to talk in front of other humans. "I just want to go home."

"Give it a few days," Romanen said, smiling. "Let it sink in and then make up your mind. The first days are the worst, I promise you."

"You can go home if you want," Lora said. "Just stay here a few days until you feel comfortable with the knowledge the Pillar granted you. It will give us time to teach you a little bit about the Pillars and the vampires as well. The sun is almost up now. The day has just started, Mortanius."

As they entered the building, Mortanius noticed that Romanen paused at the doorway and smiled as the sun peaked over the mountains. Then he ducked his head inside and followed them down the hallway.

"Some of the vampires are friendly to us," Lora said, lowering her hood. "But then again, some are not. Some of them resent the fact that we were chosen by the Pillars, and some just think that we're stupid animals. I'm sure you know what most humans think about vampires, so I guess I cannot blame them for disliking us as well."

Mortanius certainly did know what most people thought. He had overheard his own father calling them names like "monster" and "demon." Vampires were an old race, though. Much older than humans. They could live almost forever, but they couldn't have children. Mortanius didn't know why. If they couldn't have children, then how did they come to be in the first place? Hadn't they been born themselves?

And he knew the worst thing as well. All humans knew it, because they were most frequently the victims of it. Vampires needed to drink blood to survive. Again, Mortanius didn't understand why. If vampires were so much older than humans, what blood did the vampires drink before humans were around? Did they drink their own blood? He couldn't see how that was possible. Many people believed that vampires drank the blood of humans because they enjoyed it, not because they needed it, but Mortanius didn't know what to make of that. Since his abduction, none of the vampires had made a move to bite him. And if he was now a Guardian like some of them were, didn't that make him an equal? He didn't want any vampires drinking his blood, even if they did need it to survive.

"I don't think that vampire with the silver hair liked me very much," Mortanius said. "He didn't look very happy about me being a Guardian."

"That was Aleph," Lora said. "He's the Guardian of Balance. I don't think he hates humans, although sometimes he's short with us. He was close to Varash, the last Guardian of Death, so if he doesn't like you, it's because you replaced a friend of his. It's nothing personal."

"What are the other Pillars? Yesterday a vampire told me there are nine of them."

"Yes, there are nine Pillars. They are Balance, Nature, Dimension, Energy, States, Time, Mind, Conflict, and Death."

"But there are ten Guardians, right?"

Lora smiled. "Yes, there's a tenth Guardian. I wonder who you were talking to last night."

"He said his name was Janos."

Romanen spoke up. "Some think he's the wisest of them all. If any of the vampires is a friend to the human race, it's him."

"Janos is very kind," Lora agreed hesitantly.

"Were all the Guardians here today?" Mortanius asked, curious. "I didn't see many others with these runes on their clothing."

"Some were here today, but not all. I suspect that the ones who weren't here today will come when the next Guardian is found."

"What do you mean?"

"Sadly, Varash was not the only Guardian to die recently," Romanen said. "The Guardian of Time died several years ago as well."

"Years? Why hasn't a new Guardian been found already?"

"It takes years for new Guardians to be discovered," Lora explained. "Varash, your predecessor, died ten years ago."

Mortanius did not miss the significance of the time. "I just turned ten years old a little while ago."

"Yes," Lora said, nodding. "When a Guardian dies, the guardianship passes onto someone born around the same time."

They entered a room lit with glowing tapers. The scent of wax and incense was heavy in the air, but at least Mortanius could not smell blood, which was so noticeable everywhere else. There was a wooden table in the room with several chairs, and a shelf on one wall with some bound books and rolled sheets of parchment tied with ribbons.

"The one thing you must understand is that you are a Guardian for the rest of your life," Lora said as Mortanius sat down. "Although there is nothing keeping you here physically, you are always spiritually bound to the Pillars. Your health and the health of the Pillar are intertwined, like Aleph told you. This is a bond that can only be broken by death."

Romanen leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, smiling as if at some personal joke. "What Lora means is that your life is still your own. The vampires don't own you, or anything like that. After you've stayed here for a few days and learned what your new role means, you can return to your parents. You never have to come to the Pillars again if you don't want to."

"Really?"

"Certainly. One of the Guardians lives up in the mountains. I've only seen him twice in my life."

"His name is Coruard," Lora said. "He's the Guardian of Nature. He's so deeply enthralled with his connection with Nature that he chooses to live alone in the deep wilderness."

"But I don't have to stay here? I can live wherever I want?"

"Of course you can," Lora said. "The Guardians are a very loose group. Vampires are solitary, for the most part, so they allow us the same freedom."

"Can I do whatever I want?" Mortanius asked. "I mean, can I have a farm like my parents? And find a wife and have children? Can I just live like a normal person?"

Romanen said nothing, he only pursed his lips and looked at Lora, who sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, there's nothing stopping you from having a farm if you want one. And if you want to marry and have children when you come of age, you can do that as well. But things are going to change when you grow older. Something that I think the vampires didn't tell you."

Mortanius waited expectantly, but neither Lora or Romanen said anything. Vaguely, he remembered that Aleph had said "when you become one of us" more than once. He tensed up and looked desperately from Romanen to Lora and back.

Lora bared her teeth in a twisted parody of a smile and exposed long, sharpened incisors. Mortanius realized why she had been wearing a hooded cloak outside, and why her skin seemed so pale.

"When you become an adult," Romanen said, his voice flat and sounding very far away, "they bite you and turn you into a half-breed."

# Chapter Three

Later, after Lora had left, Romanen sat beside Mortanius at the table and spoke to him in a hushed tone of voice, as if telling a secret that everyone knew but pretended it was still a secret anyway.

"I guess they turned her when she was about thirty years old," he said, traces of sadness, amazement, and fear all mingling in his voice. "They didn't warn her ahead of time either, they just took her to the Pillars one night and did the ceremony. She never really talks about it, but I suspect that it wasn't a pleasant experience."

"How long has she been like that?"

"I don't know. A century, maybe longer."

"A hundred years? You mean Lora's a hundred years old?"

"Yeah, at least that old."

"I've heard that they can turn people into half-breed things," Mortanius said after a nervous pause. "Half human and half vampire. But I don't think I ever believed it until now."

"There aren't very many. Maybe ten or twelve in all of Nosgoth. The first one was a man named Vorador."

"I thought he was just a legend."

"No, he's real. I've seen him, though I've never met him personally. He's been a half-breed for probably five hundred years."

"But ... but why?" Mortanius asked. "Why do they do it?"

"Because of the Pillars. They say the Pillars must remain in vampire control, so if humans are being chosen as Guardians, then they must be turned when they come of age."

Mortanius felt a chill run all the way down his back. "So that means you ... you and me ...?"

Romanen nodded. "They'll probably turn me in the next few years. I guess they wait until we're well into adulthood, though I don't know why."

"Aren't you afraid?"

"I was at first," he said, and then laughed softly. "Well, I was afraid a lot longer than that. But I've been a Guardian now for almost as long as I can remember. It's all I know. And if becoming a half-breed is the next stage in my life, then so be it. Who am I to deny what fate has written for me?"

Mortanius shook his head. "I don't believe in fate, and I don't want to be turned into some freak. I didn't ask for any of this."

"I know how you feel," Romanen said, "but there's so much more to the world than what we know. The vampires have lived for thousands of years. Can you imagine that? Humans barely make it to a hundred, and if we manage to live that long, we're crippled by age. I don't want to be turned into a half-breed either, but the benefits outweigh the negatives in my opinion."

"It's not natural," Mortanius insisted. "They're vampires and we're humans. It's not right for them to change us into something else. Lora isn't human anymore, but she's not a vampire either. She's something else, something awful."

"The sad part is that she agrees with you," Romanen said. "But being a Guardian changes things, Mortanius. You see things in a new way, a new light. You know that now as much as I do."

"Yes," Mortanius said, remembering what he saw, the horror of it.

"But even with all the wisdom and power the Pillars grant us, we don't really understand the Pillars themselves. We know the vampires built them, but why? What are they really for?"

"The vampires haven't told you?"

"They've never told humans what the Pillars are really for. There are some myths and rumors, but no way to know if any of them have even a shred of truth. But when they turn you into a half-breed, they let you in on all their secrets. That's why I'll let them turn me. Because I want to know."

Mortanius let that sink in. How would it feel to live a thousand years? He didn't think he could even count that high. His life seemed long enough to him, and he was only ten. How many times did ten go into a thousand? He didn't even know. But it was longer than any human had ever lived, that was certain. It was longer than any human could ever live.

But was it worth the price? Mortanius loved his family more than anything in the world. His mother and father and sister were all he had. If he lived to be a thousand, they would die long before him. He would live so long that he would forget what they looked like, forget their names. In a thousand years, he would forget all about them. He might learn the secrets of the vampires, but he would forget something more important. No secret was worth the memory of his family.

And no secret was worth the torment of being a half-breed creature. Never seeing the sun again, having to drink blood to survive. The very thought of it made Mortanius's stomach turn. He could never live like that, like some twisted version of a person. Drinking the blood of another, hiding in shadows during the day. It would be a nightmare.

He understood why Lora wore such a large cloak; it was not just to protect her from the sun, it was to hide her inhuman body from prying eyes. Lora was in misery, it was obvious. Was any secret worth that price?

"No," Mortanius said, half to himself. "They can keep their secrets."

Chapter Four

The next morning, Mortanius watched the sun rise. He climbed up onto the roof of the building by the Pillars, which by that time he learned was called the Home of the Guardians. He sat on the edge of the roof, his skinny legs dangling below him, and watched the sun come up. He liked the way the world seemed to change color. It was all muted gray and silvery blue, and when the sun rose the sky seemed to transform into bright orange and yellow, making the world come to life below. Bright greens and blues and reds all appeared where once everything was gray.

And if they turned him into a half-breed, he would never see it again.

He heard something behind him and looked over his shoulder to see a vampire drifting towards him. The vampire swooped up and pulled back so that he landed gracefully on the roof. Mortanius recognized him as Janos, the vampire who spoke to him on his first night.

"Good morning, Mortanius," Janos said, nodding his head.

"Yes," Mortanius said, trying to sound gruff, turning to watch the sun again. "Too bad Lora can't enjoy it with me."

Janos came beside him and sat down. "Yes, that is a shame," he said softly. "I suppose that Lora and Romanen have told you."

"Yes, they have. I don't want to be turned into a half-breed."

"I wish humans would not use that term," Janos said, shaking his head. "It sounds so crude. When we turn a human, we refer to them as vampires, just as we are vampires. Call them human-vampires if you like, but not 'half-breeds.'"

"You can call them whatever you want. But I'm staying human."

"I'm sorry," Janos said. "But it's out of my control. Sometimes I feel that it would be better to let the humans stay fully human, but the others disagree with me. The Pillars are simply too important to leave anything to chance."

"Why?" Mortanius demanded, turning to face Janos. "Why don't you just tell us what the Pillars are for? Why all the secrecy? Why do you have to turn us into half-breeds before you'll let us in on your big secret?"

"The others don't trust humans," Janos said. "Your lives are too short, your culture too simple. They think you're scarcely better than wild animals."

"And you don't?" Mortanius asked mockingly. "You're a vampire."

Janos smiled sadly. Mortanius suddenly felt as if Janos had had this conversation in the past. Probably with a young Romanen. "Some humans hate the vampires, but does that mean that they all do? Some of my kind sympathize with the humans, but the simple fact is that our race is dying out. Turning humans is a nasty business, but it is the only way to keep the Pillars in vampire hands."

"Lora is miserable," Mortanius said. "She hates herself, do you know that? She can't even go outside in the day time, she just hides in this building all day."

Janos sighed and looked up at the sun. "I don't think we'll ever understand why human-turned vampires are burned by the sun. It must be some weakness inherited when the body adapts to our curse. They are badly burned by submersion in water as well."

"What do you mean, 'our curse?' It's not your curse, it's Lora's curse."

Again the sad smile; Janos's face seemed constantly haunted by it. "It is a curse for us as well, young Mortanius. My kind was not always this way. Someday you will learn about it. When you're older."

"When you turn me into a half-breed, you mean," Mortanius said angrily. "But you're not going to turn me. I'll die before I let you do that."

The promise hung in the air like foul-smelling smoke. Janos looked at Mortanius with his golden eyes and nodded almost imperceptibly. "When the day comes, that will be a choice you may have to make. Because the day will come, Mortanius. All my wishes will not prevent it. It will come for Romanen very soon. For you, twenty years may pass before your day comes. Perhaps in that time, you will change your mind."

"I doubt it," Mortanius snapped, turning back to enjoy the sunrise.

Janos said nothing more. After a few moments, he stood up and jumped into the air, spreading his wings and gliding away toward the Pillars, flapping his wings and gaining height until he was lost from view.

Mortanius could not bring himself to hate Janos, as much as he wanted to. The vampire was too gentle, too soft-spoken to arouse hatred. The other vampires, even if they were not as friendly as Janos seemed to be, did not treat Mortanius badly. They were sometimes curt and maybe a little rude, but that was all.

In a strange way, Mortanius felt they acted like surrogate parents. They did not love Mortanius, but they took care of him and watched out for him as a parent might. They accepted his attitude and attempts at rebellion because they thought he was young and didn't know any better. And like most parents, they adopted the "when you're older, you'll understand" argument that he hated so much. Mortanius wondered how long they would keep up their tolerance of him. If he still rebelled and argued with them when it was his day to be turned, would they be so accepting of his behavior?

He climbed down off the roof and ran off into the woods behind the Home of the Guardians. The ground was covered in knee-high grass in places and dense ivy in others, and the thick oak trees towered over him, blocking out the early morning sunlight. Flowers were opening up to display themselves to the world, and the familiar sounds of birds and insects filled the air. Mortanius walked through the trees in an attempt to forget his troubles for the time being.

He thought about his parents and his sister. What were they doing right now? His father was already awake, checking on the crops and taking care of any weeds that might have taken hold during the night. His mother was probably making breakfast, or maybe she was tending the garden since Mortanius wasn't there. The vampires had told Mortanius that they had informed his parents that he was safe and would come back to them soon, so he hoped that they were not still worrying about him.

Another few days and he would be back home. They had promised he could go home and he was making them stick to it. He would go back home and take care of the garden like his father had taught him. And then, when he grew up, he would marry a girl and have his own farm and have children just like his father. That was all he wanted out of life.

And when the vampires came for him, he would fight them off. They couldn't possibly turn him into a half-breed if he truly resisted, could they? He would learn to use a sword and fight them, kill them if he had to. If it came to that, he felt the vampires would just kill him and wait for the next Guardian of Death to be found.

Unexpectedly, he wondered about his powers as the Guardian of Death. Could he use his powers to simply point at his enemies and kill them? If he had control over death, couldn't he find a way to do something like that?

He watched a bird fly overhead and pointed at it, trying to summon up something and kill the bird in mid-flight. The bird continued on unharmed. They had told him he needed to practice with his powers until he learned what they were, until he had true knowledge of his Pillar. He didn't know what that meant exactly, but he guessed it meant he couldn't kill things with a thought. At least not right now.

He sat down at the base of a tree and looked around. Life was everywhere, in the tree at his back, in the birds flying all over, in the insects zipping around, even in the grass underneath his feet. Life was thriving, life was in everything around him.

But so was death. Mortanius concentrated and could sense its presence all over, almost without even thinking about it. He could feel the stress of death in the ground below him, as the earth used death and decay to renew the soil and supply needed nutrients to the plants growing there. He could feel traces of death everywhere, from the traces of dead animals in the woods all around him.

He didn't know how long he sat there, but it felt like hours. He heard something just beyond his vision, behind some trees in front of him. He got up slowly and crept to the tree, glancing around the side to see a rabbit scrambling on the ground underneath the paws of a red fox. He watched in fascination and disgust as the rabbit fought for life as the fox bit down into its neck. Blood stained the soft brown fur. And finally, the rabbit stopped struggling and the fox trotted off with the body in its jaws.

Mortanius let his consciousness drift and his vision changed. Floating in the air in front of him was the rabbit's little soul. It had never really occurred to him that animals had souls, but they were living creatures just like he was. The soul was small and dim, unlike the human souls he had seen when he first came under the spell of his powers. It seemed almost fragile, as if a strong breeze might blow it away.

Mortanius reached out his hand and the soul floated over to him as if by command. Stunned, Mortanius realized that was just what he had done. He had called it over to him. The soul had responded to his command.

And then he felt a pull on the soul. Somewhere, there was a rabbit giving birth to a litter of little ones. Mortanius didn't know where, but he knew it, could feel it in his mind, through his attachment to the rabbit soul. And he let the soul go. It zipped into the air and flew away to its new home.

Mortanius's vision shifted back to normal and he collapsed to the ground, completely out of breath. He shivered as if buffeted by cold wind, as if his connection with the soul had left his as cold as the grave himself.

He understood a little of what his powers meant now. More than he had before, at least. As Guardian of Death, he didn't have control over death, but he could see it, could communicate with it. He could understand what death really was, because he could look into the netherworld and see it for himself. He could see souls, could feel them, could have an understanding of the sadness of death like no human had ever known.

He sat up and looked at his hands. He had almost reached out and touched the soul. What would it have felt like? Would he had felt anything? Could he have held onto the soul and prevented it from entering a new body?

Slowly, he got to his feet and walked back to the Home of the Guardians. He needed to talk to someone about his experience. Of course, he doubted that any of them could help him with his questions. Janos had told him that all the Pillars work differently, so none of them would have the same kinds of experiences when using their powers. And of course, there was no other Guardian of Death to teach Mortanius.

The previous Guardian of Death had killed himself, Janos had said. The vampires lived for thousands of years, and Mortanius could not help but wonder how a lifespan that long could effect someone with the abilities he had. To constantly be surrounded by death, day after day, for centuries. Mortanius had a feeling that it must have been like torture.

He was not going to be turned into a half-breed, no matter what Romanen or the others said, so Mortanius was confident that he would not have to live with his powers for thousands of years. But he wondered what it would be like in ten years, or twenty, or fifty. How long would he be able to live with these dark powers?

Would he follow in his predecessor's footsteps?

# Chapter Five

It was apparent to Mortanius that his parents never expected him to return home after his stay with the vampires. When he did return, with two vampires accompanying him, his father looked as if he had seen a ghost and his mother cried openly, although Mortanius didn't dare ask if they were tears of joy or tears of despair. If they just expected the vampires to kill him or change him into one of their own, Mortanius never learned. His return completely stunned them.

But after a few days, they seemed to accept that he was not any different than he had been before he left. He told them vague explanations to satisfy their restrained curiosity, that the vampires believed he was special for some reason and had initiated him into a strange society revolving around their magical Pillars. But once initiated, they let him return home and would not bother him. He was not turned into a half-breed or otherwise harmed, and as far as he knew, the vampires would never bother him again.

His father checked him out thoroughly though, despite his reassurances. He checked for bite marks, saying it was for his son's own good. They kept a careful eye on him for the next few days and nights, but eventually were satisfied that he was okay. And gradually, his life returned to normal.

He tended the garden. He helped his mother with other chores and taught his sister how to tend the garden, even though she was not yet old enough to do it by herself. His father began teaching him more about the crops, how to raise the animals, how to plow the field after the winter, how to sort good seeds from bad.

He also taught him the fundamentals of fighting with a sword, after Mortanius had innocently expressed an interest in it one afternoon. His father was no swordsman, not by a long shot, but he enthusiastically taught Mortanius everything he knew. He told Mortanius that it was always a good thing to know how to defend yourself, because thieves and brigands constantly roved the countryside and preyed on farms like theirs. Mortanius suspected that he also feared the vampires might come back some day and wanted his son to be able to resist them. Unknown to him, it was Mortanius's desire as well.

And so for almost three years, his life affected a peaceful normality. He grew up and grew taller, building muscle on his skinny frame by his physical outdoor work and nightly sword practice. His sister took over responsibility of the small garden and Mortanius helped in the fields exclusively, learning more and more about farming as he worked side-by-side with his father. Just as his father had once learned from his father, Mortanius learned and felt pride in what he accomplished.

And in those years, he gradually learned more about his other abilities as well. Sometimes, his parents noticed a peculiar sadness in him when one of the family's animals died. Sometimes, they noticed a strange interest. Mortanius could shift his vision into the netherworld almost at will, and he could sense the presence of souls around him even when he could not see them. If an animal was sick, he was able to tell if it was going to die or not by feeling out its soul. And at times, when he looked into the netherworld and saw a human soul, he could concentrate and feel a glimmer of the soul's former life invade his own vision. He knew if the person had been male or female, young or old at the time of death, and even could see bits of their life if the soul was fresh. He wisely kept any knowledge of these supernatural powers from his parents.

So much time passed that Mortanius almost forgot about his other life with the vampires. His powers became so natural that he didn't actively think about them anymore, and he tended to forget that he was a Guardian of the Pillars. He wasn't the Guardian of Death anymore, he was just Mortanius, a simple farmer like his father.

And then the vampires came back after all.

Mortanius was walking back towards the house from the fields when he heard his father's cry. He dropped the hoe he'd been carrying and ran to the house and to the front yard in a sudden panic. His father had heard rumors that some bandits from the nearby mountains had been attacking local farms recently. Had the invaders come?

In the front yard, his father was holding a pitchfork up like a spear, waving it threateningly at the trio of vampires who stood by the dirt road. Mortanius slowed and regarded them carefully. His father noticed him standing there and shouted at him, pointing at the vampires. "They've come for you again! I always knew they would come back! Get out while you still can!"

The first vampire had not changed at all in three years, but then again, Mortanius would not have expected him to. It was Janos. With him were Aleph, the silver-haired Guardian of Balance, and a third vampire that Mortanius didn't recognize but suspected was a warrior or bodyguard.

"Hello, Mortanius," Janos said calmly, with a thin smile. "It's good to see you again. I see you've grown up a bit since we last saw you."

"What do you want?" Mortanius asked, his voice cold. His father smiled at that and thrust his pitchfork at the vampires, although Mortanius didn't believe for a second that the vampires were at all threatened by it.

"He doesn't want anything to do with you!" his father shouted. "Now get out of here, all of you!"

"We would like to speak to him," Aleph said gruffly, stepping forward. "He is a Guardian of the Pillars. We would never do him harm."

Mortanius had several battered wooden practice swords lying around the property. One of them was sitting in the grass beside the house, and he picked it up casually. "You might think that's true, Aleph, but I believe otherwise," he said, hefting the sword in his hand. It was more for effect than anything else. The sword's dull wooden blade wouldn't cut anything. "Now what do you want from me? You promised you wouldn't bother me."

Janos held out his arm to hold Aleph back. The Guardian of Balance did not have Janos' skill at speech and persuasion, and they both knew it.

"We have discovered the new Guardian of Time," Janos said. "A human, like you, but he's only seven years old, even younger than you were when we found you. He's very scared, Mortanius, for reasons you well know. We would like your help."

"How could I help you?"

"The child doesn't understand what we tell him, or at least he chooses not to. Even Lora and Romanen cannot comfort him. You're not as young as he is, but you're young enough that maybe he will listen to you. I won't ask you to help us, but help the child."

Mortanius thought about it for a few moments. He had no desire to return to the Pillars, but at least this time he was not completely helpless. If we went back this time, it would be as an equal, not as a kidnapped child. And he certainly did know what the child must be feeling, he had lived through the fear and the confusion as well. And he had been ten, old enough to handle his fear, while this child was only seven, barely old enough to take care of himself. Mortanius could only imagine how old terrified the child must be, surrounded by the monstrous vampires and forced into their strange religion.

His father must have noticed his consideration. "Mortanius," he asked nervously, "You aren't thinking of going with them, are you? They're trying to take you away again. You can't trust these creatures."

"What do you say to that, Janos?" Mortanius asked. "Can I trust you?"

Janos smiled and spread his clawed hands. "I have never lied to you. And you know that what I'm saying must be truth. We would not come here otherwise."

Not yet, anyway, Mortanius guessed. He was still only thirteen, and Romanen told him the vampires did not plan to change him until he was at least thirty. That was a long way to go. And if the vampires meant him harm, they would have come for him in the night, not in the middle of the day.

"When I was taken, I would have appreciated someone my age to talk to. I'll come with you, Janos, to help you with the new Guardian."

"Thank you," Janos said.

Mortanius pointed the end of the sword at them. "But afterward I'm coming back here and you're going to leave me alone. I'll stay two days, no longer."
Chapter Six

Mortanius didn't know how to feel as the vampires approached the Home of the Guardians. He saw the Pillars from quite a distance away, the huge structures rising into the sky like the tallest of trees. Janos held him on one side and Aleph held him on the other, soaring high above the ground with his legs dangling below him. He would have preferred to walk or travel by horse, but the vampires insisted on getting back to the Pillars as quickly as possible. Even so, the sun was beginning to set and dusk was quickly descending.

Nothing had changed, but he had not expected anything to. It had only been three years, after all. The Home of the Guardians was exactly the same as it had been when he left, even down to the tufts of uncut grass around the front door. The only thing that had changed was himself.

At the vampires' request, he wore the black shirt with the rune on the front that they had given him when he first became a Guardian. It had been too large before, but now it fit him rather well. He wore faded leather trousers and shoes, and brought a sword along, letting it hang from a belt around his waist.

The two guards at the entrance knew who he was, so he nodded at them as he walked inside, followed by Janos and Aleph. The smell of candle wax and blood within the building brought back uncomfortable memories of his first night there, but he kept his expression neutral. He felt the need to mask his unease from the vampires, to keep them from treating him like the child he no longer was. Only three years had passed, but he had grown up and matured in those years, due in part to the powers the Pillar of Death had granted him.

They passed down the hallway and through a small antechamber. Mortanius was focused on the task at hand, and didn't notice the person standing against the wall at first.

"Hello, Mortanius," Romanen said with a smile, his arms crossed casually.

Mortanius stopped and noticed the change immediately. It was not in Romanen's appearance or body language, it was something more direct. Just looking at him, Mortanius could see that he was no longer the same man, even though he looked unchanged from the last time Mortanius had seen him. It was almost as if Mortanius could sense the alteration in Romanen's soul through his powers, because the soul was so much different than any other he had felt before.

"They turned you," he said simply, his voice low. He didn't know whether to be angry, afraid, or just disgusted.

"Last year," Romanen said, nodding. "You could tell right away, couldn't you?"

Mortanius sensed the difference in him like noticing a peculiar odor in the air. He suddenly felt that he understood why animals like dogs and horses would sometimes react strangely around certain people. It was like experiencing a sixth sense, being able to feel danger by just standing near someone. Romanen gave off a frightening aura, and Mortanius felt it clearly. Far too clearly.

"I could tell," he said. "And I don't like it."

He headed farther down the hallway without another word. Aleph must have gone off, because Mortanius looked over his shoulder briefly and saw that only Janos followed him now. The vampire held a strange expression on his face, as if he found something humorous but was trying not to smile. Mortanius stopped in front of a wooden door and gestured toward it.

"Yes, the boy is in there," Janos said. "How did you know?"

"It's the same room you put me in."

"You remember well."

"It's hard to forget."

Janos opened the door and Mortanius stepped inside. It was dim inside, even with two torches lit. There was the same mat on the floor that he had once slept on, and a metal tray with some remaining scraps of food. And in the corner, a cowering boy dressed in filthy rags. Janos closed the door after him, either out of respect for their privacy, or to keep the boy from getting loose.

When the boy saw him, he got onto his feet and fidgeted nervously. "Did they kidnap you too?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He had no shoes and his clothing was tattered and stained, looking as if he had been wearing them for weeks. His hair was thin and very blonde, but so dirty it looked brown. Mortanius could actually smell his unwashed body from across the room.

Mortanius shook his head and took a seat on the mat. "No, they asked me to come here and talk to you. They said you were scared."

"You're not ... you're not one of them are you?" the boy asked, suddenly suspicious.

"I'm just a person like you. I'm thirteen years old. My name's Mortanius. They didn't tell me what your name was."

The boy shrugged. "I don't really have a name. Some people call me Rat."

The boy's dirty appearance made sense to Mortanius now. "You're an orphan?" he asked.

"My parents are dead," the boy said.

Mortanius didn't know what to say to that, so he patted the mat beside him. "Come on then, sit over here. You don't have to stand in the corner."

Hesitantly, Rat came over and sat down. He folded his skinny legs under him and set his hands in his lap. He looked abused and terribly undernourished. Mortanius knew that some villages had children like him around, children whose parents died or abandoned them, and were forced to scrounge around in garbage just for food to eat. He had never known one personally, since his family lived far from town. He wondered how this boy could have survived on his own.

"Who are you?" Rat asked. "Why did they want you to talk to me?"

"Because they took me here when I was ten. You're going through what I went through not too long ago."

The boy edged away. "I thought you said you weren't one of them."

"I'm not a half-breed," Mortanius said clearly. "They didn't do anything to me, and they never will. All they did was perform a ceremony out by those tall pillars outside. They taught me a few things and then they let me go. I haven't even seen the vampires in three years. They had to come to my house and ask me to come back here."

"They're not going to bite me or something?"

"No," Mortanius said, knowing it was at least partially a lie. "They brought you here because they believe that you were chosen to be a member of their religion," he said, deliberately giving the boy an over-simplified explanation of what was going on. He honestly didn't know how to explain it otherwise, and in any case, Lora and Romanen would give him a much more detailed schooling later. Mortanius's job here was only to calm the boy down.

"They made me touch one of those tall things," Rat said. "I don't know why. It felt kind of strange. They said I was a guard or something."

"That's the religion," Mortanius explained. "I don't know much about it. But they're not going to hurt you or anything, that much I know. After I went through with their ceremony and listened to everything they wanted to tell me, they let me go home. You just have to stay here a few days and then you can leave."

Rat nodded and then half-shrugged indecisively. "I want to leave, but I don't really have anywhere to go. They gave me food, it was the best food I've ever had."

"They would let you stay here, I suppose, if that's what you want."

"I don't want to stay with them!" Rat blurted out. "I hate vampires! They're not human at all!"

"I know. I don't like them very much either. But they're not going to hurt you, that much I can promise."

Rat didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. He fidgeted endlessly, putting them on his knees and then back in his lap, gesturing as he talked, clenching and unclenching his small fists nervously. "Are you going to stay here?" he asked. "I don't want to stay here by myself with them."

"There are two other people here," Mortanius said, lying again. "They'll be the ones teaching you about the vampire religion."

"Why me?" Rat asked suddenly.

Mortanius just shook his head. "I don't know. No one really knows."

"So what's going to happen to me? Am I a part of their religion forever?"

"I think so," Mortanius said. "But you don't have to do anything for them. Like I said, I've been at home with my family for the past three years. The vampires forced me to join, but they've left me alone since then."

"I don't want to be part of their stupid religion," Rat said.

Mortanius didn't know whether he should mention the powers the Guardians possessed. It might make the boy interested enough to want to go through with it, but then again, it might scare him enough to refuse to take part in the ceremony. Many people equated vampires with magical power, and Mortanius's own abilities could scarcely be anything but magical in nature. Rat might think that magical power was the first step to becoming a half-breed.

"Think of it this way," Mortanius said, trying a different approach. "If you stay here for a little while, they'll take care of you. You can get some new clothes and some good food, and leave here whenever you want. They'll take care of you because you are part of their religion, but you don't owe them anything."

Rat smiled at that, the first time he had really smiled since Mortanius had arrived. It brought out the child in him, but it conflicted badly with his poor, neglected condition. Seeing him smile was kind of sad.

"That's a good idea," he said. "I don't get to eat real food very much."

"And the two people here can teach you things. Not just about the vampires and their religion, but you can learn how to live on your own. They can help you find a home, even."

Rat smiled again, but tried to hide it this time. "I've never really had a home. When I was a baby, I guess I did. But I don't really remember it." Mortanius could see clearly that it was in fact what the boy most wanted. It didn't take telepathy to see that Rat was scared of the vampires, but reluctantly grateful that they had taken him away from his poverty and given him a meal and a roof over his head. He was afraid of becoming a Guardian, but perhaps he was even more afraid of being sent back where he had come from.

"Make the best of your time here," Mortanius advised, trying to sound wise even though he was barely out of childhood himself. "You have to join their religion. You don't have a choice about that. But you have a choice about everything else."

Rat seemed to accept this, and Mortanius knew that he had done what he came here to do. He had eased the boy's fears and calmed him down. He felt vaguely jealous about it, since he had not had someone his age ease his own fears at the time. But he had been a bit older, and Janos had spoken to him.

"Are you going to stay here?" Rat asked.

Mortanius shook his head, noticing how Rat's expression saddened when he did so. "I'm going back home tomorrow after the ceremony. I might come back here once and a while, but I'm never going to live here. When I'm old enough, I'm going to get my own farm and get married."

"I'll see you again, right?"

"Sure you will. You'll see me tomorrow. And if you want to come visit my family, you're free to do so."

"Thank you," Rat said.

Mortanius wished Rat a good night, letting him know that the vampires would wake him early the next morning, and left the room after tucking him in for bed. As soon as he walked back out into the hallway, he saw Janos waiting there for him with a pleased expression on his sharp face.

"You listened, didn't you?" Mortanius asked.

Janos nodded. "We vampires have very good hearing. I couldn't help it."

"I've done what you wanted me to do. Where am I going to sleep tonight? I might as well go to bed, since I'll be awake even before he is."

Janos led him to an adjacent hallway and down some stairs to the lower level. He directed Mortanius to a small room with a cot and a wooden table with a bright lantern on it. Mortanius sighed and unbuckled his belt, setting it on the table and leaning his sword against the wall. He looked back and saw Janos watching him from the hallway.

"You have something to ask me. Go ahead and ask."

"You brought that blade here to tell us something. Do you intend to fight us with it?" Janos asked.

Mortanius looked at him evenly. "I'm just reminding you that I'm not a child anymore. You don't control me. And if you force me to do something I don't want to do, then I'll be forced to defend myself."

"I remember a young Romanen saying much the same thing."

"I feel sorry for him, then. I'll never surrender my humanity."

At that, Janos smiled. "You will always retain that, Mortanius. Humanity is a state of mind, like kindness or jealousy. Lora and Romanen have not lost anything since we changed them. They gain qualities, some good and some bad, but they don't lose anything."

"You're a vampire," Mortanius said, trying not to make it sound like an insult. "You can never understand what being a human is like."

"And in turn, you are a human," Janos retorted. "You can never know what being a vampire is like. Until you become one of us, that is."

"There's no way to turn a vampire into a human, though," Mortanius said. "And besides, Lora and Romanen aren't vampires like you, they're half-breeds. And you can never understand what that's like either."

"You know how I feel about this," Janos said. "I wish the humans could stay human and we could live together in peace, but the others do not agree with me. And so I must try to convince you that their point of view is the right one."

"You never will," Mortanius said.

"You still may change your mind."

"Then let me ask you this," Mortanius said, taking a step toward Janos. "If there was a way to turn a vampire into a human, would you be willing to go through with it? Would you give up your life as a vampire, if it meant you could be mortal? If it meant that you could have children of your own?"

Janos did not respond, but Mortanius could see in his face that the question was too difficult for him to answer. And that was all the answer Mortanius needed.

# Chapter Seven

He was roused from sleep before the sun rose, and groggily climbed out of the cot and got dressed. The vampires laid out some new clothing for him, a black pair of silk pants and comfortable black shoes, and a flowing black robe to replace his sleeveless shirt. He breakfasted on eggs, buttered bread, and oat porridge.

Although he had only come there to ease the boy's fears, he felt a strange sort of pride as he walked through the corridors to join the vampires already assembled in the inner courtyard for the ceremony. He was no longer the youngest Guardian, no longer the newest member. By attending Rat's initiation to the Pillars, Mortanius felt that he was truly the vampires' equal now. He would stand with them when young Rat became attuned to his Pillar, watching the ceremony from the outside for the first time. He could not help but feel a sense of pride and honor, even though he would never admit it out loud.

He entered the courtyard and saw with some embarrassment that he was one of the last to arrive. A dozen vampires, some of them guards, stood around the marble base in the center of the yard. Mortanius recognized Aleph standing in the same place he stood when Mortanius went through this part of the ceremony. Lora stood in the corner, away from the others, looking at him from under the large hood concealing her face. When Mortanius looked back, Lora averted her gaze. Romanen stood by the opposite entrance, arms folded across his chest, the ever-present weapons hanging from his belt. Mortanius ignored him and stood by the wall, folding his hands in front of him.

It was still dark outside, but the courtyard was illuminated by torches along the walls. No one spoke. Some time later, probably only a few minutes although it felt like an hour to Mortanius, Janos entered, followed by two other vampire guards and the new Guardian of Time, young Rat.

Thankfully, the vampires took the time to clean the boy up. His face was clean and his hair was at least combed a little. He still wore the filthy rags they found him in, but they had given him a pair of soft leather shoes. He looked tired and confused, but he didn't seem scared, at least he didn't act that way. As soon as he saw Mortanius, however, he smiled brightly and waved.

Mortanius smiled and waved back, but quickly put a finger to his lips and pointed at Aleph, hoping Rat would get the hint. The boy was ushered forward by the two guards and stood uncomfortably on the marble pedestal, fidgeting with his hands, looking nervously back at Mortanius, who nodded encouragingly.

Aleph, looking disagreeable as ever, looked down at Rat, his golden eyes twinkling in the light of the torches. "What is your name?" he asked gruffly.

Rat swallowed and looked up at Aleph. "My ... my name is Rat," he squeaked.

Aleph pursed his lips and shook his head slightly. "That is no name for a Guardian of the Pillars. You do not remember the name you were born with?" he asked, his voice somewhat softer.

Rat shook his head, trying to keep still. "No, I don't. I'm sorry."

"We shall give you a new name then."

Rat shrugged and glanced back at Mortanius. "Okay, if you want."

Mortanius could not help but smile at Rat's childish indifference to the whole situation. Aleph was clearly irritated at having to change the course of the ceremony, but Mortanius understood his unwillingness to call one of his fellow Guardians by such an insulting name.

"Your name shall be Moebius," Aleph announced, as if making the name up on the spot. He paused, and then said again, "Now, what is your name?"

Rat licked his lips and tried out his new name. "My name is ... Moebius."

"And what Pillar do you serve?"

At this, the boy stiffened. "I don't serve anyone," he said defiantly. "And I'm not going to serve any stupid vampires."

Aleph took a deep breath and let it out slowly through clenched teeth. "You are a Guardian of the Pillars of Nosgoth. You are a servant of the Pillars. Now say what Pillar you serve," he growled.

"I said I don't serve anyone!" the newly-named Moebius shouted. "You can't make me be a part of your stupid religion!"

Mortanius knew that Aleph was not the most patient of vampires. He guessed only a supreme act of willpower on Aleph's part was keeping him from just lifting Moebius by the collar and shaking him until he said the words. Moebius was pushing his luck almost as soon as he had received it. Even the rest of the vampires became unsettled by the situation.

"You don't serve the vampires," Mortanius interrupted. Aleph cast him a furious glance but held his tongue. Moebius turned around quickly, glad to face someone other than a vampire. "The Pillars are a symbol of your role as a Guardian. You serve the Pillar, and only the Pillar, because you should uphold what the Pillar represents."

Moebius's confused look showed that he didn't understand, but he had heard the part about not serving the vampires clearly. "I thought the vampires controlled the Pillars," he said.

"We serve the Pillars," Aleph said loudly, taking control of the ceremony once more. Moebius turned back to face him. "No one is master over the Guardians. You serve the Pillar by serving an ideal. Now what Pillar do you serve?" he demanded.

"I don't really remember what one they made me touch," Moebius said.

"The Pillar of Time," Aleph said.

"Okay."

Aleph waited a moment and then sighed heavily. Mortanius had to resist the urge to laugh out loud. He looked at some of the other vampires and saw that even they found humor in the situation. Moebius's defiant outburst just a few minutes ago was already in the past. He was just a child, they knew, and they forgave him for that.

"What Pillar do you serve?" Aleph asked again.

"Um ... the Pillar of Time."

Aleph nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. One of the vampires handed him an orange shirt with a rune on the front. They put it on Moebius even though it was much too large for him. He would grow into it, as Mortanius had.

"This is your symbol," Aleph said, reciting the same words he had said to Mortanius years ago. "You are one with the Pillar now. You are the physical embodiment of its power and its strength, and as such, your health runs parallel to the health of the Pillar. When one is strong, both are strong. When one is weak, both are weak. And the health of the Pillars is reflected in the health of the land itself. Bear this in mind."

"I don't even know what that means," Moebius said, feeling the soft fabric of his new shirt. Mortanius had to stifle a laugh; he had said almost the exact same thing when they did the ceremony with him three years before.

"You will know in time," Aleph said.

And then suddenly, everyone headed out of the courtyard and through the twisting hallways to the rear entrance of the building. Moebius looked around and found Mortanius walking a little ways behind him. Mortanius smiled encouragingly and Moebius smiled back. Mortanius was very glad he had agreed to come. The vampires would have had a difficult job taming the young boy without his help.

Dawn was just beginning to rise as they reached the Pillars, the sky changing from pure black to a deep blue. Aleph led Moebius to the Pillar of Time and stood him in front of it. "Put your hands on the Pillar," he instructed.

Moebius hesitated and then did so. He stood there for a moment and then looked up at the Guardian of Balance. "Can I take my hands off yet?" he asked innocently.

"You will know when," Aleph said.

Mortanius closed his eyes, unable to keep himself from remembering what he had felt that day. The sensation of seeing things through new eyes, the horror at seeing death and decay surround him. Mortanius had wept that day, terrified at the nightmares his new powers had granted him. It was one of the most horrible experiences of his life.

He opened his eyes again, wondering what Moebius was seeing or feeling at that moment. The child was kneeling on the ground beside the Pillar, having taken his hands off. He stared at his small hands and then looked up at nothing in particular. His eyes seemed to shine with energy, the magical surge of power granted by the Pillar. And the look on Moebius's young face was glowing with amazement, and maybe a trace of fear.

Chapter Eight

Mortanius stayed outside as the others dispersed following the ceremony. Moebius was unable to walk after his "enlightening," as Janos phrased it, and had to be carried inside the Home of the Guardians. Lora and Romanen could not stay outside after the sun rose, and all of the vampires left as well, leaving Mortanius by himself at the Pillars.

He had never really taken the time to look at the Pillars when he had been here the first time. But now, he stared up at them as the morning sun came over the mountains. He looked straight up but could not see their zenith. They kept going up and up into the sky until they literally faded from view.

How could the vampires have built such unbelievable structures? The Pillars were solid marble, stretching up into infinity. How could they have possibly been made? Mortanius tried to imagine the vampires building a scaffold high into the air to construct the Pillars, but knew that idea was silly. How could they have carved something so huge out of solid marble and stood it upright like this? And what kept the Pillars from falling down in high wind? Even the sturdiest tree could come down in a storm. Like trees, did the Pillars have roots underneath the ground to hold them in place?

He had never really thought about the Pillars before, and the questions just kept adding up in his mind until he felt a headache coming on. The Pillars were a mystery, that much was certain. He supposed that he would get no real answers from the vampires if he chose to ask. It was probably another of their secrets. He wondered if perhaps the Pillars were older than the vampires themselves. Maybe they didn't even know the origins of their most sacred place.

Mortanius was still standing by the Pillars when he felt the presence of others nearby. Behind him, standing politely as if waiting for him to finish, were two vampires. One of them, of course, was Janos.

"It's nice to see you at the Pillars," Janos said. "You should spend more time here."

"I was just wondering how you made them."

"With difficulty," Janos said. "But that's a story for another day."

Mortanius scoffed at that and returned his gaze to the Pillars. "I don't have to guess what day that is, now do I?"

"I didn't come here to argue with you," Janos said, stepping forward. "I came here to ask about the boy."

"Moebius, you mean? That's quite a name Aleph gave him."

Janos nodded with a bit of a smile. "Moebius is a vampiric name. Many centuries ago there was a great vampire warrior by that name."

"Well don't tell the new Moebius that. I don't think he'd like the idea of being named after a vampire. He doesn't like you very much."

"Yes, I've noticed. He doesn't trust us at all."

Mortanius shrugged. "I don't trust you very much myself."

"But it's different with him," Janos said. "He is so young, we cannot deal with him. I suspect that even Lora and Romanen will have problems. We have no experience at all with human children."

It struck Mortanius just how difficult it was for the vampires to have someone as young as Moebius around. The vampires had no children of their own, which still confused Mortanius, since the vampires must have been children themselves at one time. But it must have been centuries since they had needed to deal with a child. Moebius was going to be immature, curious, irresponsible, antagonistic, and troublesome. The vampires were going to have to learn to deal with his behavior for a few years at least, until he grew up a little bit. Mortanius had been young when he had first joined the Guardians, but he had returned home afterward and the vampires had not needed to raise him. Moebius had no one to go home to, so the vampires were stuck with him.

"I'm not staying," Mortanius said, knowing what was next. "In fact, I'm anxious to leave as soon as possible."

Janos could only sigh. "Okay. I probably should not have tried to ask you. He is not your problem."

"I'm sure Lora and Romanen will be able to handle him," Mortanius said. "Surely they remember enough of their humanity to raise the boy correctly. And besides, he's not a baby. In a few years, he'll be old enough to treat like an adult."

"I certainly hope so," Janos said with a slight chuckle.

Together they returned to the Home of the Guardians so Mortanius could retrieve his sword and belt. As he walked down the hallway, Mortanius peeked into the room where Lora was talking to Moebius. Lora glanced up briefly at him as he passed, but Moebius was concentrating on what Lora told him and didn't notice.

Mortanius got his sword and went back outside with Janos. He knew that his parents were probably worried sick by now. They had argued with him right up until the moment the vampires had taken him away. He wondered if his willingness to go only made the departure worse. His parents, his father in particular, never trusted the vampires for a moment and always suspected they would come back some day to steal Mortanius away forever. The longer he stayed, the more worried his parents would get.

"Can I ask you a question?" Janos asked.

"I suppose. Can I guess what your question will be?"

Janos chuckled good-naturedly. "I was wondering how long you will live with your parents. What I mean is, at what age will you make a home for yourself?"

"I don't know. I'll be with my family for a few years yet."

"I know you're anxious to go home because of their concern for you. I hope that when you reach adulthood, you will decide to stay here at the Pillars for more than a day every few years."

"Why is that?"

"You have much to learn, Mortanius. About your powers, about the Pillars, about the history of Nosgoth itself. It would be beneficial for you to stay here and allow us to educate you more thoroughly."

Mortanius shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

Janos sighed. "In time, you will come back here. You are a Guardian of the Pillars, after all. You can't spend your whole life away from them."

Mortanius was about to respond when he heard someone shouting in the distance. He and Janos turned to look back at the Home of the Guardians and saw the small body of Moebius running toward them.

"You lied to me!" the boy cried.

Janos wisely stepped back when Moebius came up to them, his hands shaking in childish rage, tears starting to form in his eyes. He pointed an accusing finger at Mortanius and screamed, "You lied to me!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You said they weren't going to hurt me! You said they weren't going to bite me!"

"They won't if you don't want them to," Mortanius said clearly, saying it to Janos as well as Moebius.

"That's not what that lady told me! She said that when I grow up they're going to bite me and turn me into one of them! And when you grow up, they're going to do the same thing to you! That lady and the man inside were both vampire people!"

Mortanius knelt down and shifted his belt so that Moebius could see the sword hanging there. "They're never going to turn me into a half-breed," he said again, sliding the blade out a few inches. "They can try if they want, but I won't let them."

Moebius looked at the sword and then back at Mortanius, taking a deep breath and wiping his face with the back of his hand. Calmer, he nodded and sniffed. "Okay, I understand now."

Mortanius put his hand reassuringly on Moebius's skinny shoulder. "Like I said, they won't do anything you don't want them to. Romanen let himself be turned, and they tricked Lora. But you and me know what they plan to do, so they aren't going to trick us, right?"

"They'll never trick me," Moebius said fiercely.

Mortanius smiled. "Me neither."

# Chapter Nine

Mortanius was jolted from sleep by the sound of a woman screaming. He threw off his thin wool blanket and sat up in one quick motion, for just a split-second wondering if he had only been dreaming. And then he heard it again, a high-pitched scream. And then a crash, and another shout. His father.

He jumped up and ran through the narrow doorway into the living room of his family's small house. Only then did he catch the smell of smoke. He froze for a moment in indecision as he watched flames spring to life outside the living room windows and realized what was happening.

"Mortanius!" his father shouted.

He bolted through the curtain into his parent's bedroom and saw his father wrestling with someone. Mortanius braced himself and slammed with all his force into the assailant, knocking both him and his father to the floor. The man swung a thick arm up and struck Mortanius in the face, flooring him. His father struggled to his feet and swung the man around, hurling him through the curtain back into the living room.

"It's bandits, Mortanius!" his father grunted, pulling Mortanius to his feet. "Get your sword! You're a better fighter than me! I have to try to put out the fire!"

Mortanius, still dazed from the punch, ran back to the living room and tackled the intruder as he was trying to get out the front door. He was larger and more muscular, but the man was clearly intoxicated and clumsy because of it. Mortanius could smell alcohol still on his breath as he pushed him back and punched him in the face with all his might. The man jerked back and crashed to the floor in a heap.

At age fifteen now, Mortanius was not yet fully grown, but even so, he was as tall as his father and more muscular due to his dedication to hard work in the field and nightly sword practice. He was more than a match for a drunken brute.

He ran back to his room and grabbed his sword, which he had left leaning by the doorway. He came back out to see the flames creeping through the window frame, licking the ceiling. The front door burst open and two men charged in, both holding short blades, unlike the first man, who had apparently been unarmed.

Mortanius came at them fearlessly, swinging his sword left and right in the motions he practiced every night. The first bandit came at him but quickly backed away when he realized he was outclassed. Mortanius fought them both until they retreated back out the door into the front yard. Mortanius spared a sideways glance and saw in horror that the entire roof of the house was in flames.

He swung down and knocked the sword from the first bandit's hand, along with probably one or two of his fingers. The man yelped and took off running, leaving Mortanius to face the second one.

In the light of the fire, Mortanius could see the man was dirty and unshaven, wearing a filthy deerskin shirt and trousers. His sword was dented and dull, but he fought well with it. Mortanius battled him for a few moments before getting a swipe in on the man's sword arm, cutting it down to the bone. He dropped the sword immediately and fell to one knee in surrender, and Mortanius slammed the handle of his sword on the man's temple, knocking him unconscious.

He heard the snapping of wooden beams and turned to see the roof over the front of the house collapse in a blaze of fire. Wasting no time, he ran around to the side of the house and saw his father running toward him with a bucket of water.

"It's no use!" Mortanius shouted. "The roof just fell in!"

"We have to try! Find your mother and your sister!"

Mortanius went to his parents' bedroom window and quickly climbed inside as his father threw the bucket of water up onto the roof. His night vision was ruined due to the brightness of the fire, but he saw his mother on the floor by the bed. He ran to her and tried to lift her to her feet.

His hands came away wet with blood, and he stared down in horror at the knife protruding from his mother's stomach. The first man had been armed after all. In all the commotion, he and his father had not even noticed.

"Mortanius!"

The shout woke him from his paralysis. He jumped up and turned to go out through the living room without thinking. He stumbled backward when another portion of the roof collapsed, crashing down burning wood like an avalanche of fire. He covered his face against the heat and staggered back to the window as flames roared into the bedroom. He tumbled out the window and landed on his back, gasping loudly as his breath was knocked out of him.

He was torn between answering his father's call for help and trying to find his sister. He had not seen or heard her since the attack began. But he could not get to her through the fire, and his sister's tiny room had no window. He could only pray that she had gotten out of the house.

He got to his feet and looked around for his father, wincing in pain as he first noticed that his arm was burned. He ran off to the rear of the house and saw that his father was trying to fend off another attacker with nothing more than the water bucket.

The man attacking his father was no swordsman, but even so, his father was only barely able to fend him off. Mortanius ran as fast as he could, but someone carrying a hand axe ran around the side of the house and attacked him. He deflected the first blow easily and slashed the man's forearm, but the attacker surprised him by fighting back, unlike the others. Mortanius spent a few precious moments fighting him before he was able to knock the axe from his hand and slash him across the thigh. The bandit fell to the ground and frantically crawled away, but Mortanius didn't care.

He started to run to help his father, but was still too far away. As he ran, he watched as his father, too tired to defend anymore, had the bucket knocked out of his hands. The attacker laughed and stabbed Mortanius's father right in the heart.

Mortanius screamed and descended on him like a madman, striking the man's sword so hard that the weapons sparked. The sword flew from the man's hand and Mortanius swung up, chopping him right across the chest. He staggered back, grasped his bloody chest, and fell to the ground.

Mortanius knelt down beside his father with trembling hands and touched his chest. He gritted his teeth, fighting off his emotions, and felt his father's soul as it left his body. Looking into the spirit world, he could see the shimmering soul rise up like mist into the air.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, looking directly at it, forcing it towards him. The soul with the face of his father looked back, and Mortanius knew that he had communicated with it. He let go of his father and swallowed, short of breath.

He wanted to wish it well, to pray that his father and mother would be reunited in the afterlife. But he knew that would never happen. His father's soul would traverse the spirit world and be reborn into someone else, part of the never-ending cycle that he knew so well. So instead, he released his hold on the soul and watched it drift away.

Hearing something behind him, he looked to see the that man who had killed his father was still alive, trying to crawl away. In the light from the fire, he could see the trail of blood the man left behind.

Mortanius picked up his sword and walked over to the man. He used his foot to push him onto his back, and looked down at his pathetic form. He was cut almost from shoulder to hip, but not deep enough to kill right away, but the man would surely not last long. He was covered in his own blood, and gasping for each breath. Blood even seeped from the edges of his mouth as he stared up at Mortanius in resignation.

Mortanius plunged his sword directly into the man's heart, pushing down on the blade until it went all the way through the man's body and stuck in the ground. The man shuddered and spit up blood before going still.

But Mortanius was not going to let him go that easily.

He was overcome with hatred. Hatred at the men who had attacked his family. Hatred at the world that had allowed it to happen. Hatred at the vampires, who had the strength to stop this sort of thing from happening but refused to meddle in human affairs. And most of all, hatred at himself for being unable to stop it. All his years of training, all the magical powers granted by the Pillar, all the hard work and good intentions in the world had amounted to nothing.

He reached down and forced his power into the spirit world. The bandit's soul was still there, just having left the body, and Mortanius snatched it from the ether with the force of his powers. He exerted all the strength he knew and forced the soul back into the man's body. Sweat dripped from his face as he fought with the soul, going against the natural course and bending the spirit world to his will.

The bandit gasped and his eyes jerked open, staring in absolute terror at Mortanius. He was alive once more, but not for long. Mortanius held onto the sword and pushed it sideways, cutting more into the man's body. He screamed in agonizing pain and thrashed around once more before going still.

And once again, Mortanius reached into the spirit world and forced the soul back into the body. And again, and again, killing the man over and over, forcing him to experience the pain of death time after time.

Mortanius lost track of how many times he killed the man, but finally, the exertion was too much for him and he passed out.
Chapter Ten

When he awoke, someone was wrapping a bandage around his forearm. He opened his eyes to see a vampire kneeling over him, carefully bandaging the burn on his arm, which was covered in some kind of healing salve. He tried to sit up, but the vampire pushed him back down.

"No, you are not well."

"How ... how did you ... ?"

Janos immediately appeared at Mortanius's other side. "We felt you, Mortanius. The Guardians share a powerful connection. All the Guardians felt what happened here. We came as soon as we could."

"You felt ... ?"

"Sometimes, powerful emotions can be felt by the other Guardians. It's like a psychic link that we share with each other. We felt your fear and your anger."

Mortanius struggled to think back to the night before. He barely remembered what had happened right before he lost consciousness. When he remembered what he had done, and realized what Janos implied, he felt scared. Had the other Guardians felt all the hate and rage he had felt? If they came here, they must all know what Mortanius had done. He tried to turn away from Janos, suddenly too scared and ashamed to face him.

"Yes," Janos said softly, "we know what happened. What you did, I mean. Believe me when I say that none of the Guardians think any different of you, Mortanius. You have nothing to apologize for."

"I ... I killed that man ..."

"Yes, we know. Do not dwell on it."

Mortanius tried to say more, but Janos silenced him and made him drink something that he said would help Mortanius heal. He slept most of the day and when he awoke again, the sun was already beginning to set. He ate some food, which made him feel better, and the vampires allowed him to get up. His head throbbed with pain and his arm was sore under the bandages, but other than that he was unharmed.

To his amazement, all of the Guardians were there, as well as many other vampires. Janos, Aleph, and the others that Mortanius didn't know so well, as well as Lora, Romanen, and Moebius. Lora and Romanen wisely kept their distance, knowing Mortanius's feelings for them.

Some of the vampires came forward to express their sympathy. Some did not, but Mortanius could care less either way. The vampires didn't have families or parents, and they couldn't understand how Mortanius felt. Some of those who spoke to him sounded sympathetic and sincere though, which he appreciated.

Mortanius's house was no longer there. All that remained was a pile of charred wood and remains. The remains of Mortanius's life.

"We recovered the bodies of your mother and sister," Janos said softly. "I cannot tell you how sorry I am, Mortanius. We felt that it would be better for you not to be there to see them. We have prepared your family for burial. We have also removed the bodies of the men responsible for the attack."

Mortanius wanted to ask what they did with those bodies, but he really didn't care. Bury them, burn them, leave them for the scavengers. It didn't matter to him.

At the side of the house, close to the woods, the three coffins were lined up by three graves the vampires had dug. Each grave, according to simple custom, had a stone grave marker with the name of the deceased. Mortanius didn't ask the vampires how they knew the names of his family.

Mortanius felt tired again. "I don't know what to say."

"We don't know your family's burial traditions."

"Neither do I. I've never attended a burial."

"Do you want any time alone?"

Mortanius walked up to the coffins and shook his head. He had released all of his grief the night before. His family was gone now, there was nothing to be done. Whatever pain and sadness Mortanius felt had already been exorcised. Now, he just felt tired and weak. He was the Guardian of Death, after all. Death came as no surprise to him. He had lived with it very closely for years now.

"You can bury them," Mortanius said. "I don't think I want to stay here anymore."

"I understand," Janos said.

As Mortanius walked away from the graves, Moebius appeared out of the crowd and approached him. He looked much better than when Mortanius had seen him last. He was clean and healthy, no longer the scrawny little street urchin he'd been when the vampires found him. After two years with them, he had gained not only weight and height, but education and maturity unbecoming of his age.

"I guess we're both orphans now," Moebius said.

Mortanius nodded slowly. Finally, he said, "Do you remember your parents?"

"No, not really. I know they died, but I don't even know what happened to them. To tell you the truth, the vampires are the first real parents I've ever had."

Mortanius knew that Moebius was referring to Lora and Romanen, but the fact that he called them "the vampires," lumping them in with Janos and the rest, told Mortanius all he needed to know about their relationship.

"I'm sorry that I never got to meet your family," Moebius said. Mortanius had promised once to have Moebius come and visit them, but the promise had never materialized for whatever reason. "What are you going to do now?"

"I don't have much choice. I have nowhere to go."

"You're going to stay with the vampires?"

Mortanius looked back over his shoulder. The vampires had already placed the coffins in the ground and were shoveling dirt onto them. Janos and the other Guardians watched the burial with expressions ranging from sadness to concern. None of them made eye contact, but they were surely wondering the same thing.

"For a little while."

Moebius nodded. "For a little while," he said, repeating Mortanius's words. "You know they're going to convince you to stay with them. They might seem sad about all this, but it's exactly what they want."

There was no bitterness or anger in Moebius's words, as if what he was saying was merely common sense, but Mortanius could still feel Moebius's deep-rooted distrust of the vampires. Apparently, despite living with them for two years, Moebius's feelings toward them had not changed at all since that first night. Somehow, Mortanius had expected the opposite.

"They won't let you leave again," Moebius said, keeping his voice low, perhaps so that the vampires could not hear him. "You know that, right?"

Mortanius turned to look one more time at the graves of his family. "Yes, I suppose I do."

# Part Two

# The Guardian of Death

# Chapter Eleven

A thin layer of snow covered the ground. Mortanius's dark red cloak rustled softly as his breath billowed away. There was no other sound, and no one around to disturb his quiet thoughts. On the ground in front of him were three graves, barely noticeable now, in the middle of an overgrown field beside the ruins of a long-ago burned down house.

Mortanius was no longer a boy. His brown hair had darkened with age until it was nearly black, and his face no longer sported the softness of youth. He sported a strong chin, dark eyes, and a mouth that seemed always on the edge of a frown. Although he was still a young man, Mortanius looked significantly older than he really was.

Thirteen years had passed since the death of his family. When he took the time to think about it, it surprised and angered him to think that he had lived with the vampires almost as long as he had lived with his own family. He had not intended to stay with them so long, but each time he made up his mind to go out and live on his own again, something kept him with the vampires. He had wanted to build a home, find a good woman, and start a family. He wanted to have a normal life once more, but it never happened. And he had already accepted the fact that it never would.

Moebius was right that Mortanius would never be able to leave the vampires, but he was wrong about the reason. It was not the vampires who kept Mortanius there, it was Mortanius himself. In thirteen years, he had become a prisoner of his own fears.

Each year, he came back to his childhood home to visit his family's final resting place. Not out of a misplaced sense of sentimentality, and not to remind himself of the good times. Seeing their graves again only reminded him of the bad times. He came back to remember the pain. He returned home year after year to remind himself of the fear and sorrow he felt the night they were killed. The hatred and terror. He came back to remember the death.

He could never go through that again. Seeing someone you love die was hard enough, but for Mortanius it was worse. He was too connected to death, too closely associated with it. Death, to him, was very literally a way of life. And no matter how hard he wanted to get rid of the power the Pillar had granted him, he knew that it would stay with him until his own death. As long as he held that power, he could not afford to love anyone the way he loved his family.

And so he stayed with the vampires at the Home of the Guardians, when every day he stayed there was another day closer to the end of his human life. He was twenty-eight years old now, very close to the age Lora and Romanen had been when they were changed. Mortanius knew he didn't have much time left.

Someday soon, the vampires would inevitably come for him, to turn him into a freak hybrid like Lora and Romanen. And when that day came, the vampires would learn that some things had not changed over the years. Even after more than a decade with them, he was still determined to retain his humanity.

He still carried a sword sometimes, and he'd become quite adept at its use. He was nowhere near as skilled a warrior as Romanen, the Guardian of Conflict, of course, but he could hold his own. He kept the sword by his bed, unsheathed, ready to grab at a moment's notice. He didn't really believe that he could fight the vampires off, but if they wanted to steal his blood, then he would take some of theirs in return. He would not be changed easily. And when it was over and he ceased to be fully human, he would run out and greet the sun for the last time. Mortanius would rather die than become a half-breed.

With a long sigh, he walked back across the field to where his horse was tied up. The trip back to the Home of the Guardians would take most of the day. He'd spent almost the entire previous day traveling out this far. Janos once suggested he let a pair of vampires fly him back to his childhood home, rather than travel by horse, but Mortanius said no. He didn't want the vampires doing him any favors, and he didn't want them intruding on such a private moment. Besides, he liked to travel away from the Home of the Guardians. This yearly trip gave him two days to be alone with his thoughts.

Although his family's land had so far not been claimed by anyone else, there were still quite a few farms around, far more than there had been when Mortanius was young. He remembered wild meadows where there now stood farmhouses and plowed fields.

He waved in passing to farmers in the field as he rose his horse down the rutted, uneven road. The farming villages were rapidly finishing up the last of their preparations for winter. Some children ran around the side of the small farmhouse, giggling breathlessly, and stopped in their tracks as they saw Mortanius traveling down the road, his red cloak flapping behind him. He smiled and waved at the children as well, and they shrieked playfully and ran off.

Every year, it seemed that the farming communities moved closer and closer to the Pillars. A significant number of people lived on small plots of land within a few miles of the Pillars now. It wasn't surprising, since soil there was fertile and the weather was pleasant most of the year. Mortanius liked to see them, because it meant more people to associate with. Many of the local villagers didn't even know Mortanius was one of the Guardians. They thought he was just some wealthy landowner or nobleman.

The vampires, however, were somewhat uncomfortable with so many humans living in close proximity to them. Of course, Mortanius rather liked the idea of the vampires being made uncomfortable.

He spent the day riding and reached the Home of the Guardians after the sun had gone down. No one was around, so he took some food from the small pantry and retired to his private rooms. Of all the Guardians, only three lived there full-time: Aleph, Lora, and Mortanius himself. The other vampire Guardians lived in various locations around Nosgoth. Romanen had moved to an estate to the west some years before. Janus lived in a spacious mountain citadel in the north. However, all of them could return to the Home of the Guardians on relatively short notice if the need arose.

Mortanius lit a few candles with a snap of his fingers. Along with his magical powers as a Pillar Guardian, he had been learning some other magic. Simple things like making an object levitate or making a spark of fire appear. The vampires had far more powerful magic, but Mortanius doubted he would ever be able to learn it.

He sat down at his desk and looked across the stacks of scrolls and texts scattered across its surface. Some were his own notes and other ideas he had written down, but most were writings borrowed from the vampire archives, which he still only had limited access to. His predecessor, Varash, had written a few journals about his experiences as the Guardian of the Pillar of Death, and Mortanius found them fascinating and illuminating, but also extremely frustrating. While Varash had committed to paper many things that were useful to Mortanius, he had left out much more.

But the few journals that Mortanius was allowed to read still held a wealth of information about how his abilities functioned, the range of their powers and also their limitations. Reading the scrolls, Mortanius thought back to the night his family died, and how he pulled the murderer's soul back into his body to return him to life, just to die all over again. That was just a taste of the awesome power he could wield if he so chose. Varash, according to the scrolls, had developed deadly powers that thrilled Mortanius and also terrified him. The power to pull souls directly from the living, killing them with little more than a thought. The power to make undead servants and other foul creatures.

Of course, Mortanius would never reach that level of magical power. Varash had thousands of years to experiment and master his abilities, but Mortanius would certainly not live that long. If events transpired as he expected them to, he would be dead in just a few years.
Chapter Twelve

Mortanius slept late the following morning. When he awoke, the sun was already up and shining in through the window. The candles he'd left burning when he went to sleep were burned out puddles of melted wax. He rolled over and crawled from bed. His back and legs were sore from riding a horse for so long the last two days. He got up stiffly and went to find breakfast.

"Welcome back, Mortanius" came a soft voice as he walked to the small dining area.

Lora was seated at the table, a cup of tea in her hands. She looked tired, but then she always looked tired. She usually tied her long blonde hair back behind her head, but today it hung down over her shoulders like a protective blanket. She raised her cup and sipped the tea, looking at him intently as he walked past her. A pot of porridge hung above the fireplace, although the fire was out and the porridge had gone cold.

"How was your trip?" she asked.

"Uneventful," he said. "Up north, there's snow on the ground already."

"I grew up on the southern coast. I've never seen snow in my life, can you believe that?"

Lora rarely traveled far from the Pillars, and when she did it was always in the company of vampires. Her limitations as a half-breed made travel difficult, and she was acutely aware of how most people viewed half-breeds like her. Mortanius was not surprised at all that she had never been far enough north to see snow.

"You're not missing anything," he said as he scooped some porridge into a bowl. The vampires didn't eat the same food as humans, of course, and so they allowed a human servant to prepare food every day. Mortanius and Lora were often the only ones who ate there.

He sat down at the table and ate his breakfast with her. Lora was easy to talk to, and sometimes it was easy to forget she wasn't human anymore. She spoke softly and tried not to expose her teeth when she talked, and she did her best to maintain human behaviors, such as eating regular food. Mortanius had never asked her if she really needed to eat, or if she did it out of habit.

Romanen, on the other hand, betrayed his nature as a half-breed in every word and gesture. While Lora attempted to hide her nature, Romanen reveled in his. Thankfully, Romanen didn't live at the Home of the Guardians, and Mortanius rarely saw him anymore.

"What are your plans for the day?" Lora asked.

Mortanius pushed the empty bowl aside and wiped his mouth. "Nothing, really. I might head to town this evening and go to a tavern. Maybe they'll have a bard or a singer performing. Maybe find a pretty serving girl and take her to bed."

"You should," Lora said with a closed lip smile. "A handsome young man like you could probably have any woman he wanted."

"I'm not looking for just any woman, though," he said. "I'd like to find a wife."

Lora's smile faltered somewhat. "Well, those are a bit harder to come by."

He studied her for a moment. "You never had a husband, did you? Before, I mean."

"No," she answered. "But perhaps it was best that I didn't."

"Perhaps," Mortanius said. He stood up and set the bowl and spoon on the counter. "Well, I'm going to head back to my room. I'll talk to you later today."

"I can join you for dinner if you like," Lora said.

"That would be fine. I'll see you then."

He returned to his room and sat down. He kept some bottles of wine on a cupboard and he poured himself a glass. Usually, his conversations with Lora remained limited to safe topics, but sometimes a stray comment or question would inadvertently create an awkward silence between them. At those times, Mortanius said goodbye and went somewhere else. He picked up one of the scrolls on his desk at random and began to read, in order to distract himself from the thought of half-breeds marrying each other, if such a thing was even done.

The rest of his morning was spent reading several new scrolls and practicing some more simple magic spells. Most of his days were spent that way, studying and practicing his powers. In the afternoon, he took a walk around the Pillars and returned to his room afterward to take a short rest before dinner.

He had only been back for a few minutes when someone tapped on his door. It was open, so Mortanius leaned back in his chair to see who it was.

Moebius stood in the hallway, waiting for permission to enter. His clear blue eyes peered out from under a large brown hood and his narrow hands poked out from the voluminous sleeves of his cloak. He met Mortanius's eyes and tilted his head questioningly.

"Well?" Mortanius asked. "Are you going to come inside or stand in the hallway?"

Moebius glanced down the hall in each direction, as if he thought someone was following him, and then stepped inside the closed the door behind him. "I thought maybe you were busy and didn't want to be bothered," he said. "I came to see you yesterday, but you weren't here."

"I went back to see my old home again. I got back late last night."

"Has it been a year already?"

"Yes, it has. One of these days, I'll go back and find that some new family has moved onto the land. To be honest, I'm surprised it hasn't happened already."

"You could move there yourself," Moebius suggested. "Build an estate there. Hire locals to farm it for you. That's what Romanen does."

"Yes, well, I'm not like Romanen."

"Well that's a good thing."

Mortanius took a seat in one of the other chairs and lowered his hood. Although Moebius was younger than Mortanius, he looked older. He was barely past the age of twenty-two, but all that remained of his hair was a ring of fuzzy light brown hair around the back of his head. He had gone prematurely bald by the time he was out of his teens. The top of his head was completely hairless and as smooth as an eggshell. Most of the time when in public, he concealed it by wearing his large hood. Whether his baldness was some strange side-effect of his powers as the Guardian of Time or just some embarrassing fluke of his family heritage was something Mortanius never figured out.

"So you came by yesterday?" Mortanius asked.

Moebius nodded. "Yes," he said, leaning forward and setting his elbows on his knees. "I want to talk to you about something. But in private. Not here."

"This is my private room," Mortanius said. "I assure you they aren't listening."

"You don't know that," Moebius replied dismissively. "You know they keep a close eye on us. Even after all this time, they don't trust us."

"No, they don't trust you," Mortanius corrected. "Because you insist on opposing them at every turn. It would be foolish for them to trust you, when you work so hard at being untrustworthy."

"That's because I don't trust them," Moebius snapped, and then immediately lowered his voice. "And neither should you. You know that your time is coming soon."

Mortanius sighed and looked out the window. Every time Moebius came to talk, without fail, he reminded Mortanius of the obvious. Mortanius was twenty-eight years old now, dangerously close to the age when the vampires would attempt to turn him. Lora was turned at about the age of thirty, and Romanen was turned at twenty-nine. Every day, Mortanius woke in the morning wondering if they would come for him. Each day that they did not only increased the odds they would do it the next.

"And there's nothing I can do about it, is there? Short from running away and hiding from them for the rest of my life. And that wouldn't work either. You know they could always find me."

Moebius rubbed his bald head and stood up. He went over to Mortanius and leaned on his desk, speaking very quietly. "There is something you can do about it. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. But we can't talk here."

Mortanius remembered a shy, scared little boy named Rat. Even though he was no longer a scrawny unwanted orphan, in many ways, Rat had never grown up at all. He was still scared and distrustful and angry at the world.

Moebius didn't live at the Home of the Guardians, but that by itself was not unusual. Once he was old enough to travel on his own, he spent most of his time as far away from the vampires as he could get. Moebius never hid his contempt for them, in spite of all they had done for him. He was bitter and harsh and contrary, and so secretive that Mortanius had long ago decided he was hopelessly paranoid on top of everything else. Sometimes it was hard being friends with Moebius, but friends they remained. Mortanius was pretty sure that he was the only friend that Moebius had.

"Fine," he said tiredly. "Where do you want to talk?"

"Come with me," Moebius said with a faint smile. "I'll explain on the way."

# Chapter Thirteen

They rode on a horse-drawn cart along a winding road headed south from the Pillars. The cart's wheels bumped along the uneven dirt road, rolling over exposed rocks and through puddles of mud. Moebius leaned forward in the driver's seat, the reins held loosely in his hands. Occasionally, he flicked them to urge the horses forward a little faster. Mortanius, seated beside him, leaned back and tried to enjoy ride.

"Have you heard of the Cult of Sarafan?" Moebius asked idly, his hood concealing his face.

"A cult? You mean like a religion? No, I haven't."

"Sarafan was a man who lived a long time ago. He died before either of us were even born. You might say he was a prophet of sorts. He believed that the vampires were a plague upon Nosgoth. He said that the Gods who created the world made the vampires as a challenge for the human race to overcome, and that we must cleanse Nosgoth of the vampires in order to achieve our grand destiny."

"That's ridiculous," Mortanius said.

Moebius shrugged. "I suppose it does sound rather far-fetched. The vampires' history goes back several thousand years. Even I know that. The oldest human records are barely half as old. The vampires lived on Nosgoth long before humans ever did."

"But people still believe in this cult?"

"Quite so," Moebius said, turning and giving Mortanius a cryptic smile. "Their beliefs have changed somewhat over the years, but their central tenet is still the same. The vampires are a curse upon the world and it's humanity's destiny to destroy them."

Mortanius shook his head and looked out on the rolling hills as they passed. "How fascinating. Why do I have the feeling you're about to tell me that you've joined this strange religion?"

"Am I so predictable?"

"You've always hated the vampires."

"Don't you?"

"No," Mortanius said. "I don't hate them. I don't agree with their methods and I have no intentions of ever letting them turn me into a freak like Lora and Romanen. But that doesn't mean I hate them. As individuals, they're mostly intelligent and thoughtful. I might even call some of them friends."

Moebius scoffed. "You mean nothing to them, except as a tool to further expand their dominance over mankind. At best, you're like a loyal pet. The vampires don't care a whit for human beings, Mortanius. All they care about are their precious Pillars and maintaining control of Nosgoth. Go on and tell me that I'm wrong."

Mortanius couldn't, though, even if he wanted to. The truth was that vampires had no use at all for humans and would probably prefer it if the entire human race remained subservient to them. If they had the ability to reproduce and replenish their numbers, then they could guarantee that the powers of the Pillars would remain firmly in their hands. Many of them, such as Aleph, openly stated that they didn't want humans to be chosen as Guardians in the first place. The incredible magical power that the Guardians possessed was for vampires and only vampires.

But some of them, such as Janos, clearly desired more for the humans that they shared Nosgoth with. Maybe Janos believed that the humans could be slowly integrated into vampire culture and indoctrinated with their beliefs. In time, the human race and the vampire race might find a comfortable equilibrium.

That was a fool's dream, Mortanius thought. How many vampires still existed in Nosgoth? One or maybe two hundred, at most? That didn't include half-breeds like Romanen and Lora, who numbered another few hundred by now, led by the first of them, the one named Vorador. Meanwhile, the human population of Nosgoth probably was in the tens of thousands, or even hundreds of thousands. There was no way the two races could ever achieve any kind of equality when one so outnumbered the other. Especially when the minority maintained control over the majority.

Moebius took Mortanius's silence as proof that he was right. "To answer your earlier question: no, I have not joined the Sarafan cult. Not exactly, anyway. But I certainly agree with many of the things they proclaim. It is our destiny to destroy the vampires and claim Nosgoth as our own."

"I suppose you'd have to be the Guardian of Time to believe in destiny," Mortanius muttered. "Is it true that you can see into the future? You can see what will happen before it happens?"

Moebius pondered this, directing the horses down a less-traveled road leading through a dense mass of trees. "I'm still learning and developing my powers, just as you are," he said, his voice somewhat softer. "Time ... the future ... they are complicated things. It's hard to explain. Sometimes I believe I can catch glimpses of what will happen, but perhaps it's only fragments of what might happen."

"So will the human race achieve its destiny?" Mortanius asked sarcastically.

"You don't need me to tell you that," Moebius replied evenly. "It's obvious. The vampires are a dying race. They'll eventually go extinct. The twisted half-breeds they create are a pathetic attempt to create surrogate offspring. But there will come a day when the vampires are no more, and on that day the human race will take over as the rightful rulers of Nosgoth."

"They're immortal," Mortanius reminded him. "Or close enough to being immortal that it makes no difference. I suspect it will be a very long time before the last of them dies."

"So the entire human race should just sit back and wait for them to die in their own good time?" Moebius asked. "All the while creating more half-breeds and selfishly keeping the magic of the Pillars to themselves? The vampires have no right to rule over us. If the vampires won't give us what we deserve, then we should take it by force."

Mortanius said nothing. In truth, he had long expected Moebius to suggest such a thing. It had been done before, of course. Humans had risen up in rebellion against the vampires many times over the centuries, usually in isolated areas where one vampire preyed too often on the residents of a particular town or village. The most recent of these events – that Mortanius knew of, at least – happened about six years previous, in a village called Ormindale. A vampire named Atanua was attacked and his home burned down by a furious mob when he forcefully turned one of the villagers into a half-breed. The vampires were forced to send a dozen of their number to put the rebellion down as quickly as possible, and Atanua was secretly relocated to a new estate, the location of which Mortanius did not know.

Such rebellions rarely had any lasting effect. Even vastly outnumbered, the vampires were too powerful to fight. They were far stronger than any human and they had the ability to fly. In addition to that, they all possessed magical powers. Mortanius supposed that if a large number of humans managed to corner a vampire inside a building, then they might be able to kill him, but many of them would die in the process. To his knowledge, only one or two vampires had ever been killed by human hands, and it hadn't happened in probably over a hundred years.

Moebius directed the cart down a narrow, winding road through the trees. It was already growing dark outside, and the trees blocked what little sunlight remained, casting them in a shadowy twilight gloom. Mortanius peered up through the branches at the sky above.

"You know, I told Lora I would meet her for dinner," he said.

Moebius chuckled. "I'm sure she'll forgive you for not being there."

"I am getting hungry, though. If I had known this was going to be a long trip, I would have gotten something to eat before we left."

"Don't worry, you can have something to eat when we get there."

"Get where? You never told me where we're even going. You live around here somewhere, don't you?"

"Yes, I have a small house not far from here," Moebius replied. "But that's not our destination."

"Why did you have to bring me all the way out here? I thought you just wanted to talk."

"I wanted to show you something first."

A few minutes later, Mortanius began to hear the sound of water splashing. Moebius steered the cart along a narrow, winding road through the trees to reveal a secluded waterfall deep in the middle of the forest. It was little more than a stream that splashed noisily down a rocky drop of about twenty feet into a shimmer pool of clear water. In the brightness of day, it probably looked quite beautiful, but it was already dark outside so the waterfall had a ghostly, ethereal quality that Mortanius also found appealing. Mortanius was about to comment on it when he noticed a pair of torches on poles burning off to the side of the waterfall.

Moebius hopped down from the cart and dug around in some old canvas bags in the back. He handed Mortanius a plain brown cloak similar to the one he wore.

"Here, you should to put this on."

"What? Why?"

"I want to introduce you to some people. But they don't know that we're Guardians. Your clothes are too fine for a commoner."

Mortanius stared at him for a moment and then gave a short laugh as he climbed down off the cart. He removed his expensive red cloak and donned the simple brown one. For now, he decided to go along with this nonsense, although he could not deny that he was very curious exactly what Moebius was involved in.

"What people are here, exactly?" he asked.

"Who do you think?" Moebius said with a smile. "The Sarafan Cult, of course."

# Chapter Fourteen

Underneath the waterfall was a cleft in the rock that led to a narrow cave passage. Water splashed over them as they walked under the falls, and Mortanius's cloak snagged on the rock as he squeezed through the passage. It should have been pitch dark inside, but he detected a glowing light farther within. They walked down a short, slippery incline which opened into a cave which momentarily took his breath away.

It was a large, oval space lined with torches that gave the entire cave a smoky illumination like something out of a dream. The ceiling was at least fifteen feet high and lined with tiny, dripping stalactites. A few wooden benches had been brought inside, where a dozen people sat talking with each other, all of them wearing simple brown robes.

"Timenius," said a portly man as he walked up to them. He gave Moebius a quick, friendly embrace. "It's good to see you. And you must be Darvos," he said, nodding toward Mortanius. "Timenius told us about you."

"Yes," Moebius said quickly. "I talked Darvos into coming with me this evening. Darvos, this is Loman, one of the members of our little group."

Mortanius, casually ignoring the fake names Moebius had chosen for them, clasped hands with Loman and tried to give him an honest smile. "I have to confess, I don't really know much about what you do here. He asked me to come, so here I am."

Loman gave a good-natured laugh. "Well, let me introduce you to the others, and then we can start this evening's meeting."

Mortanius was led around the room, greeting each of the other members in turn. There was an elderly woman named Kalina, a scrawny lad named Borlan, a pretty young woman named Asilda, a stocky farmer named Poldos, and several more whose names Mortanius quickly forgot. They had a pitcher of wine and some loaves of warm bread, which he gladly accepted. Moebius sat at one of the benches in the back of the cave and Mortanius went over to sit beside him.

"We're using aliases?" he whispered under his breath as he raised the wine to his lips.

Moebius smiled and leaned toward him. "I told you, they don't know who we are. If they knew I was a Guardian, they'd never trust me."

Loman stood up front and smiled generously. "Good evening everyone. Thank you for coming once again. I'm happy to say that we have some visitors tonight. You all just met Darvos, of course. Also with us tonight is Elianne, who came all the way from the Oakwoods to speak with us." He gestured to one of the other people Mortanius was introduced to, a woman with pale yellow hair and sad eyes, who sat close to one of the torches, as if chilled and desiring warmth.

"As usual, I'd like to start our meeting by letting someone speak their mind," Loman said. "If anyone would like to say something or address the other members, please stand up and say whatever you'd like. It's important that we always share our ideas and feelings."

Borlan, the young man, stood up and Loman politely sat down to let him speak. Borlan cleared his throat and wiped his chin. He couldn't have been much older than sixteen years of age, about the same age Mortanius was when his parents died.

"One of them vampires flew over my family's farm the other day," Borlan said, his voice scratchy and uncertain. He didn't look at the other members as he spoke, keeping his eyes on the floor. "Like a big, blue bird. And I just wondered where it was going. They just fly around and travel wherever they want, you know? Like they own the whole world or something. We can build fences to keep out wolves, but we can't build a fence or a wall to keep the the vampires, now can we?"

Some of the others nodded or murmured in agreement. Borlan sat down and another person stood up, an older man with streaks of gray in his beard. "I already told you folks about my brother and how he died. Well, last week, one of my neighbor's boys fell off a wagon and got his leg caught in the wheel. Shattered his leg like a twig." The man grimaced, and several people in the cave closed their eyes with pained expressions. "Those vampires got all that magic and things they can do, but they don't never help people like us. My neighbor's boy is in real bad shape and I think he'll probably die. Even if he lives, he'll be a cripple for the rest of his life. If I was able to talk to a vampire about it, do you think it would even care?"

"No," someone said softly.

Mortanius sat back and listened as two other people stood and spoke their mind, giving voice to the unspoken feelings that many people had regarding the vampires. They were mysterious, they were secretive, they were selfish and callous and cruel. "The vampires are our enemy," everyone seemed to want to say. The sentiment was deeply ingrained. One of the other speakers referred to the vampires as "those creatures" as if the name of their race was a curse not to be spoken out loud. Moebius glanced at Mortanius a few times, but said nothing.

After the others were done speaking, Loman said, "All right. Thank you, Borlan and the rest, for sharing with us this evening. What I'd like to do now is let Elianne speak. She was kind enough to come all the way from Oakwoods and I think what she came here to say is very important."

Elianne looked across the group with nervous eyes and gave a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you for inviting me here. Some of you probably know that there's a group like this in Oakwoods as well. I'm one of the members there. We've been meeting for about nine years."

Mortanius let himself wonder how long Moebius had been coming to these meetings. Had this group been meeting for nine years as well? Moebius couldn't possibly have been attending meetings for that long, could he?

"There's a vampire who lives near Oakwoods," Elianne said. "I don't know its name. I assume they have names. It lives in a castle, a huge castle made of stone. I've only seen the castle up close one time, and it terrified me. The vampire has lived there since before my grandparents were children. Maybe even longer."

Mortanius already knew what she was going to say next, so it wasn't a surprise. He looked around at the other faces and saw that they were not surprised either. There was only one thing that would bring Elianne so far from home to tell them.

"The vampire has ... taken four people in the last couple of years. Taken them and bitten them to ... to make them into ... into half-breeds." She took a deep breath and looked into the flames of the nearest torch. "But the vampire didn't kidnap people and force them against their will. It's worse than that." Tears appeared in her eyes and began to drip down her cheeks. "The people volunteered. They wanted to be turned. One of them was my cousin Lucine ..."

"Oh, no," a woman in the back moaned, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Is this what the vampires want from us?" Elianne asked no one as she wiped her face with the back of her hand. "To be willingly turned us into creatures like them? I don't understand how anyone can do that. Lucine was a smart person, but she ... I don't know anymore. But it scares me, because every day there might be more people who want to become half-breeds too. They think it will make them powerful and immortal, but it just turns them into monsters. We can hate the vampires, that's easy. But can we hate our own family members if they let themselves be changed?"

Elianne sat down, visibly exhausted, and Loman put his arm around her to comfort her as the others began talking amongst themselves. Moebius took part in the discussion as well, speaking with a few others about different issues relating to the vampires. Mortanius leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees, and listened intently to the discussion all around him, remaining silent for the moment.

Nothing they said really surprised him. Their opinions and arguments were hardly new or revolutionary ideas. But even though Mortanius knew how people felt about the vampires, this was the first time that he truly heard it in their own words. He couldn't remember the last time he really sat and talked with regular people like this, and he suddenly felt guilty because of it. He went to town sometimes and he also conversed with some of the local farmers, but those were simple encounters, little more than a quick chat about the weather. He didn't really talk to other people that often, and never about the vampires.

Hearing their concerns and their fears, not as vague generalizations but concrete personal beliefs, affected him in a way that his long discussions with Moebius did not. He knew Moebius too well, but these people were complete strangers, and Mortanius could only judge them based on what they said right now.

Moebius hated the vampires and admitted as such. But it wasn't hate that motivated these people to meet in a secluded cave in the middle of the night. It wasn't distrust or jealousy or even prejudice. As Mortanius listened to them talk, he realized that the core of their belief held something far more simple and honest.

They were afraid. The people were simply afraid of the vampires. Afraid of their strange powers, afraid of their magic, afraid of their immortality, afraid that some day they might be killed by a vampire in need of sustenance, afraid that someone they love might choose to abandon their humanity and become a half-breed, afraid they might be turned into a half-breed against their will. They acted out of simple fear, and because of that, Mortanius could not help but sympathize with them.

Hate could be dealt with. It was possible to teach people that their hate was wrong. But fear was ingrained deep in the human subconscious. You could try to teach someone not to be afraid, but it never worked. And when it came to vampires, it was impossible because their fear was not unfounded or based on false information. Everything the people feared about vampires was actually true. It would be like trying to teach a chicken not to be afraid of a fox.

The vampires possessed mysterious magic, they drank human blood, and they could transform anyone into an inhuman half-breed creature. They were dangerous, terrifying, alien creatures. People were right to fear them.

# Chapter Fifteen

"Well?" Moebius asked as they walked back outside. "What do you think?"

"How long have you been coming to these meetings?" Mortanius asked in reply.

Moebius turned to wave goodbye to Loman and Elianne, who emerged from behind the waterfall and headed off to where their own horses were waiting. Mortanius learned that most of the members in their group lived in a cluster of villages about an hour's ride to the north. The others had already left.

"It was good to meet you, Darvos!" Loman called out. "I hope you'll come to next month's meeting as well!"

Mortanius smiled and waved back, and then dropped his arm once Loman was out of sight. It was nearly pitch dark out now, and the only light was from the two sputtering torches and a sliver of moonlight.

"Two years," Moebius answered. "Actually, I'm the one who started this group."

"What?"

Moebius looked at him. "I heard about the Cult of Sarafan almost five years ago. To get away from the vampires, I traveled to scattered villages all over Nosgoth. I wasn't really looking for anything specific, but I heard rumors and gossip about secret meetings and things like that. Two years ago, I met a few people who felt the same way I did, and we got this group started. Loman runs the group for the most part, but I'm the one who founded it."

"And they haven't figured out that you're a Guardian?"

"How could they? They know almost nothing about the Pillars. As far as they know, I'm just a young man named Timenius who lives by himself in the woods."

"And the vampires haven't discovered this little project of yours?"

"No. At least I don't think so."

Mortanius didn't know what the vampires would do if they learned Moebius was attending meetings like this. If they would bother to do anything at all. After all, they already knew how much he disliked them, and they knew that most humans feared them as well. What would they care if he spent his private time meeting with other people who felt the same way he did? The vampires would probably allow him this minor rebellion, knowing that the meetings would cease when he was transformed into a half-breed in a few years anyway.

"So," Moebius said. "Tell me your thoughts. Do you want to join us?"

"I think all these people have valid complaints," Mortanius said. "I'm certainly not going to disagree with them, or with you. But what do you hope to accomplish by doing this?"

"Accomplish?" Moebius asked, giving Mortanius a mischievous smile. "Revolution, my dear friend. I want to accomplish a revolution."

"With nothing but a handful of scared villagers?"

"We have far more than a handful. There are other groups like this. Dozens of them, all over Nosgoth. The Cult of Sarafan has over a thousand members."

"A thousand people won't be enough."

"Then we'll convert more people to our cause. Revolutions take time."

"We don't have enough time either," Mortanius said. "In two years, maybe less, they're going to turn me into a half-breed by force. And a couple years after that, they'll do the same thing to you. By the time your revolution comes to pass, we won't be human to take part in it."

"I think we will," Moebius said calmly, a strange certainty in his voice. "I made a promise many years ago that I would never let them turn me, and I meant it. If I remember correctly, you made that very same promise."

"Yes, I did."

"Don't break your promise, Mortanius. You and I can change the world if we work together, but we have to start right now. I mean this very night. We can bring the human race to its rightful place as the rulers of Nosgoth. We can achieve our destiny."

"Again with that destiny stuff," Mortanius muttered, rubbing his forehead. "I don't believe in destiny. It wasn't destiny that made me into a Guardian, it was stupid random chance. And it wasn't destiny that murdered my parents right in front of me, it was just terrible, bad luck."

"You say you don't believe in destiny, but you believe you have no choice but to surrender your humanity to the vampires. Getting turned into a half-breed isn't your destiny either, so why don't you do something about it?"

Mortanius sighed, feeling helpless. "We can't fight them, they're too powerful."

"The vampires aren't as strong as you think they are," Moebius said. "But I'll tell you this: I would rather die than live as a freak like Romanen and Lora. I'll slit my own throat before I'll let them turn me into a half-breed."

Mortanius looked into the dark forest around them, remembering back to the day he first began to experience his powers. When he first saw the realm of death surrounding him, he cried because he didn't want to see it anymore. He didn't want to live that way. But in time, he learned to control his abilities. Could it be possible that he could learn to live as a half-breed too, the way he learned to live with his powers as the Guardian of Death?

No, it was not. He could never accept such a twisted existence. He was more certain of that than almost anything else in his life. No matter what, the vampires were never going to change him. Lora and Romanen might have surrendered their humanity, but Mortanius would never let that happen.

"I'd rather die," he said softly, to himself as much as to Moebius.

"Then you have a choice," Moebius said. "You can die, or you can fight."

"They'll destroy us."

"Then we have nothing to lose."

"How can we fight them? Whatever magic you and I can summon is practically nothing compared to what Aleph and the others can wield. They probably have powers we don't even know about. They have thousands of years of experience. We're just babies compared to them."

"What if we had a weapon we could use against them?"

"A weapon? Like what?"

Moebius put his hand on Mortanius's shoulder. "Come with me. I have to show you something."

# Chapter Sixteen

Moebius took one of the torches and led Mortanius back into the cave. They navigated through the narrow entrance back into the main chamber and then went farther into another series of claustrophobic passages. The flames of the torch brushed against the roof of the cave and Mortanius had to duck low to avoid coughing on the greasy smoke. If he concentrated, he could hear the sound of the water rushing over their heads to the waterfall behind them.

"Careful here," Moebius said, handing him the torch. "It's slippery."

Moebius gripped the wet stone of the cave wall and lowered himself down a steep incline about two feet down. "How deep does this cave go?" Mortanius asked. He leaned forward and held the torch back out for Moebius to take. "What are you have hidden down here?"

"It's not much farther," Moebius replied. "It's hard to explain. You've trusted me this far, so you might as well go all the way."

Mortanius eased himself down the incline and followed Moebius down another winding passage. He could hear the sound of water splashing ahead of them, and was beginning to get nervous when they finally emerged into a small chamber. Water dripped freely from the ceiling into large puddles at their feet. Moebius stepped into the middle of the chamber and raised the torch up so Mortanius could see.

There was a natural block of stone raised up almost like an altar, and upon the stone was a long staff of blackened wood. It was not just a simple tree branch, but a length of wood flawlessly carved from top to bottom, carved to look like a snake coiling its way up the staff, its mouth open at the top as if to strike. But within its mouth was a large, glistening crystal ball.

After staring at it for a few moments, Mortanius found the strength to ask, "What is this? Where did you get it?"

Moebius didn't answer for a moment. His hand reached out to caress the snake's head. "I found it," he said simply. "A little over two years ago."

"But where? This staff, it's ... it's magical." Mortanius almost had to force the words out. It was as if the staff radiated some kind of aura. He forced himself to look away from it.

"I know," Moebius said. "I can feel its power."

"Who made it? The vampires?"

Moebius shook his head. "No, not the vampires. Someone else."

Moebius wrapped his fingers around the staff and slowly lifted it. The shimmering crystal ball nearly reflected their faces back at them, it was so flawless. Mortanius could sense the powerful magic emanating from the orb, and it was like nothing he had ever experienced. The vampires had created many magical items that he knew of, but this crystal ball felt completely different than the others. Its aura was completely alien, hinting at a magical source Mortanius knew nothing about.

"Who could have created something like this?" he asked.

"Not human and not vampire," Moebius said in a soft voice, running his fingers along the wood like an art lover admiring a fine piece of sculpture. "It's ancient, far more ancient than any human artifact. I believe this staff was created by another race, a race even older than the vampires."

"That's ... that's impossible."

"Is it? What evidence do we have that the vampires were the first race to rule Nosgoth?"

The question stunned him, and he was unable to answer. In all this time, Mortanius had never thought to question that the vampires were the first civilized race. The idea that there could have been another race before them never even entered his thoughts. There was no record of any such race.

But of course there would not be any record, he realized. The vampires would have erased any mention of it from the histories they allowed the humans to read. The vampires had so many secrets, about the Pillars and their own past, what difference did one more secret make? Had the vampires evolved to take the place of some other previous race of beings, just as humans were destined to take the place of the vampires? Is that why they fought so hard to retain control of Nosgoth? Were they trying to prevent the humans from doing to them what they had done to their predecessors?

"Where did you find it?" he asked again.

"At the bottom of a lake. It was strange, it was like I heard a voice. It was almost like the staff was there waiting for me to be drawn to it. I can't explain it."

Mortanius desperately wanted to know more, but he realized that it didn't matter where Moebius had found it. The staff was real and he could feel its magic like a deafening scream in his mind. The simple truth drowned out everything else. He could learn the details of its discovery later.

"You think ... you think we can use this against the vampires?"

"I do," Moebius nodded. "You can feel its power. This is a weapon."

"What kind of weapon?"

"I don't know. But it was hidden away for centuries, maybe millennia. Whoever made it knew that the vampires were going to take over all of Nosgoth, so they hid it away in the hopes that later generations would find it. Perhaps there are more staffs like this, hidden in other places. For all we know, the vampires know about this staff and have been secretly searching for it all this time. But it was just ... waiting for the right person to come along."

Mortanius did not touch the crystal ball. He was afraid to. But in some deep part of himself, he believed that Moebius was right. This staff, indescribably ancient and incredibly powerful, was most certainly a weapon. And in their hands, it was a weapon they could use against the vampires. In time, they would learn its secrets, perhaps figure out who created it and why. But for now, they had more important things to do.

"Okay," Mortanius said. "You're right, Moebius. I've always known you were right. Forgive me for being a coward. I'll join your revolution."

# Chapter Seventeen

Mortanius began attending monthly meetings. True to Moebius's word, there were many other splinter groups of the Sarafan Cult spread across Nosgoth, and within a few months he traveled to meet with some of them. He spoke with hundreds of people, discussing their numerous concerns, learning their fears and worries, and taking their ideas into consideration. Sometimes he conferred with Moebius, but more often than not, Moebius was busy on travels of his own. For more than a year, the two of them gathered and consolidated the scattered groups into something that almost resembled cohesive movement.

The vampires never questioned Mortanius's activities, and if they noticed that he was traveling more often than usual, they never spoke of it. Even so, he made sure to return to the Home of the Guardians on a regular basis and stay for a few days, just to deflect any curious inquiries as to his whereabouts. Despite his numerous promises over the years that he would never willingly be turned into a half-breed, Mortanius had never brought direct suspicion onto himself, and the vampires had no reason to think he was actively plotting against them. The vampires were assured of their dominance and secure in their authority. They had become complacent.

However, contacting and meeting the various splinter groups of the Sarafan Cult was one thing, but organizing them into a rebellion was an entirely different matter. Most of the humans were still terribly afraid of the vampires, after all. Convincing them to actually take up arms and fight back took months of persuasion. It was only when Mortanius and Moebius finally revealed their true identities did the majority of the other groups truly comprehend just how powerful they really were.

Many of them had no idea that there were any human Guardians at all; most people who lived far from the Pillars assumed that they were nothing but a vampire religious artifact. When Moebius explained how humans could inherit the Pillars – and the magical powers bestowed by them – the last of the splinter groups agreed to unite. Mortanius and Moebius became a symbol of injustice: humans being turned against their will to serve the vampires' desires. But the knowledge that the human race had something to physically gain by rebellion, aside from simply getting rid of the vampires, was enough to truly motivate them.

Members of the Cult were carefully moved into vital areas to prepare for the upcoming rebellion. More than half of the mayors of the largest towns were involved in the movement, and they even managed to get some of their people close to the vampires. Some of the workers at Romanen's estate were loyal to their cause, and numerous workers and farm-hands living near the Home of the Guardians were ready to strike at Moebius's command.

"What really is our main objective?" Loman asked them one evening as they shared some wine in Moebius's hut in the woods. "What I mean is, are we going to drive them off or try to kill them? I can't believe we could successfully kill all of the vampires, even with your magic to help us."

"We must kill the other Guardians," Moebius answered. "Janos and Aleph and all the others, including Lora and Romanen. Once they're all dead, humans will become new Guardians. That's the most important thing."

"And what about the rest of them?" Loman asked.

Moebius said, "For now, the Guardians are our main targets. The other vampires can be dealt with later. But yes, eventually we'll have to eradicate all of them."

"It won't be easy," Mortanius said, leaning back in his chair. "Some of them live in castles that are very hard to get to. Even Janos lives in that citadel up north. As far as I can tell, it's nearly impenetrable. The only way to get inside is if you can fly."

"Janos will surely be at the ceremony when they try to change you," Moebius pointed out. "We can take care of him then. Once the Guardians are gone and we have control of the Pillars, we can kill the rest of the vampires at our leisure."

As Moebius spoke, he looked at Mortanius with a penetrating gaze, as if daring him to disagree or contradict him. Of all the vampires, Janos was the one that Mortanius would most likely call a friend, and they were openly discussing his murder.

In truth, Mortanius felt vaguely uncomfortable speaking so casually about the nastier details of what they were planning, but it was far too late for him to change his mind now. He knew when he first joined Moebius that a time would come when they would have to kill. Mortanius had known that ever since he was a child. If he had to kill the vampires in order to preserve his own humanity, so be it. Moebius's grand proclamations about the destiny of the human race were a secondary goal.

The vampires were a dying race, so all he and Moebius were doing was speeding along their eventual extinction. That knowledge didn't do much to lessen Mortanius's feelings of guilt and betrayal, but again, it was far too late to stop now.

"And I hate to bring this up again," Loman said, "but you're certain that your magic staff can incapacitate them long enough for us to strike the killing blow? It's not that I don't trust you, of course, but it's not like we can test it out to make sure it works."

"Could we test it?" Mortanius asked idly, swirling the wine in his glass. "We could track down one of the vampires that live alone, far away from the Pillars."

"Possibly," Moebius said, "but it's too risky. Like you said, most of them are hard to reach, and if the vampire gets away before we can use the staff, then he'll warn the others and ruin everything. Even if we succeed, the other vampires would know that one of their kind had been killed and they might get suspicious if they find out we were missing at the time."

"True. We still don't know everything about how they communicate with each other. Even if we were careful, they might find evidence that we were responsible."

Moebius absentmindedly ran a hand across his smooth, hairless head. "The staff will work. I can't explain how I know, but the staff will hurt them."

"I trust you," Loman said sincerely. "But if something goes wrong, then ..."

Then they would all be killed. Mortanius did not doubt that if their rebellion failed, then the vampires would not hesitate to kill both himself and Moebius. They were traitors and betrayers, and the vampires would have no choice but to kill them. Mortanius had known that since he was a child as well. The other members of the Cult were well aware of the consequences of failure, and they accepted the risk right along with Mortanius and Moebius.

With all their preparations well under way, the only real question that remained was when they were going to finally launch the rebellion. The answer was simple and obvious. It would not be long before the vampires moved to turn Mortanius into a half-breed. All of the Guardians would surely be there for the ceremony, conveniently gathered in one place. That was the day when the Sarafan Cult would make its move.

# Chapter Eighteen

Mortanius spent the weeks approaching his own thirtieth birthday wondering if the vampires were going to abduct him in the middle of the night. He made every effort to appear nonchalant and unsuspecting, and simply went about his normal business as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Moebius kept a very close eye on the situation, and made it clear that they could alert the members of the Cult in a very short period of time and strike at the precise moment. In a way, Mortanius felt like he was bait for a trap.

In the end, his birthday came and went without fanfare. Mortanius still traveled extensively, but he made sure not to make it seem as if he was traveling to intentionally avoid the vampires. He informed them of his plans in advance and returned to the Home of the Guardians afterward. All the while, the Sarafan Cult continued to spread and attract new followers, with Moebius skillfully organizing things in the background.

It came time for Mortanius's yearly pilgrimage to his family's home to visit their graves, so he packed a horse and rode north, just like he did every year at that time. He felt a profound sense of meaning as he walked once again on the land where he had grown up. One way or the other, this would be the final time he would visit his family while the vampires still had control of the Pillars. He felt certain that a year from now, the Pillars would be in human hands, or he would be dead. Maybe the vampires would bury him here if the latter was the case.

His father had always hated and feared the vampires, perhaps even more so after they took Mortanius away to turn him into a Guardian. His mother feared them but rarely talked about them, and his sister had been too young to really understand. But Mortanius felt that his parents would approve of his course of action. If the rebellion was successful, it would change the course of history, and Mortanius would probably have his name written down and remembered by future generations. That was something to think about.

He started his trek back to the Home of the Guardians later that day, and by the time it was dark outside, he was still a few hours from his destination. When he reached a hillside where he could look out over several miles, he stiffly dismounted his horse to stretch his legs. Sometimes he liked to camped out overnight, but he felt the need to keep traveling until he made it home. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his cloak and walked to the edge of the road, looking out at the dark landscape beyond.

Here and there, he spotted lights in the distance. Campfires or torches, their tiny bit of flame visible even from miles away. Most of the land northwest of the Pillars was wilderness, but there were settlers scattered around, their hovels and meager farms only noticeable from the fires they lit at night to keep the dangers of the night at bay.

Mortanius wondered what it would be like if the human race continued to grow and thrive until they populated the entire landscape. Would they have vast cities with millions of residents, stretching from horizon to horizon? It seemed impossible, but in a thousand years, or five thousand?

He wondered how so many people could be born, when the souls of the dead inhabited new bodies in the constant cycle of life and death. Mortanius had seen for himself how the souls moved on. If the human population grew and grew, did this mean that new souls were created? Or was there a finite number of souls, and humans had simply not reached that number yet? In time, Mortanius felt that he could solve these mysteries, but there were more important matters to worry about.

He heard a faint noise and realized it was the sound of another horse coming down the road toward him. Frowning, he went to his horse and drew the sword hanging from the saddle. He doubted that it was a bandit or thief, but it was always possible.

A rider appeared around the bend and slowed down when he saw Mortanius standing there.

"Guardian? Mortanius?" the man asked.

"Yes, it's me."

The man dismounted and Mortanius recognized him as a member of the Sarafan Cult. He looked anxious as he approached and gave a respectful bow. "Moebius sent me to find you. He said you'd be on this road somewhere. I have a message."

"What is it?"

"Tomorrow night. That's when the vampires are going to ... going to turn you into one of them. It's going to happen tomorrow night."

# Chapter Nineteen

They came for him in the middle of the night, just as he knew they would. But when they went into his private room, he wasn't there. Instead, when they eventually made their way into the central courtyard at the Home of the Guardians, he was there waiting for them, with Moebius standing by his side. A full moon hung in the cloudless sky, casting the courtyard in a pale light, the nearby torch poles cold and unlit.

Aleph showed a momentary expression of relief, but when he saw Moebius, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. Moebius, unlike the other Guardians, had not been invited to the ceremony. He glared at the vampires from under his hood, his hands folded behind his back, gripping the magical staff. His cloak reached all the way to the ground, so the staff was effectively hidden behind him.

The Guardians spread out around Aleph, curious and perplexed by the unexpected turn of events. Some of them Mortanius knew well: Aleph, Lora, and Romanen, of course, and Janos standing in the back of the group, a worried look on his face. The other Guardians were less well-known for a variety of reasons. They either lived far from the Pillars, such as Coruard, the Guardian of Nature, or they had never made an effort to befriend Mortanius, such as Nolanus, the Guardian of States.

"Mortanius," Aleph said. "The time has come. You are an adult now, so we have decided that it is time for you to truly become one of the Guardians."

Mortanius slowly shook his head, keeping his eyes focused on Aleph. "No, I don't think so."

Aleph bristled and clenched his fists. "This is not a matter for discussion. You have known since you were a child that this was going to happen, so there is no point in resisting. You do not have a choice."

"I've always had a choice," Mortanius replied evenly. His hand went down to the sword sheathed at his hip. "And now I'm giving you a choice, Aleph. Right now, you can turn around and leave me in peace. Give up any attempt to turn me or Moebius into a half-breed."

"Don't do this, Mortanius" Romanen said, stepping forward. "I know it sounds frightening at first, but take my word that it's not what you think it is."

"Your word means nothing to me," Mortanius said. "I'm a human being and none of you are going to take that away from me."

"You are a Guardian of the Pillars," Aleph snapped. "And Guardians of the Pillars must be vampires. There is no other way."

"I disagree," Mortanius said. "I think it's time for the Guardians to remain human. Listen to me, all of you. I'm giving you a chance to stop this. If you don't, you'll face the consequences."

Romanen choked out a harsh laugh. "What do you think you're going to do, fight all of us? You can't resist, Mortanius. Don't be stupid."

"Final warning," Mortanius said regretfully, drawing his sword.

Moebius snarled something, sweat dotting his forehead, and drew his hands out from behind him. The staff came into view, the crystal ball glowing a shimmering blue. "You're wasting your time," he spat. "I'm going to finish this."

Aleph's eyes grew wide, but it was Janos, standing in the back of the group, who spoke first, his panicked voice echoing across the courtyard. "Moebius, where did you get that staff? No! Don't! Moebius, stop!"

The crystal ball pulsed and a ghostly blue light flashed out. Moebius clenched his teeth, straining with effort as he thrust the staff at the vampires. Immediately, they cried out or moaned in surprise pain, clutching their chests and struggling to remain on their feet. Aleph staggered forward, reaching out for Moebius, his face etched in a grimace of fury, before he fell to his knees and hunched over in agonizing pain. All of the other vampires fell to the same fate except for Janos, who spun away and fell against the far wall, crying out as he stumbled away from the staff's magical effect.

"Now!" Moebius screamed, almost sounding like he was in pain. "Now!"

From above, a dozen humans appeared on the roof of the Home of the Guardians, wielding bows. They aimed into the courtyard and opened fire. Arrows rained down upon the helpless vampires, and the archers kept firing over and over until all of their targets were riddled with arrow shafts. The vampires cried out in pain as the arrows punctured their flesh.

Some of the arrows flew after Janos, but he managed to stagger through the doorway into the building and the arrows struck the wall, missing him. Romanen roared furiously as an arrow jabbed through his forearm. He drew his own sword and made to launch an attack just as two dozen more human rebels poured in through the courtyard entrance behind Mortanius and Moebius. He bared his fangs, eyes blazing, and took off in the other direction, following after Janos.

"After them!" Moebius screamed. "Stop them!"

The human rebels rushed around Moebius and Mortanius like water flowing around stones in a river, sweeping across the defenseless vampires like a wave, stabbing and slashing at the ones who still moved as they passed. Moebius shouted again for them to pursue Janos and Romanen, and they obediently flooded into the hall to give chase. Lora, cowering off to the side, was barely noticed by the warriors, whose attention was focused on the vampires. She shrieked in fear and ran away, darting through one of the other side doorways.

Aleph, a dozen arrows jutting out of his back, forced himself upright, his hands scratching at his chest until they drew blood. He sputtered and glared defiantly, his face contorted in pain.

"I'm sorry," Mortanius said softly. "I didn't want this. But you gave me no choice."

He buried the sword to the hilt in Aleph's chest, piercing his heart.

Then he staggered back as a wave of psychic pain washed over him, nearly dropping him to his knees. His hand slipped away from the sword, which remained embedded in Aleph's chest. Another shockwave hit him and this time succeeded in knocking him down. He groaned in pain, clutching his head as the aftereffects of the psychic battering faded away.

"What just happened?" he groaned.

Behind him, Moebius leaned heavily on his staff, his breathing ragged and sweat streaming down his face. He slumped down onto his knees, clutching the staff like a lifeline. "The Guardians are ... we are connected," Moebius gasped. "When one dies, the others feel it. We just felt the deaths of Aleph and the others ..."

Moebius panted and struggled to his feet as more rebels cautiously came into the courtyard and a few of the archers dropped down from above. They looked upon the crowd of slain vampires with as sense of fascination, as if they couldn't believe they'd actually achieved their goal. Some of them came over to help Mortanius to his feet.

"Go after the others," Mortanius ordered, waving them off. "There's still one vampire left, and also a human half-breed. Don't let them get away."

"Lora," Moebius croaked, trying to stand up.

"I'll take care of her," Mortanius said.

He managed to get to his feet. With one final glance at the corpses of the former Guardians, he left the courtyard, which was now a grisly slaughterhouse. He walked down the narrow hallways without a real sense of direction. He just felt tired, the sword weighing him down like an anchor in his hand. He went after Lora mostly because he wanted to get away from the others.

He found her in her private quarters, standing in the corner with her hands at her sides, staring forward with a strangely calm expression. He came inside and closed the door behind him. The flickering candlelight reflected off the blood that still stained his sword.

"Are the others all dead?" she asked softly.

"If not, they soon will be."

"If Janos can get outside, he'll escape."

"Perhaps."

She sighed. "Thank you for not sending the mob after me."

"They're chasing down Romanen."

"How many do you think he'll kill before they take him down?"

Mortanius shrugged. "Ten, twenty, it doesn't matter. All of them are willing to lay down their lives for the cause."

"And you as well?"

"Me as well. I'll die before I'll be turned into a half-breed."

Somehow, that response seemed to please her. She clasped her hands together and then crossed her arms, looking indifferently out the nearby window.

When she said nothing more, Mortanius stepped forward. "I'm sorry it has to be this way. I bear you no ill will. But all of the vampire Guardians must die."

"Yes, I know," Lora replied, still looking away. "I knew ... I knew about your plans, Mortanius. I've known for some time."

That stopped him. "You suspected?"

"No, I knew." She looked him in the eye. "I'm the Guardian of Mind. Sometimes I can see things ... I can hear thoughts. It comes and it goes. But I read your thoughts a few months ago. I knew what you and Moebius were planning to do tonight."

"But you didn't warn the others?"

"I could have. They might have even believed me."

"But ...?"

"I didn't want to be turned into a half-breed," she said, her voice cold. "Surely you knew that. It's no secret. They never told me what they planned, they gave me no warning at all. They pulled me from my bed in the middle of the night and performed the ritual as I screamed and begged them to stop."

Her eyes shimmered with tears. "They stole my life, Mortanius. They stole everything from me. And even after they turned me into ... into this thing, they still didn't share their knowledge with me like they promised to. They stole my life and gave me nothing in return except this awful curse."

Mortanius looked down at the sword in his hand. "Is there ... is there any way to reverse it, to make you a human again?"

"If there is, the vampires have never spoken of it. But no, I don't think there is."

"Just one more secret they choose to keep from us."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, Lora."

"Don't be sorry for me. You need to be strong now. You and Moebius will be the only Guardians now. It will be up to you to find and train the new Guardians and teach them about their powers. We might not fully understand the Pillars, but I believe that they're very important. Without the vampires, you'll have to figure everything out on your own. It will be a hard road, Mortanius."

"Yes, but at least the human race will be free."

She smiled, a sad sense of relief and joy on her face. "Can I ask you to do one thing for me?"

Mortanius knew he should get Moebius, but he chose not to. He had done his part in the rebellion, and the vampire Guardians were dead, so he felt he had earned the right to grant Lora one final wish. "Of course," he said.

"Let me live until the morning," Lora said. "When the sun comes over the mountains, let me go out and greet it." She stood in front of him and placed her hand on his. "Let me see the sun one more time before I die."

# Chapter Twenty

As the sky glowed pink with the light of dawn and the sun peeked out over the hills to the east, Lora walked out into the vast field beyond the Home of the Guardians. She wore a simple sleeveless dress, her long hair tied with a wreathe of flowers. She strode out purposefully into the field, sliding her bare feet through the grass. As the first rays of light spread across the land, she stopped and stuck her arms out at her sides, as if embracing the morning.

Mortanius and Moebius did not intrude upon her sacrifice. They stood a considerable distance away, with a hundred or more people gathered farther back to watch the scene unfold. Mortanius would have preferred to keep the crowd away and let Lora have some privacy in death, but Moebius insisted that their followers be allowed to witness it.

"I admire her bravery," Moebius said solemnly. "I never treated her with respect she deserved. I admit that. It wasn't fair of me to group her together with the others. She didn't choose to be made into a half-breed."

"I think the only reason they told us ahead of time that we would be turned is because the ritual with Lora went so badly. They didn't give her any warning at all. Maybe they thought if they told us about it beforehand, we could come to terms with it and not fight them when the time came."

"Well, we can see how well that worked," Moebius scoffed. "If that's true, then Lora indirectly helped usher in our rebellion."

Lora had helped them in another way, by not telling anyone what she knew. For now, Mortanius chose to keep that little bit of information to himself. Moebius didn't need to know, and it didn't matter now anyway. But Mortanius couldn't help but wonder what might have transpired if Romanen had been the Guardian of Mind instead of Lora.

Romanen fought them to the bloody end. He killed fourteen people and wounded almost twenty more before they managed to injure him badly enough that he could he killed. They cut his head from his shoulders and dumped his mutilated corpse with the other dead Guardians. He could have surrendered like Lora. He could have been granted a more noble death. But Mortanius knew that Romanen would fight. His loyalty was to the vampires, not the humans.

His bloody final stand against the rebels gave Janos time to get away. Right as Janos took flight and soared into the air, one of the archers managed to hit him in the leg, but it wasn't enough to slow him down. If Janos had only been standing another few feet closer when Moebius used the staff, he would have been paralyzed like the others. The tenth Guardian was out of their reach now, but Moebius was surprisingly calm about it.

"We have plenty of time to track him down," he said dismissively when Mortanius had brought up the subject earlier. "We know the staff's effective range now. Besides, Janos didn't have a Pillar. Sometimes I wonder if he was really a Guardian at all."

Smoke billowed from Lora's body. Mortanius forced himself to watch as the smoke drifted away, blown in the morning breeze. Lora did not scream or cry out, even though the pain must have been excruciating. Behind him, Mortanius could hear the other assembled people mutter and gasp in shock. Lora's skin turned almost black, and then there was a ripple of flame. Her long hair, waving in the heat, caught fire and burned like a torch dipped in oil. In seconds, her entire body was engulfed in flame, and then she collapsed to the ground, nothing more than a blackened, burning husk, setting fire to the grass around her. From the moment the sun's rays had first touched her skin, it had only taken a minute.

This time, he and Moebius knew what was coming. Just like before, they felt a wave of anguish wash over them, and then it was gone.

Almost unconsciously, Mortanius let his vision slip into the spirit world, turning his vision to shades of pearly gray, supernatural blue, and ugly green. Switching from one world to the other was a trick he had learned a long time ago, although he rarely did so unless he was engaged in his studies. It still bothered him at a personal level to be able to see the spirits of the dead, but his revulsion at the sight was far less than it was when he was still a child. But somehow, he felt the urge to watch Lora's soul escape her body, as if urged on by an unseen force.

The fire was invisible now. All he could see was Lora's charred, motionless body surrounding by shimmering grass that withered as it died. A glowing, spectral form emerged from her corpse and rose into the air, joined by another, dimmer light that joined with the floating soul and soared away along with it.

Mortanius realized with a start that the soul of a Guardian had two aspects: the soul itself, and the special link with the Pillars that marked someone as a Guardian.

Were the two parts inseparable from each other? Would it be possible for the link to the Pillars to be sent off to another person? Mortanius's thoughts swam with the implications of this discovery. What if he could separate the link from a living person, essentially transferring the role of Guardian to another person? It would require study and experimentation, but Mortanius knew that he could learn the truth. Many of his powers as Guardian of Death were still a mystery. Given enough time and practice, who knew what powers he could attain?

Moebius was talking to him. "... better this way. Her death symbolizes the needless cruelty of the vampires. That's why I wanted to let the others see it for themselves."

Something lurked in the back of Mortanius's mind. He narrowed his eyes and turned to look back toward the Home of the Guardians. Lora's body sputtered and burned out, sending up clouds of thick black smoke, bits of flame still flickering in the surrounding grass. Mortanius rubbed his eyes and then set off at a brisk walk.

"Where are you going?" Moebius asked.

"Come with me."

"Why? What's going on?"

"I have to check something. It's important."

They returned to the Home of the Guardians and went inside. Moebius took a moment to order one of his men to extinguish what remained of Lora's body and prepare it as much as possible for burial, and then hurried after Mortanius. By the time he caught up, Mortanius had reached the courtyard where the bodies of the slain vampires were laid out.

He shifted his vision once more to the spirit world and stared intently at the bodies of Aleph and the other vampires. After a moment of examination, he confirmed what he had suspected, even if he didn't know why he had suspected it.

"We have to burn the bodies," he said.

"What? Why?"

"Their souls are still there."

"What?" Moebius sputtered. "Are you saying they aren't dead yet?"

Mortanius returned his vision to the real world and looked at Moebius. "I'm saying that their souls still inhabit their bodies. I don't know what that means. Maybe they aren't truly dead after all. Maybe they'll heal if we wait long enough."

"But we felt them die!"

"I don't know what we felt. But their souls are still there. I can see them."

"What about Romanen?"

"No, his soul is gone. It's only the vampires."

Moebius stepped forward and rubbed his chin. "How fascinating. You know, it just occurred to me that I've never seen a grave or any kind of memorial for the other vampire Guardians. The ones that died a long time ago, I mean. The ones we replaced."

"You're right. I've never seen a grave either."

"Doesn't that strike you as odd?"

"We never learned the vampires' funeral practices. They must have burned the bodies."

"If it wasn't for your powers as the Death Guardian, we wouldn't have found out about this."

Mortanius shrugged. "Maybe it was destiny."

Moebius laughed at that. He went off to get some men to move the bodies, while Mortanius remained in the courtyard. He knelt down and looked closely at Aleph's body. Upon regular inspection, Mortanius would have sworn that Aleph was completely dead. His heart was pierced, drained of blood, his body cold and already growing stiff with rigor mortis. And yet, his soul remained.

The vampires' biology was a complete unknown. There were both male and female vampires, although fewer of the latter. But they were sterile and could not have children, although they must have been born at some point, unless they simply came into existence out of nothing. Janos had told him once, long ago, that the vampires had not always been that way. What had happened to them?

Was this curious detail about their souls related in some way to their immortality? Did the vampires even know that their souls remained inside their dead bodies? He supposed they must have known, if they burned the bodies of their dead.

Was their link to the Pillars tied to their body in death as well? When he looked into the spirit world, he only saw the soul there, trapped inside the corpse. When Lora died, he distinctly saw two glowing forms emerge from her body, but he could not tell if they had both been visible inside her when she was still alive. Had the link to the Pillars only become visible after her death?

There were so many questions. If the bodies of Aleph and the others were not burned, would their souls remain there forever? Would the bodies decay? And more importantly, would another Guardian be chosen to replace them? Mortanius reeled at the thought of keeping the vampires' bodies locked away somewhere to find out what would happen. Maybe they would heal and return to life after all. No, he thought, they must be burned. Even as much as he desired to know the truth, he would not risk their rebellion on such an experiment.

Moebius returned with some men with litters, and they dragged out the bodies one by one. A very crude wooden pyre was hastily constructed, and the bodies lain atop it. Mortanius was too distracted to pay much attention to the makeshift ceremony, but Moebius gave a quick speech to the assembled members of the Sarafan Cult, telling them that new human Guardians would be born to replace the vampires and that now the Pillars were completely under human control.

When they lit the pyre, Mortanius once again switched his vision to the spirit world and carefully watched as the souls of the dead Guardians rose up from the flames and sped off on their journey to a new body.

"Well?" Moebius asked under his breath.

"The souls have moved on," Mortanius replied.

"Good, good. Right now, somewhere in Nosgoth, there are new Guardians being born."

"So we've been told."

Moebius frowned. "Let's hope they didn't lie about that little detail."

"I don't think they did. But given what we already know, I'm disinclined to trust anything that they told us."

"Now you sound like me," Moebius said with a chuckle.

"Yes, I guess I do."

Moebius set his hand on Mortanius's shoulder. "Come on, old friend. We're going to have a feast this evening to celebrate our victory, but right now I could use some breakfast. Today is going to be a busy day."

"And here I thought the hard part was already over," Mortanius muttered.

"Of course not," Moebius said. "You and I are in charge now. The hard part is just beginning."

# Chapter Twenty One

It was high summer and the heat was unbearable. Mortanius sweated like a pig under his black cloak, and he assumed Moebius was equally uncomfortable, although he knew his friend would never admit it. In public, Moebius worked to maintain a detached and mysterious demeanor, rarely letting his feelings show. Although he was younger than Mortanius, his thin, frail frame and bald head made him appear much older, and when he walked, he used his magic staff almost like a cane to further give off an image of infirmity. It was all an act, though.

At the moment, they were both riding in a cart down a winding road toward an isolated village called Mirkwater, a days' ride east of the Pillars. Marching on each side of the cart was a squad of soldiers wearing stiff leather armor dyed red. They carried swords and maces, but also had long wooden lances and spears. They were the military arm of the Sarafan.

An unexpected consequence of their rebellion against the vampires was the growth of a competing cult that viewed the vampires as living deities. While it was true that many people on Nosgoth feared and hated the vampires, it was equally true that others believed the vampires were holy figures to be respected and even worshiped. The death of the vampire Guardians ignited a backlash that Mortanius had not anticipated. He and Moebius were deemed traitors and heretics, and a sizable minority of humans actively opposed their control of the Pillars.

The leader of this new faction was none other than Vorador, the first human to be turned into a half-breed. He gathered other half-breeds and they initiated a small rebellion of their own, fighting against what they viewed as a campaign of murder and oppression. These acts of resistance only motivated the Sarafan, led by Moebius, to crack down on the half-breeds. Within a few years, the fighting became so bad that it was an almost constant threat. Hence, the armed guards protecting them as they traveled down the road.

Mortanius did his best to stay out of it. He had long since abandoned any position of leadership in the Sarafan, and mainly focused on preparing for the new Guardians and continuing his own private lines of research. He delved into vampire records, trying to solve the many mysteries that still remained, and worked to advance his knowledge of his own powers and limitations. He also worked to know as much as possible about the other Guardians, in order to better train and mentor the new Guardians when they came of age.

Finding the new Guardians was a considerable challenge. Soon after the rebellion, they sent word all across Nosgoth to keep track of any children who were born at around the same time. However, tragically, some of those children died in childhood from accidents or disease, and it was not always possible to track down different children who were born at the same time the others passed away. And to make matters more complicated, they saw nothing special about any of the infants they examined in the months after the rebellion, leading Moebius to speculate that a link to the Pillars did not truly take hold until the child was well past infancy.

Worse possibilities existed. What if Mortanius and Moebius were simply incapable of recognizing the new Guardians at all? Maybe it was something only a vampire could see? Maybe the vampires had lied about it and simply chosen children at random, although Mortanius doubted that. If they could have chosen whatever child they wanted, they would never have chosen Moebius.

But the longer it took to find a new Guardian, the more Mortanius and Moebius began to worry. What if they couldn't find them? They debated performing the Pillar ceremony on a random child, or even an adult, just to see what would happen. They had been searching for more than ten years, and they had not discovered any of the new Guardians.

Until now, that is. In his travels a few weeks prior, Mortanius spotted a young girl in the village of Mirkwater. She would have been indistinguishable from thousands of other dirty blonde village children all over Nosgoth, but when Mortanius looked at her, he saw a glowing blue aura, and he knew instinctively that she was one of the children they had been looking for. The Sarafan quietly kept an eye on her until a special trip could be arranged. They kept her existence a secret out of fear that the half-breeds led by Vorador might try to make a move against her.

They rode into Mirkwater with as little fanfare as possible. The Sarafan soldiers quickly set up positions around the village as Mortanius and Moebius climbed down from the cart and walked toward the house where the girl and her family lived.

"You're certain?" Moebius asked for the hundredth time.

"When you see her, you'll know."

"I'm actually nervous to meet her. Can you believe that?"

"Just think, she's only the first," Mortanius said. "We have six more to find."

By the time they reached the girl's dwelling, a few dozen villagers had come out to see what was going on. The Sarafan had already informed Moebius that there were no known half-breed sympathizers in Mirkwater, so they didn't expect any trouble. But the soldiers stood on guard, ready to fight if anyone tried to interfere.

A middle-aged woman walked out in front of the house, dressed in a shabby gray dress, her dingy blonde hair tied with a strip of brown cloth. She carried an infant in her arms and looked fearfully at all the people surrounding her house.

"What's going on out here?" she asked.

Moebius put on his most reassuring smile. "It's all right, my dear. Everything is fine, I promise."

"Who ... who are you?"

Mortanius answered. "My name is Mortanius and this is Moebius. We are the Guardians of the Pillars. We'd like to talk to you about your family."

"My husband isn't ... he isn't here," the woman said, staring at them with wide eyes. "He's in the fields right now." The baby in her arms, perhaps picking up on his mother's fear, began to cry and she tried to shush him unsuccessfully.

"We can wait for him if you like," Moebius said. "You have an older daughter, is that right? About eight or nine years old?"

"My daughter? Yes, she's ..."

A girl appeared in the doorway of the family's house. She had shoulder-length blonde hair and large blue eyes that glared suspiciously at the strangers in the front yard. "Momma? What's going on?" she asked as she gripped the edge of the doorway. The hem of her simple brown dress was frayed and dirty.

"Oh, my," Moebius breathed.

A beautiful blue halo that only Mortanius and Moebius could see hovered around the girl's body, sparkling like gemstone dust. It was undeniable. The girl was a Guardian.

Mortanius knelt down on one knee and held out his hand. "It's okay, child. Come here, I'd like to talk to you."

"Momma?"

"Come on out, honey" her mother said nervously, trying to muffle the cries of the baby in her arms. "These men are very important people."

The girl hesitantly walked out. Everyone in the entire village seemed to be there, all of them looking at her. All the villagers saw was a plain-looking child, but Mortanius saw something much more than that. He realized that the shimmering blue aura was the same color as the symbol on the Pillar of Balance. She was the Balance Guardian, the one born to take the place of Aleph.

"What's going on?" she asked sullenly, glancing around at all the spectators.

Mortanius smiled. "You're a very special little girl, do you know that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there's only a few people like you in the whole world. I'm one of them. My name is Mortanius and that other man over there is named Moebius. We've come all the way from the Pillars to meet you."

The girl stared at him, utterly fearless. "Why?" she asked.

Her mother stared in shock and then spun her head around to gape at Moebius, who leaned on his staff with a blissful smile on his usually-stern face. "What do you ... what do you mean?" her mother stuttered. "What do you mean, special? She can't be ... you can't mean ..."

"Do you know what the Pillars are?" Mortanius asked, ignoring the girl's mother as she babbled behind him. "Have you ever heard of the Guardians of the Pillars?"

"Sure, I guess so."

"Well, I'm one of the Guardians, and you're one of the Guardians too."

"Oh!" the girl's mother cried out, and a few other villagers had to run over to help her before she fainted. One of them took the crying baby and tried to calm her down. People started whispering and murmuring to each other, pointing at the child in excited tones. The Sarafan soldiers kept the villagers from coming forward, and thankfully none of them tried to. Everyone seemed thrilled and surprised, but Mortanius didn't notice, because he wasn't looking at them. At the moment, he only had eyes for the person in front of him.

"How would you like to come to the Pillars with us?" he asked.

The girl thought about it. "Can my momma and poppa come too?"

"Of course they can. Everyone is welcome. We'll have a big feast and a celebration just for you."

"Because I'm a Guardian person? How do you know that's what I am?"

"Trust me, I can tell."

"Okay," she said, but she didn't sound like she believed him. Mortanius remembered back to the day that the vampires came for him. He had been much like this girl, respectful but stubborn, decisive and opinionated. He could tell right away that this child was going to want answers, and he could only hope that he had the answers to give her.

"What's you name?" he asked.

She crossed her thin arms and stared at him with penetrating blue eyes. "My name's Ellendra."

"Well, Ellendra, it's very nice to meet you."

# Chapter Twenty Two

They performed the Pillar ceremony in the middle of the day with a crowd of over two-hundred people there to witness it. They cleaned Ellendra up and dressed her in a lovely blue tunic with the vampiric rune for Balance on the front. They put her hands against the Pillar with her parents by her side and declared that she was officially the new Guardian of Balance. When it was done, everyone cheered and threw flowers into the air to commemorate the occasion. The first Guardian discovered since the rebellion deserved a huge celebration, and Ellendra certainly received one.

By contrast, the vampires performed their ceremonies in the dead of night, with no witnesses except the other Guardians. They claimed the ceremony was a sacred event, but they treated it like some kind of shameful secret. Making a human into a Guardian was something done under the cover of darkness. Mortanius was determined to make their own ceremony into something to be proud of, something everyone in Nosgoth could take part in. If Vorador himself had chosen to attend the ceremony, Mortanius would have let him.

There was some concern about a possible attack by the half-breeds or even the remaining vampires, but even Moebius thought it was unlikely that they would try to interrupt the ceremony for a new Guardian. The Pillars were a holy site for all of them. Stopping the ceremony, or trying to harm or abduct Ellendra, would accomplish nothing. Vorador and his kin chose to stay away, but Mortanius was certain that some of the spectators in the crowd would eventually get news to them.

Ellendra and her family would spend the night at the Home of the Guardians, and in the morning she would touch the Pillars once more for the second half of the ceremony. Mortanius had no idea what she would experience, but it would be nothing like what he or Moebius had experienced when they began to feel their powers. What exactly did the Balance Guardian have control over? Aleph, the previous Guardian, had never spoken about his powers, so Mortanius could only guess at them.

When the sun set and cast the Pillars in shadow, the celebration eventually died down and the crowd dispersed. The Home of the Guardians was still packed with people continuing the festivities, but Moebius was more than capable of being in charge, so Mortanius took a moment to leave the building and get some fresh air.

It was dark outside now, the moon obscured by clouds. Mortanius walked silently out to the Pillars, not needing much light to see where he was going. Even in pitch darkness, the Pillars seemed to glow with a faint light all their own as they rose to the top of the sky. Mortanius stepped up to the Pillar of Death and brushed his fingers across its cold surface.

Death and Time, and now Balance. Six more Pillars remained: Dimension, Energy, Nature, States, Mind, and Conflict. Six more Guardians to find. Now that they knew they could recognize a Guardian when they saw one, Mortanius felt a weight slide off his shoulders. It might take a few more years to track down the remaining Guardians, but they would be found. Mortanius couldn't help but wonder what the others would be like.

He turned when he heard a familiar sound, although one he had not heard in years. A rush of air overhead, the ruffle of wings, and the soft thump of feet landing on soft dirt.

"Hello, Janos," Mortanius said. "It's been a long time."

The vampire straightened and folded his wings behind him. He regarded Mortanius carefully and then sighed when he looked up at the Pillars, his expression softening.

"Yes," Janos said, his eyes skyward. "A long time."

"You took a risk coming here."

"So did you," Janos replied evenly. "Out here in the open, all by yourself, without your guards. I could kill you if I wanted to."

"You could. But if you murdered a Guardian, that would make you as bad as me."

Janos looked around, as if to assure himself that the Sarafan warriors weren't coming up behind him. There was no one around, even though the Sarafan usually did patrol the Pillars on most nights. For the moment, the two of them were completely alone. In the distance, Mortanius could see lights flickering from the Home of the Guardians.

"You should have seen the ceremony," he said. "It was very nice. I couldn't remember all the words, so I improvised a little bit."

"And the new Balance Guardian?"

"Her name is Ellendra. She's nine years old, but she's very smart and mature for her age. I think she'll grow into a very fine Guardian."

"That's good," Janos said. "I know where two of the other Guardians are."

Mortanius felt his breath catch in his lungs, but he forced himself to look away and then waved his hand dismissively. "We don't need your help to find the others."

"I know you don't. I wasn't offering my help."

"Then what? Bragging that you found them before we did?"

"I could tell Vorador where they are. I suspect he would be very interested in getting his hands on them before you do."

Mortanius let the words hang in the air between them. "Is that a threat?" he asked after several tense moments. "Are you going to let Vorador turn a child into a half-breed like him? Is that how desperate you've become? Do you think it will make a difference?"

"The Pillars must remain in vampire hands," Janos said, as if that was all the explanation he needed. "We can keep the children from you, turn them when they become adults. Vorador has places to hide. You'll never find them if he doesn't want you to."

"They aren't truly Guardians until they touch the Pillars and inherit their powers," Mortanius replied. "All you'll accomplish is preventing the Pillar from having a Guardian at all."

"Then we'll wait until after the ceremony. You have plenty of soldiers, Mortanius, so maybe you think you can keep them safe. But your soldiers won't be enough if Vorador brings all his forces to bear, plus myself and the other vampires."

"So you'll kidnap the Guardians now?" Mortanius said, almost amazed at the audacity of it. "You'll steal children away from their families and force them to become half-breeds? If you or Vorador try anything like that, you'll unite the entire human race against you."

"We have allies, lots of them."

"I know you do. But your allies believe that the vampires are a noble and honorable race. They think Moebius and I overthrew you to gain control of the Pillars for ourselves. If you kidnap the Guardians and turn them by force, you'll prove that we were right all along. I don't doubt that Vorador has the resources to challenge us, but I promise you that if every human on Nosgoth is united against you, then even Vorador won't be able to hide. Are you really willing to risk all that?"

"The Pillars must remain in vampire hands," Janos said insistently.

"You already said that!" Mortanius snapped, suddenly angry. "That's what you always say. That's what Aleph always said. The Pillars must stay in vampire hands. You always say it, but why? Why don't you just tell us why?"

"We were going to, when you were turned –"

"That's a lie and you know it. Lora was a half-breed for over a hundred years and she still didn't know anything about the Pillars."

"Lora was ... problematic," Janos said lamely. "She resisted our teachings. She fought against us."

"Moebius and I fought against you too. Would we have been kept in the dark for over a century? I bet you didn't even tell Romanen the truth."

"We told him some of it."

"Some of it?"

"We needed to make sure he was ready to understand it all."

"Spare me your excuses," Mortanius spat. "You and your damned secrets. You always had to keep the truth hidden and lord your knowledge over the rest of us. The truth can't be so shocking that human beings can't be trusted with it."

Janos shook his head in defeat. "You'll never understand. How could you understand?"

"Stop treating us like stupid animals! If you'd been honest with us from the beginning, then maybe Moebius and I wouldn't have rebelled against you in the first place. Just tell me, Janos. It's far too late for you to keep your secrets anymore. The Pillars belong to the human race now."

Janos bared his fangs in anger, the first time Mortanius had ever seen him do so. "The Pillars belong to the vampires!" he shouted in a fury. "We created the Pillars! We sacrificed our very mortality for them! Humans were living in caves and wearing animal skins when the Pillars were built! The vampire civilization has lasted for a hundred thousand years!"

"And now it's over," Mortanius said. "How many of your kind are even left on Nosgoth? One hundred? Less than that? Pretty soon the vampires will be extinct, and humans will inherit the Pillars anyway. Whatever secrets you're determined to keep are completely meaningless now."

Janos glared at him. "The Pillars are entwined with the fate of Nosgoth itself. They are a gateway, and a lock upon that gateway. They are more powerful and more important than you could ever understand. There are things in this universe that human beings simply cannot grasp."

"Keep telling yourself that," Mortanius said. "I prefer to believe otherwise. If you won't tell me the truth, then I'll figure it out myself. I have access to all your records, as limited as they are. But I'll learn the truth."

"Maybe it would be better if you didn't. The truth might destroy you. But I promise that there will come a time when you'll regret what you have done."

"I'm not the one who started this. I gave you a choice. If you had let Moebius and I stay human, then the rebellion would never have happened. But that's right, the Pillars have to remain in vampire hands? Well, they aren't in vampire hands anymore. All of the Guardians are human beings now, and nothing you can do will ever change that."

Janos glared at him and then looked away, his clawed fists clenched. He let out a long breath and regained his composure. "Where did we go wrong with you, Mortanius? When you first became a Guardian, I thought that the Pillars had chosen wisely. Moebius was a problem from the very beginning. We should never have let you and him become so close. He was a bad influence on you."

"Don't blame Moebius for what I've done. I promised you when I was still a child that I would never let you turn me into a half-breed. I was just keeping my promise."

"You had such potential," Janos said sadly. "I truly believed that you would realize the error of your ways and submit to the ritual. And once you became one of us, you would realize how important it was that vampires control the Pillars."

"You were wrong."

"Yes, I was wrong. But even so, I never imagined that you would ... that you would ever betray us. That you would seek to kill us."

"You should have," Mortanius said. "After all, I'm the Guardian of Death."

# Part Three

# The Circle of Nine

# Chapter Twenty Three

The boat rocked gently with the motion of the waves. Mortanius didn't have much experience riding in boats and he felt queasy, but he tried to ignore it, keeping his eyes focused on the island in the distance. At their present rate, they wouldn't arrive until the sun was almost down, which frustrated him. He had hoped to have a few hours of daylight to begin their exploration. Investigating a vampire ruin at night was not something he looked forward to.

Galhonen leaned forward in the front of the boat so far that Mortanius thought he might fall out if they struck an unexpected wave. But the Guardian of Nature was perfectly balanced, his body moving in perfect unison with the water. The two Sarafan soldiers rowing the boat seemed nervous about his precarious position at first, but after awhile they stopped worrying about him.

The third Guardian in the boat was Janarion, the Guardian of Conflict. His long blonde hair sparkled in the afternoon light. Unlike the other Guardians, who wore luxurious silken tunics or long robes, Janarion wore chain mail. A sheathed longsword rested across his knees. By the pale cast of his skin, Mortanius guessed that he wasn't enjoying the boat ride very much either, but Janarion was a man of few words and even fewer complaints.

Two more boats were just behind them, within shouting distance. One contained the Guardian of Balance, the elegant and dominating Ellendra, and the Guardian of Dimension, a rotund and dark-haired woman named Thesandrine. The other boat contained four more Sarafan soldiers, there to provide protection and assistance to the Guardians.

The island ahead was a tower of vine-covered gray rock, propelled forty feet above the surface of the water. Seagulls and other birds circled overhead, their high-pitched keening echoing across the lake.

"Remarkable, isn't it?" Galhonen asked.

"Yes," Mortanius admitted, staring at the island. "It is."

The large lake west of the Pillars had no official name on their maps, but the locals called it the Great Lake or the Lake of Mist or the Lake of Tears. Normally, it was shrouded in a constant, almost supernatural mist throughout the year, and good fishing along the shore gave little motivation for anyone to sail out into the middle of it. However, Galhonen, the Guardian of Nature, had set himself a quest to personally map out every inch of Nosgoth, and in doing so had stumbled upon the island some weeks before.

Mortanius had never even considered the possibility that there might be an island hidden away in the center of the lake. But the island itself, as intriguing as it was, did not justify a boat trip all the way out here with three other Guardians. It was what lay atop the island, partially concealed by thick foliage but still barely noticeable from the surface of the lake. A structure of some kind, a strange fortress hidden all these centuries, mentioned nowhere in any of the vampire records.

Galhonen ran a hand through his bright red hair and turned to face Mortanius. The front of his tunic was damp from the spray. "What do you think we'll find? Do you think there might be vampires up there? Real vampires, I mean?"

"I would be very surprised to find a vampire up there," Mortanius said. "We'd be in serious trouble if that was the case. We don't have enough men here to fight a vampire."

"Really?" Galhonen asked, surprised. He glanced back at the Sarafan soldiers in the other boat, and then looked at Janarion, seeking confirmation.

The Guardian of Conflict let out a breath and squinted his eyes as he looked up. "A single vampire can defeat twenty men at once with ease," Janarion said in his deep voice. "Trust me, I've seen them fight."

"Maybe we should head back and bring more men with us?" Galhonen asked, a nervous edge creeping into his voice.

"Mortanius assured me that we wouldn't be facing any vampires today," Janarion said, "And I trust his judgment in this matter."

Mortanius looked up at the island as it drew closer. "There aren't any vampires up there, Galhonen. If there were, we'd have found out about this island long before now."

"How would we know?"

"They drink human blood, remember? They'd have to come across the lake to feed. If there were any vampires in this region at all, we'd know about it."

"Oh, of course," Galhonen said. "Well, that's a relief."

Mortanius didn't mock Galhonen for not realizing the obvious. Like some of the other Guardians, and most other people across Nosgoth, Galhonen had never seen a vampire in person. He knew about them mostly from their records and from stories told to him and the others when they first became Guardians. Janarion was in fact the only other Guardian besides Mortanius and Moebius who had seen a vampire with his own eyes.

The vampire race was very nearly extinct now, after more than three centuries of concerted effort by the Sarafan to exterminate them. Only a handful remained, secluded away in impregnable fortresses on the outskirts of human civilization, only coming out when they required sustenance. The half-breeds were more numerous, but it was easier for them hide, since for the most part they still looked like regular humans. Recently, the Sarafan had directed more of their efforts toward hunting down half-breeds instead of going after the last few vampires. In particular, they were still trying to hunt down the half-breed leader Vorador, who somehow still eluded them after all this time. His hidden mansion deep in the Termogent Forest was a mystery. The Sarafan knew it was there, but they couldn't seem to find it no matter how much they searched.

Three-hundred years. Sometimes Mortanius felt the incredible weight of such a long life – more than four times the lifespan of normal people – but when he was distracted with his studies or working some other project, as he was now, it was almost easy to forget how old he was.

He didn't really remember when he first came to understand that he wasn't aging at the same rate as normal people. It wasn't something that came upon him in a flash of inspiration, it was more like a slow realization. When he was fifty years old, he still appeared to be in his mid-thirties. When he turned seventy, his appearance was still unchanged. By the time he passed his first century and was likely the oldest human being in all of Nosgoth, he had still barely aged at all.

Had the vampires known that a human Guardian would be immortal, just as the vampires themselves were? Mortanius didn't think so. Janos gave him no indication of it when they spoke briefly at the Pillars after Ellendra's ceremony, and Mortanius never had the opportunity to ask him in the centuries since. Janos was one of the few vampires still alive, hidden away in his citadel on the cliffs near the town of Uschtenheim.

In fact, the reason that Moebius was not joining them for this trip was because he was busy arranging an assault on another vampire hideaway to the north. A vampire named Zelidna dwelt in the mountains, and Moebius was leading the Sarafan against her. Moebius's staff was still the most potent weapon they had against the vampires, and Moebius was loathe to let anyone else wield it.

"Mortanius!"

Lost in his thoughts, he looked up to see who was yelling. It was Ellendra, waving at him from the other boat. "How are we going to get up there?" she asked loudly, pointing to the top of the island. Her long blonde hair blew in the breeze and she pushed it away from her face. "I doubt the vampires made a staircase for us to use!"

"We have ropes and grapples," Mortanius answered. "If that doesn't work, we'll have to try something else." In response, Ellendra frowned and put her hands on her hips.

"She should have asked that before we came out here," Galhonen said lightly. "Don't take this the wrong way, Mortanius, but I'm glad she pesters you about things instead of me. I'd never be able to put up with her."

Mortanius sighed. "Yes, well, I suppose I'm just used to it by now."

In the years following the rebellion, he and Moebius had managed to find all of the Guardians and bring them to the Pillars. Janos's threat to reveal their location to Vorador turned out to be a bluff, as Mortanius always suspected it was. First came Ellendra, then Palton, then Uldofus, then Galhonen, then Janarion, then Luyonda, then Thesandrine. Mortanius and Moebius taught them and trained them as much as they could with their limited knowledge, and for the most part, the training had gone well, despite the difficulties. Each of the new Guardians accepted their individual role and learned their relationship with the Pillar they served. In time, they began to refer to themselves as the Circle of Nine, although Mortanius didn't remember which one originally coined the name.

But there had been problems. Some small and some large. Mortanius had never expected it to be easy. But even after three centuries, some of those problems persisted. Mistakes had been made, and the blame for those mistakes seemed to rest upon his shoulders more often than not.

From the very first moment he met Ellendra, she had been stubborn and willful and fiercely intelligent. As she grew older, those qualities only became more pronounced. She was tall and strong and beautiful, and completely impossible to deal with. Demanding perfection, insisting on getting her way, and arguing with anyone who dared contradict her. Even though Mortanius was only thirty years older than she was, a negligible difference when they were both over three centuries old, Ellendra still treated him like he was her elder, expected to have the answers to her every question. Realistically, he and Ellendra were peers, but she didn't treat him that way. She treated him like he was an old, doddering tutor and she was his prodigal student determined to frustrate him at every turn.

They finally reached the island about half an hour later. The Sarafan soldiers rowing the boats had to carefully ease them forward or else the waves might smash them up against the wall of jagged gray rock. Thankfully, the lake was calm enough that they got the boats lined up beside the island without too much trouble.

"Over there," Galhonen directed them. "There's a cleft in the rock."

"It's going to be quite a climb," Janarion said, staring straight up.

Galhonen laughed giddily. "Yes, but imagine the view once we get up there!"

The Sarafan soldiers prepared the grapples and hooks as Galhonen climbed out of the rocking boat and grabbed a narrow ledge of stone sculpted from centuries of pounding water. He balanced himself and found a foothold stable enough that he could lift himself a few feet upwards.

"Please be careful, Guardian," one of the soldiers said worriedly.

"Oh, I'm not going to try to climb the whole way," Galhonen said, looking up. "But there are plenty of cracks and places to grab onto. Once we get the ropes in place, I don't think it will be too hard to make our way to the top."

Janarion insisted on going first. Once the soldiers got the gear ready, tossed up the grappling hooks, and made absolutely certain that they were secure, Janarion strapped his sword across his back and began to climb. Ellendra and Thesandrine seemed anxious, but Mortanius trusted Janarion to know what he was doing. A pair of Sarafan followed him up. Little pebbles and bits of dirt tumbled down as they ascended.

Janarion called down that there was a ledge about fifteen feet up, large enough for the entire group. They lashed the boats together and tied them to a chunk of jutting rock, and then went up the rope one at a time. First Galhonen and Mortanius, followed by some more Sarafan. After that, Ellendra and Thesandrine climbed up, much less sure-footedly, and the last of the Sarafan came last.

Ellendra reached the ledge and brushed dirt from the edge of her dark blue cloak, refusing help from anyone. Thesandrine, however, gladly accepted Mortanius's hand as she reached the top of the rope. Sweat dotted her brow and she breathed a sigh of relief when she was standing firmly on solid ground once again.

"You're doing okay?" Mortanius asked.

Thesandrine nodded with a smile and brushed some stray hairs out of her eyes. "Oh, don't worry about me. It's good to get a little physical activity now and then."

Thesandrine had been the last of the original human Guardians to be located. She was from a remote, isolated cluster of huts very far to the east, too small to even be called a village, and was thirty-two years of age when they finally discovered her after two decades of intense searching. When they found her, she was married with five children. She was the last, and also the most challenging. How could they expect a grown woman, completely uneducated and ignorant of the ways of the world, to abandon her family and become a Guardian?

To this day, Mortanius didn't know how she did it. He had carefully explained to her that she would probably age as slowly as he did, meaning that her own children would grow old while she stayed young. But she willingly accepted her role as Guardian of Dimension and came to the Pillars anyway, bringing her three youngest children with her, leaving her old life behind forever. Her husband and two oldest did not come, and as far as Mortanius knew, she never saw them again. But even that knowledge did not deter her. Her children grew up and had families of their own and passed away, and her grandchildren did the same, and by now she had lost contact with most of her great-great-grandchildren. She was the only one of the Guardians to have any children.

Once the last few Sarafan soldiers were up, they hurled the grapples up again and continued the ascent. As Galhonen pointed out, the rock was split and cracked in places, and there were plenty of narrow ledges and spurs of rock that they could use to climb. It took two hours for the entire group to reach the top of the island. Galhonen was almost boiling over with excitement, while Ellendra was annoyed at their slow progress.

"I can't believe we had to climb up here ourselves," she complained. "We should have sent workers here to build a lift cage, and then come once it was finished."

"You agreed to come," Mortanius said, looking through the trees at the structure in front of them. He could see a curved dome poking above the trees, made of stone and stained dark brown. At first glance, it didn't look like any vampire ruin he had ever seen before.

Ellendra ignored his comment and crossed her arms, looking in the other direction as the sun began to set. They had maybe an hour of daylight left to start their investigation of the ruin. "It's going to be dark soon," she said. "We should think about setting up camp first. As much as I hate the thought of sleeping out here in the open, I think we should wait for morning."

"What?" Galhonen said. "Are you joking?"

Janarion ordered the Sarafan to check out the immediate area. They spread out to look for any sign of habitation or even the possibility of wild animals. "We're going to take a look around to make sure it's safe for us to remain here," he said. "But I strongly agree with Ellendra. We should prepare our camp and wait until tomorrow to go inside the ruin. We have plenty of time, there's no need to rush into this when it's so close to sunset."

"I don't think it would hurt to go inside and take a look around," Thesandrine said. "I mean, I didn't come all this way just to lay down for bed when our destination is right in front of us."

"Exactly!" Galhonen said. He quickly turned to Mortanius and said, "Come on, surely you don't want to wait until tomorrow. We should start right now!"

Mortanius smiled to himself and glanced back at the ruin. "I must admit my curiosity is getting the better of me. Lead the way, Galhonen."

# Chapter Twenty Four

The ruin was, in fact, several buildings arranged in a tight circle around a central tower. Galhonen merely chose the closest of the outer buildings and went inside, followed by the others. The interior of the structures must have been beautiful, once upon a time. The stone arches were meticulously carved from top to bottom with patterns of elaborate swirls, and the hallways were lined with alcoves that might once have housed flowering plants or perhaps sculptures, although they were all empty now. The ceiling was cracked and damaged after long years of disrepair, and sections had caved in, letting in the elements.

The floor was a complex pattern of alternating green and blue stones, now covered in a layer of grime. Small piles of decayed organic mush lay all over the floor, hundreds of years' worth of leaves blown in by the wind. Some of the cracks in the walls let in snaking vines and other plants. But despite the damage, the beauty of the original structure was evident everywhere they looked.

The Sarafan soldiers, four walking in front of them and four behind, kept looking around for any possible sign of danger. But the ruin was clearly long-abandoned, and there wasn't the slightest sign that anyone had lived there in centuries. Even the possibility of a dangerous animal was unlikely, since the island was too small to support a large predator like a mountain lion. But the well-trained Sarafan remained focused and on guard.

"I've never seen anything like this," Mortanius admitted, reaching out to touch the wall. "None of the other ruins are so magnificent."

"How old do you think it is?" Ellendra asked.

"No way to tell," he answered, shaking his head. "It must have been built before the rebellion, but that's all we can speculate."

"Five-hundred years? A thousand?" Galhonen suggested, peering at the walls.

"A thousand would probably be a closer guess," Ellendra said.

Janarion sniffed the air with a frown on his face, his sword drawn but the blade pointed at the floor. "Abandoned for a thousand years, perhaps. It could have been built much longer ago than that."

Ellendra came up beside Mortanius and said, "How could we have missed this place for so long?" He got the feeling that the question she was really asking was, "How could you have missed it for so long?"

"We were never looking for it," he said with a shrug. "And even if we were, we certainly wouldn't have been looking in the middle of a lake."

"It was built here specifically to keep it hidden," Galhonen said. "This was a special place for the vampires. A holy site, perhaps."

"Are we even sure it was the vampires who made this place?" Janarion asked.

No one answered, the question hanging in the air like a dangerous trap. The theory regarding a race of intelligent creatures that competed with the vampires was a popular one, but there was little to no evidence of any such race. Just vague hints and rumors. The most compelling piece of evidence – the magical staff possessed by Moebius – was not entirely convincing. But still, the rumors persisted.

The corridor ended in a doorway that led down a flight of stairs into inky blackness. They had no torches, but there were plenty of stones on the floor from the crumbling walls. Thesandrine cast a minor spell of light on some of the stones and handed them out. Held aloft, the stones glowed as brightly as a torch, without the smoke or risk of setting something on fire by accident.

As they descended the stairs, no one spoke. Over the years, they had found many other vampire ruins scattered all across Nosgoth. Normally, they were empty. Little more than cramped stone rooms, they resembled mausoleums, but they contained no bodies. The walls of those strange dilapidated places were painted in what might have been detailed artwork at one time, but the passing centuries made the images impossible to make out. The general belief was that the ruins had once contained records or sacred vampire artifacts, but at some point they were removed and the ruins abandoned.

This place, however, was larger than the others by far. None of them speculated on what they might find inside, but the possibility existed that this ruin still contained items or artifacts or documents or anything else. It might contain nothing, or it might contain everything. Any thoughts of giving up their search to set up camp for the night had been forgotten.

They descended down two levels. The interior hallway turned in a gradual circle, indicating that the structure was in the shape of a cylinder. Water seeped in through cracks in the ancient walls, staining them and leaving stagnant puddles on the floor. The place smelled of centuries-old decay.

Mortanius allowed his vision to slip seamlessly into the spirit world. While the others clustered in the middle of the main corridor, nervously holding their lights to illuminate the darkness, Mortanius didn't need light to see by at all, since the spirit world was eternally illuminated in a phosphorescent green. He could easily inspect the dark corners and obscure spaces where their light did not reach.

As they reached what appeared to be the lowest level of the ruin, Mortanius stopped suddenly and looked around the wide space that greeted them. There were some cracked pillars and a pair of raised altars with strange vampiric runes that he didn't recognize. Sensing that something was wrong, the Sarafan soldiers came forward with swords drawn, looking around expectantly.

"What is it?" Galhonen asked, coming up behind Mortanius and peering over his shoulder.

"I don't see anything," Thesandrine said.

"That's because I can see things that you cannot," Mortanius said. He stepped into the chamber and approached one of the altars. The symbol carved into it was a vertical line that writhed like a snake, inside an incomplete circle. But the symbol is not what drew his attention, it was what lay concealed beneath the altar, glowing like a beacon to his eyes.

"There are souls underneath these blocks," he said. "Free souls."

Ellendra asked, "What do you mean, free?"

"I mean they're not bound to bodies. There are no corpses. The souls are just resting there, like they're being ... stored for some reason."

"Is that possible? I mean, could you do something like that?"

Mortanius thought about it. "I suppose I could find a way to prevent a soul from moving on, but the question is why? Why imprison souls here?"

Galhonen stepped up to the altar and knelt down, running his hands across the rough stone. "Can you detect who the souls belonged to?"

"Normally I can. They were vampires, that much I can tell. But whatever magic is holding them in place is interfering with my powers. There's some other kind of magic at work here."

"Can you release them?"

"Perhaps. Should I?" Mortanius asked, directing his question at the rest of the group.

"You should study them at length before we make any decisions," Ellendra said. "But I think we should leave them where they are. Who knows why the vampires put them here."

"I agree," Janarion said firmly.

Thesandrine maintained her shining ball of light and gradually cast her eyes upward as the others talked. Suddenly, her face lit up and she cried out. "Oh! Look!"

The walls above them were covered in paintings like the ones they found at some of the other vampire ruins. But unlike those ones, which were so deteriorated that it was impossible to tell what they originally portrayed, these murals were still in good condition. Mortanius had been so distracted by the vampire souls that he hadn't even noticed them. Everyone looked up in amazement at the brightly-colored images that decorated all four walls of the chamber.

"What are those?" Galhonen demanded to know, pointing at one of the images.

On the wall to their left was a vast mural detailing a red sky with numerous figures clustered all around in various poses. It took Mortanius a moment to realize that the figures were fighting. Most of them were creatures with blue skin and feathered wings, familiar to all of the Guardians even though some had never personally seen one. They were the race of vampires.

But it was the other figures that Galhonen referred to: green-skinned figures with slender bodies and red eyes, lacking wings like the vampires had. They were a different race of beings, one that humans had never seen before.

# Chapter Twenty Five

They spent several hours examining the main chamber, and the artistic murals on display there, until late in the evening. The following morning, they checked out the other outer structures and found them to be almost identical in design to the first. The bottom level of each building contained altars with strange markings, containing free souls kept there by some unknown magical barrier. Each room also contained several detailed murals. There were ten murals in all, which in sequence told a story.

The central tower, however, did not seem to have an entrance at all. Galhonen suggested simply breaking their way inside, but they already had so much work to do with the other buildings, they chose to leave the central tower alone for now and investigate it at a later date.

They didn't have supplies to remain on the island for an extended period of time, so after three days of work, they decided to head back to the Pillars as soon as the sun was up. Janarion sent some of the Sarafan down to the boats to make sure they were ready, and they packed up most of the camp before they went to sleep for the night.

When Mortanius awoke, he found that Ellendra was missing. He followed her footsteps in the dew and tracked her to one of the structures. When he reached the bottom chamber, he found her standing entranced, gazing up at the paintings with her hands clutched in front of her.

She turned when she heard him. "Good morning," she said. "I wanted to take one last look before we leave. When we come back, I'm bringing an artist with me to paint copies of these murals. I wish we could just take these ones back with us."

"I don't think they'll fit in our boats," Mortanius said jokingly.

Ellendra smiled and turned back to admire the artwork. "Why do you think they chose to document their history like this? Why paint these murals to tell the history of their race, but never write it down anywhere else? None of this is even hinted at in the written records."

"Maybe it's like Galhonen said. This is a holy place. This was their temple."

"Do you think this is all true? Or is this just the version they wanted to tell?"

Mortanius sighed and looked up at the image in front of them. "There's no way to know. I think we have to believe that it's mostly the truth, but there's a lot of details they left out."

The discovery of these paintings answered many of the questions that had nagged at them for centuries. Why where the Pillars built? Why were the vampires immortal? Why did the vampires insist so strongly that the Pillars had to remain under their control? But in addition to those answers, the murals raised all kinds of new questions.

The painting before them showed a massive battle between the vampires and the unknown race with green skin, which Mortanius began to think of as the Others. They were somehow even more inhuman than the vampires, but Mortanius suspected this was merely artistic license. They had bestial, elongated snouts and long limbs almost like those of an insect, and glowing red eyes that made them look like some kind of supernatural demon. The vampires, by contrast, were portrayed as flawless, angelic figures with glowing weapons and beautiful white wings. Why the vampires and the Others went to war was not known, or at least it was not clearly explained by the murals. But the general story was easy to put together.

The vampires, as depicted in the murals, were a peaceful race. The first mural showed a large gathering of vampires at some kind of celebration, all of them smiling and laughing together. There even seemed to be children in the group, which was another fascinating piece of information. The existence of vampire children had never been confirmed, even though everyone believed they must have existed at some point.

The second mural was interesting as well. It appeared to show the vampires in the middle of some kind of funeral rite. They were seated around a stone arch, underneath which was a vampire lying on a small platform. It certainly looked like a funeral, but it was impossible to know for sure. Had the vampires truly been mortal in the beginning? Combined with the children from the first mural, it appeared as if the vampires had been very much like humans at one time. Having children, growing old, and dying.

The third mural changed everything. It portrayed an encounter between the vampires and the Others, perhaps their very first encounter. They faced each other in a wooded area, about ten of each species on each side. Neither side was armed, and the image seemed to show the meeting was accidental, as if the vampires had merely been exploring the woods and unexpectedly met with their rivals. There was no explanation of where the Others came from. If the mural was to be believed, they simply appeared one day.

The fourth mural showed a small army of Others attacking a vampire community. Again, there was no explanation. Why did they attack? Were they fighting for territory or resources, or were they just violent and warlike?

The fifth mural, which was the one Mortanius and Ellendra were currently looking at, showed a large-scale battle involved hundreds of vampires and Others. The vampires wielded weapons of all kinds and were dressed in glimmering armor. The Others, by contrast, carried crude blades and wore no armor, fighting like primitive savages against the more-advanced vampires.

The sixth mural showed a familiar sight: the Pillars of Nosgoth. They were surrounded by a number of vampires, who were all apparently listening to one vampire in the middle. Their ruler, perhaps, or maybe some kind of vampire prophet? The Pillars looked different. They lacked the colors and symbols of the nine respective Guardians, and they did not apparently reach all the way into the sky. They were simply regular marble pillars. Perhaps the original version, or some kind of magical prototype?

The seventh mural showed the Pillars as Mortanius knew them, complete with the symbols of the Guardians, their tops disappearing into the clouds. However, they were aglow with magical light, with arcs of electrical energy blossoming out in all directions. An army of Others was shown around the Pillars, writhing in agony as the energy enveloped them. This was the last mural to show the Others. Apparently, the Pillars had ended the war and completely defeated them.

The last three murals showed the aftermath of the war. Something happened to the vampires after their victory. The eighth mural showed the vampires at a funeral ceremony similar to the one in the second mural, but in this scene, there was no body on the platform. Vampires crowded the area with expressions of horror and fear, raising their hands to the sky as if praying to some deity. Was this meant to portray the vampires' knowledge that they were now immortal? Did they also discover at this time that they were unable to bear children? Mortanius could only imagine the consequences of such a horrific realization upon an entire population.

He didn't have to imagine it, however, because the ninth mural appeared to show exactly that. It showed dozens of vampires in the midst of suicidal madness, impaling themselves on their swords or even burning themselves alive. But some of the vampires were shown with their faces smeared with blood, their expressions full of disgust and misery. Did this mean that the vampires were not only cursed with infertility and immortality, but bloodlust as well? The cosmic power required to impart such a devastating magical spell simply boggled Mortanius's mind. How could an entire form of life be simultaneously affected by such a curse? And more importantly, was this curse bestowed upon them by the vengeful Others, or was it an unintended result of the Pillars?

The final mural simply showed the Pillars with their original vampire Guardians. One vampire stood before each Pillar, dressed in its respective color. It was the simplest mural, seeming not only to portray a single event in Nosgoth's history, but to represent all of Nosgoth's future history as well. Nine Guardians standing watch over the Pillars, forever.

Janos had once told Mortanius that the Pillars were "a gateway, and a lock upon that gateway." What exactly did that mean? A gateway to where? Did the Others come from a place outside of Nosgoth, some other dimension or plane of existence? Did the Pillars kill them all, or merely send them back where they came from?

Mortanius was already fully aware of alternate planes of existence, since he could look into the spirit world at will. Thesandrine, as Guardian of Dimension, was also knowledgeable about such parallel worlds. He made a mental note to talk to her about it later.

"Come on," he said to Ellendra. "We'll have plenty of time to study these when we come back."

"The others will be so amazed when they hear about this."

"No doubt. Moebius will probably be angry that he chose not to come with us."

"You know, speaking of Moebius," Ellendra said, "I wonder if he might develop the ability to look into the past, or even the future. He's the Guardian of Time, after all."

"He told me long ago that sometimes he sees glimpses of things that might happen in the future, but it's random and he can never be sure if his visions are true. I never thought to ask him if he could possibly view the past, though."

"We should ask him about it when we get back."

They left the ruin together and headed back to camp, where everyone else was already awake and getting ready to depart. The wind had picked up for some reason, making the tents and blankets flap and shake as they tried to wrap them up.

Galhonen was kneeling at the edge of the clearing, looking out across the lake. A thick wall of mist obscured the horizon. He saw Mortanius coming and stood up. "Oh, there you are. I thought maybe you and Ellendra went off to have some privacy," he said with a grin.

Mortanius winced. "Don't even joke about that."

"This mist bothers me for some reason," Galhonen said, changing the subject. He leaned over and plucked out some bits of grass out of the ground. When he opened his hand, they blew out and fluttered over the edge of the cliff. "If it wasn't for that constant mist, we could see the mainland from here. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was magical in nature."

"Well, no one is more qualified than you to find out."

"I certainly intend to study it later."

Once the camp was packed up, Janarion sent two of the Sarafan soldiers down to get the boats ready. They secured a rope tightly around the trunk of the closest tree, intending to leave it there for when they came back to the island. Eventually, they planned to fasten a rope ladder, or even a wooden staircase, to the side of the cliff to make it easier to climb up and down.

Once the Sarafan reached the ledge farther down the cliff and began to descend the other length of rope, Galhonen followed after them. He nimbly swung himself over the edge, eliciting a gasp from Thesandrine. He grinned and began to slide down the rope. When he was about halfway down to the ledge, Mortanius gripped the rope and more carefully lowered himself over the edge. Sliding down the rope seemed like it would be easier than climbing up, but it was still dangerous, especially with the wind whipping at his clothes.

Ellendra peeked over the edge. "Be careful, both of you," she said quickly, and then stepped back out of sight.

A moment later, Janarion appeared and called down to the Sarafan. "Are the boats ready?"

"We'll be done in just a few minutes," one of the men called back.

A sudden gust of wind made Mortanius close his eyes and grip the rope even tighter. His feet slipped away from the rock and he dangled for just a moment as Galhonen shouted in surprise and swung beneath him, blown by the wind. Janarion yelled for his men to grab the rope and hold it steady, and Mortanius opened his eyes just in time to see a heavy chunk of stone crumble free from the face of the cliff, just a few inches below the grass at the top. Whether it was the motion of the rope that knocked it free, or the weight of Janarion standing above, he never knew.

The stone rushed down at him in a cloud of loose dirt and glanced off his arm. He cried out and almost lost his grip, sliding down in a panic, the rope burning his hands. He heard Ellendra scream something.

He looked down and watched in horror as the stone plummeted through the air and struck Galhonen right in the face. It bounced to the side and continued to fall, splattered with blood. Galhonen jerked and simply fell from the rope, his arms and legs going limp. Mortanius tried to cry out but no sound came from his throat. The Sarafan made a valiant attempt to catch Galhonen as he fell, but he tumbled past the ledge and and fell to his death on the rocks forty feet below.

# Chapter Twenty Six

Galhonen was not the first human Guardian to die. Two other Guardians had died prior to that, making Galhonen the third. Luyonda, the first human Guardian of Energy, died during a lightning storm while she was experimenting with her powers. Uldofus, the first human Guardian of States, died in a tragic riding accident before he was even sixty years old. Even though the Guardians were extremely long-lived, they were not strangers to death.

The Sarafan soldiers had the grim duty of retrieving Galhonen's body. They placed him in one of the boats and cut open a burlap sack to cover him with. Mortanius barely made it down to the ledge without falling. When Galhonen died, Mortanius had felt the psychic shock of his death, just as all the Guardians did when one of their number died. It was a miracle that he had managed to hold onto the rope at all. They had almost lost two Guardians instead of one. His arm was bloody and bruised where the rock had struck him, and he felt lucky that the bone wasn't broken.

Janarion came down afterward and immediately went to the boats to sit with Galhonen's body, burying his face in his hands. It was almost an hour before Ellendra was able to come down the rope, and when she reached the bottom, she had a devastated, haunted look on her face. She sat down in one of the other boats and didn't say a word to anyone. Thesandrine and the last of the Sarafan soldiers came last. One of the soldiers had to support Mortanius down the second rope because he lacked the strength to do it on his own.

They had intended to return to the Pillars with stories of their amazing discovery, but instead they returned home to perform a funeral. As soon as they reached the shore, they sent the soldiers to run ahead and spread the news of Galhonen's passing. The trip back to the Pillars was a solemn and miserable one. Mortanius had his arm in a sling and his hands wrapped in bandages from the rope burn.

Like the others, he could not stop wondering if any of them could have prevented Galhonen's death. Was it his own weight on the rope that dislodged the stone? Had Janarion knocked the stone loose by standing above them? Was it the result of the wind, something they could not have foreseen or controlled?

The other members of the Circle of Nine were waiting for them when they returned. Due to the magical bonds that tied the Guardians together, each of them knew about Galhonen's death moments after it happened. There was Moebius, leaning on his staff with a dour look on his face. Beside him were Altavian, Guardian of Energy, Palton, Guardian of Mind, and Tiva, Guardian of States.

Also gathered was a crowd of hundreds of commoners who came to pay their respects. The funeral ceremony was performed right away. Galhonen's body, wrapped in a green shroud that matched the color of his Pillar, was gently carried to a pyre. Janarion and Ellendra said some soothing words in remembrance and then the fire was lit.

Burning the bodies of deceased Guardians was a tradition that began the day of the rebellion. Instead of burial, Guardians were burned on a pyre. It was necessary to burn the bodies of the vampire Guardians because their souls remained intact even when they were killed by other means, but the souls of human Guardians departed regardless of the manner of death. Burning them upon a pyre, while not strictly necessary, became a symbolic gesture, a solemn reminder of how humanity had first gained control of the Pillars.

Moebius came over to stand beside Mortanius. His hood was up to cover his bald head. "I wish I had some words of comfort," he said in a low voice. "Unfortunately, that has never been a skill of mine."

"I'm surprised you got here so fast," Mortanius said. "I thought you were still up north."

"The assault on Zelidna's lair failed. I was already on my way back here when I felt that Galhonen had died." He glanced at the sling cradling Mortanius's arm. "You were injured?"

Mortanius gave a quick explanation of what had happened. "The stone struck me first. In fact, if I hadn't looked up when I did, I might have been the one to fall. You could have been mourning my death right now."

Moebius let out a breath and shook his head, returning his gaze to the pyre. "My goodness. What a senseless death. Just like Uldofus and Luyonda."

"We can't die from old age," Mortanius mused. "So that means we'll die from accidents instead. Or by our own hand, as my predecessor did."

"I certainly hope not," Moebius said.

Mortanius decided to change the subject. "How many men did you lose in your attack?"

"Twenty-nine men are dead, including Captain Lusanius. We both suffered losses, it seems."

"You'll make another attempt on Zelidna's fortress?"

"Not very soon, but yes."

The flames from the pyre crackled and hissed. Ellendra sobbed into her hands, and she was not the only one. In the vast crowd of mourners, there were dozens crying as well. Galhonen was a popular Guardian, friendly and talkative among the commoners. As Guardian of Nature, he had traveled widely and met with thousands of people. All of Nosgoth would mourn his passing.

If Mortanius had been the one to die, he doubted that his funeral would draw as many people. He was not beloved like Galhonen, although that had much to do with the nature of his Pillar. The people respected him as a Guardian, but they shied away from him at the same time, as if the stench of death followed him around. Most of the common people of Nosgoth had no idea that Mortanius was the oldest of the Guardians, or that he had personally led the rebellion against the vampires, and sometimes he preferred it that way.

Some time later, as the flames died out and all that was left was a pile of ash, night fell upon the Pillars and the crowd began to disperse. Palton, a genial man with a short gray beard, spoke briefly to Mortanius to say how sorry he was. Tiva, an alluring woman with reddish hair and green eyes, spent most of the funeral with Ellendra and Thesandrine but came over as well to embrace Mortanius and tell him that she hoped he would recover from his injury soon.

As they began walking back to the Home of the Guardians, Moebius patted him on his uninjured arm and said, "I'll see you tomorrow. I'm heading back to the fort for the evening."

"Do you have pressing business to attend to?"

"Not exactly, no."

"I'll come with you, then. There's a few things I wanted to discuss with you."

"Oh, really?" Moebius asked.

Mortanius gave him a tired smile. "I haven't told you what we found on the island. Trust me, you'll want to hear about this."

# Chapter Twenty Seven

The Sarafan fort was located on a lake a few hours' ride southeast of the Pillars. There were plans in place to construct a vast stone fortress overlooking the lake, but for now the fort was a loose compound of buildings surrounded by a high wooden wall.

During the trip by carriage, Mortanius explained everything that they had discovered at the vampire ruin. The identical towers, the secret altars and the free souls trapped within, and most importantly, the beautiful paintings that told the history of Nosgoth. Moebius listened to the entire story, interrupting or asking questions a few times, but mostly absorbing the information with a pensive look on his face, staring out the carriage window as it rattled down the dirt road.

Mortanius had finished by the time they reached the fort. Moebius invited him up to his private office, where they sat down beside a fireplace and shared a bottle of wine.

"I always knew," Moebius said vaguely, swirling his wine and then taking a sip. "I knew they must have existed."

"This is our first real evidence," Mortanius said, sinking deep into his chair, feeling incredibly tired after such a long day. His arm hurt in the sling and he shifted in the chair to find a more comfortable position. "None of the other vampire records make even the slightest mention of another race."

"I wonder what they were called," Moebius pondered. "The paintings didn't have any text at all? No written descriptions or anything?"

"Not that I saw. We didn't check out the central tower, though. We'll arrange another trip to the island in a few weeks. We'll bring some painters with us to create copies of the murals."

Moebius sipped his wine again. "Did any of the paintings show the staff?" As he spoke, he glanced back to where his staff was leaning against the doorway.

"No," Mortanius said. "But maybe upon closer inspection, we'll find some reference to it."

"They must have created it."

"I believe it. If the murals are correct, the other race was powerful enough to curse the vampires with bloodlust and immortality. Creating a staff like yours would have been simple by comparison. Perhaps they used staffs like that in the war."

"Do you remember the first time I used it? Janos knew what the staff was. He knew, they all knew. They must have believed all the staffs had been destroyed."

"I wonder if there are other artifacts like the staff, just waiting to be discovered." Mortanius drank the rest of his wine and reached for the bottle to pour another glass.

"I'm curious about those altars as well," Moebius said. "You said the souls inside are vampire souls. You're sure about that? Absolutely sure?"

"As sure as I can be. Normally, I can detect significant details about the souls I encounter in the spirit world. These ones were harder to discern, but they were definitely vampire souls. I think whatever magic keeps them contained prevents me from studying them better."

"Not that I doubt your abilities or knowledge in this matter, but I can't help but wonder if those souls aren't from the other race. The last of their kind, imprisoned in those stones as some form of eternal punishment."

Mortanius could only shrug. "It's possible, I suppose. If the other race was related to the vampires somehow, perhaps their souls could be mistaken for vampire souls. But I strongly doubt it. If the images on the murals are even close to accurate, they were nothing at all like vampires."

"There must be some reason they were placed there. You said the temple, or whatever it was, looked like it had been abandoned for a millennia. So those souls must have been there at least that long. Why would the vampires do that?"

"I don't know. Let's go find Janos and ask him."

Moebius's face curled into a snarl and he sighed bitterly, staring at the crackling flames in the fireplace. Mortanius expected him to launch into an angry tirade, but instead he brushed away the mention of Janos and said, "Could you release the souls in the altars if you wanted to?"

"Yes, I believe so. But until we know why they were placed there, I wouldn't recommend it."

"Could you imprison a soul like that?" Moebius asked.

"I'm sure I could figure out a way to do something like that. Why?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about ... well, Galhonen."

"What do you mean?"

Moebius set his glass aside and leaned forward in his chair. "I was thinking about Galhonen and the others we've lost. Even though we don't age, we're clearly not immortal, not in the same way the vampires were. Their souls remained in their bodies, remember?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Do you think that you could ever find a way to ... permanently bind our souls to our bodies? I hate to bring up such a painful memory, but when your family was killed, when we were still children, you forced the soul of that murderer back into his body, essentially bringing him back to life, if only for a minute. If you had been able to reach Galhonen in time, could you have kept his soul in his body and prevented him from dying?"

Mortanius did not answer right away. He leaned back and absentmindedly rubbed at his injured arm. He hadn't thought about his family in over a hundred years. The events of that terrible night – the brutal murders of his father, mother, and sister – had haunted him for a long time, but so many years had passed that it almost felt like it was just a story he had heard from someone else. But Moebius was right; he had forced the soul of a dead man back into his body and returned him to life. He had done so in order to force the man to experience his own death over and over. But could that power be used to keep someone from dying long enough for them to be healed? Could it actually return the dead to life?

He had considered it, of course. But the implications were too uncomfortable, and so he never attempted to perform any experiments to test the theory. It was one thing to see into the spirit world and interact with the souls of the dead, but the power to actually bring the dead back to life was something else entirely.

"I don't know," Mortanius finally answered. "For a short time, perhaps. I could have prevented Galhonen's soul from leaving his body. But Galhonen would still have died, just as the man who killed my father died. As soon as I stopped exerting my powers on the soul, it would leave the body, as it was meant to do."

Moebius nodded. "But your powers and abilities are far greater than they were when you were still a young boy. I wonder if you could figure out a way to permanently keep the soul in place, to keep someone alive even after they should have died?"

"For what purpose?"

"To achieve true immortality," Moebius said. "Or maybe just to prevent one of the Guardians from dying in such a senseless tragedy. It's something to think about, at least."

Mortanius finished his glass of wine, but this time did not reach for the bottle again. He sighed and slumped in his seat, his arm dangling off the side. "Well, as long as we're on the subject of our magical powers, I have a question for you."

"Go ahead."

"I've asked you before if you can see into the future."

"Yes, and I've told you about my visions."

"Have you ever had visions about the past?"

The question seemed to surprise him. "I don't think ... No, I don't believe I have, but maybe I just didn't recognize them as such."

"If you were able to see into the past, we could learn everything we need to know about this other race. We could solve all these frustrating mysteries."

Moebius rubbed his chin. "Yes, you're right."

"Do you think you could someday control your powers enough to intentionally look into the past or future?"

"I've tried," Moebius said with a frown. "Believe me, I've been trying for centuries, but that's not the nature of time, you see. It's not so easy as simply looking forward or back. It's not like retracing your steps down a path. I've come to view time as ... as a pile of straw."

The comparison was so unexpected that it made Mortanius laugh. He knew that Moebius was being completely serious, but it seemed like such a ridiculous statement that Mortanius found it funny. Or perhaps that was just the wine making him laugh.

Moebius smiled good-naturedly, and then explained. "Each piece of straw is like a potential event, or a potential sequence of events. And all these events are mixed together, sometimes crossing and intersecting each other. What we view as linear time is in fact a series of tiny changes in direction, like an ant walking across a pile of straw. It walks along one piece of straw to the next, but from its own perspective, it is simply following a direct path."

"I see," Mortanius said. "So your visions might be ..."

"Other pieces of straw. Events that might happen at some point in the future, or perhaps events that might never take place at all, because we've already passed the chronological intersection which might have led us there."

"And there's no way to know for sure?"

"Not right now," Moebius admitted. "But I have some ideas."

"Go on."

Moebius leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He stared into the fire, the light reflecting off his eyes. "My connection to the Pillar clouds things. It's overwhelming, really. I'm too closely linked to it to be able to step back and look at the passage of time objectively. But what if there was a device, a magical artifact, that I could imbue with some tiny fragment of my powers?"

"Is such a thing possible?"

"Perhaps," Moebius shrugged.

Mortanius thought the idea was fascinating, but impractical. However, with their long lifespan, who knew what might be achieved, given enough time to work on the problem? Surely, as their magical skills grew, and they became even more knowledgeable about the nature of their powers, they could do almost anything they set their minds to.

"Exactly what do you have in mind?" Mortanius asked. "A crystal ball or a magical staff?"

"No, I was thinking about something larger. A window, or an aperture of some kind that I could look through. I could use it to focus my abilities, sift through the scattered visions in order to see things more clearly."

"That sounds amazing," Mortanius said seriously.

"Well, I haven't started work anything," Moebius said. "It's just an idea at this point, something for me to pursue later. Maybe once we finish eradicating the last of the vampires, I'll begin working on it."

"Keep me informed of your progress," Mortanius said. "Maybe I could help you in some way."

"Certainly," Moebius replied, nodding. "Of course."

# Chapter Twenty Eight

He bade Moebius a good night and rode the carriage back to the Home of the Guardians. He fell asleep on the way there and woke up when the carriage driver opened the door. It was very late, already long past midnight. He thanked the driver and went inside.

The Home of the Guardians was not the same building from Mortanius's youth. That building had been torn down long ago and a new Home built in its place, more attuned to its human inhabitants. The hallways were narrower, no longer needing to fit the wings of the vampire race, and there was a large kitchen and dining area, something the vampires had little use for. Each Guardian had a set of private rooms, although not all of them actually lived at the Home. Moebius spent most of his time at the Sarafan fort, and Palton chose to reside at an estate a short ride to the north.

Mortanius opened the door to his rooms and found candles already burning inside. Ellendra was asleep in a chair, and she started awake when Mortanius closed the door.

"Oh," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "What time is it?"

"It's past midnight. I didn't know you'd be here." He went over to one of his desks and draped his traveling cloak over the wooden chair. "I was at the fort, talking with Moebius."

"I know, I saw you leave with him." Ellendra sat up and stretched, then ran a hand through her hair. "Did you tell him what we found out?"

"Yes. I asked him if it was possible to see into the past, and he told he that he's not sure. He's going to work on it."

"Okay. I spoke with Tiva, and Janarion talked to Palton and Altavian. Everyone knows what we discovered. Tiva wants to come to the island next time, but I told her it might be a few weeks until we plan another trip."

"We should certainly wait until we build something more secure." He paused uncomfortably, and added, "So we can more safely climb up and down the cliff."

"I agree," Ellendra said softly.

Mortanius sat down on one of his other chairs and leaned back with a sigh. He had intended to go straight to bed. "So did you wait here for me to tell me that?"

Ellendra pursed her lips and then shook her head. "No, I wanted ... well, I wanted to talk to you about some things. I intended to during our trip back, but I couldn't put my thoughts in order. I was still in shock, I think."

"We all were."

"It was different when Luyonda and Uldofus passed away. We didn't see it happen, we weren't there. But with Galhonen, being right there, seeing it with my own eyes ..."

"I know," Mortanius nodded. "I know, it's terrible."

"When I heard Janarion yell, I hurried and looked over the edge," Ellendra said, her voice tight. "And I saw that huge rock, and I saw it strike you ... and I screamed."

"You cried out, I remember that."

"I thought you were going to fall." She sucked in a breath and then pressed her fist against her mouth. "I was so scared that you were going to die and I could do nothing to stop it."

Mortanius got up from his chair and walked over to her. He put his hand on her arm and said, "But I didn't die. We can't dwell on what might have happened. It was a tragic accident, that's all. I'm sure Janarion feels exactly the way you do."

"No, he doesn't," Ellendra said, looking away. "He blames himself for what happened. I know it was an accident, Mortanius. That's not what I wanted to tell you. It's that ... when I realized that you were okay, that you didn't fall, I was so relieved. I was so happy that you weren't badly hurt."

She swallowed and looked up at him, her eyes shimmering. "And when I saw Galhonen falling, the first thing that came into my mind was to be thankful that he was the one who fell and not you."

Mortanius closed his eyes for a moment and then took Ellendra's hand in his. She rose from the chair and put her arms around him, being careful not to jostle his wounded arm. Resting her chin on his good shoulder, she whispered, "I feel ashamed. It's like I took joy in his death."

"We can't control how we feel," Mortanius said. "There are small moments of relief and joy in even the most terrible tragedy. That's the nature of things."

"It's just that ... I know I'm difficult sometimes. I know we bicker about stupid things. But when I thought I was going to lose you, I just ..."

"It's all right," he said, brushing his hand through her hair. "It doesn't need to be spoken out loud."

"Maybe it does," she whispered.

In his more than three-hundred years of life, Mortanius had never married. He had never taken a lover for any long period of time. And of course, he had no children. He was not alone in this. None of the other Guardians had ever married or had children, except for Thesandrine, who did so before she ever became a Guardian. They had short relationships and affairs, but nothing that lasted very long.

The reason was simple; they lived so much longer than regular people that it was difficult to connect with them. Anyone they chose to marry would grow old and die while they remained healthy and young. Their life experiences were so hard for others to understand, and vice versa, that it created a psychological barrier that prevented them from forming the kinds of emotional bonds that led to marriage and love. They didn't share the kinds of life experiences that brought people together. Basically, they didn't have anything in common with normal people anymore.

The only suitable people to marry would be other Guardians, and that had its own problems, chief among them being the fact that there were three women and six men, although the new Guardian of Nature might be a woman. Sometimes, passionate romances flared between members of the Guardians, but they rarely lasted long. Thesandrine and Palton had once been lovers. Tiva and Janarion had a brief affair as well.

Again, the problem was their long lives. A marriage between normal people might last for fifty years, but a hundred, or two hundred? Mortanius didn't believe it was possible to maintain a loving relationship for that long, especially with another Guardian. Their powers marked their personalities in ways that couldn't be easily explained and made them incompatible with each other. Each of the Guardians was powerful, influential, and ambitious, and those qualities rarely worked well with others. And so, they remained unmarried.

The relationship between Mortanius and Ellendra was sometimes affectionate, sometimes combative, and sometimes romantic. The other Guardians knew of it and even joked about it, but Mortanius let them have their rumors.

"Would it be okay if I stayed with you tonight?" she asked.

"Of course," Mortanius said.

"I don't want to be alone," she explained.

"I understand."

All the candles were extinguished but one, which Mortanius set on a small table by his bed. Instead of returning to her room to change into her night clothes, Ellendra removed her blue dress and climbed into bed wearing the thin white shift she wore underneath. Mortanius undressed and lay down beside her, and then leaned over the edge of the bed to blow out the last candle, engulfing them in darkness.

# Chapter Twenty Nine

Mortanius usually went to bed late and woke early, rarely sleeping for more than three or four hours a night. It was not by his own choice. As he got older, he seemed to require less sleep, and when he tried to lay in bed longer in the hopes of getting more sleep, he would just lay there, wide awake. So he gave up and simply rose from bed when he woke. Sometimes he napped in the afternoon, but that was rare.

Unlike most of the other members of the Circle of Nine, Mortanius still lived primarily in the Temple of the Guardians, an imposing stone fortress built on the shores of a crystal blue lake to the southeast of the Pillars. Locally it was known as the Sarafan Temple, but Mortanius preferred to use its more formal name. It was built on the same site as the original Sarafan fort, but the Temple dwarfed the old compound of crude wooden buildings. It was a glorious citadel three stories tall, one of the most advanced buildings ever designed by humans. Only some of the remaining vampire citadels could match its splendor and beauty.

Mortanius wandered the empty halls in the darkness before dawn and walked out to one of the balconies overlooking the lake. The only other people awake were the guards who kept watch during the night. Up here, Mortanius was alone. Sliding his hands on the heavy wooden railing, he looked out across Nosgoth.

He wore black trousers and a dark red robe, his usual attire. At first glance, he appeared to be in late middle age, perhaps fifty years old or a few years older. His face had visible lines of age, but his hair was still thick and black without a trace of gray. However, it was his eyes – dark and brooding, deep set and full of wisdom – that gave hint of his true age. He had long ago stopped counting the years, but by his best guess he was at least seven-hundred years old.

Nosgoth had changed in seven-hundred years. The human population had increased tenfold. The small villages and meager towns that scattered the region gradually morphed into cities with independent – and sometimes competing – governments. Ambitious men named themselves Lord or King and were eventually swept away in the tide of history, their accomplishments forgotten. Armies rose and fell. Industry and technology increased. Knowledge became rumor, history became legend.

And through it all, the half-breeds remained a constant presence – or a constant threat, depending on who you asked. By conservative estimates, there were perhaps as many as one thousand half-breeds still living in Nosgoth, although the true number was unknown.

However, of the vampire race, only one still remained alive. Janos, the last of his kind, still dwelt in his impregnable tower near the town of Uschtenheim. Over the centuries, the Sarafan Order had managed to hunt down and kill all of the other vampires, until Janos was the only one left.

The Sarafan Order had grown from the remnants of the original Sarafan Cult into a powerful military organization dedicated solely to the eradication of the vampires. Officially, they were an independent order, but in many ways the Sarafan were still under the authority of the Circle of Nine, for several reasons. The Temple of the Guardians was also known as the Sarafan Temple because the fortress served as the headquarters for both groups. Sometimes it seemed impossible to tell where one organization ended and the other began.

Of all the Guardians, Moebius was the most closely involved in the daily activities of the Sarafan, so much so that sometimes he seemed to be in command of the entire order. Even after seven centuries, his deep hatred for the vampires had not abated. And while he had always been secretive, in recent decades Moebius seemed even more devious than usual. He and Mortanius used to spend the occasional evening drinking wine and discussing politics or other topics, but they had not really spoken socially in close to a century. Moebius spent all his time at his private dwelling in the north or working closely with the Sarafan Order. He rarely participated in the daily business of the Circle of Nine except when it involved the Sarafan. He told no one of his thoughts or plans, even Mortanius.

But they were both old men now. Mortanius didn't take it personally. He supposed it was inevitable that their friendship would eventually fade in time. Perhaps it was just a phase. In another hundred years, Moebius may choose to resume their close relationship, and if so, Mortanius would be happy to oblige him.

As the sun rose over the hills to the east, a carriage led by a team of horses came through the gate and rode up to the front of the Temple. A man wearing dark trousers and a purple jacket with gold trim stepped out of the carriage. It was Palton, the Guardian of Mind. Although Mortanius was older than Palton by about thirty years, Palton appeared to be older. He was bald on top of his head, and his short beard and mustache were a grayish white. He glanced up to the balcony where Mortanius stood and raised his hand in a short wave. Mortanius waved back and watched as Palton walked inside the Temple.

Even back in the old days when they lived in the Home of the Guardians, Palton chose to reside in a private estate a short ride to the north. He said it was because his powers as Guardian of Mind made it hard for him to spend long hours around other people. He needed time to spend by himself, when the thoughts of others didn't always press upon his mind.

Over the years, more and more of the Guardians followed Palton's lead and moved out to personal residences in the surrounding area. Mortanius was one of the only ones who still chose to live in the Temple, and if he had to be honest with himself, he didn't really know why. It was just more convenient this way. He had no interest in living out in some vast estate when the lower levels of the Temple served his needs just fine.

He sighed and headed back inside. He didn't know if any of the other Guardians would be present today. They kept a rather informal schedule, but most days there were three or four Guardians at the Temple, enough to deal with whatever matters came up. Even though Mortanius lived there, he didn't always take part in their meetings. For important decisions, the entire Circle of Nine to adjourned, but that was rarely necessary these days. Aside from the ever-present problem regarding the half-breeds, which was mainly the jurisdiction of the Sarafan, there wasn't much that needed their attention. Harvests were plentiful, lawlessness and crime were swiftly dealt with, disease was under control, and the various nobles and rulers in each city kept their ambitions in check. Nosgoth was at peace.

Mortanius tucked his hands into the pockets of his robe and descended a staircase to meet Palton downstairs. He was only a few steps from the bottom when an armed figure appeared in the doorway leading to the main hall, causing him to stop in his tracks.

"Mortanius," the man at the foot of the stairs said with a short nod. His hand rested on the handle of his sword, which Mortanius might have considered a threat, if not for the fact that the man's hand almost never left the sword at all. Mortanius suspected he slept with it firmly in his grip.

"Malek," Mortanius replied as he descended the last few steps. "Good morning to you."

The Guardian of Conflict was a dour, humorless man named Malek. His predecessor, Janarion, had died tragically two centuries before during an uprising against the ruler of Valbrek, a city near the eastern coast. It was a minor skirmish, but a stray crossbow bolt fired by an unknown combatant took Janarion's life. The Circle of Nine took his death hard. Janarion had been charming, intellectual, compassionate, and popular.

Malek was none of those things.

He stepped aside to let Mortanius pass into the main corridor. "And a good morning to you," he said gruffly, heading up the stairs as soon as Mortanius was out of his way. The cape that fluttered behind him was marked with the sigil of the Sarafan Order. Mortanius frowned when he saw it.

While it was true that Janarion worked often with the Sarafan, he had never been a member of their order. His skills as a warrior and commander made him the obvious choice to lead them on some of their missions, but he was first and foremost a Guardian, and his work with the Sarafan was always secondary to his duties with the Circle of Nine.

Not so with Malek. He was the not only a member of the Sarafan, he was the Commander of the Sarafan Knights, their most elite squad of warriors, and it was never entirely clear to Mortanius where Malek's true loyalties were. Did he serve the Sarafan or the Circle? Regardless, Mortanius had few kind words for a brutish and unimaginative man like Malek.

Mortanius made his way to the main hall. Thinking about Janarion had involuntarily reminded him of the other Guardians they had lost in the past few centuries. As time went on, it seemed to Mortanius that the longer they lived, the more inevitable it became that they would fall victim to an accident or attack.

Of the original human Guardians, only four now remained: himself, Moebius, Ellendra, and Palton. The others had died and been replaced with new Guardians, and some of those new Guardians had passed away as well, giving rise to a third human Guardian to serve their respective Pillar.

First were Uldofus and Luyonda, who died so long ago that Mortanius barely remembered them. Then Galhonen, the Nature Guardian, who died in the tragic accident at the island of the vampire temple almost four-hundred years ago. After that came Janarion's senseless death in the conflict at Valbrek. Half a century later, Altavian, the Energy Guardian, tragically drowned when his boat overturned in high winds while sailing the Southern Lake. Tiva, the States Guardian, died just a few years after that in a fire at her private laboratory, the cause of which was never satisfactorily determined. Sulimere, the Nature Guardian who came after Galhonen, died when she was bitten by a venomous snake during a hike deep within the Termogent Forest. Another senseless, meaningless death.

And most recently, Thesandrine, the Guardian of Dimension. Like Janarion, she was respected and beloved by both the Guardians and common populace. But over the centuries, she grew increasingly depressed and despondent. She tired of the petty political squabbles that so often dominated the Circle. She wanted to have children and a real family once more. It saddened her when she realized that the Nosgoth she grew up in no longer existed. And in the end, she simply did not want to be a Guardian anymore. She took her own life by overdosing on a sleeping potion.

Thesandrine's death bothered Mortanius far more than the others. His own vampire predecessor had died by suicide, but Mortanius always believed that a human Guardian would never choose to end their life that way. The vampires were a cursed, sterile race in permanent decline, so it made a grim kind of sense for a vampire Guardians to see the end in sight and choose to die by his or her own hand. But the human race was flourishing, human society and civilization was growing, and every day brought new developments and discoveries. A human Guardian had so much to live for, Mortanius could not believe that any of them would ever willingly choose to die.

Would there come a time when more of the Guardians might feel the same way? When they became unable to deal with the changing world of Nosgoth, or when they yearned for the simple joys of a mortal life, like children and marriage? Would there come a time when their long life simply became too much to bear?

Mortanius was seven-hundred years old. He was the oldest of the human Guardians, and he had no such desire to end it all. Yes, Nosgoth had changed, and yes, he sometimes yearned for simpler things. But there was so much to do. There was so much more to see and discover. Only rarely did the incredible weight of the years rest heavily on his shoulders. He was happy to be alive and he hoped to remain so for another seven hundred years.

When he reached the main entrance hall, Palton was hanging up his traveling jacket and speaking with one of the servants. "... and two eggs, fresh from the chicken. And a glass of chilled cow's milk would be excellent." Palton looked up to see Mortanius coming, and waved the servant away.

"Good morning, Mortanius," he said, rubbing his hands together, the gold rings on his fingers clinking against each other.

"Good morning," Mortanius replied. "Ordering some breakfast, I see. Why don't you eat before you come to the Temple?"

"Oh, I can't eat that early. The carriage ride over here gives me an appetite, though. Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Actually, no."

"Well, come and join me, then."

As they walked down the wide corridor toward one of the dining areas near the kitchen, Mortanius said, "I haven't been paying much attention to the schedule lately. Are there any important meetings today?"

Palton smiled genially and shrugged. "Oh, the usual, I suppose. City governors complaining about this and that, and the usual domestic business."

"Who else will be in attendance today?"

"Rashard said he'd be here, and Sirine as well. Will we be having the pleasure of your company, dear boy?"

"I suppose I could make time," Mortanius said with a smile. He and Palton, despite having very dissimilar personalities, had always got along well. Palton was friendly and open-minded, but took his duties very seriously and rarely tolerated laziness or foolishness. In some ways, he acted as the father figure of the Circle, keeping the rest of the Guardians in line, although he usually deferred to Mortanius out of respect.

Rashard was the youngest member of the Circle, at just over fifty years of age, still a baby as far as Mortanius was concerned. He was the Guardian of Dimension, having replaced Thesandrine after her death. In truth, Mortanius barely knew him. A lingering sense of regret over Thesandrine's suicide made it hard for him to really befriend the young man.

Sirine was the Guardian of Nature, another of the younger members of the Circle. She came after Sulimere's death. Olantireth was the new Guardian of Energy, having come along after Altavian died. And Kelredar, the Guardian of States, was the ninth member, having replaced Tiva. All of them were under 200 years of age. Mortanius felt like a relic compared to them. He was more comfortable around the other Guardians closer to his own age.

He asked one of the servants for a bowl of fruit to eat while Palton devoured his breakfast of eggs and sausage. The servant was a young man that Mortanius had never seen before, but that was not unusual. The Temple of the Guardians always had new servants running about. They served for a few years and then moved on to other opportunities, and Mortanius had long ago stopped trying to befriend them all and remember their names. By the time he got to know them, they were already gone. A few years was nothing to him. And unlike the other members of the Circle of Nine, he had no private assistants or servants of his own.

He and Palton engaged in some recent gossip as they ate. What some of the local city rulers were up to, what political scandals were currently going on, what new discoveries and developments were being made, and any news about the other members of the Circle. Mortanius often found himself uninformed about current events, so he sometimes relied on Palton to keep him up to date.

"You should see the young women that Kelredar surrounds himself with," Palton chuckled, shaking his head. "He has about fifteen of them living at his estate. Officially, of course, they are his students and he is their mentor. But I'm sure he's giving them private lessons, if you know what I mean."

"Kelredar's a handsome man, and very charismatic," Mortanius offered diplomatically. "As long as the women are all staying with him of their own free will, I see nothing wrong with it. He's certainly not the first member of the Circle to attract admirers."

Palton nodded. "I suppose you're right. I remember Tiva always had quite a few strong young men around. And Galhonen always had a willing girl to share his bed. It's a shame that I'm a bit too old for that kind of thing now."

"Well, things were very different when we were young. We had a lot more work to do back then, and less time to fool around."

"That's very true." Palton leaned back in his chair and popped the last piece of sausage into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Our youngest members certainly do have an easier time of it then we did. Sometimes I wonder how you and Moebius ever managed to train all of us without breaking down from the stress. Teaching six unruly children all at the same time? It must have been a nightmare."

"It was a challenge," Mortanius chuckled. "Thankfully, I won't ever have to do that again."

It was now mid-morning and the other Guardians would probably be arriving soon. The servants removed Palton's empty plate and Mortanius's half-full fruit dish and returned to the kitchen. Palton called for a glass of water before they left, and sipped it as he and Mortanius walked back down the hallway toward the main entrance foyer.

The front doors opened and Ellendra strode purposefully inside the Temple, flanked on both sides by bodyguards bearing the symbol of the Balance Pillar on their leather armor. Her long blonde hair was tied into a tight ponytail behind her head, leaving not a single loose strand, and her arms were folded inside the sleeves of her voluminous blue robe. Her bodyguards remained obediently near the door as she left the foyer and walked down the hall.

"Good day, Palton," she said simply, giving him a polite nod. She shifted her gaze for just a moment in Mortanius's direction and lifted her chin just a fraction higher. "Mortanius," she added after a pause, walking past them and continuing down the hall without even slowing her pace.

Palton raised his eyebrows and resisted the urge to smile and they turned right at the foyer and headed into the direction of the conference rooms. "My, my, isn't she in a hurry today? And she didn't look very happy to see you."

"Was it that obvious?"

"I take it that she and you are in the middle of one of your rough patches?"

"Something like that. You know how she is."

"What is she mad about this time?"

"My experiments," Mortanius said. "She does not approve."

At that, Palton scoffed and shook his head disappointedly. "Well, I don't approve either, but your experiments are none of my business. All of us must study and continue to learn about our powers, even Ellendra knows that. We are all at the mercy of our Pillar, are we not?"

# Chapter Thirty

The elderly man on the table was very near death. His skin was pallid and slick with sweat, his heart struggling to beat, his breath just a whisper. Mortanius wiped a cool rag across the man's forehead and clasped his thin hand. The private laboratory in the basement of the Temple of the Guardians was illuminated by glowing braziers and the air was freshened with incense to mask the occasional foul odors of decay. Sometimes, there were as many as five or six bodies laid out for examination, but at the moment, there was only one patient under Mortanius's care.

"You're almost there," he said quietly, sensing the man's soul as it struggled to break free of its mortal home. "It's going to be okay."

The man was named Rufalkus and he was dying of a corruption in his lungs. His family had brought him to the Temple of the Guardians two weeks earlier, in the hopes that one of them could possibly cure his affliction, but there was no cure for such a serious malady. Knowing his time was short, Rufalkus had instead given himself over to the Guardian of Death. Just the day before, Rufalkus said his final goodbyes to his family, and now he was on his deathbed with only Mortanius by his side.

For decades, Mortanius had made it known in cities across Nosgoth that the terminally sick and elderly were welcome to come to the Temple if they wished the Guardian of Death to ease their passage into the afterlife. Mortanius also sought volunteers for his research, but very few people agreed once they realized what such research entailed. He'd been searching for someone to volunteer for this specific experiment for over a decade, until Rufalkus came along. In return for his participation in the experiment, Rufalkus asked for something in return, and Mortanius readily agreed to the deal.

For many years, Mortanius refrained from actively observing the dying and the dead, instead choosing to study his Pillar in a more abstract fashion. But he could only learn so much about death without actually watching it take place, and after a few hundred years, he became more pragmatic and less squeamish about his powers. And so he began to seek out the dying, to sense their souls leave their bodies, to study and experiment in order to learn. There was no shame in studying death. It was the focus of his Pillar and it was foolish of him to try to resist it.

He visited infirmaries and hospitals, homes for the aged and the diseased, attended the executions of criminals, and even made his way to regions in conflict to witness the deaths of men in battle. It was unpleasant work, but there was no one more qualified than Mortanius to do it.

Rufalkus was breathing his last. Mortanius let his vision drift into the spirit world, and within the dying body of Rufalkus, he saw the soul within, pulsing and glittering with spectral light. Even though the man's body was frail and weak, the soul was bright and alive. The body's hold on the soul was so tenuous and fragile that if Mortanius had chosen to do so, he could have pulled the soul free and ended the old man's life right then. But he preferred to let the soul come free naturally.

The old man's body went still, and the soul quickly slipped free of its bonds, ready to fly away and be reborn in the body of some other human being born at that exact moment. Mortanius raised his hand and held the soul steady in mid-air, restraining it like a dog on a leash. When he was very young, such an effort would have exhausted him, but after centuries of practice, commanding a soul was a simple thing to him now.

Keeping his vision in the spirit world, he directed the soul over to one of his long work tables and the deep red gemstone pendant sitting on its surface. It was enchanted with a series of spells that Mortanius had spent years designing. He guided the soul into the pendant and then carefully wove spells to condense the soul so that it was entirely within the red gemstone. He felt the soul yearning to break free, but he moved his hands in a complex pattern to fortify the spells once more, and then lowered his hands and very gradually relaxed his hold on the soul. It trembled within the gemstone, but did not fly away. He crossed his arms and watched it for a moment, as if expecting his spells to fail. But they did not fail, and the soul remained inside the gemstone, which now glowed with an unearthly illumination.

Ever since he first explored the vampire ruins on the island in the middle of the Lake of Mist, Mortanius had been developing new magic spells and increasing his knowledge and control of souls within the spirit world. The vampire souls trapped in the stone altars remained undisturbed, and he intended for them to stay that way, but one of his long-term projects was to imprison a soul in a similar fashion, just to see if he could accomplish such a feat. His first attempts to do so were colossal failures, utterly unable to contain the incredible power of a soul and the supernatural forces that directed it. But those early failures gave him invaluable information and knowledge, which he used to strengthen his magical powers and create more elaborate soul containers.

The gemstone pendant was just the most recent object he used to hold captive souls. Originally, he used large stone chests covered in runes and magic symbols, and from those prototypes he refined his methods until he could direct a soul into a small gemstone such as this.

He picked up the pendant and held it in his hand, letting himself smile. But containing the soul within the pendant was not the experiment he was performing today. There was still work to be done. He carried the pendant over to the body of Rufalkus and laid it on his motionless chest, and then fastened the golden chain around the old man's neck.

The next part of his experiment would not be so easy. While the soul remained captive inside the pendant, Mortanius opened up his grimoire and began to cast another long series of spells. Magic bristled and throbbed in the air of the laboratory, tiny sparks erupted from the tips of Mortanius's hands as he wove an increasingly complex pattern of magic upon the dead body before him. The candles in the laboratory flickered and sputtered, but did not go out.

Finally, weary and sweating from the exertion, Mortanius lowered his arms and set his grimoire aside. Then he spoke aloud, "Rufalkus from the town of Badenmire. I am calling to you now. By the powers of the Pillar of Death, I have bound your soul to your body and I am commanding you to awake. Rufalkus from the town of Badenmire. Rise again and live once more."

At first, nothing happened. But one glimpse into the spirit world told Mortanius that his spells had not failed. The soul was still there, filling Rufalkus's body and slowly bringing him back.

Mortanius had not performed an act like this since he was a child, the day his family died. That had been an act of impulse, an act of hatred and uncontrolled fury. This time it was different. Instead of forcing a dead man's soul back into his body temporarily, only for him to die once more, this time Mortanius's powers would keep the soul trapped and restore a semblance of life to the body for an extended period of time. It was the culmination of decades of work and study. In effect, Rufalkus would be brought back to life, or at least something almost like life.

The old man's eyes opened up and he tried to breathe. Mortanius leaned over him and gently held his shoulder. "Look at me, look at me," he said quickly. "That's right. I'm right here. It's going to be okay, Rufalkus. It's like I told you. Look at me. Now, bring air into your lungs. That's right. Very good. Now, breathe out so you can speak."

"My – Lord – Mort – Mortanius –," Rufalkus croaked. "I am – I am dead – ?"

"Yes, you passed into the afterlife, and I have brought you back. Just like I said I would. You need to tell me how you feel."

"I'm scared –"

"I know you are," Mortanius said soothingly. "And I will keep my promise. But first, you must tell me how you feel. Tell me what your body feels like."

"Cold. It's cold."

"Can you move? Please, try to sit up."

He backed away to give Rufalkus some room. The old man shuddered and spasmed as he tried to regain control of his dead limbs. Mortanius watched in fascination as the old man managed to sit upright on the table and then, groaning with effort, swing his legs off the side. Wide eyes looked around the laboratory in panic and confusion.

"I cannot – I cannot feel –"

"You can't feel what?"

"My – My heart –"

"That's because it's not beating, Rufalkus. I told you all this, remember? Do you remember what I told you? I know you're scared, I know you feel strange. It will be over soon, I promise. Try to take a few steps. Walk towards me."

Rufalkus did as he was told. He got down off the table and took a tentative step forward on unsteady legs, and then another, and then another. Slowly, he was regaining control over his dead body. His movements became more natural. His speech returned to a more normal tone. If someone had come down to the laboratory at that moment, Mortanius was certain that they would never have known that Rufalkus was dead.

For he was truly dead, that was not a matter of debate. His heart did not beat, his blood did not circulate, and his lungs did not respire. He had to force himself to suck in air to be able to speak. If he tried to eat food, it would sit in his stomach undigested. Rufalkus was dead, and yet he was walking and speaking almost like a living person.

As long as his soul remained bound in the gemstone, it would continue to animate his body and keep his mind intact. The soul was the key. Without a soul, no amount of magic could revive a dead body. Mortanius could animate a corpse, as could anyone of sufficient magical skill, but it would not be able to think or speak. In truth, it was Mortanius's magic that allowed Rufalkus to move his dead limbs, but it was his own soul that restored his memories and intelligence.

"How long could I live ... I mean, how long could I stay like this?" Rufalkus asked.

"I don't know," Mortanius admitted. "My magic will allow you to move, but it does not heal you or cure you. Unfortunately, your body will start to decay very soon. I can cast additional spells to strengthen your body and limit the deterioration, but I would also have to cast illusions to disguise your appearance. I'd expect that within a few days, maybe sooner, your body will begin to have visible signs of decay."

"But if you did all that, how long could I remain like this? Could your magic keep me ... Could I stay this way for a hundred years?"

Mortanius nodded, his own thoughts following a similar course. "Perhaps. As I said, I'd have to cast more powerful magic spells, but it's possible that you could remain animated for centuries or even longer. But I don't think you'd want that."

Eventually, Rufalkus's body would rot away, leaving little but a skeleton behind. Even so, as long as the soul remained contained within the gemstone and Mortanius's magic kept its potency, Rufalkus would be able to move around and even possess intelligence. He would lose the ability to speak once his lungs could no longer blow air through his vocal chords, but that was the only limitation that Mortanius could think of.

It was a merely academic question, because Mortanius had no intention of allowing anyone to stay animated for so long. Some might be tempted by the idea of immortality without the risk of disease or injury, but who would ever desire such a cursed existence? Unable to sleep, unable to eat, unable to enjoy any kind of physical intimacy, an eternity as a walking skeleton? It was too horrible for even Mortanius to contemplate such a thing.

"Thank you, Rufalkus," he said once he had satisfied his curiosity. "You've done me a great service. I think it would be best if we ended this experiment now. With your consent, of course."

"Yes, my Lord, I agree," Rufalkus said, nodding. "I don't like being this way. I'm not scared anymore, but this isn't right. I don't think people should be brought back from the afterlife."

"Go ahead and lie back down on the table, as you were earlier. All I have to do is dispel the magic that I cast upon you, and your soul will leave your body once more."

Rufalkus climbed back onto the table and laid down on his back. "Okay," he said. "And after you're done, you'll take my soul back home, like we agreed?"

"I'll do what I promised," Mortanius said. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, do it."

Mortanius wove another spell, this one much simpler than the complex magic he used before. There was a flash of glittering light, and Rufalkus's body went limp, his head lolling to the side. His soul rushed out of his body and returned to the gemstone, which Mortanius then removed from the corpse and placed into a velvet-lined carrying case.

Rufalkus wished to be buried in his home town of Badenmire, and so Mortanius would have to hire someone to take the body, prepare it for burial, and transport it there. He usually hired locals to come and remove the bodies from his laboratory, since he was reluctant to have any of the Temple servants do such grim work. He would accompany Rufalkus to Badenmire, but not in order to attend the funeral. It would be best if the other citizens of Badenmire didn't know Mortanius was even there, or else rumors might spread.

The agreement between Rufalkus and Mortanius was a strange one, but Mortanius looked forward to fulfilling his part of the bargain, as it would serve as yet another experiment. Rufalkus's daughter was pregnant with her first child, and she was due in just under a month. He had hoped to live long enough to see his grandchild enter the world, but since that would not come to pass, he asked Mortanius for something much more personal. With the blessing of the family, when Rufalkus's daughter gave birth, Mortanius would release the soul within the gemstone and direct it into the newborn child. Rufalkus's grandchild would possess the soul of their own grandfather.

# Chapter Thirty One

"Mortanius! Old friend, how are you doing?" Moebius said energetically as he entered the front hallway, tapping the base of his staff against the floor. His hood was down, and his blue eyes were bright and welcoming.

Mortanius had not seen or heard from Moebius in well over a year, and the surprise on his face must have been evident, for Moebius laughed as he walked over to embrace him. "I know, I know, it's been far too long. I apologize for that, but I've been so very busy. I've been utterly engrossed in my work. How have you been?"

Mortanius shrugged and gave him a smile. "I've been doing well. It's good to see you again. You seem like you're doing well too."

"Oh, I'm doing fantastic," Moebius chuckled. "We'll have to catch up after the gathering. I'll tell you all about it."

"I assume you already know what the meeting is about?" Mortanius asked as they walked down the hallway to the main conference room.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Moebius said. "I didn't call the meeting though. Malek is responsible for that. It concerns Sarafan activities, but we both thought that the entire Circle should be present."

"Why is that?"

Moebius gave him one of his cryptic smiles. "You'll have to wait and see."

They entered the main conference room, where most of the other Guardians were already gathered, either seated at the table or standing around and talking to each other. A few servants darted around, trying to appear helpful. Palton stood by the windows, engaged in conversation with Kelredar, who looked bored. Rashard and Sirine, the two youngest Guardians, sat at the conference table, laughing at a shared joke.

Olantireth sat by himself, sipping a goblet of wine. Like Moebius, he had gone bald at a relatively young age. While Mortanius's hair was still dark with only a trace of gray, Olantireth's beard was completely white. Not one for small talk, he merely nodded in greeting as Mortanius and Moebius sat down at the table.

The only members of the Circle missing were Ellendra and Malek. Lately, Ellendra had resumed her normal friendship with Mortanius, abandoning her frustrations about his private experiments, although he fully expected her to start ignoring him again before too long. Such was the nature of their relationship. Mortanius had grown used to it, and in some ways he even enjoyed their time apart. It gave them personal space and a way to work out their disagreements without becoming actively hostile towards each other. And when they inevitably resumed their relationship, it felt new and fresh each time, as they got the chance to rediscover each other, both physically and emotionally.

Rashard and Sirine noticed that Moebius was there, and Rashard subtly gestured towards him and said something to Sirine.

Moebius leaned over and whispered, "What's the young man's name again?"

"Rashard," Mortanius replied.

"Ah, yes," Moebius said, sitting up straighter. A servant came by with a tray of drinks and Moebius politely waved her off. "I suppose I have been away from the Temple for too long. I barely know these young people."

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't know Rashard that well either. We speak from time to time, but for the most part he works with Olantireth or Palton."

Ellendra came into the room and Kelredar immediately walked over to her and took her hand. "My lady," he said smoothly, "It's always a pleasure to see you." He bent over theatrically and planted a kiss on her hand.

"You're too kind," Ellendra said with a grin. She greeted the others and came around the table to where Moebius was sitting. "Welcome, Moebius. Did you have any trouble finding the Temple? You come here so infrequently."

"I came with Malek," Moebius replied, deadpan. "Thankfully, he knows how to get here."

"You should have him bring you along more often. We've missed your shining personality."

"And I've missed yours, dear."

Ellendra let out a charming laugh and walked past Moebius, patting his bald head as she did so, but Moebius didn't react to it. Mortanius leaned over the side of his chair as she walked by and said, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Kelredar was flirting with you earlier."

"Of course he was. There's not a woman alive that he doesn't flirt with."

"I guess I don't know any better, then."

"You never do," Ellendra said. She walked around the table and sat next to Sirine.

Moebius calmly folded his hands in his lap. "I see that she hasn't changed at all."

"No," Mortanius sighed.

He was about to add another comment when a clatter of loud footsteps came from the hallway, and Malek stiffly entered the conference room, his fists clenched at his sides. Behind him came a half-dozen armed soldiers in gleaming multicolored armor. The Sarafan Knights. They took places by the side wall as Malek came to the table.

"Thank you for answering my summons," he said without preamble, leaning forward with his gloved fists resting on the tabletop. His voice sounded like he was dying of thirst but was too proud to ask for a glass of water. "I have asked you here because the Sarafan Order – that is, myself and the Sarafan Knights with me – have decided to enact a new plan of action in order to finally destroy the last vampire, the one known as Janos."

Mortanius started a bit at the mention of Janos, but he wasn't the only one. The other Guardians seemed equally surprised by this new development.

"We have been lax in our efforts to eliminate the vampire threat," Malek continued. "And for that, I apologize. For many years, we have focused our attacks on the half-breeds instead of seeking out the cause of the vampire curse. Janos is the last vampire on Nosgoth, and his continued existence is a unifying symbol to all the half-breeds, and a mark of our repeated failure to eradicate the vampires forever. And so, tonight, the Sarafan Knights will embark once more on a quest to finally kill Janos and end the race of vampires once and for all."

"Excuse me," Palton said. "But you said tonight? Isn't this rather sudden? Usually, the Circle is alerted to any major plans against the vampires several weeks in advance."

"It can't be helped," Malek said, curtly shaking his head. "Time is of the essence. We have no choice but to make our move against Janos tomorrow, so the Knights must leave tonight."

"I don't understand," Sirine said, looking around at the others seated at the table. "I know that I'm not as experienced in these matters as some of the other Guardians, but it's my understanding that the Sarafan has tried to kill this vampire dozens of times over the centuries."

"Yes," Palton replied, "and they've always failed. The fortress where Janos dwells is completely impossible to break into. The last time the Sarafan made an assault there, more than thirty men died."

Malek jerked his head in Palton's direction. "Thirty-four brave soldiers lost their lives trying to rid the world of a monster," he snapped. "And twenty-three the time before that. I know exactly how many lives we have sacrificed in our quest, Palton."

"And how many are we willing to risk this time?" Palton replied evenly, leaning back and crossing his arms.

Ellendra's voice cut across the room. "Malek, you said that time is of the essence. That implies you have some special reason for ordering this new assault, correct? Some new information about your target?"

"Yes, we do," Malek said. He hesitated for a moment and cleared his throat. "We have determined that there is a secret entrance to the fortress, although it is well hidden."

At that, Mortanius could not help but blurt out, "A secret entrance? Where is it? And how in the world did you discover such a thing?"

"And how does that explain your intention to assault the fortress on such short notice?" Ellendra asked. "Surely, the secret entrance isn't going anywhere."

Malek clenched his fists so tight that they could hear the leather of his gloves squeak with the pressure. "We cannot be sure that this entrance will be unguarded for very long, and so we must move as soon as possible. If we delay, Janos may block the entrance or find a way to prevent us from using it. We have an opportunity and we must take advantage of it."

Moebius finally spoke up, his voice calm and mannered, in contrast to Malek's barely contained rage and frustration. "What is your plan, Malek?"

The Guardian of Conflict took a breath and stood up straight. "I have devised a very specific plan of attack, which is quite different from our previous attempts. Instead of sending a large force of soldiers in the hopes of breaching the fortress by strength of numbers, I will instead send a smaller unit, which will access the secret entrance and enter the fortress by stealth."

"And you think this plan will work?" Palton asked.

"I am confident."

"You said that you will send them," Mortanius said. "Does that mean that you won't take part in the assault?"

Malek again seemed on the verge of losing his temper, but he held his composure long enough to give a short nod. "The Sarafan Knights will embark on this important mission, but I will not be with them. I will remain here at the Temple. Perhaps I should allow the mission leader to explain further."

With that, Malek stiffly stepped aside and one of his Knights approached the table. He wore elaborate gold and red armor, with spiked shoulder pads and an engraved golden breastplate, and his flared helmet was tucked under his arm. His face was pointed and angular, handsome in a noble-born kind of way, his hair jet black and his eyes dark and intense.

The Knight's name was Raziel, but Mortanius had never spoken to him personally. Like most of the Sarafan Knights, Raziel came across as cruel and arrogant, although unlike Malek, he at least knew how to smile and appear sociable. The other Sarafan Knights were named Melchiah, Zephon, Dumah, Turel, and Rahab. Great warriors all, but they did not socialize with the Circle and kept mainly to themselves.

"Thank you, Commander," Raziel said. "It is my great honor to be chosen to carry out this sacred duty. The vampire known as Janos has lived far too long, and his death will be a terrible blow to the half-breeds who worship him."

"Please," Ellendra said. "Why is Malek not leading this assault himself?"

Raziel gave her a winning smile. "In the past, the Sarafan have always been led in combat by one of the Guardians, usually either the Guardian of Conflict or the Guardian of Time. But Janos, I have been told, is a Guardian himself, is he not?"

Some of the younger Guardians, like Sirine and Rashard, seemed surprised by this piece of information, which was not widely known. Mortanius chose to answer, since he believed that the question was actually directed at him. "Not a Guardian of the Pillars," he said. "But Janos took part in the Pillar ceremonies, and he was referred to as a Guardian by the other vampires."

"It is known that the Guardians are connected in special ways," Raziel said. "You can detect the presence of other Guardians when you choose to. Is it not possible that Janos can also detect the other Guardians?"

Mortanius had no answer to that. In fact, the thought had never occurred to him.

Raziel took that as agreement. "For this reason, our Commander will not accompany us. If all of the Guardians remain here at the Temple, perhaps Janos will not be expecting an attack. If we can reach the secret entrance, we may be able to sneak into his fortress without being noticed. Once inside, we can find Janos and kill him."

"How?" Palton asked.

"The same way all of the other vampires were killed," Raziel said simply. "By using the magical staff in order to incapacitate him first, and then slaying him while he is defenseless."

"But Moebius is not coming with you either," Ellendra said, looking in his direction.

"The Guardian of Time has graciously allowed me to wield his staff for this mission."

Mortanius flinched and looked at Moebius in shock. In all their years together and throughout all the many assaults on vampire strongholds, Moebius never once allowed anyone else to use the staff. The staff was a part of him. Many of the commoners even believed that Moebius was the only one capable of using the staff, or that the power to injure the vampires was a special power that he alone possessed.

"It's true," Moebius said with a slight shrug. "It pains me to say it, but my presence there will only be a hindrance. Even if Janos doesn't detect that I'm nearby, the Sarafan Knights will be forced to expend effort in order to protect me in case there's danger. For this mission, they must not have any distractions, and so I will surrender the staff."

"I will not let you down," Raziel promised. He then smiled again and looked across the faces of the other Guardians. "The Sarafan Order exists for one purpose, to eradicate the vampire scourge that has preyed on humanity for far too long. Tomorrow, we will finally put an end to the race of true vampires, and bring Nosgoth one step closer to freedom for the human race. Janos will die by our hand, this we vow."

# Chapter Thirty Two

"So, what do you think?" Moebius asked Mortanius later, when they were alone in Mortanius's private quarters. A servant brought them a bottle of wine and Moebius poured their glasses.

"About what? The plan to kill Janos, or the fact that you're giving up your staff?"

"Temporarily," Moebius added, sitting down. "Once their mission is complete, the staff will be returned to me, of course. Admittedly, Raziel is not the person I would trust most with my staff, but he's smart and fanatically loyal, so I'm confident that it's in good hands."

"That raises the question, who would you trust most with the staff? Malek?"

Moebius winced. "No, not him. Malek is a brute, as you well know. I'd be afraid that he'd shatter it over his knee in one of his fits of rage."

"Who, then?"

"Well, you, of course," Moebius said, taking a sip of wine. "You're the only person other than me who really appreciates how powerful it is. Do you remember when I first showed it to you?"

Mortanius nodded, recalling the wet, dripping cave underneath the waterfall, where the original Sarafan Cult held its meetings. He wondered if that cave was still there, or if the river had finally eaten through the rock and flooded it.

"Yes, I remember. It was a turning point in my life, you might say."

A smile flashed across Moebius's face. "Indeed. And now, the plan to kill Janos. What do you think of that?"

He could only shrug. "I have no idea. How many times have the Sarafan tried to breach the walls of Janos's citadel? A hundred times? I highly doubt that Janos will be foolish enough to simply let the Sarafan Knights sneak in unnoticed. And this nonsense about a secret entrance? What's all that about?"

"It's a hidden doorway high up on the walls of the fortress. Very hard to reach. I've always suspected such an entrance existed, but we could never find it before now."

"How did you find it, then?"

"We have agents in Uschtenheim watching the fortress at all hours of the night," Moebius explained. "Watching to see when Janos comes and goes. He must feed regularly, after all. A few months ago, they built a new residence in town that's three stories tall, and it offers a fresh vantage point where our agent spotted Janos emerging from the doorway. That was two nights ago."

"What if it's locked from the outside?" Mortanius asked.

"It isn't. Trust me."

"How can you possibly be sure?"

Moebius gave him another sneaky grin and sipped his wine again. Mortanius had known him a long time – more than seven hundred years – and he knew Moebius's fondness for mystery and deception. He enjoyed keeping people guessing and holding his information close at hand; it was an old habit from his youth spent under the watchful eyes of the vampires.

"You gave them your staff," Mortanius said slowly. "What if Raziel drops it while they're climbing up the walls of the citadel? What if the interior is trapped and they're killed before they even reach him? You'd never risk losing the staff unless you were absolutely convinced that the mission would be successful. So how can you be sure?"

"I've seen it," Moebius said.

There was a long silence as Mortanius absorbed those three small words, and tried to make sense of the ten thousand other words left unspoken in between. He lifted his glass to his lips and drank.

"You've seen it," he said, setting the empty glass down.

"Yes."

"In the future."

"Yes. In my visions. Janos dies by Raziel's hand."

"Tomorrow."

"Yes."

"When did you see this in your visions?"

Moebius paused for a moment, and then said softly, "More than eighty years ago."

Mortanius almost knocked the glass from the side of his chair. "What?" he blurted. "Eighty years? You saw Janos die that long ago? Why didn't you ..."

"Tell you?" Moebius suggested. "What exactly would I have told you? That I saw a vision of a man I didn't recognize killing Janos at some unknown point in an unknown possible future? Raziel hadn't even been born yet. I only realized that he was the one from my vision in the past couple of years, when he started wearing that red and gold armor."

"Visions of an unknown future," Mortanius muttered to himself, rubbing his forehead.

"Seeing the future is complicated in ways you can't even imagine," Moebius said with a trace of bitterness. "I catch glimpses and fragments, here and there, sometimes contradictory ones. I've been constructing a magical artifact for over a century, which I hope will help me better control and clarify some of my visions, but it's still incomplete."

"I remember, you told me about it once."

Moebius leaned forward in his chair, steepling his fingers. "You see, when I experience one of my visions, I have no way to know when it takes place. A year from now? A hundred years from now? I have to rely on subtle clues to determine if the vision is even part of our own timeline, or just some discarded fragment of a history that never was. Some of my visions make no sense at all, but some of them seem very clear, and those are the ones that I try to focus on."

"What other visions have you had?" Mortanius asked, unable to stop himself.

"Oh, many different ones. I'll tell you one, just to explain what I'm talking about. I've seen a King of Nosgoth. A handsome man with blond hair, wielding a massive curved sword, sitting on a throne in a huge castle. But I have no idea who he is. The castle doesn't exist yet, so it must be decades in the future at the very least, but I suspect it's much farther in the future than that."

"A King of Nosgoth," Mortanius whispered. "I can hardly believe it."

"Neither can I, and there lies the difficulty. Is this vision true? Because I've had other visions, Mortanius, that I know for a fact are from alternate timelines. I've seen things that can never happen, but may have happened in some other world."

"Like what?"

"I saw the Circle of Nine mourning you at your own funeral, old friend. And standing beside me and Ellendra was none other than Galhonen."

"Galhonen?" Mortanius choked out.

"Yes, Galhonen, who died centuries ago. I saw a vision of a history where you died and he lived."

Mortanius sank into the seat cushions, feeling dizzy and breathless. He felt like he was going to faint or vomit, or maybe both. "I don't know ... I don't know how you can live with such visions. It would drive a common man insane to have knowledge like that. Seeing things and not even knowing if they're real or not." Hands shaking, he reached for the bottle of wine. Moebius picked it up for him and poured another glass.

"I've lived with it my entire life," he said. "Just as you have lived with your visions of the dead and their souls in the spirit world."

"I can't understand all of this. You saw Raziel killing Janos eighty years ago ..."

"And now I've come to the conclusion that my vision was true. So I gave Malek and Raziel all the information they needed to complete this mission."

"Did you tell them about your vision?"

"No, I left that part out," Moebius said, shaking his head. "Perhaps I'll tell them after Janos is dead, but I think it would be better not to tell them at all."

"I agree," Mortanius said. "I almost wish you hadn't told me."

Moebius shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "You wanted to know how I could be so certain about their mission. You must have suspected what I was going to tell you."

"Yes, I suppose I did," Mortanius admitted.

Moebius looked out the window. It was starting to get dark outside. "Finally, after all these centuries, we'll have killed the last of them. I remember right after the rebellion, I thought it might only take a few decades to hunt them all down. I was wrong about that."

"I suppose it's fitting that he's the last," Mortanius said quietly after a few moments. "Out of all the vampires, he was the only one that might have been a friend to the human race. Or if he wasn't a friend, at least he wasn't an enemy. I think he wanted humans and vampires to live together in peace."

"He was a fool, then," Moebius said.

Mortanius nodded. "Yes, he was."

"He would have died long ago, if the people of Uschtenheim hadn't protected him for so long," Moebius added bitterly. "And even after that, they refused to leave. We should have evacuated that whole damned town. Shackled the residents and marched them out at sword point if necessary."

"You recommended it at the time, if memory serves."

The unwillingness of the population of Uschtenheim to abandon their homes, even with the knowledge that a vampire lived within sight of the town, was a sore spot for the Sarafan. They had advocated for centuries for the forceful relocation of the entire town, but the Circle had always been reluctant to make such an order. The people of Uschtenheim had a right to live where they wanted, after all, and if they chose to live near to a vampire's lair, then so be it. But the nearby proximity of so many people allowed Janos to feed regularly without having to travel far from his lair, frustrating the efforts of the Sarafan to ambush him or trap him. In the end, the Sarafan abandoned any hope of convincing the populace to leave the area, and instead focused their efforts on breaching the citadel's walls, which failed time and time again.

"I still think some of the people in Uschtenheim secretly supported Janos," Moebius muttered. "He gave their town notoriety, like he was some kind of attraction for travelers for gawk at. They liked having the last vampire in Nosgoth living nearby."

"Perhaps," Mortanius said noncommittally.

"Well, they won't have their attraction much longer. By this time tomorrow, Janos will be dead and we'll tear that entire fortress down to its foundation, like we did with the others."

Mortanius looked at the bottle of wine, but it was empty. "There's something I've always wondered," he mused. "Once he's gone, do you think we'll find a new Guardian to take his place? We don't even know the nature of Janos's relation with the Pillars. I know he mentioned to me once that he was a special kind of Guardian, but I can't remember the details. If we have to educate a new Guardian to replace Janos, what are we going to tell them?"

"I suspect we'll learn a great deal of information about what kind of Guardian he was when we search the fortress. We'll find records or something, I'm sure. To be honest, I don't think it matters that much. He may have been a Guardian, but he wasn't one with the Pillars, and the Pillars are what's important."

Mortanius sighed. "It's still hard for me to believe that you saw a vision of his death. Tomorrow, the last vampire on Nosgoth will die. We should mark the calendar."

"Yes," Moebius agreed. "Tomorrow will be a very important date in our history."

# Chapter Thirty Three

Mortanius was in his laboratory the following morning, reading over magical texts while sipping some tea, when he felt a painfully familiar psychic blow that rocked him back in his chair and made him drop his cup, which shattered on the floor. He let out a breath and slumped over his desk for a minute or two, and then stood up.

Such a feeling had struck him too many times throughout the years. It meant that one of the Guardians was dead. The nature of the connection between the Guardians always made it clear to him who had died, and so he knew that this time it was not a human Guardian.

It was Janos. The Sarafan Knights had succeeded in their mission.

Mortanius didn't know how to feel about it. He was glad that Janos was dead, but also saddened by it. Janos was the last of his kind, living a completely isolated and solitary existence for well over a century, knowing that it was only a matter of time before death came for him. He could have taken his own life long before now, but for some reason he held on. As far as Mortanius was concerned, the Sarafan Knights had put him out of his misery. But his death was still a tragedy, in a way, because the vampire race had once ruled a mighty empire and they had created the Pillars. For their once-powerful race to end on such a miserable note was hardly something to celebrate.

He thought about going upstairs to talk to the others, but decided against it. The only Guardians currently in the Temple were Rashard and Olantireth. Instead, he found a rag to clean up the spilled tea and picked up the pieces of broken ceramic. He could have ordered a servant to do it, but he wanted something to keep him busy while he pondered the ramifications of Janos's death.

What would they find inside his fortress? As the last living vampire, Janos might well have been in possession of ancient vampire records or rare historical artifacts or magical items, or all three. Most of the other vampires had systematically destroyed anything of value before the Sarafan could corner them and kill them, but those vampires had been under siege for days or even weeks before their deaths. As far as Mortanius knew, Janos had not expected the Sarafan's attack, and so he would not have had time to destroy anything.

Moebius said they were going to tear down the citadel, but Mortanius decided that he would try to stop that from happening. They could turn it into a museum or a memorial. Just because the vampires were now extinct, it didn't mean the human race needed to erase all evidence of their existence. The mysterious vampire temple on the island in the Lake of Tears was still standing, and in fact was still mostly unexplored. They could do the same with Janos's fortress. Leave it as a reminder to future generations that the vampire race had been real, and was not just a myth or fable.

A servant came to the laboratory with a message from Ellendra. She wanted to know if he was going to be there when the Sarafan Knights returned to the Temple. All of the other Guardians would be in attendance. He replied that he would certainly be there, and then told the servant to come and get him when they arrived. The journey from Uschtenheim would take most of the day, so the Knights would not make it back to the Temple until late afternoon at the earliest.

He had lost any motivation to keep working, but there was nothing else to do to pass the time, so he sat back down and started reading the magical texts again, although he barely paid attention to the words on the parchment.

There would be a celebration, he supposed. A feast to honor the Sarafan Knights and their victory, and to commemorate the end of the vampire race. Most of the other Guardians would be pleased to take part in such a momentous occasion, but the truth is that none of them – besides himself, Moebius, and Malek – had any personal knowledge or understanding of what the vampires really represented. The history of the Circle was no secret, but Mortanius doubted that the younger Guardians like Rashard and Sirine had studied that era of Nosgoth's history very carefully.

The fact that the vampires forcefully turned the first human Guardians into half-breeds was easily forgotten among the hundreds of years of Nosgoth's history since the rebellion. The death of Janos was not just the death of a vaguely monstrous creature that none of them had seen, it was the extinction of that race that had once ruled Nosgoth, and sought to dominate the human race in order to maintain their rule. Now that the vampires were no more, the human race was the sole possessor and master of Nosgoth, now and forever.

It was nearly sunset when a servant knocked on the door to inform Mortanius that the Knights were going to arrive shortly. He closed the grimoire he was studying and rose from his desk as the servant departed. He donned a robe of dark red silk and checked his appearance in a mirror before heading upstairs.

He found a crowd of people gathered near the front doors of the Temple. Bodies were packed in the hallway and entrance foyer, and outside the doors as well. It was growing dark outside as the sun disappeared over the hills to the west, so they had torches set up on the stone walkway to the Temple entrance. Mortanius couldn't see all of the Guardians in the crowd but he assumed they were there. There was steady murmur of conversation as everyone talked amongst themselves.

The crowd was composed of Sarafan soldiers and other members of the Order, Temple servants and workers, and a number of local figures. The mayor of one of the nearby towns was there, and several other people that Mortanius didn't recognize but assumed were local representatives. He spotted Kelredar by the doors, and saw Olantireth in the crowd as well. More servants poked their heads from around corners and doorways to get a better look.

"Mortanius," Ellendra said, emerging from the group of people and coming over to him. "For a moment, I thought you weren't going to show up."

"I lost track of time," he said with a shrug. "I didn't expect so many people."

"Moebius sent word around that the Sarafan defeated the last of the vampires. There's even more people outside. Lots of civilians have come to see the Knights when they return."

"They're almost here, then?"

"Yes, we got word just a few minutes ago that they'll be here soon."

Almost on cue, they heard people cheering outside. Mortanius and Ellendra moved forward, gently pushing aside some of the servants, who politely got out of their way. There was the clatter of horse hooves and suddenly a group of riders thundered up to the Temple, shouting to announce their presence. The mounts were lathered with sweat as the Sarafan Knights dismounted, having ridden them hard on the return journey. Almost immediately, they were swarmed by people outside, but a group of Sarafan soldiers held the crowd of civilians back. People called out and cheered, and some even threw flowers.

"We have slain the vampire Janos!" one of the Knights cried. Mortanius couldn't see him clearly, but he knew it was Raziel, the one who led the mission. "The evil vampire lord is dead! His reign of terror over the people of Nosgoth is at an end! Nosgoth has been cleansed of the vampire race!"

Mortanius strained to get a better look, and caught a glimpse of Moebius outside. Raziel handed Moebius his staff and turned to wave at the crowd. The triumphant Knights marched up to the Temple, their armor gleaming in the torchlight, as the people outside continued to cheer. Moebius looked positively ecstatic, his eyes shining and a wide smile on his face, as he raised his staff into the air.

"This is a glorious day!" Moebius shouted enthusiastically. "Congratulations are in order! Your names will go down in history for what you've accomplished this day!"

The people huddled around the doors backed away as the Sarafan Knights came inside. The servants and Sarafan soldiers clapped and cheered, and some of the Guardians even added to the applause. Kelredar came forward to congratulate the Knights personally, and Palton was there as well, shaking hands with one of the Knights. The soldiers surrounded them like a mob of adoring fans, shouting thanks and cheering the name of the Sarafan.

"Come, come!" Moebius called out. "Let's go inside and take a seat! Let's have some food and drink for our brave heroes! You can tell us about your victory! I want to hear every detail!"

The crowd surged and moved as the Knights made their way down the hallway. Mortanius spotted Malek in the back, still standing in the doorway and speaking with one of the Knights. The Knight had a long item in his arms, wrapped in a brown cloth. Mortanius tried to get a better look but he couldn't see, and soon the crowd pulled him away.

They all shuffled into the Grand Hall of the Temple, where a huge table was already laid out with food and refreshments. Everyone was talking at once, and the chattering grated on Mortanius's nerves. He followed the rest of them inside and realized that he had lost track of Ellendra. Servants were already there, handing out drinks. Mortanius took a glass of wine and retreated into the back of the crowd as everyone moved around, letting the Knights take seats at the table. Some of the Guardians took seats as well, but most of the Sarafan soldiers and servants remained standing.

"Thank you, one and all!" Raziel said elatedly. "We are honored to know that you had such faith in us! But this victory is not ours alone! Each and every one of you made this day possible, with your determination and your commitment to ending the vampire threat!"

Mortanius stood back and drank his wine as Raziel and the other Knights told the story of their mission to Uschtenheim. They had arrived after midnight the night before, and only slept a few hours before setting out for the fortress in the early morning. The crowd listened intently as Raziel told them how the Knights used grapples and climbing gear to ascend the outside of the citadel, and how they managed to enter through the hidden door, just as planned.

"We found him alone, standing at an altar within the fortress," Raziel said, holding a cup of wine, which sloshed across his hand as he swung his arm. "He had his back to us! But we had not taken him by surprise! No, he knew that we were there!"

Mortanius shook his head almost imperceptibly. If Janos had known the Knights were there, then he could have retreated beyond the range of the staff and attacked them from afar. Was Raziel merely embellishing the story, or was something else going on? Had Janos, upon realizing that the Sarafan had infiltrated his sanctum, merely surrendered his life? Why would he have done so? Mortanius didn't believe it.

"I used the magical staff," Raziel continued, sweeping his gaze across his entranced listeners, "and the vampire was rendered helpless before us! Even so, he was defiant in his last moments! He would not give up, even when we came in for the kill! He resisted the power of the staff enough to claw at us and spit at us in fury! It was only then that we saw the sword in his possession!"

Behind him, Malek stood with the other Knight. Mortanius thought it was Turel, but it might have been one of the others. They held out the item wrapped in cloth and pulled it aside to reveal a sword. Raziel grabbed the hilt and raised it victoriously above his head.

The crowd gasped in surprise, and Mortanius's breath caught in his chest. The sword was massive, with a blade like nothing he had ever seen before. It was not a straight blade, but curved and rippling like a snake slithering across the ground. The pommel was carved into a huge skull, or perhaps it actually was a skull. The sight of the blade mesmerized the crowd, as the light from the candles on the dining table reflected wildly across the serpentine blade.

"I used his own sword to end his life!" Raziel announced, his face twisted in excitement that bordered on insanity. "Janos is dead! At long last, the hated vampire race is no more!"

Moebius reared back in his seat, clapping gleefully and laughing in unbridled joy. The rest of the Guardians were more subdued, but still clearly excited and amazed by Raziel's retelling of events. Mortanius couldn't take his eyes of the sword. If it was a vampire artifact, as it clearly was, then he wanted to study it.

"And that's not all," Raziel said, lowering the sword. He let out an ominous laugh. "We saved a trophy from our encounter with the vampire lord. As proof of our victory!"

One of the other Knights held up a satchel and reached inside. He took out a glistening red object and gave it to Raziel, who held it aloft for everyone to see.

It was a heart. A severed heart, still sticky with blood. Stunned gasps and horrified shrieks came from the assembled guests who were close by, but Mortanius merely stared in disbelief, walking forward almost involuntarily.

"The vampire's heart!" Raziel cried triumphantly. "I cut it from his chest with his own sword!"

Moebius, at the far end of the table, suddenly leaned forward, no longer laughing. "You cut out his heart? What about the body? Did you burn the body?"

"We left his butchered body lying by the altar in his fortress," Raziel cackled. "We left it there to rot –"

"What?" Moebius bellowed, jumping up so fast that his chair flipped over behind him. "You were supposed to burn the body, you damned fool! I told you to burn the body!"

"I cut out his heart," Raziel protested, holding up his grisly prize.

Mortanius shoved people out of the way as he approached the table. Everyone was so shocked by Moebius's outburst that they almost didn't notice that Mortanius had come forward.

His voice cut through the stunned silence. "Give the heart to me," he demanded.

"What?" Raziel said, looking at him with a surprised expression. "My Lord Mortanius, I –"

"Give it to me!" Mortanius ordered.

He reached across the table and grabbed it from Raziel's hand. It was larger than a human heart, although not by very much, but other than that it looked like a regular heart. Mortanius couldn't be sure, but he thought he felt the slightest bit of warmth.

"Mortanius, what are you doing?" Moebius said.

"We have to study it," he said to no one in particular. "This is our last chance to examine the vampires. There's so much we still don't know."

"We have to burn it!" Moebius wailed. He was so worked up that his hands were shaking. "You know that we have to burn the body!"

"Not yet!" Mortanius argued. "Bring the body here so I can study it! Give me a few days and then we'll burn it. A few days won't make any difference, and if I can't learn the truth in a few days, then I never will."

Moebius pressed his hands against the sides of his face and let out a groan of frustration. Everyone else – the Guardians, the Sarafan, the servants – were too confused and stunned to speak. Raziel looked at Mortanius with a pathetic, whimpering look on his face, like a child watching his parents get into a fight. The momentary air of joy and celebration from just a few minutes ago was now long gone, and in its place was an awkward nervousness and sense of embarrassment.

Malek put his hand on Raziel's shoulder and pushed down. Raziel tried to resist for a moment and then fell down into his seat, staring at the table with a petulant scowl. This was his moment to shine, and now everyone was ruining it.

"Mortanius," Malek said in a restrained voice, "I gave my men clear instructions to burn the body of the vampire after it was dead. Apparently, they disregarded those instructions. Are you certain that it's a good idea to bring the corpse here?"

"We know next to nothing about the vampires," Mortanius said, staring at Janos's heart. "Their anatomy, their physiology, why they have to drink blood to survive. It's always been a mystery. This is an opportunity to finally learn some hard facts about what the vampires really are. Once we burn Janos's body, we'll never be able to study them again."

"Why does it matter?" Moebius said. "They're extinct now!"

"Their spawn certainly aren't extinct!" Mortanius shot back. "What if we could discover the root cause of their bloodthirst? What if we could create a cure that could turn a half-breed back into a regular human?"

The other Guardians around the table immediately reacted. Some of them looked on with hopeful faces, and others whispered to each other, as if unwilling to interrupt the argument. Palton, however, stood up and leaned on the table. "You know what? I think Mortanius is right. Let's give him a few days to study the vampire's body and see what he can find out. No one is more qualified than he is to study the dead, after all."

"I agree as well," Ellendra said, nodding but not looking at anyone in particular. "I highly doubt that we'll actually discover some kind of antidote, but we may learn something equally important. Knowledge for it's own sake is a reward all by itself."

"Fine!" Moebius spat, flipping his hands in the air. "Do an autopsy on his body if it will make you happy! I'll give you a few days, and then we're going to burn Janos in a bonfire so huge that everyone in Nosgoth will be able to see it!"

"Agreed," Mortanius said.

Moebius snatched up his staff and stomped away. "Malek!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Come with me! I have to talk to you in private!"

"I'll be there shortly, Moebius," Malek said. He glared at the Sarafan Knights, who cowered under the onslaught of his gaze. "As for you men, get something to eat and make preparations to return to Uschtenheim. I want you out of here in less than two hours. I hope you enjoyed your time in command, Raziel, because it won't happen again."

Mortanius walked away from the table and headed for the hall. Ellendra called out to him and he stopped in the doorway.

She walked over, her hands folded in her sleeves. "That was quite a spectacle. I don't think anyone expected an outburst like that. Moebius is probably as angry at you as he is at that posturing fool Raziel."

"He'll get over it," Mortanius said.

"Why do I have a feeling that there was much that you and Moebius left unsaid? What do you know that we don't? Why was he so adamant that the vampire's body be burned?"

"That would take me a little while to explain. Let me take the heart downstairs and find someplace to store it. I want to check on a few things and then I'll come back here and explain what we were arguing about."

"All right," Ellendra said.

"I won't be long, I promise."

# Chapter Thirty Four

Mortanius returned to his laboratory and placed Janos's heart on one of his work tables. The heart was stiff and cold. The brief sensation of warmth he thought he felt earlier was probably just his imagination. He dug around in his supply room and found a small wooden box lined on the inside with black cloth. Before he placed the heart inside, he cast a few minor spells to keep the box airtight and hopefully prevent the heart from decaying any more than it already had.

He switched his vision over to the spirit world and studied the heart closely, but detected no trace of a soul or anything out of the ordinary. Would Janos's body still retain his soul? Mortanius assumed it would, but maybe not. Maybe all that was required for the soul to depart was extreme physical trauma, more than just being stabbed to death, as the original vampire Guardians were.

Aleph and the others had been burned shortly after Mortanius realized that their souls were still trapped in their bodies. He never got to check to see if their bodies would heal. But more importantly, he never got to see if the bodies would even decay. Would the soul prevent decomposition? Mortanius didn't think so, based on his own experiments, but those experiments had been on human bodies, not vampire ones.

For now, the heart would remain stored in his laboratory. Once Janos's body was delivered to him, he would perform more tests. However, he had a paranoid fear that someone might come and steal the heart, perhaps Raziel trying to reclaim his trophy. And so he rearranged one of his cabinets and hid the box in the back.

By the time he was done, it had been more than an hour since he came to the laboratory, and he remembered that Ellendra was still waiting for him upstairs. He walked over the door.

And was nearly knocked off his feet by a psychic blast that hit him like a lightning bolt. He stumbled and leaned heavily against a shelf near the door, gasping for breath as a surge of panic struck him.

One of the Guardians was dead! It wasn't possible!

He pushed away from the shelf and reached for the door when another wave slammed into him, like a knife slashing across his mind. He cried out and fell to the floor, curling into the fetal position. The pain was over in a moment, but the aftereffects of the mental blow left him shaken as he tried to get his feet back under him.

What was happening? The Guardians were all here at the Temple!

He opened the door and rushed into the hallway on unsteady legs. And then, he heard the screams coming from upstairs, screams of absolute terror. Still shaky, he hurried up the steps as fast as he could, grabbing the hand rail to keep his balance.

"Malek!" came a shrill female voice, reverberating along the stone walls. "Malek! Maleeeeeeek!"

Mortanius ran up the stairs two at a time, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew her voice, and the sounds of her terrified screams filled his heart with ice. He could feel her fear, he could feel all of them now, their combined terror pressing upon his mind.

He felt it a split-second before it hit him. Another wave of pain washed over his soul, another death among the Circle. He doubled over and nearly vomited, the pain was so intense. His mind swam as he tried to make his way up the rest of the stairs. The top of the stairway was just ahead. He could barely fathom what was happening.

Three Guardians were dead. Impossible, impossible.

Head spinning, he staggered into the hall. Two corpses lay in his path, Temple servants soaked with blood, their bodies broken and slashed open with incredible force. He barely looked at them as he continued down the hall to the foyer at the main doors to the Temple. More blood decorated the walls, splashed in such quantities that it had doused two of the torches by the entrance.

Kelredar was there, sprawled with his arms at his sides, his face splattered with blood. An assassin had impaled him on a blade and then brutally wrenched it free, cutting open the side of his body. Four Temple servants lay clustered right near the door, their bodies twisted and bloody. Just a few paces away lay Sirine, also slain by the assassin, her dress soaked in blood, her eyes staring at nothing. The entire floor was one huge pool of spreading blood, almost ankle-deep.

Mortanius did not remain there long. He moved through the next doorway into one of the other main hallways leading down the center of the Temple. He barely registered his own legs moving, he felt like he was being drawn as if by a magnetic pull. Distantly, as if it was only in his imagination, he heard more screams and cries for help. The muffled clang of swords striking, the sizzle of magic, something that might have been laughter. Hideous, inhuman laughter.

At the end of the hall, he found five Sarafan soldiers, all slaughtered with brutal ferocity, their limbs cut away, their armor shattered and sprayed with blood. Mortanius knew what he would find beyond the doorway, but he had no choice, his body moved against his own volition.

He found her in an antechamber just outside the conference rooms. Slumped against the corner, the bare skin of her arms cracked and smoking, the front of her elegant blue dress a charred ruin, her long blonde hair matted with gore. The assassin hadn't used a sword on her like with Kelredar and Sirine. No, nothing so simple as a sword. A blast of foul corruption magic had taken her life.

Falling to his knees, he gagged on the smell of burned flesh and squeezed his eyes shut, his body heaving with sobs. He wanted to touch her, to apologize, to say something.

To tell her he loved her.

But nothing came out except a groan of despair. He swayed to his feet and turned away, unable to look any longer. The knees of his trousers had her blood on them. His hands were clean, but when he looked down, he imagined that her blood stained them as well.

The trail of dead continued into the next room, where three more servants were dead, slain from behind as they ran away. He heard screams ahead, from up the stairs leading to the second floor, and tried to hurry his pace, but his whole body seemed to rebel against him and he barely made it to the stairwell before losing his footing.

As he rose, he felt it coming before it hit him. Another wave of pain and anguish seared across his mind, another of the Guardians dead. And then another, right on the heels of the last one. Two in a row, how many in total? Five or six? He had lost the ability to count the deaths, as they all blended into one agonizing moment of torture upon his psyche. He went up the stairs, his mind reeling, unable to think straight any more. His face was wet with tears that he didn't remember crying.

He found Olantireth in the corridor, slain by a bolt of deadly magic, recognizable only by the clothing he wore because his faced was scorched away to the bone. Six dead Sarafan were scattered his body, those who died trying to protect him.

Mortanius grabbed one of their swords and dragged it after him, the tip of the blade scraping across the pools of blood. His own feet left bloody footprints down the hall as he made his way into one of the Temple's libraries. Two more dead Sarafan in the doorway, one of them cut nearly in half at the waist. Mortanius nearly fell again, holding his hand against the wall to hold himself steady. Some of the books burned from blasts of stray magic, filling the room with smoke.

Palton and Rashard were together, surrounded by the corpses of servants and Sarafan alike, their bodies smashed and discarded with a fury that no human could ever maintain. Rashard's body was a bloody mess, but Palton was relatively untouched except for the brutal slash across his neck that nearly severed his head.

The doors on the other side of the library were gone, ripped off their hinges. The doorway led to a wide balcony overlooking the lake. Mortanius knew who he would find there, but he staggered across the library anyway, his heart full of dread and his mind numb from the deaths of so many of his fellow Guardians. He forced himself through the doorway and onto the balcony.

It was a lovely night, the sky clear and the stars shining. A cool breeze blew off the lake, blowing away the stink of death and blood. Mortanius walked out, his chest aching and his breath coming in painful gasps.

A figure stood by the railing thirty paces away, facing the lake, the breeze rustling his dark blue cape. The sleeves of his white silk shirt were unmarked by even a drop of blood. He wore the clothes of a nobleman, but he was no nobleman. He wasn't even human.

"Vorador," Mortanius croaked.

The leader of the half-breeds turned to face him, and Mortanius felt his blood run cold. In seven-hundred years, he had never actually met the leader of the half-breeds, the first human to ever be turned by the vampires. Vorador may have been human once, but he was no longer even a half-breed like his kin, he was something else entirely.

His skin was dark green and looked as rough as leather, and his eyes were yellow. Two large ears protruded from the top of his head like those of a bat, and his elongated face ended in two sharp points at the end of his chin. His face was bestial, not like a human or even a vampire. The centuries had turned him into something alien and terrifying.

Mortanius raised his sword in a pathetic show of defiance. He hadn't used a sword in centuries, not since the years after the rebellion. He knew it was futile to fight, but he didn't care any more. The deaths of his fellow Guardians left his brain muddled and unfocused, barely able to think straight. He felt numb, as if his emotions had been scoured away, leaving him just a shell of a man.

Vorador gave him a vicious, predatory smile and lifted his own blade.

In the blink of an eye, he leaped forward. The thirty paces between them was crossed in an instant, and the sword in Mortanius's hand was battered away, flipping over the balcony. The impact was so jarring that it shattered his wrist, leaving his hand dangling uselessly. He tried to stumble away but Vorador grabbed him by his throat and lifted him effortlessly into the air.

"Ah, Mortanius," Vorador growled, baring his fangs. His breath was rancid, like the smell of rotten meat. "It's so nice to finally be introduced."

He pushed and Mortanius went flying. He struck the ground and rolled to a stop in a trembling heap, his entire body wracked with pain. The bones in his broken wrist crunched against each other when he tried to push himself upright, and the pain made him cry out.

"Do you appreciate what I have done here?" Vorador said, walking toward him. "Once upon a time, you murdered all but two of the Guardians. Now, I have done the same. What you brought to the race of vampires, I have now given back to you. I have settled the score."

Mortanius spat at him. "You're nothing but a monster," he whimpered.

"Did you really believe that you could assassinate my master, the very one who gave me life, and I would not retaliate? Your precious Sarafan have hunted and killed my people for centuries. They impale them on spikes and leave them to burn in the sun. And you call me a monster?"

He grabbed Mortanius again and lifted him up. Weak and desperate, Mortanius kicked at him and scratched at his hands. In response, Vorador shook him with such ferocity that he thought his neck would snap. His head lolled to the side and he struggled to remain conscious.

"Perhaps you think I should kill you too," Vorador said, pulling him close. "But no, it's better that you live. I've delivered to you death on a scale such as you have never seen, but I won't grant you your own. It is your curse to be alive. You must live with the shame and regret that you failed those you cared about most. Just as I do."

With that, he hurled Mortanius away. He felt himself flying, his robe flapping wildly around him, the world spinning in circles. And then he finally slipped into the peacefulness of oblivion.

# Chapter Thirty Five

"Lord Mortanius! Please wake up!"

"We need you, Lord Mortanius!"

"Mortanius!"

He heard panicked, frantic voices cut through the ether. People shouting his name, tugging at his clothes, dragging him unwillingly from the comfortable embrace of unconsciousness. He wanted to ignore them, push them away, and remain calm and content in this safe place. But when he opened his eyes, he returned to the world of death and blood.

"Lord Mortanius!" one of the servants cried, his face wet with tears. "Oh, thank the Pillars, he's awake!" Four Temple servants hovered over him, staring down with anguished expressions, their faces drawn and pale. They all tried speaking at once, and their voices converged into an incomprehensible jumble. Mortanius blinked and fumbled at the ground in an attempt to push himself upright. His hand came up sticky and he saw that he had placed it into a pool of congealing blood. His other hand was numb with pain, and he remembered that his wrist was broken.

Someone pushed the servants roughly aside, and Mortanius saw the face of his old friend Moebius there. His bald head was dotted with sweat, and there was a smear of blood on his cheek.

"Mortanius! You must come with me!"

"What is ... what is happening?" he mumbled.

"Get him on his feet!" Moebius ordered the servants. "Carry him if you have to!"

Two servants hauled him upright and slung his arms over their shoulders to support him. He looked around dizzily and saw the corpses all around, the bodies tangled and butchered. He was back in the library. His last moments before unconsciousness slowly came back to him.

"Oh, no, no, no," he groaned., sagging down and nearly falling.

Moebius grabbed his arms and shook him. "Mortanius! We need you right now! Malek is dying! You must save him!"

"They're dead, all of them," Mortanius moaned helplessly. "Ellendra ... She's gone ... All of them are gone, he killed them ... I wasn't there ..."

"Listen to me! Malek is holding on, but he won't live much longer if you don't do something!" And then, to the servants, "Get him downstairs!"

They carried him to the end of the hall, past the bodies of Olantireth and the Sarafan soldiers, and managed to get him downstairs. By the time they reached the main floor, he could almost walk on his own, but he needed their help. Wracked with helpless sobs, he kept his eyes tightly shut as they took him past Ellendra's body. He couldn't bear to look at her again. Eventually, they brought him back through the intervening chambers to one of the conference rooms near the main entrance. It was the very same room where Malek had first told them about the mission to Janos's fortress.

Now, Malek lay on the floor, his helmet discarded, his armor gruesomely dented inward, impaling him with the sharp edges of his own breastplate. Blood pooled in the crevice and dripped over the edge. His face was pale as death, his slick hair brushed to the side. Three terrified servants knelt by the body, one of them wiping his face with a cloth.

"We can't get his armor off," one of them sobbed. "We don't know what to do and we can't stop the bleeding!"

"It's a miracle he's still alive," another said numbly, sitting with his hands in his lap.

They eased Mortanius into a chair, where he sat listlessly, cradling his injured arm in his lap, staring at the body on the floor. The entire Temple was saturated with the smell of blood, it was overwhelming. Mortanius breathed through his mouth, panting with a dumbstruck look on his face. The servants stared expectantly at him, but there was nothing he could do, nothing to say. Why had they even brought him here? He had a concussion and his head pounded, his vision blurry.

Moebius said, "Mortanius, you have to save him."

"What? I can't save him."

"Yes, you can! You must!"

"Look at him, Moebius. What am I supposed to do? I'm not a surgeon. He's going to die."

While the servants were emotionally devastated and Mortanius himself was nearly numb from the pain, Moebius was angry. His eyes blazed with hatred and fury, a look that Mortanius had not seen in many centuries. "Six of our friends are already dead!" he shouted in Mortanius's face. "Don't just sit there and let another one die! You can use your powers to prevent his soul from leaving his body! I know you can do it!"

"You want me to save him," Mortanius said in a grim voice. "But that's not saving him. You don't know what you're asking of me."

"I'm asking you to save his life!"

"I can't! I can bind his soul to his body, but he'll still be dead! He'll be nothing but a walking corpse! No one should be forced to endure an existence like that!"

"Let Malek decide!" Moebius begged. "Do what you have to do, and let Malek be the one to decide his own fate. Please, Mortanius! We've lost so many already ..."

Mortanius sat up and took a deep breath. His vision shifted easily into the spirit world, and he could see Malek's soul trembling as it eagerly waited to slip free of his body. He could tell that Malek was only moments away from death. Gently, he reached out and held the soul in place.

Guardians had two elements to their soul, the mortal soul that all living creatures had, and the secondary aspect which bound them to their Pillar. But he could not sense that second aspect at all. It remained invisible and hidden, even to him, until the moment the Guardian died. Mortanius didn't even know if his ritual would transfer that aspect along with the soul. Would Malek still retain his connection to the Pillar of Conflict? Mortanius had no idea.

Moebius was still staring at him. "Mortanius ..."

"I'll do it," he said wearily, surrendering to his own morbid curiosity. "I'll do it. But I can't perform the ritual here. We have to take the body downstairs."

One of the servants choked out, "But, my lord, we can't possibly move him."

"Well, I'm in no condition to do it," Mortanius said. "There's seven of you. Just carry his body. Wrap it in a curtain if that will make it easier. He's not going to die. I'll hold his soul in place until I can do the ritual."

Most of the Temple servants had little knowledge about Mortanius's experiments or the true nature of his powers, so to hear him so casually speak about holding onto a soul made some of them shiver and look even more sick than they already were. But they followed his orders just the same. They pulled down one of the curtains and wrapped it around Malek's limp body, and then carried it down the stairs to his laboratory. One of the servants ripped a strip of cloth for Mortanius to use as a sling for his arm.

Moebius followed them downstairs. "Thank you, Mortanius," he said.

"Don't thank me. Once Malek realizes what's been done to him, he won't thank me either. What you need to understand is that once I've performed the ritual, Malek won't be a person anymore. He'll be a wraith, a revenant. An undead thing."

"We have no choice," Moebius said, shaking his head. "Malek will understand why we did it. I know he'll understand."

"Just because he understands, doesn't mean he'll accept it. And I will not maintain the spell without his consent. When he asks me to end the spell and set his soul free, I'll do it immediately."

"And if he doesn't?"

"I'll end the spell anyway," Mortanius promised. "Only a madman would be willing to exist like that. If Malek doesn't want me to end it, then it means he's gone insane."

# Chapter Thirty Six

The following morning revealed the true extent of the massacre. Mortanius remained awake all night and throughout the entire day, trying to manage the efforts to remove the bodies and put them to rest. Moebius had organized a search party to try and track down the assassin Vorador, but of course it was a pointless and futile attempt. Vorador was long gone, returned to his hidden lair in the Termogent Forest.

Six members of the Circle of Nine had been slain. In addition to that unspeakable tragedy, fourteen Temple servants had died with them, and twenty-three Sarafan soldiers. In the light of morning, they discovered that all six of the Sarafan Knights – Raziel and his compatriots – were dead as well, slaughtered in the Grand Hall.

Almost fifty people dead in a single night. It was hard to conceive of such an atrocity. A direct assault on the Temple of the Guardians was simply impossible to imagine. With so many Sarafan soldiers, they believed they were safe. But even if they had anticipated such an attack, they never believed in their wildest dreams that Vorador himself would come. Vorador had kept himself hidden for so long that some people speculated that he had died centuries ago, and the half-breeds merely repeated the rumor of his presence to keep the Sarafan guessing. Up until now, no one really knew what Vorador was doing or what he was capable of.

He had single-handedly killed two dozen Sarafan soldiers like they were defenseless children, and even the Sarafan Knights, the most skilled warriors in the entire Sarafan Order, were cut down like dogs. It was difficult to comprehend how Vorador could have killed so many.

After his brief encounter with Mortanius, Vorador had gone back downstairs, where he had apparently slain the Sarafan Knights. The sword they killed Janos with – the one with the curved blade and skull design – was missing, apparently stolen by Vorador.

As the leader of the half-breeds left the Temple, Malek faced him in combat and fared just as poorly as the rest of his men. Malek was the most skilled warrior in Nosgoth, and Vorador defeated him in just a few moments. That he managed to stay alive long enough for Mortanius to bind his soul was a testament to the man's nearly unbreakable will. He was the only person to face Vorador in combat and survive. Mortanius was the exception, because Vorador intended for him to live.

Most of the surrounding towns and cities knew about the massacre by now. Moebius had composed and sent messages to inform the populace, and by mid-morning, people began to arrive to see the result of the slaughter first-hand. Hundreds of shocked onlookers watched as the victims were taken out of the Temple. By the afternoon, the crowd numbered in the thousands. People cried and wailed, heartbroken by what they saw.

All of the bodies were wrapped in white shrouds. For now, there was nothing to distinguish between a Guardian of the Pillars and the lowliest Temple servant. Eventually, the Sarafan soldiers and the Temple servants would be handed over to their families for funeral services.

The Guardians would be burned in a pyre together as soon as possible. Likely, it would have to wait until the next day, once Moebius had returned and other important local leaders had time to travel to the Temple to pay their respects.

Mortanius sat alone in one of the small study rooms on the main floor, staring out the window. The room had a rather pleasant view of the lake, but the scenery did little to elevate his mood.

He needed to sleep and he needed to bathe. He had not even changed his clothes from the night before, and they were stained with the blood of his friends. After spending all morning dealing with the people outside, he decided that he could not take it any longer. His head pounded and he wished he knew some spell to dull the pain. But without the pain, all he could feel was a dismal, terrible emptiness.

They would have to start all over again. It would take years to track down and locate all of the new Guardians. And just like in the years after the rebellion, they would have to try and train several new Guardians all at once. He and Moebius had barely managed it the first time, and they were both too old to be dealing with children anymore.

Kelredar. Sirine. Olantireth. Rashard. Palton. Ellendra. Six of the most powerful people in all of Nosgoth, gone in a single night. How could they ever hope to replace the knowledge and wisdom and experience of so many Guardians?

Despair and misery seemed to well up from deep inside him until he felt like he was drowning. He wished that Vorador had killed him. He didn't want to live with this responsibility. He wondered if he could follow in the footsteps of his predecessor and take his own life. If Vorador wouldn't do it, then maybe Mortanius would do it himself.

Footsteps in the hallway dragged him away from his suicidal thoughts. He did not turn to see who was there, because he already knew. The heavy clunk of boots gave away the identity of his unwanted visitor.

"Mortanius," Malek said. "They said I would find you here."

"I had to get away for a little while," he answered in a quiet voice.

"Yes, so did I."

Mortanius said nothing, and Malek came into the room and walked over to the window, his hands folded behind his back. He wore a plain steel cuirass scrounged from one of the armories, over a shirt of chain mail. His ornate Sarafan breastplate was mangled and ruined now, having been cut from his body before the ritual to allow his gaping chest wound to be crudely stitched shut. After the resurrection, he had methodically washed away the blood and gore and dressed in new clothes, and at first glance he seemed almost normal.

"The servants are afraid of me now, I think," he said with a calmness that made Mortanius's skin crawl. "The commoners have not discovered the truth yet, but they will. It will take time for them to understand what has been done to me."

"If you wish for me to end the spell, just say the words," Mortanius said.

Malek gave a short shake of his head but did not look at Mortanius. He breathed in and out, even though breathing was no longer necessary. Now, it was merely done out of habit. "No, not yet. I will accept this new state for the time being. I will accept this as a punishment for my failure."

"It's not a punishment," Mortanius started to say.

Malek held out a hand to stop him. "I failed the Circle. My duty was to protect them. I failed the others and I failed you as well. If this is the price I must pay, then so be it."

He could not have protected them, could not have saved them. Vorador had effortlessly cut his way through two dozen Sarafan soldiers, and the Knights as well, in order to assassinate the Guardians. If Malek had been there, he would have been slain. Nothing would have changed. Mortanius wanted to say this, but it made no difference.

Instead, he said, "I'm sorry for the loss of your men. Their deaths are no less tragic than the deaths of the Guardians."

"Thank you. They died bravely fighting to save the Circle. Nothing else can be asked of them. I plan to honor their sacrifice. I'll build a shrine for them, a sacred tomb where they can be laid to rest with all the honor they deserve."

Mortanius didn't know what to say to that either, so he said nothing. Malek, in life, was a man defined by his barely constrained anger. Death, it seemed, had removed the most prominent part of his personality, making him seem even more inhuman. And yet, he was still the Guardian of Conflict. The ritual to bind his soul had transferred his connection to the Pillar as well, as Mortanius had discovered. All of the Guardians were immortal, but Malek was more than just immortal now, he was truly deathless.

"I'll need your help, Mortanius," he said. "I'll need help with many things."

"Yes, of course."

"First, we must mourn the dead and regain our strength. Our first priority is to locate the new Guardians, but that will take some years to accomplish. Meanwhile, the Sarafan have been decimated, and I do not believe the Order can recover from this."

"You can recruit new men," Mortanius suggested.

"No," Malek said, "I mean the Order cannot continue after what has transpired here. The Sarafan Order was founded to eradicate the vampires, and their mission is complete. Perhaps it's best if the Sarafan Order ends here. In its place, I will create something stronger and better suited to the modern world."

"If that's what you want. But I can't help you with that."

"What I need your help with is this," Malek said, gesturing at his own body. "When we find the new Guardians, I want to help you raise them and train them. That is my responsibility as much as it is yours. But to do that, I must ... I must still look alive."

Mortanius lowered his gaze. "Yes, I understand."

"I'll wear my armor, as I always have. But my face ..."

"There are illusions I can create to disguise your appearance."

"I would be grateful."

"How long ... how long do you intend to remain as you are?"

Malek looked at him, his expression unreadable. "As long as it takes."

"As long as it takes for what?"

"Vengeance," Malek said. "Vengeance for those we've lost. I'll assist you and Moebius in the training of the new Guardians, as I've said. But once that's done, I will begin my personal quest to hunt down Vorador and bring him to justice. I will not rest until he's dead. Once I've fulfilled that vow, only then will I ask you to set my soul free."
Part Four

The Cult of Avernus

# Chapter Thirty Seven

Mortanius leaned back in his seat and looked out the window as his carriage rolled down the busy cobblestone street. The city of Willendorf was a thriving metropolis, and the main avenue leading into the heart of the city was packed with pedestrians, panhandlers, running children, merchants directing wagons full of goods, minor nobles in carriages like his, and the ever-present city guards. Mortanius remembered when Willendorf was little but a village, not even marked on a map. Now, the city spread across several square miles, the sky was full of the smoke of industry, and the streets were choked with the smell of thousands of citizens.

His carriage was unmarked, so to the thronging mass of humanity outside, he was just another random nobleman on some business errand. Neither the driver of the carriage nor his employer knew who Mortanius was. When he had to travel, he did so without revealing his identity. He used false names at inns and other establishments, and took pains to avoid showing off his wealth to strangers. Some of the other Guardians chose to be more conspicuous when they traveled, delighting in the attention they received, but Mortanius had long since gotten tired of attention. He wanted to remain forgettable and invisible.

That would have been much more difficult five hundred years ago, when the Guardians often gathered at the Temple together and took a more direct involvement in the politics of Nosgoth. Now, however, things were very different.

Mortanius had not seen the other Guardians in almost a year. They lived all across the continent, communicating by letter when they chose to communicate at all. The larger cities of Nosgoth, such as Willendorf, had grown too large and powerful over the past few centuries for the Circle to realistically control or even advise. A tradition of fierce independence and competition had taken hold as the cities increased their power and influence, and few city rulers wanted the Circle of Nine getting involved in their business. And so, the Guardians went their separate ways and spread out across Nosgoth.

In many ways, the Circle was essentially disbanded. They no longer convened at the Temple of the Guardians, which was now the home of the last remnants of the Sarafan Order and several organized guilds of vampire hunters. The Circle only gathered together once a year, in a different city each year, to renew their friendship and catch up on news and other gossip. This year they were meeting in Willendorf, where the Guardian of States, a man named Anarcrothe, lived.

Mortanius leaned back and let out a tired sigh. Four hundred years had passed since the fateful day when the half-breed leader Vorador assassinated six Guardians, an event which came to be known in the histories as the Slaughter of the Circle. Ellendra and Palton and the rest of his friends had died over four centuries ago, but their deaths were still foremost in his mind. The slaughter was a turning point in the history of Nosgoth.

The carriage tipped and lurched over uneven cobblestones, the wheels clacking loudly. Outside, Mortanius heard street vendors shouting, people arguing, horses neighing, and all the other assorted noise of civilization. He disliked the big cities. They were too noisy for him. Much of Nosgoth was still sparsely populated, thankfully, but large urban centers like Willendorf, Avernus, Freeport, and Stahlberg were becoming more common as the centuries passed and the population continued to grow. In another few hundred years, Mortanius wondered if the cities would eventually come to dominate all of Nosgoth.

The problem, from Mortanius's unique perspective, was that powerful cities frequently came into conflict with each other. This was nothing new, of course. Towns and cities in Nosgoth had been fighting with each other for over a thousand years. For almost as long, ambitious and greedy politicians had unsuccessfully tried to unify large regions in the hopes of creating the first empire of Nosgoth. Mortanius had forgotten the names of hundreds of such men.

The difference now was that modern cities were ten times as large as they were before, and their armies numbered in the tens of thousands. A powerful and charismatic ruler with an army that size could conquer half of Nosgoth. Armies were larger, weapons were more advanced, military strategy was more refined, and city leaders were even more power-hungry and ambitious than their predecessors. To Mortanius, it seemed inevitable that someday a conflict would break out between two cities which would eventually drag all of Nosgoth into war.

And unfortunately, there was absolutely nothing Mortanius could do about it. He was over one thousand years old, he was one of the greatest sorcerers in the world, and yet he was powerless.

The carriage finally rolled to a halt and the driver called down to him.

"My Lord, we've reached our destination. Would you like me to help you step down?"

Mortanius opened the door and leaned out. "No, I can manage myself, thank you."

He cast a quick spell and stepped off, gently floating down to the sidewalk. He wore a glossy black jacket and trousers, with silver and maroon trim. Anyone who passed him on the street might think he was about fifty years old, the slight touch of gray hair at his temples giving him a distinguished look. Going against popular fashion, he chose not to wear rings or other jewelry, and his shoes were simple and flat-soled, unlike the high-heeled boots some of the more ostentatious noblemen wore.

The sidewalk in front of Haubridge Manor was empty. It was located in an upper-class neighborhood which saw few pedestrians. Mortanius guessed that the mansion was built about two centuries before, but he wasn't sure. The building had a grim, overbearing feel to it. The front gate, currently open and waiting for him and the other visitors, was made of heavy black iron and topped with spikes. The mansion itself was solid gray stone with recessed windows and a sharp overhanging roof. Mortanius frowned and began walking to the front door.

"My Lord, do you need anything else?" the driver asked.

"No, that will be all. I'll be here the rest of the day. You may return to your employer."

"Yes, my Lord. Have a good day."

The carriage clattered away and Mortanius took one more look around before ascending the steps to the door. A servant opened it before he could knock.

"May I take your coat, my Lord?" the servant asked as he stepped inside. She wore a plain black uniform and her long blonde hair hung down her back in a complex braid.

He shook his head. "No, thank you."

The floor of the main hallway was marble, so clean and polished that he could practically see his reflection in it. A glittering chandelier hung overhead. Voices filtered from a nearby room.

"Is everyone else already here?" he asked.

"No, my Lord. The Guardian of Time and the Guardian of Energy are yet to arrive."

Mortanius nodded and walked down the hall, his leather shoes not making any sound. He turned a corner and entered a large sitting room with several cushioned chairs roughly arranged around a low table, which was covered in wine glasses and a tray of fruit and other refreshments. Bookshelves lined the walls.

"Ah, look who it is," Anarcrothe announced with a grin. He was a tall man with long, curly reddish-\blonde hair and chiseled good looks. He set his drink down as Mortanius entered the room, and stuck out his hand. Mortanius embraced it and nodded in greeting.

"Good to see you, old man. How was your trip?"

"Long and boring," Mortanius replied. He looked over at the other five Guardians in the room and said, "Greetings, everyone. I thought I'd be fashionably late, but it looks like I'm right on time."

"Moebius will be the last to show up, I'm sure," Anarcrothe said with a grin. "I think he does it on purpose as some kind of ironic joke."

"That would not surprise me at all," Mortanius agreed.

A dark-haired woman in a form-fitting purple evening dress strode forward and held out her hand as well. Mortanius obediently took it and gave her fingers a quick kiss. "Azimuth, you look stunning, as always."

"Just for you, Mortanius," Azimuth replied in a silken voice. "How are you? It's been too long since we've seen each other." Her lips shone bright red and her green eyes were outlined in makeup. Diamond earrings decorated her ears, and a diamond necklace hung around her neck. The necklace featured a silver pendant marked with the vampiric rune for the Dimension Pillar, and it rested comfortably in the space between her breasts. The neckline of her dress was almost low enough to be considered improper in polite company.

Mortanius did not allow his eyes to stray as he smiled and said, "It's only been a year. That's barely any time at all for people like us."

Two of the other Guardians gathered in Anarcrothe's sitting room were Ariel, the Guardian of Balance, and Nupraptor, the Guardian of Mind. Ariel was a pale, stone-faced woman with short blonde hair. Nupraptor, her lover, hovered at her side, his hand on her shoulder. He was tall and lanky, with dark hair and a perpetual frown. They both nodded politely but said nothing.

Seated in one of the chairs nearby was a burly-looking man who looked entirely out of place in a mansion such as this. While the others wore expensive clothing equal to their station, he wore a sleeveless fur jacket and deerskin pants. His black hair hung down his back in a greasy tangle, and his chin was rough and unshaven. He was the Guardian of Nature, and his name was Bane.

He raised a mug of ale in Mortanius's direction. "Have a drink, Mortanius. Sit with us and tell us of your adventures."

"Alas," Mortanius said apologetically, "my adventures are in the past. This year has been rather uneventful. I would prefer to hear what everyone else is up to."

As he spoke, he looked past Bane and the others to the silent figure standing at the other end of the room. It was a figure clad in dark gray armor and a full helm, his arms crossed over his chest. A visitor to the mansion might incorrectly assume that it was merely a suit of decorative armor placed in the room as a conversation piece. But Mortanius knew better.

"Malek," he said. "Greetings to you as well."

"And to you, Mortanius," the Guardian of Conflict replied evenly. His voice sounded almost natural, and from behind the eye slits in the great helm, Mortanius could almost detect a shimmer of light reflecting off his eyes. But Malek no longer had eyes.

Truth be told, Mortanius had no idea how much of Malek's physical body remained after more than four hundred years. Surely, the body hidden underneath the armor was little more than a skeleton with a few scraps of dry flesh clinging to the bones. But Malek never removed his armor, and no one ever asked him to. All of the Guardians knew that Malek was long dead, but they were so accustomed to it that it did not bother them. None of the other Guardians beside Mortanius and Moebius had ever known Malek when he was alive. The others had only ever known him as an undead suit of armor.

Mortanius could not fathom how Malek tolerated such an existence, but he had long since stopped trying to understand. During the first few years of Malek's undeath, Mortanius offered several times to end the spell that bound his body to the armor, but Malek always declined. He claimed that he had accepted his fate. Eventually, Mortanius stopped offering. He had not brought up the subject in more than three centuries.

"Come, come, have a seat," Azimuth said, leading him to a chair. When he sat down, she placed her hand on his leg and leaned in to speak. "I'm working on some fascinating experiments that you might be interested in. But I'd love to hear about your own projects first."

Anarcrothe handed him a glass of wine and sat down as well. "You don't have to give us any specific details. Your experiments are always a bit grim, if you don't mind me saying so," he chuckled.

"I'm working on a few little things," Mortanius said evasively. "Nothing important."

Nupraptor snorted in response. "Modest and humble, as always."

"Secretive, more like it," Ariel murmured, sipping her drink.

"I just don't want to bore anyone," Mortanius said, glancing at her. "And I know how easily bored you both are."

"Bored to death," Ariel said casually, and her lover Nupraptor smiled.

Anarcrothe interrupted, "Before you got here, Mortanius, I was talking about my trip last summer along the coast. Did you know that Meridian has opened a museum with vampiric artifacts? They have some incredible exhibits there."

Mortanius admired his friend for trying to subtly defuse the situation, but he had no interest in sharing barbs with Ariel and Nupraptor. Listening to Anarcrothe talk about his trip was a far more relaxing pastime, so he lounged in his seat and drank his wine as Anarcrothe regaled them with a story about his travels.

Ariel was the Guardian of Balance. Like her predecessor Ellendra, she was blonde, but their similarities ended there. Ellendra had been kind and generous and smart, despite being fickle and moody at times. Even at her most frustrating, she was optimistic and eager to learn new things, and she admitted her own faults and apologized when necessary. Ariel, on the other hand, was arrogant and rude and humorless. She looked upon the rest of the Circle with an expression of barely-disguised contempt, never missed an opportunity to insult someone, and hated doing work of any kind. To Mortanius's knowledge, she spent most of her free time drinking wine and ordering around her numerous personal servants.

Nupraptor, the Guardian of Mind, was scarcely any better. He and Ariel were practically made for each other. Mortanius had never known two more self-centered, cynical, and bitter people. He had no idea how two Guardians, who he had helped raise from childhood, could have grown into such unpleasant adults. Sometimes he wished that they would decline their invitation to the gathering each year, but they always showed up even though they never had anything nice to say to anyone.

Once Anarcrothe's story was finished, the conversation gradually split up into separate discussions. Anarcrothe and Bane began to talk about possible sea voyages across the ocean, while Ariel and Nupraptor whispered to each other and drank wine.

Azimuth sat close by Mortanius and chatted with him. She occasionally ran her fingers through her long, dark hair. "So, tell me what you're working on. Unlike some people, I promise I won't get bored."

He smiled. "Well, if you insist. I'm doing research about the souls of animals. They aren't as interesting as human souls, of course, but it's something new that I haven't studied very much."

Ever since he first became aware of the powers his Pillar granted him, Mortanius had known that animals had souls. The first soul he had ever touched was the soul of a rabbit. All animals, from fish to birds to wolves, had souls. Even insects had souls, although they were little more than tiny, insignificant blips of spiritual energy.

Mortanius's common observations showed that when an animal died, its soul moved on to the same kind of animal. The soul of a dog, once free, would inhabit another dog. But this was not a law of nature, he learned. He could very easily force the soul of a dead animal into a different animal; a dog soul into a pig, or an eagle soul into a deer, or a cow soul into a trout. His experiments showed that doing so had little effect on the behavior of the animal in question. A newborn puppy given the soul of a sparrow still behaved like a perfectly normal puppy. This showed that a soul, while incredibly important as the source of life and sentience, was not a pattern or a template for how an animal behaved.

However, the soul of an animal could not be implanted into a human being. Mortanius could move souls around with ease, and had no trouble implanting a specific soul into a child who was just being born, but no matter how hard he tried to force the soul of an animal into a baby, it never worked. The soul would not stick, and instead a regular human soul would appear from somewhere else in Nosgoth to inhabit the newborn child.

He explained some of this Azimuth, who listened patiently, her chin propped up in her hand. "It's hard to believe that there's anything about the afterlife that you don't already know," she said with a soft smile. "But I suppose there's always more to discover, right? New things to learn, new experiences to try out."

"Always," Mortanius said. "And what about you? You said earlier that you were working on something fascinating."

"Yes, I'm very proud of it," Azimuth replied enthusiastically. "It's so exciting. I've been working on it for a few years now, but I think I'm nearly done. It's a magical device. I've never tried to make one before, but so far it's turning out even better than I anticipated."

"Wonderful," Mortanius said. "I'm happy for you. I know how difficult it can be to enchant magical items. How does it work?"

"Well, it will enhance my ability to detect other planes of existence. I can sense them and sometimes look into them, of course, just as you can look into the spirit world, but it's incredibly difficult for me to focus for any length of time. The device will stabilize my powers and allow me to look into other dimensions for longer periods."

Azimuth's predecessor as Guardian of Dimension was Rashard, who Mortanius regrettably did not get to know very well before his tragic death in the Slaughter of the Circle. But the Dimension Guardian before him was Thesandrine, who Mortanius knew quite well. In their long friendship, she had told Mortanius much about her powers, and so he knew something of the dimensions that existed parallel to the one Nosgoth occupied. Thesandrine had once told him that there were possibly hundreds of other planes of existence, although she believed that the vast majority of them were empty universes, devoid of life. A few, however, were not. As far as Mortanius knew, Thesandrine had never been able to study one particular dimension long enough to learn about its native life. As Azimuth said, it was difficult to maintain a visual connection to the other dimensions for very long, although why that was the case was still unknown. By comparison, Mortanius's ability to look into the spirit world was nearly effortless.

"That's very impressive," he said. "I think congratulations are in order."

Azimuth grinned. "I was going to tell you all about it last time we met in Avernus, but it was still unfinished. Now it's almost complete."

"You said you've been working on it for a few years?"

"Well, more like thirty or forty years," Azimuth laughed.

"I remember Moebius once told me that he was building a similar kind of artifact for viewing the passage of time. I don't think he ever finished it, and that was hundreds of years ago. If you built yours in just a few decades, that's quite an accomplishment."

"Thank you. It means a lot coming from you. So you'll come and visit me in Avernus very soon, to come and see it?"

"Of course," Mortanius said.

"Wonderful," Azimuth purred, leaning back in her chair. "I can't wait to show you everything."

Mortanius was thinking of a response to that, when they all heard the front door open and the servant speaking to someone in the hall. A few moments later, the Guardian of Energy, a thin and fussy woman named DeJoule, came into the room.

"Hello, everyone. I'm sorry I'm late," she said.

She greeted everyone, shaking their hands or giving them a quick embrace. She even greeted Malek warmly and wished him well. Then she took a seat and began munching on some pastries that one of the other servants had brought in, as the other Guardians politely questioned what she had been doing the past year.

Not long afterward, Moebius arrived last, just as Anarcrothe predicted.

# Chapter Thirty Eight

Moebius had rented a room at a very exclusive hotel in Willendorf, and Mortanius agreed to meet him there after the gathering at Anarcrothe's mansion subsided. Ariel and Nupraptor had departed first, leaving barely an hour after Moebius finally arrived. A little while later, DeJoule and Bane bid everyone farewell and left together. Moebius and Malek followed afterward, leaving at around midnight. Mortanius chatted with Azimuth and Anarcrothe for a bit longer and then left as well, but not before Azimuth made him promise once more to visit her in Avernus as soon as possible.

"Mortanius, come in and have a seat," Moebius said when entered the room. It was lavishly decorated with hand-painted wallpaper, ornate wooden furniture, four plush chairs arranged around a small table in front of the small fireplace, and golden trim on the walls and around the mantle, where Moebius stood, pouring himself a drink from the well-stocked wine cabinet. "Would you like a drink?"

"No, thank you. I've had enough wine for today."

"Wine is the only thing that makes our little gatherings tolerable anymore," Moebius quipped, replacing the cork on a bottle. He was dressed in a shimmering purple and blue cloak, with the hood down to reveal his hairless pate. Like all the Guardians, with the exception of Malek, he still looked roughly in middle age, although his face seemed somewhat more narrow and creased than Mortanius remembered it being. But his piercing blue eyes still sparkled with life and energy, and he laughed to himself as he took the seat opposite Mortanius.

Malek stood by the window, looking out into the dark city street. He had not bothered to turn when Mortanius entered the room.

"For the love of the Pillars, sit down, Malek. You're making me nervous," Moebius said.

Malek turned and then stiffly walked over to an unoccupied chair. He sat down awkwardly, as if unfamiliar with the position, resting his gauntleted hands on his thighs. His armor creaked with the motion.

Mortanius crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. "So what's the occasion?"

"Oh, nothing special," Moebius said, taking a drink. "I just wanted to get together and catch up. Just the three of us, without the children around."

"Children?" Mortanius said, raising an eyebrow.

Moebius set down his glass. "Oh, you know what I mean. Even after all these years, I can't help but think of them as a bunch of spoiled and immature children. They don't know what the three of us went through. They don't understand how the world used to be."

Malek spoke up, "I prefer to think the opposite. The other Guardians are a part of the modern world in ways that we are not. We are ancient relics from a bygone age. We are too set in our ways. The younger Guardians have adapted to a changing society."

"Or maybe it's the other way around," Mortanius said. "Maybe the modern world has adapted to them."

Moebius scoffed. "If the world is changing to match the personality of a witch like Ariel, then I weep for the future."

"If anyone can test that hypothesis, it would be you," Mortanius pointed out. "Do you have any visions of the future that you wish to share with us?"

Moebius swirled his wine in his glass, looking at nothing in particular. "Not at the moment," he said. "Nothing that I haven't discussed with you before."

Malek leaned back slightly, his armor creaking with the movement. "The world is changing. That much is undeniable. It's not just the Guardians. The people of Nosgoth no longer struggle to survive, and so they have turned inward to more selfish pursuits. They have grown lazy and complacent. They have no respect for the Pillars or the Guardians, and no understanding of the past."

"I was in Brubek recently, staying at a tavern," Mortanius said. "I overheard some people talking about the vampires. It was all myth and rumor to them, not anything based in reality. They think the vampires were ten feet tall and breathed fire."

Malek nodded. "I have heard similar stories. The events that we lived through – events that you and Moebius shaped yourselves – have become little more than legends."

"The last vampire died four hundred years ago," Mortanius said. "That's almost fifteen generations. We can't expect normal people to comprehend that span of time."

"The last vampire," Moebius repeated with a trace of bitterness. "The commoners don't know the difference. They think that Vorador and his kin are vampires."

"Some people call Janos and his kind 'elder vampires' or 'vampire gods,'" Mortanius said.

Moebius gulped down the rest of his wine and angrily tossed the glass into the fireplace. "Gods? Bah! It would better to forget that vampires ever existed than call them gods!"

Very long ago, Janos had told Mortanius that he disliked the term "half-breed," and preferred to simply call humans "vampires" if they were turned. Now, it seemed that the rest of Nosgoth had come to feel the same way. Nobody called them half-breeds anymore. Once the original race of vampires had died out, the term "vampire" came to be used for the spawn they left behind. To Mortanius, it made no sense to call a creature like Vorador a vampire, but then again, he had known the real thing. To a normal person who had never seen a true vampire, a creature like Vorador was close enough.

The leader of the half-breeds still lived deep in the Termogent Forest. According to what little information Malek had been able to torture out of the half-breeds he captured, the assassin responsible for the Slaughter of the Circle lived in an ancient mansion cloaked in illusory magic that made it nearly impossible to detect. Only half-breeds could find it. Malek had spent centuries searching the vast forest, sometimes gathering hundreds of people to help, and yet they found nothing but trees.

The only other person who might have been able to help Malek in his quest was Bane, the Guardian of Nature. But he had so far proven unwilling to assist in what he deemed a "premeditated genocide." Like so many others, Bane simply could not understand what the vampires and their half-breed spawn represented, but in his particular case, Mortanius was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Bane was the Nature Guardian, after all. He could not abide the extinction of any living creature.

"How goes your hunting, Malek?" Mortanius asked in the sullen silence that followed.

"Fairly well. Last month, one of our teams tracked down a small group of half-breeds. One or two escaped, but the hunters killed six of them. I believe the current count is sixteen in the last year."

"How many do you think are still out there?"

"Less than a thousand. Perhaps considerably less."

Still looking into the fireplace, Moebius said, "I believe the half-breeds are at their weakest point since the years after the Guardians were killed. If only we could have finished them once and for all."

After the Slaughter of the Circle, public opinion had turned heavily against Vorador and his half-breeds. Led by Malek and Moebius, the outcry following the assassinations led to a record number of half-breeds killed or arrested and executed. Several hundred half-breeds were hunted down and killed in retaliation for Vorador's murderous act, which had itself been instigated by the death of Janos. Back and forth, the humans and the half-breeds perpetuated the cycle of revenge.

But memories were short, and eventually the public desire to punish the half-breeds waned. After thirty or forty years, anyone who was an adult at the time of the Slaughter had grown old, if they were even still alive. It was hard for Moebius and Malek to instill righteous anger in the citizens of Nosgoth who had been babies when the Guardians died. Once again, the Guardians' long life worked against them.

What few half-breeds still lived in Nosgoth kept their existence hidden if at all possible, although every time a new victim was discovered drained of blood, the search for the perpetrators began anew. And there were still lonely and desperate people willing to be turned into half-breeds for the promise of power and a long life. Malek and his vampire hunters killed every half-breed they found, but they could not stop willing volunteers from taking their place.

"As I said, the people of Nosgoth have grown complacent," Malek said. "They view the half-breeds as a simple nuisance. If they ignore them, they will go away."

"If we could get the populace truly unified once more," Moebius muttered, "then maybe we could finally exterminate the half-breeds."

"We've been trying for a thousand years," Mortanius said.

"And we will try for a thousand more, if need be," Malek said.

"It was easy to convince people to fight against the vampires," Mortanius said, looking at Moebius. "They were creatures utterly different than us. But half-breeds are still part human, remember."

"Even to this day, people choose to help them," Malek said, shaking his head. "I've discovered families willingly helping their half-breed relatives. Hiding them during the day, even finding new victims for them. I find such actions reprehensible."

Mortanius sighed. "It's hard for us to understand. We don't have families, after all."

"You almost sound like you're defending them," Moebius said.

"I'm just pointing out the difficulties in trying to eradicate the half-breeds. For centuries, we've kept them in check, but I think that's all we can really hope for. Even after what Vorador did, we couldn't maintain public pressure long enough to wipe them out. There would have to be some kind of drastic shift in public sentiment for the commoners to rise up against the half-breeds again."

"Then they're all fools," Moebius snapped, sitting up straighter. "Do we really have to have another senseless tragedy in order to motivate the people of Nosgoth to fight the half-breeds? They're monsters, they drink blood and kill innocent people! Is that not enough of a reason to eradicate them? I simply can't understand how anyone can tolerate the existence of such twisted freaks of nature."

"The commoners lack perspective," Malek said. "Their lives are simply too short for them to worry about such things. It is enough for them to believe the half-breeds are scarce, and the chances of ever becoming a victim are slim."

Mortanius got up from his chair and walked over to get a drink. "If we haven't been able to exterminate the half-breeds after a thousand years, then maybe it's simply not possible. They're like insects. You can burn the entire hive, but if even a few escape, then they can create another hive somewhere else. If I were you, I'd focus all my attention on killing Vorador."

"Believe me," Malek said, his voice betraying a rare glimpse of the anger that had once so defined him, "Vorador is never far from my thoughts."

Chapter Thirty Nine

It was not until a month later that Mortanius finally made the time to travel to Avernus to visit the Guardian of Dimension. The last time he had been to the city was when the Guardians gathered there for their yearly meeting about a dozen years prior, and it had not changed much in that short time. It was a smaller city than Willendorf, with narrower streets and an older architectural style to the shops and taverns that lined the main streets. Half a millennium before, the city had been founded by an obscure religious sect, the details of which escaped Mortanius at the moment. But one defining feature of the city had survived the intervening centuries, giving it a unique aspect that many other places lacked.

Scattered throughout the city were a number of large temples with steep, slanted black roofs and tall spires topped with gold. The largest such building, located near the center of the city, was simply known as Avernus Cathedral. Even after its original religious purpose faded away, the people of Avernus maintained the building in order to preserve its beautiful architecture and historical significance. It was also, coincidentally, where Azimuth currently made her home.

He hired a carriage to drop him off and walked up to the large front doors, which were already open. They were made of heavy black wood and carved with intricate designs. As he entered, he looked up to see imposing gargoyle creatures looking down from overhead, their stone features worn down from centuries of rain and wind.

The main hall of the temple was brightly lit with huge glowing orbs suspended from the arched ceiling. The walls were lined with expensive wooden paneling, and above the paneling were numerous pieces of art from all over Nosgoth. The artwork was new, but the caretakers of the temple had taken great care to leave as much of the original interior as possible. The main hall was lined with long wooden benches that had once seated worshipers who came to listen to their leaders speak. Now, most of the benches were empty, but a few of Azimuth's servants and other attendants were sitting around when Mortanius entered.

He looked up and took in his surroundings. So much of the world was young, compared to him, and it was nice to be in a place with a sense of age and history to it.

"Beautiful," Mortanius said as he looked around.

Azimuth walked up to him, wearing a sleeveless gown of dark blue, with golden bracelets jingling on her wrists. "Why, thank you, Mortanius," she said with a grin, putting a hand on her hip.

"You are always beautiful," he replied as she extended her hand for him to kiss. "But in this particular instance, I was referring to the Cathedral."

She took his arm and led him down the main aisle between the wooden benches. "Do you know the history of Avernus Cathedral?"

"A little of it. The followers of some short-lived religion built this place, although I don't remember the details."

"They believed that Nosgoth was created by a supernatural being called Avia, and that someday it would return to the world and make it into a paradise."

"That sounds appealing," Mortanius said. "So why did it die out?"

"Well, from what I understand, when the last of the old vampires was killed, the leader of their religion proclaimed that it was a sign that Avia was about to return. But of course, Avia did not return, and after a few decades, the religion lost almost all of its followers. The only reason we know about them at all is because of these grand temples they left behind."

Some of Azimuth's attendants were gathered near the front of the main hall, sitting in a half circle and talking animatedly about magic theory. They all stood up respectfully as Mortanius and Azimuth approached. Azimuth introduced Mortanius to them, but as was usually the case, he promptly forgot their names. They all seemed honored to meet him, although they made a point not to ask him anything specific about his powers as the Guardian of Death.

"Lord Mortanius and I are heading down to my laboratory," Azimuth said. "We'll likely be there the rest of the day. You're all free to stay here or return home, as you please."

"Thank you, Lady Azimuth," they all replied.

The group broke up and Azimuth led Mortanius away. They walked through a doorway to some office rooms and a wide set of stairs leading down.

"I assumed those were your servants, but they're actually students, aren't they?"

"Indeed," Azimuth replied with a smile. "Noble families are always looking for new ways to flaunt their wealth and privilege, and what better way than to have a Guardian of the Pillars teaching their children about magic?"

"How many students do you teach?"

"Right now I have fourteen, but I'll be finished with most of them by the end of next year and then I'll only have five or six."

"And the nobles pay you to tutor their children?"

"Handsomely."

Mortanius chuckled. "Well, you're more patient than I am. I can't imagine I'd ever be able to tolerate being around a bunch of young people all the time. Not that anyone would want me to teach them about my particular specialty."

"I think you'd be surprised. I'm sure you could find some willing students if you wanted. Some people might pay a large amount to learn the secrets of the dead."

Mortanius waved the comment away. "I have no need for money. I live rather simply."

"So I've heard," Azimuth said, leaning in as if sharing a secret. "You have a nice little estate near the Pillars, is that right? Now that you've come to visit me, I'll just have to make arrangements to come and visit you too."

"You're more than welcome. I don't have visitors very often."

"None of us do, not really. Not from the other Guardians, at least." She sighed. "You know, sometimes I feel like the others would prefer not to spend time with each other. We have our yearly get-together and that's as much contact as they want."

"I agree. Ariel and Nupraptor act like they can barely stand to be there for even a few hours."

"They certainly don't go out of their way to be friendly to the rest of the us, that's for sure. But for that matter, neither does Moebius. Or Bane. Or Malek either, but at least he has a genuine reason for the way he behaves."

"If you think Moebius is bad now, you should have seen him when he was young."

"I have a hard time imaging that Moebius was ever a young man."

"He was, and me as well, a millennium ago."

They reached the bottom of the stairs and Azimuth led him through a series of narrow antechambers until they reached a large circular room with a domed ceiling that must once have been beautiful, but now was stained with ages of smoke residue. Traces of the original artwork were barely visible beneath layers of grime.

The center of the room was taken up by a mammoth disc of glistening silver standing upright by a pair of golden support pillars atop a raised circular dais. The floor on the dais was covered in designs and runes drawn in silver paint. As they got closer, Mortanius realized that the paint was actually white, but ground-up diamonds had been mixed into the pigment. Other gemstones were embedded into the golden ring on the very edge of the silver disc, which was polished to a mirror finish.

Azimuth was looking at him. "Are you impressed?" she asked with a smile.

"Very," he replied after a moment, stepping closer to get a better look. "This must have cost an incredible sum to build."

"The central disc was the hardest part," Azimuth said. "It took me years to find someone who could produce one as large as I needed."

"It's solid silver?"

"Yes. I tried using a steel disc coated in silver, but it didn't work. For some reason, silver and gold are far more effective at stabilizing and amplifying magical power."

"I use gemstones for my enchantments, but I've never attempted something as large as this. Where did you get all the silver?"

"The Cathedral had a large number of silver cups and goblets and utensils and things like that. I had them all melted down."

He looked at her in surprise. "They let you melt down their property?"

"Their property?" Azimuth said, and then let out a soft laugh. She put her hand on Mortanius's shoulder. "Darling, this is all my property. I own Avernus Cathedral."

"You own it? How?"

"I purchased it from the city almost a century ago. I thought you knew that."

"I had no idea."

"Wealth has it advantages, my dear."

Mortanius returned his attention to the huge artifact. "Have you given your creation a name?"

"I call it the Dimensionscope," Azimuth said proudly. "Let me show you how it works."

Azimuth stepped up onto the dais while Mortanius remained standing several yards away, his arms crossed and eyes focused on her. She stood right in front of the disc, her legs apart as if to brace herself, and took hold of two golden handles attached to the support pillars. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and went still.

Within a few seconds, the silver disc began to ripple and shift through several colors like a rainbow passing over its surface. Azimuth remained completely motionless, her eyes tightly closed. If he watched closely, Mortanius could see thin crackles of magic coursing through the handles and into the ring, and if he stood close to it, the energy would have made his hair stand up like static electricity. But he stood far back and kept his gaze fixed on the central disc, which continued to shift and change as Azimuth focused her magic through it.

The disc seemed to blur and re-focus, like sighting something through a telescope. Colors and a multitude of random shapes swept across the surface, and slowly the faint outline of an image began to form. Mortanius could make out what appeared to be a jagged horizon under a roiling gray sky. Stones or other objects were strewn about, and amidst the rubble, Mortanius thought he could detect small moving shapes, like insects or tiny lizards.

Azimuth held the image for several minutes, long enough for significant details to emerge. But from what Mortanius could make out, the world viewed through Azimuth's device was a sterile, dead place. Whatever strange sun shined upon that world could not penetrate the thick clouds, and there was no plantlife visible. What Mortanius thought were insects were nothing but fragments of dust and dirt, blown by a constant wind.

Finally, Azimuth grew tired and began to waver side to side, as if intoxicated. The image through the device shimmered and dissipated like smoke and then disappeared, revealing the flawless surface of the silver disc once more. Mortanius hurried over to help Azimuth step off the dais. She seemed unsteady on her feet.

"Do you need a drink of water or anything?"

She shook her head. "No, I just need to rest for a minute. Let's go over there."

Mortanius led her to a long couch set against the curved wall. He went to ease her down into the seat, but she let herself fall and grabbed his arm, pulling him down with her. He wound up laying practically on top of her, trying to regain his balance, as she laughed in his ear. She hooked one leg around his waist, tangling them together.

"Oh, Mortanius," she giggled, wrapping her arm around him.

He pulled himself up enough that they were face to face, an embarrassed smile on his lips. "You did that on purpose," he said.

"Come now," she purred, pulling him closer. "Did you really think that I invited you all the way out here just to see a magical demonstration?"

"I thought that was the primary reason, yes. I knew you were flirting with me, but I thought it was just that. Harmless flirting."

In response, she grabbed his neck and pulled him down to kiss him with an intensity that took him by surprise. When she finally let him pull away, she breathed, "Not so harmless now, is it? However, I'll admit that your technique needs some work."

"I guess I'm out of practice," he admitted, still tasting her on his lips.

"Oh? How long has it been?"

Four centuries, he thought. He hadn't been with a woman since Ellendra. But instead of saying that, he merely muttered, "A very long time."

She grinned devilishly. "Well then, perhaps it's time for you to shake the cobwebs loose. But not here on the couch. My private quarters are just down the hall." She squirmed out from under him, took his hand, and led him to her bedroom.

# Chapter Forty

Mortanius's primary residence was a rather modest estate a few hours' ride north of the Pillars, in the middle of a grove of trees that shielded the property from curious eyes. His closest neighbors, mostly minor nobles unable to afford larger homes, didn't even know that he was a Guardian. They assumed he was just some quiet man who kept to himself. He traveled a lot, and regularly spent two or three weeks at a time away from his residence.

He had only two full-time employees. One was a gruff, private man named Algon, who took care of the yardwork and maintained the property. The other, a man named Silenar, was the housekeeper and cook. For Mortanius's other specific requirements, he hired out a trio of local laborers who minded their own business and were good at keeping quiet, but Mortanius only needed their services a few times a year. Sometimes he asked Algon for help, but often he tried to do everything himself.

Down in his laboratory, he wiped down his examination tables after a long series of experiments over the last few weeks. All of the specimens had been removed and disposed of. Now he was packing up some equipment that he didn't intend to use again very soon. He had promised Azimuth to return to Avernus as soon as his experiments were complete, so once the lab was clean, he planned to make arrangements to be gone for a few months. Silenar and Algon should have no problem keeping an eye on things while he was gone.

He set one of his magic grimoires on an overcrowded bookshelf and looked up as there was a knock on the door. Silenar doddered inside and gave a short bow. White hair sprouted on his temples and he walked with a cane now.

Mortanius had to remind himself that Silenar had worked for him for more than thirty years. Algon had worked there for twenty. It wouldn't be long before they passed away or chose to retire, and then Mortanius would be forced to find someone new. It was possible that one of Silenar's children or even grandchildren might choose to follow in his footsteps, but Algon had no children or other family. Hopefully, Mortanius wouldn't have to worry about it for another few years, but a few years was a tiny span of time to him.

The older he got, the more difficult it became to comprehend the short lifespans of normal people. Mortanius thought nothing of spending a few decades on some minor pursuit, when such a project would encompass the entire adult life of someone like Silenar. Mortals reached adulthood, got married, had children, grew old, and died in the time it took for Mortanius to get to know someone well enough to call them a friend.

"My Lord," Silenar said. "It appears you have a visitor."

"One of the locals?" he asked.

"No, my Lord. A noblewoman of some stature, I believe. I've never seen her before."

Mortanius put a few more books on the shelf, carefully placing them so they were all lined up with each other, their spines flush with the edge of the shelf. "Did she give a name?"

"Yes, she said her name was Ariel."

Mortanius nearly dropped the spellbook he was holding. Guardians could always tell when they were in close proximity to each other. He had not been paying attention, but now that he focused, he could tell that she was nearby.

"My Lord?" Silenar said, noticing his reaction. "May I ask who she is?"

"She's the Guardian of Balance."

He left the laboratory and went to the main foyer, where she was waiting for him, looking out the window with her arms crossed. She was dressed in a featureless blue dress without any jewelry or other adornments. She probably thought such a simple outfit marked her as a commoner, but her attitude and demeanor alone were evidence of her wealth and upbringing. Silenar recognized her as a noblewoman right away.

"This is an unexpected visit," Mortanius said. "I didn't know you'd be coming by. You should have let me know in advance."

Ariel turned to look at him. "I didn't know if you were at home," she said coolly. "I know you travel frequently. Besides, this visit wasn't planned. I was coming back from the Pillars and I decided to come and talk to you."

"Well, I'm honored that you chose to grace my home with your presence."

"Is that supposed to be sarcasm?"

He joined her at the window and glanced outside. He saw Algon leading away Ariel's horse, a lovely chestnut mare. "I'm not being sarcastic, I'm just surprised to see you. What is it that you wanted to talk about?"

She paused and took a breath. "Dismiss your servant, please. I'd prefer to speak in private about this."

"Come to my study. We can talk there. Would you like anything to eat or drink?"

"Water, please."

"Silenar, get some water for Lady Ariel and bring it to my study."

Unlike his laboratory, which was full of magical and biological texts related to his work, his personal study was full of books of history, poetry, and fiction. It was the place he went to get away from thoughts of death. The afternoon sun poured in through floor-to-ceiling windows and shone off the polished wood floor.

Mortanius took a seat in one of the cushioned chairs while Ariel walked to the windows, her back to him. Silenar arrived a minute later with a tray carrying a pitcher of cold water with several glasses. He set it down on a table and then left the room, closing the door after him.

"Is something wrong, Ariel?" Mortanius asked.

She did not answer at first. As far as he could tell, she didn't actually look upset, but it was hard to tell with her. If anything, she looked dismissive and arrogant, as usual. But her coming to visit him unannounced was very out of the ordinary. Something had to be wrong.

"How much do you know about my powers, Mortanius?" she asked finally, still looking out the window. "About the Pillar of Balance, I mean?"

"Not very much," he replied. "Do you remember when you first became a Guardian? Moebius and I weren't able to give you much schooling at all about your powers, because we simply didn't know what they were."

"I do remember. But you were in a ... relationship with my predecessor, is that right?"

"Yes, it is."

"She didn't tell you anything about her Pillar?"

Mortanius sighed and reached over to pour some water. "Not really. Ellendra disagreed with some of my experiments and preferred not to know about my own powers as Death Guardian. She rarely talked about her own connection to her Pillar, and I respected her enough not to ask."

Ariel came over to took a glass. She raised it to her lips and drank it all in one breath. Then she sighed and set it back down. "Thank you. I've been riding a lot today and my throat was parched."

"You're welcome. You said you were at the Pillars?"

"Yes, I go there regularly. I know some of the others don't."

"I probably haven't actually been to the Pillars in years," Mortanius confessed. "And I think I live closer than anyone else does."

"Well, you've probably spent more time at the Pillars than anyone else. I do it because it helps me concentrate on my powers."

"The Balance Pillar is the central Pillar, if I remember correctly."

She nodded. "That's right. And I believe that was intentional."

Mortanius leaned back and propped one leg up on the other. "So tell me about your powers, Ariel. I assume the Balance Pillar controls or guides some kind of natural balance to the universe, but I really don't know what that implies."

"Neither do I. Not really." She sighed and went over to one of the other chairs. Lowering herself into it, she seemed to struggle to gather her thoughts. "It's like looking at the health of Nosgoth," she said vaguely. "I can sense how the other Pillars all interact with the world. It's like I can see the invisible weave of magic that surrounds us and the Pillars, and how they complement and contradict each other. When those lines of power are out of balance or in conflict, I can sense it."

"I see. Can you detect specific conflicts, or ..."

Ariel shook her head. "No, it's never that clear. And it's not always in direct relation to the Pillars themselves. Like I said, it's like seeing the health of Nosgoth. Do you remember when a plague broke out in Delrenir, maybe two hundred years ago? I felt that, and I can feel other events like it. Anything that upsets the fragile balance of life, I can sense."

"Okay, then. And visiting the Pillars helps you focus your abilities?"

"Yes, although I don't know why. None of the other Guardians seem to notice a difference."

"To be honest, I've never tried. But I suspect that your powers are different than the rest of ours. It makes sense to me that proximity to the Pillars would increase your sensitivity."

"Yes, that's a good way to describe it. Sometimes I get the feeling that something is out of balance, so I travel to the Pillars to see if I can determine what it is."

"Is that why you were at the Pillars today?" Mortanius asked, already knowing the answer.

Ariel took a moment to search for the right words. "There's something wrong," she said, looking out the window. "It's like how you can feel in the air that a lightning storm is on the way. When I reach out, I just feel a sense that something is out of place. The delicate balance that defines Nosgoth has tipped somehow."

Mortanius leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. "Has something like this ever happened before?"

"It fluctuates," Ariel admitted. "But always in relatively minor ways. Like the plague in Delrenir, it always corrects itself within a few years. This is something else. I first sensed it decades ago and it's been getting slowly more pronounced. At the Pillars just now, I could feel it clearly. Something has upset the balance of Nosgoth."

"Do you have any idea what it could be?"

She shrugged helplessly. "It could be a million things. I really don't know. That's why I wanted to talk to you about it."

"Why me? You've never asked me for advice before."

"You're the oldest of us. Maybe you've noticed something the rest of us have missed."

Mortanius rubbed his chin, suddenly feeling much older. "I spoke with Moebius and Malek after our gathering in Willendorf. We were talking about how much has changed. The independent city governments are so much more powerful than they used to be. It seems to me that war is almost inevitable at this point. Could that be what has upset the balance?"

"Possibly. I thought that as well. It makes sense, in a way."

"It could be something else, though."

"Yes. It might even be something completely out of our control, like some geological change. Maybe one of the volcanoes in the far north is going to erupt. But somehow, I don't believe that."

"Why not?"

"It's been slowly building for years. If it was a natural disaster, or even another plague or a famine or something like that, it would have happened by now. Whatever it is, it's been slowly getting worse for decades."

"It might still be something like that. We could contact some of the city governments to see if they have noticed any recent natural events, like small earthquakes or something. I can't see what else it might be. We would have noticed by now if something else was going on."

"That's what worries me. What if we have noticed, but we mistook it for a positive change? There is one possibility that I had considered. It's one of the other reasons I wanted to talk to you about this."

"What possibility?"

"Maybe it has something to do with the vampires."

"But the vampires are barely a problem anymore. Their population has been dwindling for ..."

"Exactly."

Mortanius let himself slump back in his seat, letting out a long breath. "Have you been reading the old records, Ariel?"

She looked at him evenly. "I did some research on the vampires a very long time ago. They built the Pillars, after all. It seemed a worthwhile topic for study. But I remember reading somewhere that the vampires – the real vampires, I mean, not Vorador and his kind – claimed that the Pillars needed to remain under their control. It was the reason they turned humans into half-breeds. It was the reason you and Moebius overthrew them."

"That's true. They believed quite fanatically that the Pillars must remain in vampire hands, although they never deigned to explain to us why that was the case."

"I take it you don't believe that?"

"Well, they've been in human hands for over a thousand years. You said this disturbance in the balance has only been going on for a few decades. I don't see how they could be related."

"It's just an idea. The vampires ruled Nosgoth for thousands of years before humans came along. They used magical powers far beyond our comprehension in order to build the Pillars. Maybe in doing so, they somehow ..." She gave a shrug and looked out the window. "Maybe they bound themselves to the land in some fundamental way. Maybe Nosgoth needs their presence. If the half-breeds are slowly dying out, then it might explain this feeling I have."

Mortanius thought back to the last time he ever spoke with Janos. It had been at the Pillars, not long after the ceremony that made Ellendra into a Guardian. The specifics of their conversation had faded from his memory, but he remembered that Janos had once again insisted that the Pillars had to remain under the guardianship of the vampire race. But in all the centuries since, Mortanius had seen not one single piece of evidence that it was true. Nosgoth had grown and prospered and thrived in the thousands years since the vampire Guardians were killed.

But Mortanius could not completely dismiss Ariel's idea. There was still so much about the vampires and the Pillars that they didn't know. Her suggestion that the vampires had magically bound themselves to Nosgoth was not entirely out of the question. They had harnessed enough magical power to banish an entire race of beings from the world, and they paid a steep price for what they had done. But what if the creation of the Pillars had more subtle consequences? Mortanius realized that the vampires might not have entirely understood the Pillars or their relationship to them either.

The vampire race was long extinct, but perhaps Vorador and his half-breeds maintained enough of the original vampire bloodline to keep Nosgoth in balance? And if they were finally eradicated, as Moebius and Malek had long desired, what might happen then?

Chapter Forty One

The northeastern lands of Nosgoth were full of rocky hills, sparse woodlands, and wide meadows of coarse grass. The temperature was generally cooler in the summer, but the winters tended to be harsh. That, combined with rocky soil that made farming difficult, made the region less-populous than the south. For centuries, the only residents were from isolated communities of hearty men and women whose lifestyle was somewhat more crude than their southern neighbors. But recently, advances in farming and a gradual spread northwards for available land had increased the population tenfold.

The carriage Mortanius rode in bumped over another hole in the dirt road that led north through the hills. He rocked back and forth, accustomed to the motion by now, having traveled for over twelve hours along the curving road. Mortanius considered casting a spell to fly the rest of the way there, but flying for long periods of time was both physically and mentally challenging. Riding in a carriage was still the most convenient method of travel over long distances.

Thankfully, at least the trip was almost over. He pushed the window curtain aside to see lines of dwellings up ahead, and beyond that a sprawling city nestled between ranges of hills. Lines of smoke rose into the air from hundreds of chimneys, and even from this distance Mortanius could hear the bustle of civilization.

The trip was Moebius's idea. In the past forty years or so, a city called Winterheim had gained some local influence, led by a charismatic ruler named Wulgren. Unexpectedly, Wulgren had died of an illness some years before, but his eldest son followed in father's footstep, and Winterheim had grown into the capital of a thriving and popular province. The son's name was William, and Mortanius was traveling to Winterheim to attend his twentieth birthday celebration. Many local leaders would be there, from nearby cities such as Willendorf and Alamire. Some of the other Guardians were supposed to be there as well.

Not Azimuth, though. She was busy with her new discoveries and didn't want to leave the Cathedral for any reason. Mortanius respected her hard work and intensity, but at the same time he felt that it was better to take time away now and then. They were immortal, after all. There was no reason to work yourself to exhaustion.

His carriage passed the outskirts of the city and the dirt road became a roughly-paved street, which was possibly even more bumpy and uneven. Mortanius sighed and looked out the carriage window again. Based on his view, Winterheim was a rustic sort of place, full of homes with thatched roofs and large yards. As the carriage made its way to Winterheim Castle, it became more dense and crowded with people, as the celebration attracted almost everyone in the city.

The carriage pulled to a stop at the end of a long line of other carriages out in front of the castle, most of them much more expensive and luxurious than his own. He stepped outside and began walking toward the huge front gate of Winterheim Castle.

People milled around everywhere. They came from all walks of life: nobles, soldiers, merchants, laborers, peasants. A few enterprising individuals were selling muffins and other small treats for a few coppers each. Mortanius guessed that by the end of the day, their money sack would be full to bursting. There were entertainers as well, jugglers and acrobats staking out profitable corners were they could draw an audience.

"Ah, there you are," came the voice of Moebius from off to his left. "I was wondering when you'd show up." The Guardian of Time emerged from the crowd and walked over to him with a natural smile on his face, tapping his staff on the pavement.

"The roads are so blocked, I'm lucky I got here at all," Mortanius said, smiling as well. "How have you been, Moebius?"

"I'm doing wonderful, and yourself?"

"I'm well."

"Still living with Azimuth?"

"I suppose you could say we're living together, yes."

Moebius grinned conspiratorially and patted Mortanius on the shoulder. "Well, I'm happy for you. She's quite a woman. It's a shame she couldn't be here."

"Did any of the other Guardians come, or is it just us?"

"Bane said he was coming, but I haven't seen him."

Mortanius gestured to the castle and the growing crowd as Moebius led him through the gate to the outer courtyard, where if anything the crowd was even more tightly packed. "This crowd is so big, I'm not surprised. There's a lot of people here for a province this far north. I'd expect a gathering like this in Willendorf or Meridian. They really have brought people from all over Nosgoth."

"I told you," Moebius said with a hint of pride. "William is very popular. You should pay more attention to politics."

"I gave up on politics a long time ago," Mortanius muttered. A servant came by with a tray of water glasses and he took one. He would have preferred wine, but the cold water was enough to soothe his thirst after the long carriage ride.

"I've arranged a meeting with William," Moebius said. "So you'll get to meet him."

"How did you manage that?"

"I've met him a few times already. He and I are very nearly friends."

Mortanius raised an eyebrow at the odd phrasing. "Very nearly?"

"Well, you know how it is," Moebius said with a wave of his hand.

In fact, Mortanius didn't know how it was. But he was accustomed to Moebius's occasionally strange behavior, so he let the subject drop.

They crossed the threshold from the outer courtyard to the inner yard, which was a more exclusive area. It was less crowded there, with a greater concentration of minor nobles, but very few commoners allowed in. Guards wielding pikes let Mortanius and Moebius pass without so much as a glance. Most of the nobles, Mortanius and Moebius excluded, traveled with entourages of bodyguards and assorted hangers-on, unwilling to risk being in too close proximity to the commoners. Although the fact that members of such vastly different economic statuses mingled at all in a place like this was rather remarkable.

"How many times have you visited this place?" Mortanius asked.

"Oh, maybe a dozen times."

"The guards here recognize you."

"That's probably true."

The other end of the yard led through a set of huge doors into the main hall of Winterheim. The castle was built of imposing blocks of white and gray stone, and the walls slanted almost imperceptibly inward before curving to an arched ceiling high above. Statues of the previous rulers of Winterheim lined the hall, or at least historically inaccurate depictions of them. Mortanius doubted that the tribal rulers of this region more than three hundred years ago had hired sculptors to carve lifelike statues of them during their own lifetimes.

A portly man in a dark blue royal cloak approached them, spreading his arms wide. "Ah, Lord Moebius. It's wonderful to see you again," he said in a rich voice. "How was your trip?"

"Uneventful, but I prefer it that way," Moebius said, shaking the man's hand. "Master Delvinius, may I introduce you to Lord Mortanius of the Pillars. Mortanius, this is Master Delvinius, one of William's advisers."

Delvinius's eyes lit up and he eagerly shook Mortanius' hand as well. "Another Guardian! What a pleasure to meet you!"

"And you as well," Mortanius said. "I'm happy to be here."

"Is William free to meet with us?" Moebius asked.

Delvinius rubbed his chin and looked over his shoulder at the closed doors at the other end of the main hall. "Well, we can certainly go and and find out. He's obviously very busy today, but I'm sure he can make time to meet with two Guardians of the Pillars, at least for a moment or two."

He led Mortanius and Moebius through the doors to a smaller chamber dominated by a huge wooden table. About two dozen well-dressed nobles were standing around, talking in loud voices, trying to be heard. Another dozen armed soldiers – William's personal guard – stood close by, their faces stern and hands ready at the hilts of their swords.

At the center of the group was a tall, handsome young man with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was that of infinite patience in the face of so many needy and demanding subordinates. He nodded occasionally and even rewarded one or two of his advisers and counselors with an approving smile as they flooded him with questions and opinions. Despite his age – he was only twenty years old, younger than Mortanius had been when they rebelled against the vampires – he had the bearing of a leader. Of course, he'd been ruler of Winterheim for a few years now, and had clearly grown into the role.

William cut down the babble of voices with a quick swipe of his hand. "Lord Moebius," he announced, stepping out of the circle of men. "Welcome back to Winterheim. It's good to see you again."

Moebius gave the slightest hint of a bow. The gesture of respect was rare, and Mortanius noticed it right away. "How could I possibly miss your birthday?" Moebius asked with a smile. "I hope I'm not intruding on an important discussion."

"Nothing that can't wait," William said, and then turned to face Mortanius. "You must be Mortanius. It's an honor to meet you, Guardian. Moebius told me you'd be coming."

"It's an honor to meet you," Mortanius said, following Moebius's lead and giving a respectful bow. "You have a lovely city here, my Lord. I regret not visiting sooner."

"You're certainly welcome to come by any time you like."

One of the other men in the room, an older gentleman in a dark blue outfit, came up to William and said, "My Lord, we've begun seating guests in the throne room."

"Good," William said. "Carry on."

Moebius said, "I suppose that means Mortanius and I should be on our way. If we arrive at the throne room early, we'll get good seats."

William chuckled good-naturedly. "Yes, I can sense that my advisers are already impatient to get back to our discussion. A ruler's work never ends, isn't that so? Hopefully I'll be able to talk to you both later, but I'm afraid I might not have a chance."

"I understand, my Lord," Mortanius said. "You'll be busy today, I'm sure. Perhaps we can meet up in private later, when the time is right."

# Chapter Forty Two

They were escorted by two guards to the throne room, to find that the place was already full of people. Servants had cleared an aisle down the center of the room, on either side of which was a tightly packed mass of people, mostly nobles and high-ranking politicians. Guards were spaced out evenly along the walls and all around the throne. Near the back of the room, they allowed local merchants and well-regarded citizens to fill in whatever empty spaces remained. The mood was positive, the attitude friendly and jovial.

"Mortanius!" a voice boomed. "Over here!"

It was Bane, the Guardian of Nature, waving his arms in the middle of the crowd. Beside him, comparatively tiny next to his tall and muscular frame, was DeJoule, the Guardian of Energy. She looked embarrassed at his outburst, but waved them over as well.

"We looked for you earlier," she said as they walked over. "But we couldn't find you so we came here to wait."

Mortanius shook Bane's hand and gave DeJoule a quick hug. "It's a shame we missed you. We got to meet with William, for a few minutes at least."

DeJoule looked crestfallen. "Oh, I'd like to meet him too. I guess I'll just have to wait until his birthday next year."

"I brought William a gift," Moebius said. "So I'll have to wait in line. I'll catch up with you after I'm finished."

"I brought something for him as well," Bane said. "But I left it with my servants outside."

"Then have them bring it in and get yourself a place in line," Moebius advised with a smile. "I suspect the line will get quite long."

"All right then," Bane sighed. "I'll be back here later."

"Don't worry," DeJoule said. "We'll wait for you."

Bane left the throne room to retrieve his gift, and Moebius got into line. Due to his friendship with William, he was reserved a spot about twenty people back. Two servants stood right behind him, holding a long wooden case of dark, polished wood. The line continued behind him almost all the way out of the room. By the time Bane got back, it would be a hundred people long.

"I hope William's not offended that I didn't bring anything," DeJoule said, wringing her hands.

Mortanius smiled. "Neither did I. I'm sure he feels that your presence here is enough of a gift. In fact, I suspect that some of the other powerful nobles here are jealous that William has four Guardians in attendance today. It's rare to see so many of us in one place."

"Well, both Bane and Moebius brought him something."

"What did Bane bring?"

"A giant mountain elk, stuffed as a hunting trophy. It's nine feet tall. It's very impressive and I don't even like that sort of thing. What about Moebius?"

"I have no idea what he brought."

"It's a long wooden box," DeJoule said. "I wonder if he made another magical staff like the one he always carries."

Mortanius shook his head and looked over to where Moebius was standing. He found it amusing that DeJoule didn't know the origins of Moebius's staff, or how they had used it to overthrow the vampires so long ago, but at the same time it saddened him that such things were unknown even to the other Guardians. How could she think that Moebius had made his own staff? Had he and Moebius never told her how he acquired it?

"No," he said. "His staff is one-of-a-kind. I suspect he's giving William a sword or something more befitting a ruler."

"Yes, you're probably right."

William entered the throne room preceded by a line of trumpet players to announce his arrival in loud, bright tones. He waved to the assembled guests as they clapped and cheered for him. The advisers came in afterward and took up places behind the throne, along with more guards. William gave a quick speech thanking everyone for being there, and then they got started.

William played the part of a gracious, enthusiastic host perfectly. Each person who stepped up to the throne to hand over their gift was greeted with an authentic smile and warm words. The first few people were William's family members and his closest friends. His younger sister gave him a lovingly-embroidered cloth with the symbol of their noble family. A member of another noble family, apparently one of William's personal friends, gave him a golden ring with a huge blue sapphire. After each gift, people clapped in appreciation. After a few more family members, it was Moebius's turn in line.

"Lord Moebius of the Pillars," announced the castle chamberlain.

With a nod, Moebius motioned for the two servants to step ahead of him, and then walked slowly up to the throne, his staff tapping on the floor. Many of the people in the audience weren't really paying attention, they chatted and murmured with each other, commenting on and comparing the quality of the gifts so far. Occasions such as these were opportunities for the noble families to show their wealth by giving the grandest and most expensive gifts possible.

"Greetings, Lord William," Moebius said, "and a joyous birthday to you. I have brought this small token of my friendship and loyalty. I hope you'll like it."

"I'm sure I will," William said. "Bring it here and let me see."

The two servants stood at either end of the long rectangular box while Moebius reached over it and lifted the brass latch to raise the lid. The smile on William's face faded as he looked down with a dumbfounded expression, his mouth nearly hanging open. The other people near the throne, including Lord Delvinius and a few other high-ranking advisers, stared at the contents of the box in amazement, huddling closer around it to get a closer look.

"Oh, my," William breathed. "It's beautiful."

"Take it, my Lord," Moebius said, "so everyone can see."

William held out his hand hesitantly, as if afraid that the object in the box would burn him. Mortanius leaned forward in his seat, suddenly very curious. Conversation in the hall seemed to fade away as everyone's attention was drawn by the scene.

As Mortanius suspected, the box contained a sword, but it was not just any sword. William gripped the handle and pulled out a long serpentine blade of gleaming steel, shimmering with the light pouring in from the large windows. The crossguard was decorated with a huge skull. Despite the sword's length and apparent weight, William raised it almost effortlessly above his head, so that even the people in the back of the room could see it.

"It's ... it's amazing," William said. "Wherever did you get a sword like this? I know of no weaponsmith who could forge such a blade."

Moebius beamed, looking at William like a proud parent. "The sword in your hands is an ancient artifact, my Lord, lost for many centuries and only recently rediscovered. It's origins are sadly lost to history, but it was forged by the ancient race of vampires that once ruled Nosgoth. It was wielded by the very last of those vampires, the creature known as Janos, who terrorized the city of Uschtenheim for hundreds of years before he was finally slain by the legendary Sarafan Knights."

Mortanius could hardly believe his own eyes. The sword had been lost, that much was true, but Moebius had left out a few significant details. It was lost on the very night that Vorador committed the Slaughter of the Circle. Mortanius always assumed it was still in Vorador's possession. How in the world did Moebius come to find it after so long?

"An artifact of the ancient vampires?" William asked, his eyes running up and down the wavy, swerving blade. "This is incredible. Moebius, I am not worthy of such a gift. This belongs in a museum, or ..."

"My Lord, a sword like that belongs in the hand of a great ruler, and I can think of no one in Nosgoth who fits that description better than you."

William looked at Moebius and then nodded slightly. Perhaps a more humble man would have politely disagreed with Moebius's assessment, but William knew that this was no place for humility. He turned the blade over, letting the light reflect down the curving edge of the blade. "Does this magnificent sword have a name?"

"None that I know of," Moebius said. "Maybe the vampires had a name for it, but I don't know what it might have been."

With that, Moebius gave a small bow and stepped away from the throne, leaving William and his advisers to marvel over the beautiful weapon in his grasp. The man in line behind Moebius, some local nobleman with connections to William's family, gave Moebius a harsh glare and then looked disapprovingly at the rare book in his hands and sighed.

Mortanius slid past a confused DeJoule and hurried to the edge of the crowd, to cut Moebius off before he could get too far away.

"Why didn't you tell me you found the sword?" he snapped, trying unsuccessfully to keep his voice low. "Where did you find it?"

Moebius chuckled and put his hand on Mortanius's shoulder. "Calm down, calm down. I meant to tell you, but I was busy with other things. And you've been working with Azimuth. I guess I wanted it to be a surprise."

"How did you get it?" Mortanius asked again.

"We found it a few years ago. Or rather, some boys swimming in the Southern Lake found it. It was half-buried in the mud, about a hundred feet from the shore. They gave it to their local village elder and it eventually found its way to Malek."

"It was in the lake?"

"Yes," Moebius nodded. "Vorador must have hurled it into the water after ... after the massacre. Why, I don't know. Maybe he was trying to hide it in case we managed to track him down. Maybe he felt that he didn't deserve the sword any more than we did."

"That's unbelievable," Mortanius said. "All this time, we thought Vorador had it."

"Apparently, it's been in the lake ever since. And there wasn't a spot of corrosion or rust on it. I don't understand what method the vampires used to forge the blade, but it's far more advanced than anything we're capable of. The sword is flawless."

"You've examined it closely? Is the sword magical?"

"Yes, although the nature of its enchantment is a mystery to me. The whole sword carries a latent magical aura, but like all the vampire artifacts, I'm not sure how it works."

At the throne, William was accepting a gift from another high-ranking nobleman. The sword had been returned to its box and placed on a long table in the back of the room. A few guards stood nearby, keeping an eye on the sword and the other gifts that rested on the table. Mortanius wanted to walk over and inspect the sword himself, but he didn't think they would appreciate it. Later, once the gift-giving was complete, he intended to ask William for a closer look.

"William was right," he said. "You should have given the sword to a museum."

"Well, I chose to give it to William instead."

"It wasn't yours to give. That sword is a priceless artifact."

Moebius shrugged dismissively. Such concerns had never meant much to him. Mortanius wished he could just accept what Moebius had done, but the truth was that he was angry and frustrated that his old friend had taken it upon himself to give such an item away as a present without the consent of the rest of the Circle.

"Just look at him," Moebius said. "Has Nosgoth ever known such a noble ruler?"

"I suppose not," Mortanius admitted.

"Do you recognize him?"

"What do you mean? I only just met him today."

"I know, but I described him to you once." Moebius smiled as he watched William speak with the dignitary standing before him. The man had brought a small chest of sparkling gemstones as his gift.

Mortanius could not hide his confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's okay if you don't remember," Moebius said. "It was very long ago, I'm not even sure how long. Several hundred years, at least. But I told you about a tall, handsome man with long blonde hair, standing in a huge throne room such as this, wielding a ..."

"... wielding a giant curved sword," Mortanius said, finishing the sentence. He turned and looked at William and realized that Moebius had indeed once described this very scene to him. He remembered, but like Moebius, he couldn't recall exactly when their conversation had taken place. Moebius had been talking about his visions of the future, and he described what Mortanius was watching with his own eyes right now, half a millennium later.

"You said he was the first King of Nosgoth."

Moebius gave a lopsided smile. "Well, maybe that was a mere assumption. He's not the King of Nosgoth right now, that's true. But look at him, Mortanius. He's just the ruler of a small northern province like Winterheim, but see how many people have come here to see him? Do you doubt for even one second that he could unite all of Nosgoth if he chose to?"

Mortanius crossed his arms and watched the ceremony with new eyes. It was hard to really imagine that Moebius had a vision of this very moment hundreds of years before. Mortanius was actually living out something that Moebius had foreseen long ago. He wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"Well, he's very charismatic, I'll give him that. And he's clearly beloved by his people. But it will take more than that for the other rulers to bend their knee to him. Do you think that Valmar from Willendorf, just for one example, will submit to anyone else's authority?"

"Probably not," Moebius conceded. "But the people of Willendorf might have something to say about it."

"William seems like a good person," Mortanius said. "But he's still practically a child. And don't fool yourself into thinking that being a good person can win you a kingdom. If William wants a crown, he'll have to win it on the battlefield. That means war."

"I thought you believed Nosgoth was heading toward war anyway. Or have you changed your mind about that?"

"No, I haven't."

"Then if war is a certainty, shouldn't a good man be the one to lead it? Eventually, someone will try to make themselves King. William is a far better choice than Valmar, that's for sure."

Mortanius looked at William again. He did have to admit that William was everything a good ruler should aspire to be. He was handsome and strong, intelligent and approachable, courteous and generous. Ever after only knowing him for a short while, Mortanius believed that William would make a very fine King indeed.

"Come on," Moebius said. "Let's watch the rest of the ceremony. Then we can find somewhere to talk some more."

By the time the gift ceremony was over, more than two hours later, William had an overflowing pile of riches and a hundred people surrounding him, vying for his attention. Rather than add to the commotion, Mortanius and the other Guardians departed the throne room and made their way out of the castle.

They had supper together at a nearby tavern, where Moebius told DeJoule and Bane the complete story of the sword and its importance in the history of the Circle. Both of them agreed with Mortanius that the sword should have been placed in a museum, but it was useless to argue that point anymore. Perhaps in time, Mortanius could persuade William to hand the sword over, but for now, he decided to leave it where it was. It was as safe in William's possession as it would be anywhere else. He didn't get a chance to examine it more closely like he had wanted, but he was sure he'd eventually have an opportunity to study the sword in detail.

Chapter Forty Three

Mortanius set down the quill and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with his hand. If he had to guess, he figured it must be very late, but it was hard to determine time down in the basement of Avernus Cathedral without windows to reveal if it was night or day. He pushed himself away from the desk and stiffly stood up.

He'd been copying down notes from Azimuth's experiments. When she activated her Dimensionscope to look into other worlds, Mortanius usually stood by and wrote down details about the dimension's landscape, estimated climate and weather, and the existence of any plants or animals, and any other interesting or noteworthy features. Each night, he or Azimuth would make a more detailed copy of his notes in a high-quality grimoire.

Every one of the dimensions they viewed was catalogued and recorded for future reference. Of course, if there were truly hundreds of thousands of other dimensions, as Azimuth believed, then they still had centuries of work ahead of them. Mortanius didn't actually think they'd be still working on this project in a century's time, but Azimuth was still very much dedicated to it, and so Mortanius decided to go along.

They'd been viewing and recording other dimensions for five years now, and Azimuth's library held dozens of thick books filled with information regarding her discoveries. Using the Dimensionscope was the only thing she was really interested in. She no longer took on students, since they took too much time away from her experiments. Ever since they started studying the other dimensions, Azimuth had focused entirely on that work and pushed aside everything else.

On and off for the past five years, Mortanius helped Azimuth with her work during the day, and shared her bed at night. A few times a year, he returned to his own estate for a few days to make sure everything was still in order. A few things had changed at his estate during his extended absences. His household servant Silenar had retired three years ago, and his other employee Algon had succumbed to a sudden heart attack just the year prior. Mortanius's newest servant was a young man named Harlis, who cared for the house and the property while Mortanius was away.

He expected to wrap up his work with Azimuth within another few years. In truth, the monotonous nature of the work was starting to bore him. He could only see so many other dimensions before the experience lost its fascination. He enjoyed spending time with Azimuth, but he wanted to move on and start working on his own experiments again.

He went upstairs to get something to eat from the Cathedral kitchen. It turned out to be earlier than he expected, the sky outside light gray and pedestrians still walking the streets. The city of Avernus was still thriving and prosperous, just as most of the surrounding cities were. Despite Mortanius's concerns about brewing war, Nosgoth was still at peace.

Fresh bread and butter sated his hunger, and to wash it down he brewed some tea while he looked out the kitchen window. Normally he would ask a servant to do it for him, but at the moment there were no servants about. Right around the time the tea was ready, he heard a door close behind him.

"Oh, Mortanius," Azimuth said lazily, stretching her arms toward the ceiling. "There you are. I didn't know if you were still here."

"I was downstairs copying notes. You look like you just woke up."

She smiled and rubbed her eyes. "Yes, I was reading on a couch and must have drifted off. Usually I don't take naps like that, but I must have needed it. I must have been asleep for a couple of hours. What are you up to right now?"

"Nothing, just making some tea."

"Ooh, that sounds lovely."

Mortanius poured them both a cup as Azimuth sat down. Instead of joining her at the table, he took his tea over to the window and set it on the sill to cool off. Azimuth liked her tea very sweet, and scooped sugar liberally into her cup before taking a sip.

"I think I might take a trip up north in a couple of weeks," Mortanius said. "I'd like to return to Winterheim to meet with Lord William again."

"What for?" Azimuth asked, and then quickly waved it off. "Oh, wait, I remember. That sword you told me about. You wanted to study it."

"Yes. You could come along, you know. We could take a short vacation together."

She laughed. "Darling, if I wanted to take a vacation, it would be somewhere warm and bright and sunny. You go have fun in the snowy north, I'll stay here."

He smiled back and took a sip of tea. "Well, don't say that I never offer to take you places."

"Besides," she sighed, "there's so much work to do. I feel like I should always be working, looking into other worlds. I suppose I'm a bit obsessed with it, aren't I?"

"You said it, not me," he chuckled.

"A vacation does sound nice, though. Once you're done with your trip north, maybe you could talk Anarcrothe into lending us his yacht and we could go sailing."

Mortanius nodded. "Sure, I could do that."

Azimuth finished her tea and stood up. "Wonderful. Of course, if we're planning a vacation, that means I'll have to get ahead on my work. If you aren't busy at the moment, let's go down to the lab and search for another new dimension."

"I was actually planning to take a walk outside before it gets too dark. I feel like we've been cooped up in here for days. Getting some fresh air would do us both some good."

"I agree, and we'll get plenty of fresh air when we go on vacation."

"Did you suggest a vacation just to guilt me into getting more work done tonight?"

She gave him a mischievous grin and took his hand. "Oh, come on. I have a feeling we'll be able to locate something really interesting. I'll let you sleep in tomorrow," she added with a laugh.

Mortanius let her lead him back downstairs, even though what he wanted to do most at that moment was sit down in a comfortable chair and take a long nap, just as Azimuth had. It figured that he would stay awake doing work while she slept, but he didn't feel like complaining about it.

Azimuth, with a spring in her step, went up to her device and slid her fingers across the golden handles to activate it. The silver viewing disc shimmered and swirled like liquid metal as she closed her eyes and let the powers of the Dimension Pillar flow through her. Standing a few feet behind her, Mortanius felt the familiar sensation of static electricity tingling on his skin.

Normally, he stood back with a scroll in his hand to write down the details of the dimension revealed in Azimuth's device, but he was too tired for that, so instead he stepped up onto the dais and crossed his arms, watching the disc closely. He vaguely wished that there was a railing or something he could lean against.

"I feel something," Azimuth whispered in a tight voice.

The disc seemed to bubble, as if the surface was boiling. It turned cloudy red and then darkened until it the image was a bloody maroon color. Mortanius took another step forward, intrigued. In all their studies, they had never seen a dimension with a red sky. As the image cleared, he could just barely make out the line of mountains in the distance, but it was still blurry and indistinct, the sky full of dust or mist or something else he couldn't quite see. Even as Azimuth focused her energies, the dimension was still hard to make out, as if they were viewing it through a sheet of clouded glass.

Mortanius stared, transfixed. The sky in the other dimension looked like it was on fire, the landscape beneath it a charred expanse of cracked red stone. And in the distance, shapes moved, distorted by waves of heat emanating from the ground, like images in a mirage.

Azimuth opened her eyes. "It's ... it's beautiful."

"No," Mortanius said quietly, his head shaking almost imperceptibly. "It's terrible."

She didn't hear him, or else she wasn't listening. "Look. Something ..."

From the edge of the disc, something came into view, something not quite human but not animal either. The blurred sky of this alien world made the figure hard to see clearly. It walked like a hunchback, its spine bent forward and arms hanging down so low they almost scraped the ground. Its whole body seemed misshapen, with pointed knobs on its elbows and strange fin-like growths on its shoulders and hips. Mortanius couldn't tell if the creature's body was covered in skin or scales.

"Look," Azimuth whispered. "It's coming closer, almost like ..."

"Like it can see us," Mortanius said. "Close the Dimensionscope."

"What? Don't be absurd."

Still, the alien figure came closer. In all of their other experiments, the creatures and animals they saw never made any movement to indicate that they noticed they were being watched. Mortanius didn't even know if the Dimensionscope created any visible effect in the dimensions they viewed, although Azimuth implied that it did not. However, this alien seemed to be walking with a purpose directly at the space the Dimensionscope occupied.

"Close the window," Mortanius said. "That thing can sense us somehow."

"And I'm telling you, that's impossible," Azimuth insisted.

"Just look at it. It knows the Dimensionscope is there."

She shook her head, staring in fascination as the strange being walked almost right up to them. And then from the edges of the viewing window, Mortanius spotted movement. More creatures, perhaps as many as eight, were edging closer.

He was about to say something else, but a strange noise buzzing in his ear distracted him. He shook his head and cupped his hand over one ear, but the noise didn't go away. If anything, it got louder. The buzzing sound changed pitch and he put both hands over his ears this time.

"Do you hear that?" he asked, feeling like he had to yell to be heard.

"Yes," Azimuth said, a twinge of panic in her voice. "What is it?"

"I don't know. It sounds like ..."

The sound became a plaintive, warbling echo, and Mortanius found himself looking back at the Dimensionscope to see at least half a dozen alien creatures standing right in their field of view, all of them motionless, seemingly staring right at Azimuth and him. Transfixed by their haunting presence, the noise twisted and began to form discernible sounds.

"Ka ... Mek .... Dra ... Nos ... Goth ... We ... Nos ...Goth ..."

Azimuth shrieked in a voice that might have been elation or terror. "They're speaking to us! I can hear them! They're speaking to us!"

"Stop it!" Mortanius shouted, fighting a wave of dizziness.

The entire world seemed to go black around him, and the last thing he remembered was losing his footing and falling to the floor.

# Chapter Forty Four

He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious, but it felt like it must have been hours. He awoke in the dark, lying on his stomach in a place that smelled like mold and wet earth. Warily, he got his arms and legs under him and pushed up into a sitting position. His whole body felt sore, as if he'd been doing heavy labor. Fumbling in the dark, he found something small and round. A stone, which he cast a spell on it to make it glow. His surroundings came into focus and he realized he was in a tunnel or cavern of some kind. The roof of the cavern was twenty feet above them, bathed in shadow.

Azimuth lay in the dirt a few feet away, and he crawled over to her. She was uninjured as far as he could tell, but was unconscious like he had been. Carefully shaking her and touching her face, he finally managed to rouse her.

"Mortanius?" she mumbled. "Where ... where are we? What's going on?"

"We're underground somewhere. I don't know what happened."

"I thought that ... I heard a voice."

"I heard it too."

He helped her to her feet and she brushed away strands of hair which had fallen across her face. Her hands trembled slightly as she looked around, her eyes growing wide with growing fear. Her dress was smeared with dirt, as was Mortanius's robe. It looked like they had both crawled through the mud to get to this place, wherever it was. Mortanius raised his glowing stone to try and see more of their surroundings.

"How did we get here?" Azimuth asked.

"I don't know. I woke up a few minutes before you did."

"The other dimension ... there were creatures there ..."

"I see our footprints," Mortanius said, pointing at the ground. "We can follow them back."

"That voice," Azimuth said, clenching her hands together. She looked upwards into the darkness of the cavern and stepped away from Mortanius. "It was from the other dimension. I can't believe it."

"Come on. Let's see if we can find our way back to the Cathedral."

"Mortanius, don't you see? We communicated with another life form!"

"Yes, and that lifeform did something to us," he replied, trying not to snap at her. "It rendered us unconscious and brought us to this tomb or whatever it is."

"There's only two sets of footprints. That means we walked here on our own."

"Do you remember walking here? I don't."

"They guided us."

"They?" Mortanius said incredulously. "Who is they? Some strange creatures from another dimension? How did they talk to us? How did we get down here?"

"That doesn't even matter," Azimuth laughed giddily. "We spoke to a race of beings from another dimension! And they said ... they said ..."

"Nosgoth," Mortanius answered. "I heard them say the word Nosgoth."

"Yes, they did ..." Azimuth touched her forehead. "But how could they know ..."

"We'll figure that out later," he said. "Come on."

"Mortanius."

He was already walking away, following their own tracks in the dirt, hoping that she would follow him. But she hadn't moved, and was looking up near the ceiling of the cavern. With slowly building frustration, he turned and said, "Azimuth, please. We don't know where we are and I think we should try to get back as soon as we can."

"There's something up there," she said, pointing.

He looked up to see what she was staring at and his words trailed away. About twenty feet above their heads, a narrow ledge was cut into the cave wall. He hadn't seen it earlier because he had been directly underneath it. But now, from a different vantage point, he could easily make it out. And Azimuth was right, there was something there just inside the ledge.

She picked up another stone and cast the glowing spell on it. Then she cast a spell to make the stone lift up into the air. It rose above their heads and illuminated the ledge. The light wasn't very bright, but it was more than enough to see by.

Mortanius felt the breath escape his chest. "Oh ..."

Lined up along the ledge, which ran in a rough oval around both edges of the cavern, was a series of long rectangular murals. Without another word, Mortanius and Azimuth both levitated themselves up onto the ledge to see them up close.

From one side of the cavern to the other, there were ten in all. They were similar the ones at the vampire temple, and yet quite different. They were not as carefully-painted, and obviously not as well preserved, but they were no less magnificent for it. The artist, whoever it had been, was not as skilled, and the murals had a crude, rushed quality to them.

It didn't take Mortanius long to realize that the murals told a story that he was already familiar with. It was a story of the war between the vampires and their unknown enemies, but these murals told the story from the opposing point of view.

They never had a name for the ancient enemy of the vampires. Mortanius still thought of them as the Others. The vampires' murals claimed that the Others simply arrived in Nosgoth one day and almost immediately went to war with the vampires. But these new murals told a different story. The first image showed a crowd of slender green-skinned creatures trading and sharing food with a winged, blue-skinned species. According to this mural, the vampires and the Others had once been at peace.

The second mural showed the vampires attacking the defenseless Others with swords and axes, killing even their children. The vampires were portrayed as violent and cruel, the Others shown as innocent and betrayed. The Others seemed more humanoid in these images, and less savage and bestial, but that was only to be expected. Mortanius immediately doubted the sincerity of the images, but he was willing to accept this version of events, at least for the moment.

The third image was more perplexing. It showed a crowd of vampires praying or otherwise engaged in some kind of religious ceremony. Above them was a superimposed image of a strange, blurry figure, clearly not vampire or Other. Was there a third species at play? Mortanius reeled at the thought that there might have been another player in the ancient war, one not even mentioned by the vampires. But in the mural, the vampires appeared to be praying to it. The only religion the vampires had ever shown was their dedication to the Pillars, so Mortanius didn't know what to make of the image in the mural.

The fourth mural showed the Others and the vampires at war with each other. This one was the most similar to the vampires' mural depicting the same event. The fifth mural appeared to show the Others gaining the upper hand in their conflict, driving the vampires back.

The sixth mural showed a familiar sight, the Pillars of Nosgoth. But surrounding the Pillars was a crowd of vampires slaughtering the drinking the blood of their own kind, an image that made Mortanius sick to his stomach. What did such a hideous image imply? Did the Others believe that the vampires had performed some kind of foul blood ceremony to seal the magic of the Pillars? Or was the vampires' blood thirst a terrible result of Pillars' creation?

The seventh mural showed the Others' banishment to another dimension. It depicted them writhing in pain as the Pillars came to life, with the vampires celebrating in an orgy of blood and death in the background. The eighth mural showed a group of Others crying in despair as they discovered their new surroundings, a world of burning red skies and charred ground beneath their feet.

The last two murals showed the aftermath of their banishment. The ninth mural showed the vampires once again praying in some kind of ceremony, but there was no longer a figure in the sky above them, and many of the vampires were impaling themselves on their swords, blood gushing from their mouths. One of the murals at the vampire temple showed a similar scene, that of the vampires learning of their curse in the wake after the Others had been banished.

But how could the Others even know of this? If they were all banished, how could they know what happened to the vampires afterwards? In fact, how could these murals have been created at all? Had some of the Others somehow avoided the banishment of their kin, and survived to create this record of their defeat?

But the final mural confused things even more. It seemed to show an Other slowly changing shape, like a progression in sequence. The left side of the mural showed a fair, even somewhat attractive Other with soft green skin. Lined up beside it were Others with increasingly-distorted features, culminating in the Other at the far right, who appeared as a lanky, demonic-looking alien with rough, leathery green skin. Had their new dimension done this to them? And if so, how could anyone have been able to paint a mural of it here underneath Avernus Cathedral?

Mortanius had to remind himself that these representations were merely what the Others believed, or at least what they wanted history to record. The murals in the vampire temple were no different. The actual truth of the events of that incredibly ancient war were most likely a combination of these two conflicting legends.

Maybe the vampires mistakenly believed that the Others were responsible for their bloodthirst. The creation of a powerful magical artifact like the Pillars must have had all kinds of unintended consequences. The Other murals clearly implied that the vampires started the war between their two peoples, but the real world was scarcely so black and white. Maybe a group of rogue vampires had attacked first, which led to the Others counterattacking against innocent vampires, which escalated into total war. Somehow, Mortanius felt that was more likely than the entire vampire race deciding to make an unprovoked attack against a helpless foe. Unlike most of the human race, Mortanius had actually met and spoken with vampires, and alien though they were, they were clearly not heartless monsters.

Unless the events surrounding the creation of the Pillars had made them see the error of their ways. It was impossible to know by merely studying ancient murals telling two sides of the same story. The vampires believed the Others were an enemy that needed to be banished in order to save Nosgoth, and the Others viewed themselves as innocent victims of the vampires' cruelty and betrayal. Somewhere in the middle was the truth.

But none of this was relevant at the moment. Mortanius's primary concern was more immediate than the causes of an ancient war.

"We have to get back to the Cathedral," he said. "We have to call the rest of the Circle and tell them what happened."

Azimuth stared at the murals, completely transfixed. "These paintings have been down here for thousands of years, just waiting to be discovered. We must be directly underneath the Cathedral. I can't believe these were down here all this time. They were waiting for us to make contact, so they could show us."

"Show us?" Mortanius said. "They did far more than that. They took control of our bodies!"

"Only temporarily," she said, waving it away as irrelevant.

"And that makes it better somehow?"

Azimuth looked at him. "If they can take over our bodies, they could have done anything they wanted. They could have made us go and murder someone. But they didn't, did they? They used their power to show us something important, Mortanius. These paintings change our entire understanding of history!"

"We already knew the vampires went to war with another race and created the Pillars to banish them. These murals don't tell us anything we didn't already know."

"They prove that the vampires started the war!"

"No, they don't," Mortanius scoffed. "They tell one side of a story, just as the vampire murals tell one side of a story. There's no way to know which side is telling the truth."

"We can communicate with them," Azimuth said, her voice growing louder. "We can go and talk to them and learn the truth!"

"We could talk to the vampires before they were exterminated," Mortanius replied evenly. "And I don't think those creatures have any more reason to be honest with us than the vampires did. We don't know anything about them, and what's more, they don't know anything about us."

"They've been trapped in a foreign dimension for thousands of years! And now that they've finally made contact with their long-lost home, you immediately distrust them?"

"The very first thing they did upon making contact was to take over our bodies as if we were nothing but puppets for them to control!" Mortanius took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "They are just as alien to us as the vampires were. Who knows what that other dimension has done to them? How can we possibly know anything about them or their motives?"

"That's easy!" Azimuth said. "We can ask them!"

She dropped off the ledge, levitated down to the ground, and began to retrace their footprints in the dirt. Mortanius wanted to say something, but at least she had finally agreed to return to the Cathedral, which is what he had wanted in the first place. He cast one last glance at the murals before going after her. He had the foreboding sense that these images would only create more questions than they answered, and he already wished that he had never seen them.

He levitated down and went after Azimuth, and he had to run to keep up with her. Using his glowing stone to light his way, he followed their tracks until they ended at a steep slope of loose dirt. Up at the top of the slope was a hole that glowed with dim yellow light. Azimuth had levitated up and was already through the hole. Mortanius wanted to call for her to slow down, but instead he simply levitated up after her.

The hole in the cavern wall led to one of the basement rooms in Avernus Cathedral. The wall had been smashed and blown apart, along with about twenty feet of solid dirt, by some kind of powerful magical spell. The light Mortanius saw was from some burning candles. Mortanius realized that the Others had directed them to this room, used their magical powers to blast a hole in the wall, and then led them down into the catacomb they never even knew was there.

How could the Others have known? What were the odds that Avernus Cathedral had been built on this exact spot? How could the Others possess their bodies from another dimension? Dozens of other questions flooded into Mortanius's mind as he went off after Azimuth, following her muddy footprints on the tile floor.

He didn't reach her in time. She was already at the Dimensionscope, her hands gripping the handles tightly, the silver disc flashing with intensity, its surface swirling like a whirlpool of blood. The entire device sizzled with magical power, so much so that Mortanius felt it push against him like a physical force.

"Azimuth!" he shouted, fear gripping him. "Please, stop!"

"There!" she shouted, her hair whipping around her face as she stood in the center of a magical gale. "There they are! Speak to us! Tell us who you are!"

The Dimensionscope once again showed the world with the red sky, and once again, standing in front was a group of inhuman creatures, as if they had been waiting patiently for the Dimensionscope to return. They stared directly at Azimuth.

"Shut it down!" Mortanius cried, starting to run forward.

The window into the other dimension rippled suddenly and a beam of magic exploded into the room, bathing both of them in crimson light. Mortanius was blown clear off his feet and slammed onto his back. Azimuth screamed, her body going rigid as if she was being electrocuted. Lightning crackled from the Dimensionscope, flowing through her body and scorching the walls and ceiling. Mortanius curled up on the floor and tried to protect himself.

And then it was over. The room went quiet, the magical surge gone as soon as it had come. The Dimensionscope went dead, its silver disc now blank. Half of the braziers in the room went out in the torrent of wind, and the remaining light seemed feeble and uncertain. Mortanius rolled onto his back and stared with wide eyes, unable to process what had just transpired.

"Azimuth?" he whispered.

She stood in place, apparently unharmed, her hands hanging at her sides. Her head was down, her chin resting on her chest, her eyes closed as she breathed in and out.

Mortanius got to his feet. "Azimuth?" he asked, stepping onto the dais. "Are ... are you okay?"

Her head lifted up and she turned to face him. When she opened her eyes, Mortanius flinched in terror and stumbled backwards, falling off the dais and landing on his back once more. He froze in place, fighting the urge to scramble away in fear.

Her eyes glowed green with a terrifying magical illumination so bright that he almost had to shield his eyes. Her face was slack and expressionless. When she spoke, the voice that came from her lips was not her own.

"We .. are ... here," she intoned. "You ... have found ... us."

"What ... what are you?" Mortanius choked out.

Azimuth, under the control of an alien presence, looked down at him. "Our name ... is ... Hylden."
Chapter Forty Five

No one had explored the vampire temple for over five hundred years. Originally, the Circle planned to return there and fully investigate the outer chambers and explore the central tower as well, but the tragic death of Galhonen soured their feelings toward the whole enterprise. There had only been two short trips to the island since then, and neither had been very thorough. A wooden staircase had been built into the rock, but it only reached halfway up to the summit of the island, and was never finished. Now, all that remained of it were the rusted metal bolts that once held it in place, the wood having rotted away ages ago.

Mortanius, thankfully, did not need a staircase this time, or even a grappling hook and a rope. He didn't even need a boat. Instead, he used a flight spell to soar over the surface of the water. It took a significant amount of concentration to remain airborne for so long, but he reached his destination easily and levitated up the fifty feet to the top of the island. He ended the spell when he could stand solidly on firm ground.

He took a deep breath and shook drops of water from his cloak. The vegetation on the island was thick and overgrown. Mortanius pushed his way through the plants until he came upon the ruins of the vampire temple.

The passing centuries had eroded the structures even more, and sections of wall were now crumbled and covered with growing vines. Mortanius walked gingerly around the ruins, remembering what they had discovered so long ago. The murals which, for the first time, showed them images of the race that battled the vampires in the distant past. The race that had been banished from Nosgoth by the power of the Pillars.

A race that Mortanius now knew were called hylden.

At first, he thought the name belonged to the individual creature that had taken control of Azimuth's body, but it was the name of their entire species. The one who spoke to them did not give a name at all, and Mortanius soon came to realize that they had little concept of individuality. They viewed themselves as an entire species, and spoke in such terms.

Hylden. The species that the vampires had waged war against in ancient times, the species that had been banished from Nosgoth, the species imprisoned in a foreign dimension for thousands of years. And all that time, awaiting the moment that they might regain contact with their lost world.

Thanks to Azimuth and her Dimensionscope, that moment had finally come. Even now, she was hard at work communicating with them. For the past two weeks, she had barely slept, barely eaten. Every waking moment was either spent at the Dimensionscope looking into their world, or spent under their control, so that they could speak directly. As long as the Dimensionscope was activated, the hylden could possess either of them and use their body to speak. Sometimes Azimuth served as their vessel, and sometimes Mortanius.

But today, Azimuth would do her work alone. Mortanius had returned to the vampire temple because he had questions that needed answers, and if there was anywhere on Nosgoth those answers might be found, it was in the central tower of the temple, which had still never been explored.

Mortanius looked up. The domed stone roof of the central tower had a jagged split along one side, and part of it had collapsed. If he had to guess, he would say that it had been struck by lightning at some point in last century or so.

He had intended to force open the main entrance, with a blast of magic if necessary. But the collapsed roof gave him a simpler method of entry, so he levitated again and rose up above the tops of the trees. The gap in the roof was more than enough room for him to get inside. The floor was covered in slimy leaves and other detritus, and he had to wait a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

The walls were made of slabs of flat stone about two feet wide, set in a curved pattern so that the room was basically circular. A huge round table, also made of stone, was right in the middle. A conference room of some kind. Was this where the vampires made their plans of war against the hylden? Is this the room where they decided to create the Pillars? When was the last time a living creature stood in this room? Two thousand years ago? Mortanius guessed that it was longer than that, maybe much longer. Five thousand years? The span of time between the vampires' empire and the rise of the human race was a matter under debate among the few people who still cared.

Decayed remains of wooden boards on the floor were all that remained of the small stools which once circled the table. The vampires rarely sat in regular chairs because their wings got in the way, Mortanius remembered. It had been so long since he'd seen structures designed for vampires that the entire place felt strange to him. The doorways were too wide, the furniture too crudely built, the entire building too clearly made for a race other than humans.

He lit a glowstone and took a slow walk around the perimeter of the room. There wasn't much to see. Maybe if he had gotten here before the roof collapsed, there might have been more, but even ten or twenty years of rain and wind getting inside would have been enough to ruin much of the interior.

A doorway led to a staircase spiraling down to the second floor. Mortanius walked carefully, since the floor was slick. At the bottom, he emerged into a room cloaked in darkness. There were some stone benches, but the room was relatively clean. Had the roof not collapsed and let air inside, this room would have been coated in millennia of dust. His glowstone cast feeble light across the stone walls, but it was enough for him to see what he had privately hoped would be there.

Four murals were on the walls, two directly across from him and one on each side. He stood in the doorway for a few moments, mentally preparing himself. So much had changed since they had first found this island and discovered the other murals. With the knowledge he had now, what would these additional images reveal?

He stepped closer until he could see one of them clearly. The mural was in better condition than the ones in the other buildings, the paint still bright, the details still sharp. Mortanius had the urge to touch the paint to make sure it wasn't still wet.

Vampires were gathered around the Pillars in the middle of some sort of ceremony. It took Mortanius a minute to realize that they were creating the very first Guardians. He had never thought about it before, but how had the first Guardians been chosen? Had the vampires actually decided for themselves who would become a Guardian? As he looked at the mural, he got the feeling that something else was going on in the image, something that perhaps a vampire would instinctively understand, but he was at a loss to figure it out.

When he went to the next mural, he was stunned to see a nightmarish landscape composed of shades of red, and a huge group of hylden gathered in the center, writhing in torment. How could the vampires have known what the other dimension looked like?

Had they known? When they cast the spell that sent the hylden away, did the vampires already know the destination? Until now, Mortanius assumed that the vampires had simply created the Pillars and banished their enemies without knowing or caring where they were banished to. But this mural seemed to imply otherwise. Did the vampires deliberately send the hylden to the nightmarish world they now inhabited?

The last two murals were unlike any of the others that Mortanius had seen before. He stood between them and cast the light of his glowstone back and forth, studying the two paintings. A strange feeling of dread seemed to wash over him, like a whisper of foreboding from an unknown watcher looking over his shoulder.

The other murals always showed a group of figures, either vampire or hylden, acting out some sort of scene or tableau. But these last two paintings each portrayed exactly one figure, painted nearly full-size in incredible detail.

One was a hylden warrior wearing jagged silver armor over his withered green skin, painted in motion as if he was running into battle. He was a terrifying, monstrous figure, and yet there was a sense of power and dominance in the artist's representation. One hand was lashing out with long red claws, and the other held a huge sword wreathed in flames. His twisted, bestial face was frozen in a growl of fury, and his eyes burned bright red.

The second mural showed a vampire figure in a similar pose, facing the hylden in the other mural, as if the two of them were enemies about to clash blades. The vampire was dressed in a flowing white and yellow robe, his eyes glowing white and his fangs bared in a sneer of righteous battle fury. Like the hylden, he was armed with a huge sword, but it was not just any sword that this mural depicted.

It was the mysterious blade that the Sarafan Knights had taken from Janos, the one that Moebius had just recently given as a birthday gift to William of Winterheim. There was no mistaking it. The sword the vampire wielded in the mural had the same serpentine blade and the huge skull decorating the hilt. It was the same sword, it had to be.

Mortanius could only stare in bewilderment. The sword, lost for centuries, conveniently reappears out of nowhere, and now shows up in ancient murals dating a thousand years before Mortanius was even born? Just where had that sword come from? It wasn't just some fancy vampiric sword, it was much more than that.

But if it was such an important relic to the vampires, then why had Mortanius never seen it – never even known of its existence – before the night Janos died? None of the vampires had ever mentioned a sword like that, at least not that he could remember. Was it just another secret the vampires kept from the human Guardians?

Mortanius stared at the two figures as if entranced. Then he cast his gaze back at the other murals in the room. One clearly showed the vampires gathering at the Pillars, and one showed the hylden in the other dimension. Each group of figures was joined together – perhaps in discussion, perhaps in prayer – but the purpose of their respective meetings was vague. And then the other two murals showed one particular figure representing each opposing species. Were they legendary heroes from the war between the vampires and the hylden, or were they something else?

The background behind the vampire was a place with a blue sky and a landscape full of trees, but the hylden was in a world bathed in dark red. So that meant the hylden was from the other dimension. Besides, why would have the vampires have commemorated a hylden champion with his own mural? The figure must represent something else.

Mortanius stayed in the room for several hours, studying the images and writing down details. He explored the lower levels of the central tower but found nothing of use, just chambers full of dust.

He came to the vampire temple to seek answers, and instead found more questions. Their only clues to the conflict between the vampires and the hylden were the murals at the temple. The vampires had never written down anything on scrolls or parchment, and Mortanius never could understand why. Before the rebellion, they had promised to reveal the truth to the human Guardians, but how could they have honored that promise without even the barest written records for humans to read? Was the truth of the Pillars something they only recited out loud, like some kind of peculiar oral history?

The vampires had abandoned the temple long before the rebellion, long before Mortanius had even been born. Why leave this place to fall into ruin? Had the vampires somehow been ashamed or horrified by their own history, and hoped to forget the painful truth? And if so, had they ever truly intended to reveal the truth to the human Guardians? Mortanius believed that the vampires would never have told them the whole truth, either out of fear or superstition or just a sense of superiority over the weaker human race.

He took more long look at the two murals – portraying the vampire and hylden heroes, or champions, or whatever they were – and returned to the top floor to leave the same way he entered. He doubted he would ever return to the this place again. He knew that the two murals were obviously of great importance, but he could only speculate as to their meaning.

And there was the sword. Moebius said it was magical, but for what purpose? And if it was such an important artifact, then why had Vorador discarded it in the first place? Why throw it into the lake where it might be found? So many questions. There was absolutely no doubt in Mortanius's mind that he had to study that sword as soon as possible. He'd make plans to travel to Winterheim right away.

He levitated back across the lake and set his feet down on the sandy shoreline, where he had left his horse to graze freely on the grass growing just beyond the beach. He could have continued to use his flying spell to return home, but he was mentally exhausted from using to travel to the island and back, and had ridden a horse to the shore to preserve his strength. Besides, he wasn't concerned about someone stealing his horse, and after a few minutes of searching, he found the animal resting contentedly near some trees. It was almost sundown, the sky growing dark. He climbed wearily into the saddle and started his long trek home.

Not long after he began riding, he felt a faint echo of pain wash over him. It was not the overwhelming blast of psychic pain that accompanied the death of a Guardian, but it was enough to jar him uncomfortably. Shaking his head to clear it, he realized that something terrible must have happened. Somewhere, one of the Guardians had experienced something painful, and their pain had spread to the others, just like the old vampire Guardians had shared Mortanius's pain on the night that his family died. But Mortanius could not be sure which Guardian it originated with.

By the time he made it to his estate, it was long after midnight. Before he even dismounted, the front doors came open and his servant Harlis hurried outside to meet him.

"My Lord, thank goodness you're finally home."

"What's going on, Harlis?" Mortanius asked as he climbed down.

"A messenger came by this evening. It's terrible news, my Lord, simply terrible."

"What happened?"

"It's about Lord William, the ruler of Winterheim. He's been assassinated by a vampire."

# Chapter Forty Six

It took less than two days for the news of William's death to spread all the way across Nosgoth. From the mountains in the north all the way to the coast in the south, from the small village to the largest city, it was the news on everyone's lips. William, the young and noble ruler of the province of Winterheim, had been brutally slain by a vampire assassin.

Mortanius sent messages to the other Guardians, but it was Moebius that he most of all wanted to speak with. The twinge of psychic pain he felt on his trip back from the Lake of Tears had almost certainly come from Moebius. He had been convinced that William would be the first true King of Nosgoth. News of William's death would be sure to hit him hard.

A huge memorial service was to be held in Winterheim, and the roads north were packed with pilgrims and dignitaries coming to pay their respects. Mortanius and Moebius were traveling separately, but they arranged to meet in a tavern in a small town called Delspire, about half a days' carriage ride from Winterheim.

Moebius had never been a very emotional person, and he loathed public displays of affection, but when Mortanius met with him he wrapped his old friend in a solid embrace.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am, Moebius. This has been a shock to all of us."

Moebius looked weary but otherwise okay. The spark in his eyes was still there, although perhaps dimmed somewhat. He patted Mortanius on the shoulder and directed him to a booth at the tavern. "Thank you. It's been ... a difficult few days. I've been communicating magically with Delvinius since ... since William died. Winterheim is in chaos, as you might imagine."

They both sat down and a waitress came over. Moebius ordered wine and food and brusquely waved the woman away.

"William had a sister, correct? Can she take the throne?" Mortanius asked.

"I suppose, but she's never been involved in government affairs. Right now Delvinius is trying to organize the search for someone to take over, but it's hopelessly complicated. There's over twenty different family members making a claim, and other nobles already vying for control. I can already see Valmar licking his lips in anticipation."

Mortanius rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "What a disaster for them. For everyone in Winterheim." He sighed and finally built up the courage to ask what was on his mind. "And the assassin? They haven't found any trace of him?"

"None at all."

"Are they certain that it was a vampire?" Mortanius asked, still trying to make some kind of sense out of what had happened. "How could they know for sure?"

"Ask the witnesses," Moebius said bitterly. "There are enough of them."

"Witnesses?"

"It happened in the rear courtyard of Winterheim Castle, right after William had dinner with his family. At least twenty people saw the fight. They say it was a vampire and that's enough evidence for me. The assassin's skin was white like paper, they said. Some of them saw his fangs when he bared his teeth."

Mortanius had trouble believing it. Not that a vampire was capable of cold-blooded murder, that was easy to believe. But why would they do it? Why would a vampire seek to murder William? He'd never done anything to invoke the anger of Vorador's followers. As far as Mortanius knew, William had never even spoken negatively about vampires at all. Few of them chose to dwell in the north, and so they were less of a public threat than the provinces farther south.

It was absolutely insane that a vampire would assassinate a beloved leader like William. Vorador would have to know that such a killing would make the public rise against vampires, just as his murder of the Circle had done four centuries before. And to do it publicly, with witnesses all around, simply beggared belief.

"How the bastard got away, nobody has any idea," Moebius said. "They chased him into the woods and tracked him to William's riding fields, but they lost him. Even their hunting dogs couldn't find a scent of the killer. It was as if he just vanished into thin air."

"I've heard rumors that some vampires have strange powers. Maybe he did simply vanish. We never found a trace of Vorador either."

"I don't believe in rumors," Moebius muttered. "He used magic to get away, that's all it is. A flight spell or something like that."

The waitress brought over two plates of steaming beef and gravy, and a young serving boy gave them a bottle of wine and two glasses. Mortanius poured drinks but neither of them touched their meal just yet.

"And no one has any idea why a vampire would target William?" he asked as he pushed the cork back into the bottle. "I mean, there has to be some reason. Unless it was some kind of personal vendetta, but I can't see how that's possible."

"No, not personal. Not directly, at least." Moebius sighed and took a drink. "There are some other ... details that may shed light on the issue. But I'm not sure I like the conclusions."

"What do you mean?"

Moebius looked around the tavern at the crowd, and then set his elbows on the table and spoke in a lower voice. "The assassin wielded a huge curved sword ... that looked almost exactly like the one William had."

"What?" Mortanius choked out.

"Witnesses said it was the same sword, down to the skull in the handle. When William tried to defend himself, the swords clashed and William's sword shattered."

Mortanius couldn't even wrap his head around what Moebius was telling him. "Shattered? How could the sword shatter?"

"Like a piece of glass. It broke into several pieces. That's what they said. Then the assassin slew William and ran off. He didn't try to kill anyone else, not even the guards who went after him."

"This makes no sense. It couldn't be the same sword."

"There must have been more than one. The one we found in the lake wasn't the same one that Janos had. For all we know, the vampires made hundreds of them. Maybe they used them in their war against that other ancient race."

"No, that can't be."

"Why not? It's the only thing that makes sense."

It took all of Mortanius's self-control not to stupidly blurt out what he knew of the hylden. So far, no one knew about the hylden except Mortanius and Azimuth. They hadn't told any of the other Guardians yet. Mortanius wanted to, but Azimuth convinced him to keep the discovery between the two of them for a little while. But now Mortanius had the urge to tell Moebius everything, about Azimuth's Dimensionscope, about their communication with the hylden, about the new murals at the vampire temple, all of it.

But it was too difficult of a subject, too hard for him to try to explain. Right now, the death of William was more important than what he and Azimuth had discovered. For now, it would remain a secret between them, but Mortanius knew he would have to tell Moebius about it eventually.

Shaking away his distraction, he said, "Do you think that the assassin was after the sword?"

"I gave it to him," Moebius said, his voice tight. "I thought it was a weapon fit for a King. But somehow, Vorador found out about it. The sword must have had some special meaning, or maybe some significance we know nothing about. Vorador sent the assassin to kill William and destroy the sword. If I hadn't given it to him ..."

Moebius put his hands over his eyes, and for a brief moment, Mortanius thought he was going to see Moebius cry, something that he had never seen before and didn't believe possible. But after a few breaths, Moebius lowered his hands, and his eyes held no tears, only a cold, familiar rage.

"Vorador has preyed on mankind for a thousand years, but this time he's gone too far," he said, and he wasn't really speaking to Mortanius anymore, he was just thinking out loud. "The people of Nosgoth won't stand for this. Vorador doesn't know what he's unleashed. Nosgoth will rise up against the half-breeds like never before."

"We thought that the last time," Mortanius said carefully.

Moebius shook his head. "The Slaughter of the Circle was different. The Guardians are respected and honored, but we aren't leaders or rulers. We're just a group of powerful and mysterious wizards that the common people of Nosgoth know very little about. The Slaughter was a terrible crime, but many thought that we brought it upon ourselves by slaying Janos."

Mortanius could not deny that was true. He had heard variations of that opinion many times over the years. "But William never did anything to the vampires," he said.

Moebius raised his glass to his lips and took another drink. "William was innocent. He was beloved by his people. You saw it yourself, how they adored him. His death is a tragedy. Rulers all over Nosgoth view the assassination as a direct assault on their own sovereignty. If Vorador can have William assassinated, who might be next?"

"By the Pillars, this could turn into all-out war with the vampires."

"Yes," Moebius said, and there was an eagerness in his tone, a passion that hundreds of years had not dulled. "Yes, and this time, we'll destroy them all."

The tragic irony was not lost on Mortanius. Moebius had yearned for an opportunity to once again raise a crusade against the half-breeds, and now he had one. But it came at a cost that even Moebius would have been unwilling to pay. Was his dream of exterminating the half-breeds worth the life of a man such as William?

Mortanius looked down at his dinner. He didn't have much of an appetite.

Chapter Forty Seven

Moebius was not wrong. In the weeks following William's funeral, there was a huge backlash against vampires all across Nosgoth. Malek and his vampire hunters were overwhelmed with information from a thousand new sources. Reports came in from all over of mobs forming to hunt down vampires and burn down the homes of people suspected of harboring them. The outrage over William's death was so intense that Mortanius suspected more than a few innocent people may have died as a result, but there was no way for him to verify his concerns. He didn't bother to contact Moebius or Malek about it, knowing they were likely far too busy to listen to him anyway.

Besides, Mortanius had other things on his mind as well. In the middle of William's tragic death and the newly-discovered hylden, there was still the matter of the mysterious sword shown in the vampire murals. Mortanius found that he could not stop thinking about it. The sword, once nothing more than a historical curiosity, had somehow taken on great importance, although he could not fathom what that importance signified.

It was simply not possible that it was merely a coincidence that the assassin who murdered William used a sword identical to his own, identical to the sword once owned by Janos himself, identical to the sword portrayed in the mural at the vampire temple. There had to be something connecting that sword, but Mortanius was at a loss to explain it.

The Sarafan Knight Raziel claimed that he stole the sword from Janos, but all they had was his word. Mortanius had only glimpsed the sword briefly on the night of the Slaughter. Everyone had forgotten about it when Raziel revealed Janos's heart, and in the aftermath of the Slaughter, they all assumed that Vorador had stolen it. But no one really knew for sure what had happened in the midst of all that chaos.

The order of events had never perfectly lined up, but the horrible memories of that fateful night had always dissuaded Mortanius from digging too much into it. He believed – and the evidence showed – that Kelredar and Sirine were the first to die, slain in the entrance hall. Ellendra was the third victim, followed by Olantireth, who was killed in the hallway upstairs. Palton and Rashard were the last to die, killed together in the library.

Where had the Sarafan Knights been during that time? They were found slain in the Grand Hall, but had Vorador killed them after he slaughtered the Guardians, or before? It must have been before, or else the Knights would have answered the Guardians' cries for help, but Mortanius saw no sign of them at all until the following morning. So Vorador must have killed them first, before going after the Guardians. But when Mortanius finally encountered him on the balcony, Vorador didn't have the sword with him. Had he gone back for it after his short battle with Malek? Or had he taken it to the balcony and hurled it into the lake just before Mortanius got there? Or had he ever taken it in the first place?

The last time Mortanius laid eyes on the sword that night was when one of the Sarafan Knights took it from Raziel and wrapped it in a cloth. What had they done with it afterward? For all Mortanius knew, they took the sword and placed it in the armory or some other storage room. He doubted that they would have still been carrying it when Vorador arrived. At that time, they would have been preparing for their return trip to Uschtenheim to retrieve Janos's body. Most likely, the sword had been put somewhere. But in the aftermath of the Slaughter, they never found it.

Were there multiple swords, as Moebius believed? If William's assassin truly used an identical sword, then that was the only logical explanation. But something else about the assassination bothered Mortanius, and he didn't want to discuss it with Moebius because his old friend was already troubled enough by William's death and there was no reason to trouble him further.

Why hadn't Vorador done the deed himself? Witnesses to William's death said the assassin had white skin but otherwise looked like any other half-breed, so that clearly was not Vorador. But if the sword was so important that they would kill William over it, why didn't Vorador personally assassinate William like he had done to the Circle? Why send some other assassin?

And who was this mysterious assassin anyway? Some skilled half-breed under the command of Vorador? To the best of their knowledge, Vorador didn't command half-breed soldiers like a military general. They deferred to him and treated him as a respected elder, but most half-breeds acted independently without any kind of central authority. Was William's assassin nothing more than a half-breed working completely on his own? And if he was, then where did he get a sword identical to William's?

And again, how could be the same sword shown in the vampire murals? Did those murals portray historical figures from the ancient war, or did they represent something else? A legend, or a prophecy?

Mortanius wracked his brains trying to make sense of it. He had the unshakable feeling that he was missing some vital fact that would put all of this into perspective. Killing William made no sense by itself, but the assassin wielding a sword that just happened to be portrayed in ancient vampire murals was too much for Mortanius to accept as a coincidence.

The worst part was that he couldn't really talk to anyone about it. He didn't want to bring it up with Moebius for fear of getting caught in a falsehood regarding their discovery of the hylden, which would only complicate matters. Azimuth would likely disregard anything from the vampire temple since it contradicted the murals beneath Avernus Cathedral. He could already hear her voice telling him that the sword in the mural was just the invention of some long-dead vampire artist, and the one that Moebius gave William just looked like it by accident. But she had never actually seen the sword with her own eyes. She wouldn't understand.

It was with those thoughts swirling in his mind that he returned to the Cathedral to meet with her several months after William's death. Since the funeral, he'd been splitting his time roughly evenly between his home and Avernus. Azimuth had been somewhat distracted by their communication with the hylden, and she allowed him to come and go as he pleased.

When he arrived, the front doors to the Cathedral were locked, which was odd. Luckily, Mortanius had his own key. The inside of the Cathedral was surprisingly cool given the temperature outside, which also felt strange to him.

He didn't bother to call out for Azimuth, since he knew she was probably downstairs. She rarely came up except for meals anymore. Without students and servants walking around, the huge Cathedral felt like a giant empty tomb. Mortanius's footsteps echoed softly as he traversed the main hall and descended the stairs.

He heard Azimuth's voice and followed it until he found her in one of the larger meeting rooms, where she was speaking to someone. Slowing his pace, he approached the doorway, wondering who else would be down here with her.

"... things they've told us. They have great power and knowledge, far beyond anything we know about. And all this time, they've been waiting for us to reestablish contact with them. And now we have, and who knows what amazing discoveries this might lead to?"

A male voice, the accent giving him away as a commoner. "Thank you, my Lady. Thank you again for sharing this with us."

"Yes," said a shy female voice. "It's ... it's an honor to be here."

A few other voices agreed, murmuring thanks.

Mortanius stepped into the doorway, immediately silencing the conversation. Azimuth was seated at a table with six or eight other people. They were dressed in shabby cloaks and rags, and their hair was dirty and uncombed. Peasants, all of them. One of them was an old man with gnarled limbs, another a girl barely past sixteen with the haunted eyes of someone who has seen more than their share of personal suffering. The rest were middle-aged, but all of them looked older than their years. On first glance, Mortanius guessed that some of them – maybe all of them – were homeless vagrants.

"Oh!" Azimuth said, somehow sounding pleased and disappointed at the same time. She sat up and clasped her hands together. "Mortanius, I didn't think you'd be here today."

"And I didn't know we were having guests over," he said casually, nodding at the peasants. "What's going on here, exactly?"

Instead of answering him, Azimuth turned to the others and rose from her chair. "Everyone, this is Lord Mortanius. He's one of the Guardians, just like I am. Right now he and I need to speak privately. I'll take you to the kitchen so you can get something to eat, and then you can head home. Just remember to keep what I've told you a secret for now, okay?"

Azimuth ushered them out of the room and they nervously greeted Mortanius as they went by, mumbling thanks or that it was an honor meet him. He smiled as pleasantly as he could and let them pass, giving Azimuth a questioning look which she skillfully ignored. He was tempted to follow them upstairs, but decided to remain where he was. A few minutes later, Azimuth came back down.

"I know, I know," she said, "I should have told you, but –"

"Who were those people?" he asked, interrupting her.

"Some local people I met the other day," she said vaguely.

"Where did you meet them, a homeless camp?"

"Don't be a snob, Mortanius. They're just some poor, unfortunate people."

"You were telling them about the hylden."

She put her hands on her hips and looked at him. "Yes, I was."

"I thought you wanted to keep this a secret. That's what you keep telling me."

Azimuth sighed and walked past him to take a seat at the table. She crossed her legs and smoothed out her dress. "I just wanted to tell someone about it, okay? What we've discovered is so incredible, Mortanius, I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore. And I know what you're about to say –"

"We have to tell the other Guardians."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not yet. I'm not ready."

"Not ready for what?" Mortanius asked exasperatedly, spreading his hands. "They need to be told. We should have told them already. I don't understand why you want to keep this to yourself."

"I'm the Guardian of Dimension," Azimuth said. "The hylden are trapped in another dimension, and I'm the one most qualified to study them. The Dimensionscope makes it possible for us to communicate with them, and the Dimensionscope is mine."

"That's all true, but the other Guardians still have a right to know what we discovered here."

"Do they? My experiments are my own, just as your experiments are your own. Do you share every discovery you make with the rest of the Circle? Do you think Moebius or Anarcrothe reveal all their private experiments?"

"I don't tell everyone about my experiments because I don't think anyone really wants to know," Mortanius said. "I experiment with corpses and death. Do you want to hear all the grisly details?"

"That's not my point," Azimuth said, leaning forward. She pointed at him. "Your experiments are your business and no one else's. The Dimensionscope is my business. I invited you here to share in my discovery, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to tell the others."

"Why not?"

"I don't trust them," she said simply.

Mortanius was nearly struck speechless. He laughed a humorless laugh and set his hands on the table. "Don't trust them? What are you talking about?"

"You know what I mean. Anarcrothe is an arrogant jerk. Ariel and Nupraptor are impossible to deal with. Malek and Moebius are fanatics. None of them would let me continue my experiments as I saw fit. They'd make demands of me, try to dictate how I use the Dimensionscope. They might even try to stop me from communicating with the hylden altogether." She crossed her arms defiantly. "I'm sorry, but I won't allow that to happen."

Mortanius wanted to argue with her, but deep down, he knew that she had a point. Mortanius could easily imagine Moebius, just for one example, forcefully ordering the Dimensionscope to be destroyed rather than have a method to speak with the hylden, who were even more alien and unknowable than the vampires. Some of the others, such as Ariel or Bane, might also argue that they should not interact with the hylden at all.

The hylden would immediately become a point of contention among the entire Circle. In all their history, there had never been a single issue that truly divided them, but what if the hylden became so divisive that they took sides? Mortanius didn't even want to think what might happen if the Guardians truly became conflicted over something like this.

"But we can't just keep it a secret," he insisted, even as he felt the argument was slipping away from him. "Yes, I suppose that some of the others might disagree with your experiments, but the Guardians have always held equal status. They can't make demands of you. You have every right to refuse to let them interfere, but you still have to tell them about the hylden. You can't keep it a secret from the others."

"I'm not keeping it a secret," Azimuth said. She got up from the chair and set her hands on his shoulders. "You know about the hylden, so they're not a secret anymore, right? I'm just doing my own private experiments. Like you said, I'm not telling the others because maybe they don't want to know all the grisly details."

"But a discovery of this magnitude ..."

She pressed her finger against his lips and then gave him a quick kiss. "I know, and eventually the other Guardians will know all about it, I promise. Just not yet, okay? Let me learn everything I can from the hylden before I reveal my discovery. Please, Mortanius, let me do this my way."

He sighed in defeat. "Fine, but what about those commoners? You told them about the hylden but you won't tell the Guardians?"

"Don't you worry about them," Azimuth said. "They're just simple folk. They won't tell anyone what they learned here. I'm just giving them something important to believe in, something to make them feel special. There's no harm in that."

"I suppose not, but ..."

She smiled and wrapped her arms around him. "No buts, darling. I might not trust the other Guardians, but I trust you, okay?"

# Chapter Forty Eight

Mortanius descended the steps into the subterranean catacomb beneath Avernus Cathedral. He went slowly, taking one step at a time. He was in no hurry. In fact, he was stalling.

The catacombs, once a dark maze of uneven dirt passages and tunnels, had been greatly expanded. The section which connected it to the Cathedral basement was now a wide staircase lined in red brick, leading to a broad hallway that branched off to several rooms and private quarters. The floor was still mostly dirt, but it was now packed down and smoothed out evenly across most of the catacomb. The ceiling was reinforced with wooden arches in some places, with stone in others. The catacomb was still not a very welcoming place, but at least it was better than the gloomy cavern it had once been.

Ten years had passed since their first contact with the hylden. Mortanius, for reasons he could not adequately articulate, consented to Azimuth's desire to keep their discovery of the hylden from the rest of the Circle. In ten years, he still had not told anyone, not even Moebius.

He really didn't know why. It wasn't because of a sense of loyalty to Azimuth, and it wasn't because he cared about her or anything so sentimental. Even though he did care about her. And he didn't keep the hylden a secret because he was embarrassed by his involvement in their discovery. If anything, it was the opposite. Azimuth's Dimensionscope was one of the most magnificent magical artifacts that Mortanius had ever seen, but they kept that a secret from the other Guardians as well. Mortanius didn't know why. Every time he tried to explain it to himself, he came up with nothing.

In the end, Azimuth wanted to keep knowledge of the hylden between the two of them, and Mortanius submitted to her wishes without argument. She said that she wanted to continue her research before telling the others. She wanted to learn as much as possible before revealing their discovery to the rest of the Nosgoth. She wanted to improve her magical device until it worked flawlessly. Those were just some of her excuses, but Mortanius knew the real reason.

Azimuth liked being in control. She didn't want the other Guardians to be involved with the hylden because she coveted the power that their interactions gave her. The hylden shared knowledge, both historical and magical in nature, and Azimuth wanted it all for herself. Azimuth liked being in charge, and she kept Mortanius around because he let her be in charge.

He didn't know why he stayed. He originally intended to leave Avernus a long time ago, and in the years since they first found the hylden, he made plans to leave many times. He had his own work to do, his own experiments, his own lines of research. He wanted to be free of all of this. But he kept coming back. For ten years, he kept coming back.

Every time he spoke with the other Guardians, it was harder and harder for him to hold his tongue. It grew increasingly difficult to keep track of his numerous omissions and outright lies. Sometimes, he found himself casually mentioning his work with Azimuth and nearly blurting out something the hylden had told them, or mentioning Azimuth's device by accident. He had to constantly monitor his own thoughts and words when the other Guardians were around.

Not that he saw much of them these days anyway. The Guardians no longer met every year, and in fact they had only gathered once in the past decade. Mortanius occasionally spoke with Moebius, but he had little contact with the rest of them.

It had not only been ten years since their discovery of the hylden. It was also ten years since the assassination of William of Winterheim. Those two major events had coincidentally occurred right around the same time, changing the course of Nosgoth's history, and neither of them necessarily for the better.

William's death, as Moebius had predicted, led to a renewed crusade of vengeance against the vampires. According to the most recent report from Malek that Mortanius had bothered to read, more than six thousand half-breeds had been killed in the past decade. Families no longer helped to conceal their half-breed relatives, communities no longer hid them away or protected them. The half-breeds were on their own now, tracked and hunted down relentlessly by Malek's organized guilds of vampire hunters. Sometimes they were caught alive and executed for the mobs to watch. Sometimes they were staked and left to burn in the sun.

Vorador was still a fugitive, hidden somewhere in the deepest region of the Termogent Forest. All attempts to track him down had failed, just as they had failed for centuries before. Whatever ancient magic was used to conceal Vorador's lair, it was beyond the ability of Malek and his vampire hunters to penetrate. Perhaps if all the Guardians united together, they might be able to determine exactly where Vorador was hiding, but for whatever reason, the Guardians had declined from cooperating in that manner, much to Moebius's and Malek's frustration.

The rallying cry of the vampire hunters was "For William!" In fact, the legend of William had grown to ridiculous lengths since his death. William the Just, the people called him. William the Beloved, William the Pure, William the Good. If anything, he became more famous in death than he had in life. He was a shining paragon of virtue who healed the sick with a touch of his hand. He was a legendary warrior who slayed hundreds of vampires in an attempt to rid the land of their menace. His birth was marked by a prophecy that he would someday come to rule all of Nosgoth. He died defending his family from a dozen vampire assassins, only succumbing to his wounds after he had slain them all. Lies and complete nonsense were his legacy now.

However, William's great legend had not helped Winterheim. Once a rising province, prosperous and peaceful, it quickly descended into internal squabbling amongst William's relatives in the wake of his assassination. Mortanius didn't even know who ruled Winterheim now. The province was all but ignored by the surrounding region, returning to its former place as a disorganized northern land not worthy of mention.

The death of William and the ongoing extermination of the vampires had one positive result, at least. The brewing conflict between the major cities, which Mortanius had feared for some time, had yet to occur. The city governments had formed a loose alliance in the intervening years, partially as a way to combat the possibility that one particular city might gain too much power. Trade was good, disagreements were hashed out in monthly conferences, and the populace enjoyed a long period of peace and prosperity.

Mortanius wished his own private life was so peaceful.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and walked silently down the hall to the main catacomb chamber. Every week, sometimes more than once a week, he made the trek underneath Avernus to participate in cult rituals.

That's the only thing he could call it. A cult. The tiny, fringe religious group founded by Azimuth started with a handful of peasants. Within a year, she had perhaps twenty regular followers. In another couple of years, the number swelled to fifty. Still a small number, but every month it grew by another person or two. The current number was more than one hundred.

Mortanius had no involvement whatsoever in recruiting new members. In fact, neither did Azimuth at this point. The cult spread by word of mouth to all the darkest, poorest corners of the city, to the ears of those who had little to lose by embracing a strange new god. Members of the cult gained no wealth or personal power by joining. They were not fed or given shelter, even though Azimuth probably could have afforded to do so if she wished. They received nothing except the belief that they were the chosen ones, the special few who the hylden chose to grant their wisdom. They were lonely and desperate, and wanted nothing more than to be a part of something special and important.

Sometimes, Mortanius pitied them. Most of the time, he despised them. They were the pathetic refuse of society, and what little sympathy he had for their plight was outweighed by his disgust at the entire cult, and his own participation in it. He hated that he was involved in this lunacy, and hated the cult's fervent followers even more, for being drawn into it willingly. And deep down, he hated Azimuth for all of it.

But still, he kept her secrets. He told no one of the cult, or Azimuth's magical device, or the existence of the hylden. He felt smothered by all his secrets and deceptions. Sometimes he wished he had never agreed to come to Avernus in the first place. But something kept holding him back, kept him from informing the Guardians, kept him returning to Avernus again and again. He had long since stopped trying to make sense of it.

Azimuth met him in the corridors beyond the main chamber. She wore a sensual black and purple gown with a long cut up one leg. Glittering gold bracelets dangled from her wrists. She looked positively radiant beside Mortanius, who wore a plain maroon cloak. It was always a bit chilly down in the catacombs for some reason, and he wondered if she ever got cold in such revealing clothing.

"You're late," she said, not looking at him.

"Yes," he agreed.

"They're waiting for us. If memory serves, it's your turn to speak."

"I'd rather not."

She shook her head. "I can't believe it still makes you uncomfortable after all this time. By now, you should be used to it."

"I'll never be used to it. It's not natural."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. I've told you a hundred times, it's nothing to be worried about."

Mortanius wasn't so sure about that, but he let the subject drop. The hylden had never explained exactly how they were able to possess human bodies, and what that possession truly entailed. Could the hylden access their memories during that time? Why could they only seem to possess Azimuth and Mortanius?

At first, Mortanius believed that they could only possess someone when Azimuth used the Dimensionscope, but that theory was soon proven false. What exactly were the limits of the hylden's power? They refused to say, and Azimuth refused to ask, saying it was irrelevant, although Mortanius thought it was anything but.

Finally, Azimuth turned to look at him. She reached up to smooth out the collar of his robe, and pursed her lips as she inspected his appearance.

"Hmm," she said with a hint of a smile. "I guess you look presentable."

"That's all I aim for," he replied.

She let out a little chuckle. "Okay. I'll let you off the hook, I suppose. I'll be the speaker."

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

""How do I look?"

"Beautiful, as always."

She smiled at him and then walked down the hall to the main chamber. After a moment, Mortanius slumped his shoulders and walked out after her.

The central chamber of the catacomb was an enormous cave, at least two hundred feet at its widest. The high ceiling was dotted with stalactites that sometimes dripped water. When Mortanius or Azimuth spoke, their voices echoed in the vast room.

In the center of the chamber was a deep pit fifty feet across and at least that far down. The pit was already there when they first found the catacombs, and they never bothered to fill it in because it would have been too difficult. Constantly-burning magical fires were lit on brazers all around the perimeter of the pit. On a secondary level another ten feet beyond that was a curved hallway balcony almost like an interior mezzanine. The railings were crudely-carved stone, made by the same workers who built the stairs and ceiling arches. Right now the balcony was packed with bodies. By Mortanius's reckoning, most of their followers were there.

The cultists whispered and murmured amongst themselves, shifting nervously on the dirt floor. They wore shabby gray or brown cloaks with the hoods raised up to conceal their faces as much as possible. Members of the hylden cult kept their identities a secret, but they needn't have bothered. None of them were important enough for anyone to recognize. They were vagabonds and beggars, petty criminals and unskilled laborers, the unwanted and the disposable, the homeless and the needy. They were the sad, neglected underworld of Avernus and the surrounding regions, some of them coming from as far away as Willendorf.

Sometimes Mortanius spoke for the hylden and sometimes it was Azimuth. It really didn't matter which one of them served as the mouthpiece to the hylden, since the words were the same.

Azimuth stood at the edge of the dark pit, arms raised. "Welcome!" she called out. "Welcome all! You have come to here as witnesses to powerful beings from another world! You have come to hear the voice of the great hylden! Call to them with me!

"Hylden!" the cultists called back. "Hylden!"

"Speak to us, great hylden!" Azimuth shouted, her voice reverberating across the chamber. "Give us your wisdom and knowledge! We are in need of your voice!"

It made Mortanius sick to think how fully Azimuth had embraced her role as a servant of the banished hylden. When Mortanius said the words, he just said them in a monotone voice devoid of emotion. But not Azimuth. The passion in her voice was unmistakable. She was not just repeating words, she was speaking from the heart. Ever since the very first day they had heard the voice of the hylden, she was fully dedicated to them. Her obedience to the hylden was complete.

He watched in familiar horror as Azimuth's body suddenly went rigid and her eyes flashed an eerie green color. Her movements became jerky and unstable, like someone suffering from muscle spasms. She almost looked as if she was going to fall into the pit, but she remained upright, her arms extended straight out at her sides.

Her voice was no longer her own. "We will now speak," the hylden said through her in a deep, rumbling voice. "Hear me, people of Nosgoth. We have no name. We are ancient. We have been gone from Nosgoth for an age, but now we are returned."

# Chapter Forty Nine

Mortanius was in the middle of an experiment when Azimuth contacted him. Lately, he had been spending more and more time away from Avernus. It took him years to finally put some distance between himself and Azimuth's hylden-worshipping cult, but he had done it. It felt like removing a chain that had been tied around his neck for too long. He was not entirely free, however. He returned there about once a month to participate in the cult rituals, guilted into doing so by Azimuth, but he spent the majority of his time at his own estate.

"Mortanius!" Azimuth's voice announced suddenly from the air around him. "You must come to Avernus and meet with me at once! Something amazing has happened! Our benefactors have given us a sample of their power! You must come and see it in person!"

Mortanius sighed and stood up straight, stretching his back. His hands were covered in blood. On the examination table before him lay a pair of dead dogs. One of them was nothing but a corpse, the soul having already left the body and moved on. The other dog, however, was in magical stasis, its soul contained in a gem not unlike the one which held the soul of the Guardian Malek.

He was currently in the middle of performing a heart transplant. Such operations had long been theorized by physicians as a way to save lives, by taking a healthy heart from a recently-dead individual and placing it in the chest of someone whose heart was defective or damaged.. However, medical knowledge had not reached a point where it was possible to keep a person alive long enough to do the operation. Mortanius hoped to change that.

He had removed the heart from the dead dog and was now in the middle of sewing it into the chest of the other. Once he was done, he would return the dog's soul to its body and use his magic to reactivate the biological functions as much as possible. If his experiment was successful, the dog would be alive and healthy once more, and Mortanius would move on to human subjects.

He wiped his hands clean on a towel and then cast a quick incantation. A magical red aura surrounded him and he said, "Azimuth, I'm in the middle of an experiment right now. I'll come to Avernus in a few hours, once I'm finished."

The Guardians had recently begun using a new messaging spell developed by Anarcrothe. For the first time, they could communicate easily over long distances. The spell had a few limitations, but it worked well most of the time.

A minute later, Azimuth's reply came. "I don't care what you're working on! It can't possibly be as important as this! We're on the forefront of the greatest development in the history of the human race! Drop what you're doing and come to Avernus right now!"

Mortanius sighed heavily and leaned against the examination table. He debated what would be more troublesome, traveling to Avernus for a few minutes to see whatever nonsense Azimuth was so excited about, or ignoring her summons and dealing with her fury later. If he came running at her every beck and call, she'd come to expect it and he'd never make a clean break. He was not her employee or her servant, and she had no right to make any demands of him. He was a Guardian of the Pillars, her equal in status, and her vast superior in age and experience. For that reason alone, he wanted to block her from contacting him again.

But he had to know what was going on. One of the reasons he continued to participate in Azimuth's cult was to keep an eye on it, to make sure it wasn't getting out of hand. The cult had been active for twenty years now, and Azimuth boasted more than five hundred followers. If Mortanius had anything to say about it, that was as large as the cult would ever be. If it grew beyond their ability to contain it, he would go to the other Guardians and damn the consequences. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

She said the hylden gave her a sample of their power. What exactly did that mean? Some new spell, or maybe a magical item? Had they revealed the location of another hidden ruin? Or something even more unexpected?

Frowning, he cast the spell again and gave his one-word response. "Fine."

He looked down at his two test subjects. He could try to leave the experiment in place, but he doubted that he could maintain the stasis all the way from Avernus. Making up his mind, he released the dog's soul from the magical gemstone and threw a gray sheet over the bloody bodies. Later, he'd call upon one of his local contacts to remove the dogs and find him some more so he could start the experiment from scratch.

He cleaned up, washed his hands, and changed into a clean robe. Once he was ready, he went outside into the yard and prepared another spell. Speaking to people over long distances was not the only recent magical development. After several years of experimentation and practice, as well as magical information gained from the hylden, Azimuth had successfully created a reliable teleportation spell. The Guardians had been fooling around with the idea of instant travel for centuries, but attempting such a spell without knowing the results was a dangerous proposition. They might well reappear fifty feet underground, or a thousand feet in mid-air.

Mortanius would go to Avernus as requested, but he was not going to travel the long way. Going by horse would take more than a day, and even flying would take hours. He didn't want to waste that much time.

An aura of glowing magic embraced him as he finished the incantation. He blinked out of existence and reappeared in the middle of the main hall of Avernus, surrounded by a billowing fog as the warm air that teleported along with him came into contact with the almost freezing air of the Cathedral. It was uncomfortably cold inside, as usual. Mortanius had mentioned the temperature to Azimuth several times but she disregarded it. Some strange side affect of the Dimensionscope seemed to suck the heat right out of the air, leaving it shiveringly cold inside.

"There you are!" Azimuth snapped from the other end of the hall. She stalked towards him, her eyes were ablaze with intensity, as if she was under the effects of a stimulating drug. "You took your time getting here!"

"Did you want me to come here covered in blood?" Mortanius snapped back. "I was in the middle of an operation. I had to clean up first."

She waved his explanation away and spun her heel to walk back to the stairs. "Whatever," she said over her shoulder. "Come downstairs. You have to see this."

Mortanius swallowed his annoyance and followed after her. "What can possibly be so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

"They sent something to us," she said, hopping down the steps two at a time.

Mortanius halted in mid-step, one foot on the top stair and one foot on the stair below. "What are you talking about?"

Azimuth reached the bottom and turned to look up at him. Her eyes seemed to glow. "They sent us a messenger! A symbol of their power! Can you even comprehend what this means for the future of our world? They are truly gods, Mortanius. Gods in physical flesh!"

"How could they send anything?" he asked firmly. "The barrier between the dimensions can't be breached. You've said this many times. We can see and communicate, but nothing can travel from one dimension to the other."

"Damn it, Mortanius!" Azimuth groaned, raising her hands. "Listen to me! The hylden have bestowed upon us an incredible gift, and still you doubt them! Our knowledge of the dimensional barrier is paltry compared to theirs, so if I ever said it was impossible to breach, then clearly I was wrong!"

"How did they sent it through?"

She turned and stomped down the hallway. "Come and see for yourself!"

Warily, he made his way downstairs. It was colder in the basement, and colder still in the catacomb beneath Avernus, which made no sense. It should have been warmer. His breath puffed out in white clouds as he made his way to the central chamber. The cold was not merely a low temperature, it was something more than that. It was like the coldness of death. Mortanius felt himself shiver down to his core, as if the cold had penetrated his very soul.

"Azimuth," he said.

"Here!" she shouted from deeper within. "Come and see what the hylden have given us! A messenger to spread their words! A being unlike anything that walks the world of Nosgoth! Undeniable proof of their power!"

He found her on the very edge of the huge pit in the center of the main chamber, facing him with arms spread wide and a look of pure exultation on her face, which looked flush with sweat even in the coldness of the chamber. None of the other cult followers were in attendance. The chamber was empty and silent.

Mortanius said nothing as he came forward. He almost asked her where the hylden's "messenger" was, but he already knew. The cold seemed to seep straight into his bones as he walked to the pit. He edged forward and leaned over to see down to the bottom.

He had the paranoid thought that Azimuth had lured him here in order to murder him. It would be a simple thing to push him down into the pit. The fall might not kill him, but it would surely injure him, and even if he was strong enough to cast a spell to levitate or fly out, Azimuth could cast spells of her own to wound him or kill him outright. If he died down here, the other Guardians would never find his body or know what had happened to him. And if the hylden had ordered Azimuth to end Mortanius's life, he had no doubt that she would follow their instructions, so deep was her loyalty to them.

She did not push him in, but as Mortanius's eyes made out what was shrouded in gloom down at the bottom of the pit, he almost wished that she had.

It was a creature of immense size, at least fifteen feet wide at the shoulders and longer than that from head to tail. Coarse brown and black fur covered most of its body, and Mortanius saw what he thought was some kind of webbing connecting its front limbs to its torso, almost like bat wings. The creature could not fly, however, and instead walked on all fours, the front limbs longer and more jointed than the rear. A stubby tail emerged from its back, looking more like a vestigial growth rather than anything functional. At the sound of their voices, the creature reared its head up and glared at them with huge yellow eyes. Its face was neither human nor beast, but some demented combination of the two. The sight of that hideous face chilled Mortanius's bones.

And then it spoke. Its voice was like the rumble of thunder, and at first, Mortanius thought that it was nothing but a roar of displeasure. But then he realized with growing horror that the creature was saying a word.

"Blood! Blood!" Its demand echoed across the cavern. "Give me blood!"

Mortanius stumbled back, away from the edge of the pit. He felt like his legs were going to give out from underneath him. Azimuth remained where she was, looking down at the monster with something like wonder in her gaze.

"It has traveled very far to be here," she said vaguely. "We have been entrusted with its care."

"We must kill it!" Mortanius blurted out, in shock. The sight of those yellow eyes, glaring at him and shining with cruel intelligence, burned into his memory. He retreated further from the pit, trying to escape. "It's a demon! It has no place in this world!"

"It's not from this world!" Azimuth cried triumphantly. "We are the sole guardians of a new life form, given to us by beings more powerful than we can ever imagine! How can you not be awed by the sight of such godlike power?"

"Are you insane?" Mortanius said in disgust. "It's a monster! Did you not hear it call out for blood? There's only one being I know of that craves blood, and it's not the hylden!"

Azimuth looked at him and shook her head pityingly. "You have such a small view of the universe, Mortanius. How many other dimensions have we looked upon, you and I? Hundreds? Thousands of other planes of existence? And yet you still think that Nosgoth is somehow normal, or even average. That Nosgoth is the correct dimension by which all others are judged."

"What are you talking about?"

"The hylden opened up a rift to another dimension in order to find this messenger. The fact that it requires blood to live is irrelevant. For all we know, the majority of intelligent beings in the universe drink blood like the vampires did. Maybe what they thought was a curse was just a return to the natural order of things. Maybe we humans are the freaks."

Mortanius shook his head. She was just trying to distract him. He took a step towards her and pointed toward the pit. "How did they send it here?" he demanded to know. "How did the hylden manage to transport such a huge creature to Nosgoth?"

"They opened a rift from its home dimension and sent it through," she replied in a flat tone of voice, looking him right in the eyes. "In its disoriented state, I was able to lead it into the pit, where it will remain until –"

"Why didn't they come through themselves?" Mortanius asked. "If they could breach the barrier between worlds, then why not come through to Nosgoth?"

"You know they can't return here," Azimuth said carefully. "The Pillars ..."

"The Pillars banished them. We know the place they were banished to. It's a hellscape with a burning red sky. But if the hylden can breach the dimensional barrier, then they didn't they leave that place ages ago? Why not find some other dimension similar to Nosgoth and live there instead?"

"We can't presume to know their motivations," Azimuth said, crossing her arms arrogantly. "If they wanted to leave, then they would have."

"But they did, right? They had to leave their dimension in order to find a creature to send to our world. So why did they choose such a horrifying beast to be their messenger? If they can leave their dimension, then they could have gone anywhere. Of all the creatures in all the dimensions of the universe, why did they choose that damned thing?"

"It's a symbol of their godlike power!" Azimuth insisted. "It will inspire awe in everyone that lays their eyes on it! Look at it, Mortanius, and tell me that the beings who sent it here are not as powerful as gods! That creature –"

"Drinks blood!" he finished for her. "You said it will remain in the pit, but why? Why keep it there? If it's a messenger of your precious hylden, then shouldn't we march it right outside the Cathedral for everyone to see? All of Nosgoth should see the evidence of their godlike power."

"We can't ..." Azimuth said hesitantly. "I mean, the creature is ... untamed and ..."

"Untamed?" Mortanius laughed. "Is that how you describe it? You're not blind, Azimuth, you can see how dangerous that thing is. If it ever got loose, it would murder hundreds of people before it was brought down. Why would the hylden send a demon like that to Nosgoth? Why not send something easier to control? Why not send some other intelligent race to be their messenger?"

For a brief second, Mortanius thought he was getting through to her. Azimuth blinked and stuttered, trying to come up with something. She rubbed her forehead and looked back uncertainly towards the pit. For the first time in a very long time, she seemed to harbor doubts.

"Tell me the truth," Mortanius said more gently. "Where did that demon come from? I don't believe for one second that the hylden can open up portals to other dimensions. They didn't send it here, so where did it ..."

He gasped and stepped back as he felt the hylden force their will upon him. Resisting them was pointless, but he tried anyway. Azimuth's momentary look of confusion faded away and she smiled knowingly as Mortanius blacked out.

# Chapter Fifty

He slowly came to, lying on the floor of the hallway leading from the main chamber. He trembled and rolled onto his side, breathing heavily. His arms and legs felt numb, but sensation soon returned and he managed to get his arms under him in an attempt to stand up.

He heard voices in the main chamber. The cult followers were chanting, although the voices were getting softer. By the time Mortanius managed to stand, the chamber was mostly silent except for the shuffle of feet and murmur of whispers.

Azimuth's voice rang out, "The gods are pleased with our sacrifice! Remember this day and remember the power of the gods! For we are the chosen ones, and our sacrifice to Hash'ak'gik will be rewarded! Hail to Hash'ak'gik!"

"Hash'ak'gik!" the cultists responded.

Mortanius slumped against the wall and tried to clear his head. How long had been under their control? Somehow, he felt as if hours had passed. When he succumbed to their influence, the chamber was empty except for himself and Azimuth, but now the cult followers were there, so it must have been some time. He felt tired and disoriented, as he had the very first time the hylden had possessed him.

"There you are," Azimuth said. She stood a few paces away, her arms crossed.

"How long?" Mortanius croaked, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. "How long was I under their control this time?"

She shrugged. "A little while, I don't know. You should be grateful. They saved you from doing something foolish."

"Foolish?" he said with a grimace.

"Yes. You've been acting foolishly for some time now, in fact. Ignoring your responsibilities here at the Cathedral, openly contradicting our benefactors –"

"Benefactors? Azimuth, listen to yourself. The hylden aren't benefactors, they aren't gods, and they aren't our allies. They're a species even more alien to us than the vampires. We know nothing of their motivations, their intentions, or their goals. When you brought me along to help you with this project, it was to study the other dimensions, not to worship their inhabitants!"

"The hylden are from Nosgoth, or have you forgotten? This is their home, Mortanius, stolen from them by the vampires. Is it any wonder they seek to reconnect with it after so long?"

"Do we know for certain that they're from Nosgoth?" Mortanius asked seriously. "All we know is that the vampires and the hylden went to war. For all we know, the vampires banished the hylden back to their original home dimension!"

"The murals make no mention of that. Not even the vampire murals make any such claim."

"That's my point! All we have are those damned murals, telling two sides of the same story, without any context or explanation. We don't even have writings, only images that we try in vain to interpret. We don't know where they came from, we don't know why they went to war, we don't know anything! We still don't truly understand how the Pillars even work or how they were made!"

"And the hylden can teach us!" Azimuth said, reaching out to him. "The vampires kept the truth hidden from us. You've said it yourself how they hoarded their knowledge and treated humans as inferiors. The hylden just want to return home, Mortanius, can't you see that? In return for our help, they'll share their wisdom with us."

Mortanius sneered and jabbed a finger toward the chamber. "Is that beast in the pit an example of their great wisdom? Tell me again how they brought it here? By opening a portal from its own home dimension?"

"Yes, the hylden –"

"The hylden are lying," Mortanius said. "We've spoken to them a thousand times and never once did they mention they can breach the dimensional barrier."

"They are not lying," Azimuth swore. "They have no obligation to tell us everything. They don't owe us anything at all. They sent Hash'ak'gik here to serve as their representative, as their messenger on Nosgoth"

"It has a name now?"

"Yes, it has a name! And when the others saw it for the first time, they were in awe, just like you should be! It's easy for them to listen when the hylden speak through us, but they know that we're sorcerers and could fake the voice of the hylden if we wanted to. But Hash'ak'gik is living proof that the hylden are real and their powers are real, and they can manifest here on Nosgoth."

"They didn't need to send some demon to Nosgoth to accomplish that! All you have to do is bring the other Guardians here and show them! Then all of Nosgoth would know the truth! Why haven't they asked you to do that? Bringing the Guardians here to see them would serve their purposes far more than talking to a bunch of ignorant peasants!"

"The Guardians are biased," Azimuth said simply. "You're a perfect example of that, aren't you? They value their own status too highly. Do you think for a moment that someone like Ariel would accept the hylden with an open mind? Or a fanatic like Malek? No, the Guardians would only get in the way. The hylden want to have their existence revealed to the common people of Nosgoth. Once we succeed in spreading the hylden's message to the people, only then will the Guardians be informed."

"Then set that demon free, like I said before. Let everyone in the entire city see their messenger with their own eyes. Did the hylden explain why they sent a dangerous beast like that?"

"They did, as a matter of fact. You know as well as I do how many dimensions there are in the universe. We've looked at hundreds and only scratched the surface. The hylden said that even they haven't explored more than a few hundred dimensions. They admit that Hash'ak'gik is perhaps not the ideal messenger, but he is a member of one of the only other intelligent species the hylden have encountered. The other species were unacceptable for a variety of reasons –"

"How convenient," Mortanius spat. "I told you, they're lying. They can travel freely to other dimensions but they've seen barely more than we have? I still don't believe they needed to send a messenger here at all, but I refuse to believe that a blood-drinking demon like that is the best they could find!"

"And I already told you, just because it drinks blood means nothing."

Mortanius paused at that, suddenly remembering something. In the first hazy moments after he regained control of his body, he heard Azimuth speaking to the cult followers, but he hadn't really registered what she said. Now, he thought back and remembered her words.

"When you were talking to the others, you said something about a sacrifice. What were you talking about? What happened?" He looked at her intently. "What have you done?"

Azimuth returned his gaze, studying him coolly. "I think what you mean to ask is, what have we done? You and I performed a new ceremony. We revealed the existence of Hash'ak'gik to the others. The hylden spoke through us and also through him. And afterward, we delivered a willing sacrifice to Hash'ak'gik as a further demonstration of his power."

The thought chilled Mortanius's blood. "You ... sacrificed someone to that thing?"

"Yes. We are Hash'ak'gik's caretakers. He must be fed."

Mortanius pushed past her, feeling as if he was going to be sick. He ran out into the main chamber, the sickness rising until the entire world seemed to spin around him. He stopped at the edge of the pit and tottered there, staring in horror at the scene below.

Blood was splattered here and there, although not as much as there should have been. The ragged corpse tossed against the dirt wall would have held more. It was a man dressed in a shabby brown tunic, now ripped and torn, his gray hair matted with gore from his shattered skull.

The demon stalked in a circular path around the bottom of the pit, probing at the walls, seeking an exit. Somehow, it sensed Mortanius standing there and tilted its head upward to gaze hatefully at him. It jammed its front claws into the wall and climbed until it stood nearly upright. Its mouth was smeared with blood.

"Not enough!" it growled. "Want more! Give me more blood!"

Mortanius staggered backwards as if struck with a physical blow. His nausea overwhelmed him and he fell to his knees and vomited on the chamber floor, although it had been hours since he'd eaten and there wasn't much to vomit up but bile. Azimuth watched him and laughed in cruel amusement.

"Oh, Mortanius, don't be so damned squeamish. That man down there isn't worth it. He was a criminal. Do you think I would send an innocent person to their death?"

He spat out the foul taste in his mouth. "A criminal? Really? What crime did he commit? Was it so heinous that he deserved to be fed to a demon as punishment? I don't even care what he did. It doesn't matter. You still murdered him."

"We," Azimuth said, the single word echoing off the cavern walls. "We did this, Mortanius. You and I. We're in this together, whether you like it or not. Or did you really think that you could just stand by and only bear responsibility when it suited you?"

"The hylden are responsible for this!" Mortanius insisted. "Not me! They've corrupted our minds and taken control of our bodies! And the worst part is that you seem to welcome it! How can you willingly take part in this demented cult and not see it for what it is?"

"We are the chosen ones!" Azimuth replied fanatically. "Everything I've ever done my entire life has led up to this! I had a vision of the Dimensionscope in my dreams, and I strove for decades to make it a reality! Contacting the hylden was my destiny, Mortanius! You should be sharing the glory with me, not pushing it away like a coward!"

"A coward?" Mortanius stared at her in disbelief. "We are Guardians of the Pillars. Our loyalty lies with Nosgoth, or have you forgotten that?"

"The hylden are from Nosgoth."

"What difference does that make? The vampires are from Nosgoth too, and I don't see you worshiping them."

"The vampires tried to enslave us –"

"No, they didn't," Mortanius shot back. "And even if they had, how can you be sure that the hylden don't have the exact same goal? If they could return to Nosgoth, do you think they'll be content to treat us as equals?"

"They can't return to Nosgoth, so it's a moot point."

"Are you so sure about that? Why else would they do all of this? Why create a cult to bring in people to worship them as gods? To feed their ego?"

"This group was my idea, not theirs," Azimuth said. "I wanted to show them how much we respect them and appreciate their wisdom and counsel. The hylden haven't asked us for anything in return for their knowledge."

"Except to feed their pet demon."

"He was nothing but a lowly criminal," Azimuth said exasperatedly. "Nobody will miss him and Nosgoth will be better without men like him."

"And what about the next time?" Mortanius said. "Will you conveniently be able to track down another criminal the next time it gets hungry? How often does that thing have to feed, anyway? Every day? Every week? Eventually, you're going to run out of criminals, Azimuth. Who are you going to sacrifice then?"

Azimuth had no immediate response. She looked stunned, as if the question had never even occurred to her, and she was only now realizing the implications. She tried to stammer a reply, but Mortanius didn't care to listen.

Without another word, he cast the teleportation spell and disappeared from the chamber.

Chapter Fifty One

Mortanius walked the streets of Avernus for hours, until night fell and the moon rose in the sky. His mind wandered and spun around as he tried to understand what he had done, what he had truly become a part of. He had to come to grips with the truth. Like Azimuth said, he had been foolish. But it was more than just a stupid mistake on his part. He had willingly allowed Azimuth's cult to continue for years, even when he knew from the very start what it really stood for. He participated in her delusional gatherings and put up with her increasingly fanatic behavior, he had all but endorsed her obsession with beings from another world.

And for what? What had he accomplished? He told himself over and over again that he stayed with the cult to keep an eye on it, to steer it in a safer direction, to watch over Azimuth to make sure she was okay. He thought he could protect her. Stupidly, he believed that if the cult ever got out of hand, or if Azimuth's obsession with the hylden ever went too far, then he would act. He would notify the Circle and tell them everything.

But he never did, and with each year that went by, it became harder and harder for him to recognize at what point the cult went too far. Looking back, he should have told the other Guardians years ago. But he kept holding back, kept justifying his actions, kept waiting for some unmistakable proof that things were out of control, and when that fateful moment came and went, still he hesitated. He should have gone to the Guardians the day after the hylden first took over his body.

Why didn't he? Why did he keep their secret? Why did he allow Azimuth to slip further under the sway of the hylden? He had failed her completely, failed himself, failed the Circle.

Mortanius shook himself from his self-guilt and looked around. The night was cloudless, and the moon gave enough light to see by. He realized that had wandered all the way to a local flower garden near the edge of the city. Finding a bench, he sat down and groaned as his legs and feet protested his long aimless walk. He was not accustomed to walking so far.

He set his elbows on his knees and then buried his face in his hands. Down below Avernus Cathedral, a demon hungered. Mortanius had done nothing to stop it. And now he was a party to murder, regardless of what Azimuth called it. They had not wielded the knife, but they had killed a man just the same.

The demon was not from Nosgoth, but Mortanius didn't believe it was from the hylden's dimension either. It demanded blood, so did that mean it was somehow afflicted with the same disease as the vampires? Had the hylden cursed another race to such a fate? Mortanius realized that the realm to which the hylden were banished might well have already been the home of another race of intelligent beings. Was the demon the wretched descendant of such a race?

None of that really mattered, though. The demon's identity was unimportant. The real mystery was how it had come to Nosgoth in the first place. Mortanius could not fathom how the hylden had done it. Azimuth's weak excuses and flimsy explanations were clearly falsehoods. Either she was lying to him or she didn't even know the truth herself. Mortanius suspected it was the latter.

If the hylden had the power to open a portal to send the demon here, why not come through themselves? Mortanius did not believe that the banishment only affected the hylden's physical bodies but allowed them to send other creatures through. That made no sense at all. The banishment must have blocked off their dimension entirely or else it would have been meaningless.

Mortanius lowered his hands and sat up straight. An idea floating around in the back of his mind somehow came to the surface. The realization stunned him. Not just the fact of it, but he was stunned that he had not made the connection sooner. How had he been so blind?

The Pillars were made to keep the hylden out. Ages ago, Janos had called the Pillars a lock upon a gateway. Mortanius had always known that the hylden's banishment was directly related to the existence of the Pillars, but it was such an obvious thing that he never considered the consequences of that simple fact. And suddenly, all sorts of little details began piling up, things he had noticed but had never connected.

Azimuth had built a device capable of viewing other dimensions, but no other Guardian of Dimension had accomplished such a feat. Thesandrine, Azimuth's predecessor, could never have created such a powerful artifact. It had never occurred to Mortanius that the reason Azimuth was able to build the Dimensionscope wasn't because she was a more talented spellcaster than Thesandrine, but because the boundaries that separated the dimensions were weaker than they were before.

The Pillars had banished the hylden, but Mortanius gradually realized that if the hylden were able to extend their influence into Nosgoth so much that they could actually take physical control of human beings, then their banishment was no longer complete. In tiny ways, they were returning to Nosgoth, like a tiny crack in a dam letting water seep in. If the Pillars were a lock, then the lock had grown corroded with rust over time. It wasn't just the dimensional boundary that was growing weak, it was the Pillars themselves. The Pillars, after thousands of years, had lost some of their magic, some of their power. The hylden, perhaps sensing this, pushed their way into Nosgoth the only way they could.

The Guardians had to be told. Mortanius's first instinct was to contact Moebius, his oldest and most trusted friend, but he couldn't anticipate how Moebius might react. His hatred of the vampires was so intense that he might actually be pleased to learn that they were in contact with the vampires' ancient enemy. He might even join Azimuth's cult. Mortanius doubted that, but Moebius sometimes behaved in unpredictable ways. For now, Mortanius balked at telling his old friend.

But who else could he tell? Bane was the Guardian of Nature and might be appalled to learn that Nosgoth was at risk, but like Moebius, he sometimes held strange beliefs. Bane might feel that the hylden's possible return to Nosgoth was a good thing, since it returned Nosgoth to its more natural state since the extinction of the vampires, which he had never fully supported. Mortanius wasn't sure he wanted to confess to him either. DeJoule, the Guardian of Energy, was very close with Bane and would almost certainly take his side in any debate on the issue.

Malek was perhaps Mortanius's best option. Malek hated the vampires as much as Moebius, but he was more pragmatic, and not so blinded by his hatred that he would welcome creatures like the hylden. Once he saw the demon lurking underneath Avernus, he would want to destroy it right away. He'd probably try to leap down and slay it himself. Mortanius was absolutely certain that Malek would agree with him that the hylden must be stopped at all costs.

Anarcrothe, the Guardian of States, would probably agree with Mortanius as well. They had been friends for many years, and had a similar outlook on the world. It was also an open secret among the Circle that Anarcrothe was not overly fond of Azimuth, for private reasons. He would almost certainly take Mortanius's side.

The other two Guardians, Ariel and Nupraptor, were hardly on good terms with Mortanius, but he didn't think either of them would want the hylden gaining a presence on Nosgoth. Ariel, in particular, as the Guardian of Balance, would ...

He jerked upright as if he'd been slapped.

Ariel. How could he have forgotten? Years ago, she came to his home and told him that something had upset the balance of Nosgoth. He didn't remember how long ago it had been, but it was probably twenty or thirty years at least, before Azimuth had made contact with the hylden. They had a long talk about her powers as Balance Guardian, and Mortanius recalled that his theory at the time was that war was brewing, and that was the cause of the imbalance Ariel felt.

But he had been wrong. It wasn't some impending war which never came. It was the Dimensionscope. Mortanius realized with horror that their own actions caused Nosgoth to fall out of balance. He had not discussed the imbalance with Ariel since that day at his estate, but he knew that he had to tell her right away. The hylden had managed to send a demon into Nosgoth, proof that the barrier between their dimensions was weakening, and that meant the Pillars themselves were weakening. If Nosgoth was out of balance before, then it must be close to tipping over completely by now, and Ariel would surely have felt things growing worse.

He stood up. It was long after midnight, and he was tired from walking for so long. But he could not sleep. Surging panic and his own sense of guilt made him feel wide awake. He would not wait another moment.

He cast the incantation to send a message.

"Ariel. It's Mortanius. I know it's late, but I need you to meet with me right away. I have ... terrible news. I need to speak to you about something extremely important. Please come to the Pillars as soon as you can."

Once the sending spell was complete, he instantly cast the spell to teleport himself to the Pillars. He popped into existence in the grass about fifty feet away from them. It was nearly pitch dark, the moon partially obscured by clouds. The air was warmer here than in the city of Avernus. By the time Mortanius walked up onto the Pillar platform, he had dots of sweat on his forehead, but whether it was from the temperature or his own nervousness, he couldn't tell.

Ariel wasn't there yet, but that was no surprise. She might well have been asleep when he sent her the message, so it would probably take her some time to get ready. Mortanius used the time to figure out exactly what he was going to say to her. He considered reducing his own blame for what Azimuth had done, claiming he was ignorant of what her cult had been doing. But he knew it was pointless to deny his own culpability. Everyone knew that he spent much of his time in Avernus. No one would believe he was blameless in what took place there. It was better to simply admit that he had let things spiral out of control in his attempts to protect Azimuth.

And if they chose to punish him for his failures, then so be it. Mortanius was long past caring about his own personal consequences. He had failed not only Azimuth and the rest of the Circle, but he had failed himself as well. He would accept whatever punishment the Circle saw fit to give him.

Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe there was still time to repair the damage, to strengthen the Pillars and end the hylden's corrupting influence. Maybe it wasn't too late for Azimuth to realize the error of her ways. Maybe it wasn't too late for Mortanius to make up for what he had done.

There was a crackle of magic nearby, and Ariel stepped up onto the platform. She wore a plain white long-sleeved dress, and her hair was pulled back with a simple white band. As Mortanius suspected, his summons had woken her from sleep.

"Thank you for coming at this late hour," he said.

She nodded. "You said to come right away. What have you discovered, Mortanius?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but then he looked away, trying to find the words. "I've been a fool, Ariel. I should have contacted you years ago. Azimuth and I have been working on a ... a secret project at Avernus Cathedral. We uncovered something. I thought we could contain it. I thought I could handle it by myself. But it's gone far beyond my control ..."

"What is it? You said this was about the Pillars."

"It is. I know what's causing the imbalance that you told me about. I think I've known for years, but I didn't want to accept it. It's worse than either of us imagined."

Ariel stepped in front of him, staring intently. "Tell me."

"The creatures that the vampires went to war with in ancient times. The ones they banished. Azimuth found them, found the dimension they dwell in. We made contact."

Ariel grabbed his arm, her fingers digging in like talons. "You made contact," she repeated, her voice like ice. It wasn't a question, it was an accusation.

"They can't come through into our world. But they can speak to us."

"How long?" Ariel said. "How long has this been going on?"

"Twenty years."

Her calm exterior broke. "Twenty years!" she shrieked, pushing him away. "Are you insane? You made contact with another dimension and you didn't tell anyone?"

"It was Azimuth," he said lamely. "It was her discovery and she wanted to keep it from the other Guardians long enough to study it without interference. I agreed at the time, but she kept putting it off and I let her take charge. I was trying to protect her, or maybe I was just trying to make her happy, I don't even know anymore."

"You let your feelings for Azimuth get in the way of your duty?" Ariel said incredulously. "You, of all people, let yourself be controlled by your emotions?"

Mortanius wiped his hand across his face. "I thought I could keep it under control. But Azimuth won't listen to me anymore. She's obsessed with the hylden, she talks of them as if they're gods."

"The hylden? Is that what they call themselves?"

"Yes. There's a hidden catacomb deep beneath Avernus, and down there we discovered murals like the ones at the vampiric temple on the island in the Lake of Tears, but these ones are from the hylden's point of view. They portray themselves as innocent victims of a genocide by the vampires."

"Do you believe that?"

"No, but Azimuth does. She's obsessed with them. She even formed a ... a cult dedicated to them. I'm so sorry, Ariel. I've failed everyone."

Ariel looked aghast. "A cult? They worship these creatures?"

"Yes, and it gets worse. The hylden, they ... they somehow sent a creature into our world. Not one of their own, it's something else. A huge beast that Azimuth trapped in a deep pit. But it's intelligent and it can speak, and it demands blood to sate its hunger. And Azimuth, she ... she sacrificed someone, and I was forced to help her."

"Forced?" Ariel blurted out in disgusted disbelief. "How could they force you to do something like that? Who was this person they killed?"

"A criminal." Mortanius shook his head bitterly. "At least that's what Azimuth told me afterward. I don't know how to explain this, Ariel, but the hylden can ... can manipulate us. If we're in close proximity to the magical device that Azimuth uses to contact them, then they can ... they can take over our bodies and control us. It's how they can speak to us ..."

"This is insane! You're insane!" Ariel screamed at him. "They can control your mind, and you waited twenty years to tell anyone?"

"I can't explain it," Mortanius said again, shaking his head as he stared at the ground, unwilling to meet her gaze. "I don't know anymore. I think maybe they ..."

"Maybe they what?" Ariel snapped.

But Mortanius couldn't answer. He felt it creeping upon him like a chill up his spine. He clenched his fists involuntarily and let out a gasp. "No," he breathed.

The hylden were there, forcing their presence on him. He resisted and staggered backward, choking out a curse. They were trying to take over his body here at the Pillars! They had never tried to gain control of him so far from Avernus! How was it possible?

Mortanius shook off their overwhelming presence and tried to run, tried to do anything, but he knew he couldn't resist them. He nearly fell to his knees and he thrashed as if he was having a seizure.

"Mortanius? Mortanius, what's going on?" Ariel said, reaching out for him.

"No," he choked out. "No, not ... here. Ariel... get away ..."

"Mortanius!"

The alien consciousness penetrated his mind and the entire world went black.

# Chapter Fifty Two

He opened his eyes. Lying on his back, he found himself staring up at the night sky and the Pillars towering over him. For a fraction of a second, he forgot where he was. Then, panic seized him and he jerked upright into a sitting position, a cry for help on his lips.

About twenty feet away, a crumpled body in a white dress lay against one of the Pillars. Dimly, Mortanius was aware that it was his own Pillars, the Pillar of Death, the one farthest to the right. Gasping for breath, he found that he could not stand. He could only get onto his hands and knees and crawl in misery, a crushing weight constricting his chest like the fist of an invisible demon clutching his heart. The position of the moon in the sky told him that hylden had controlled him for only a few minutes, but a few minutes was more than enough time.

With a trembling hand, he touched Ariel's shoulder and rolled her over.

Half of her face was gone, shredded down to the bone, the eye missing to reveal a bloody socket. Drops of blood splattered across the front of her dress. Her hand was scorched black as well, as she had instinctively raised her hand to defend against the bolt of magic that killed her.

"Ariel ..." he moaned.

As he held her shoulder, he saw smears of blood on his own hand. He let go and she slumped back onto her side, her intact eye looking out at nothing.

Somehow, he felt a strange psychic disturbance shake him out of his paralyzation. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. His vision switched almost involuntarily to the spirit world and he looked upon the Pillars, now reaching up into an ugly, neon green sky.

What he saw was impossible. A soul, but restrained in place, thrashing at unseen bonds. It hovered in space, unable to move on. And then, an ethereal shape seemed to blossom around the soul until it took the shape of a person.

"This cannot be," Mortanius whispered, his eyes fixed on the ghostly figure. "This cannot be, this is impossible, impossible ..."

"Where ... am ... I ..." the soul hummed in Ariel's voice. "What ... is ... going ... on ..."

"No, no, no," Mortanius choked out.

The soul seemed to fade away into nothingness, and in its place floated a spectre that looked like Ariel, the Guardian of Balance. Her face was disfigured, as it was in death. She looked around in confusion and then raised a hand to touch her cheek. Realization dawned upon her face.

"Mortanius," she said, looking down at him. "Mortanius, what have you done?"

"I ... I didn't," he tried to say.

"What have you done to me?!" she shrieked. "Mortanius! What have you done to me?!"

Terror gave him strength. He jumped to his feet and ran.

"Mortanius!" Ariel screamed at him from the spirit world. "Mortanius! Damn you!"

He ran blindly, his mind barely functioning. He simply ran as fast and as far as he could, trying to get away, get free, get anywhere else. He ran across the grass, leaving the Pillars behind him. He believed he could still hear Ariel screaming his name, cursing him, haunting him.

She was dead. The hylden had possessed his body and murdered her. He had murdered her.

Beyond the meadow surrounding the Pillars was sparse woodland, dark and shadowy as their branches blocked the moonlight. Mortanius plunged head first into the trees, barely able to see where he was going. But still he ran. Branches snagged at his clothes and leaves battered his face as he ran blindly through the trees.

Ariel. Her screams had gone silent but still they nagged at him. She was lost in the spirit world, her soul trapped at the Pillars, chained there by cosmic forces beyond his reckoning. That was impossible by itself, but somehow her departed soul had regained its awareness and taken on a spectral form. She had become a ghost, a banshee, but it went against everything Mortanius knew about souls and the afterlife. There was no explaining it.

He had to get away. Think and figure out what he was going to do. The other Guardians would know, they would find out. By now, they would all know that Ariel was dead. Mortanius knew he could not hide his guilt from them. They would know the truth right away. What could he say? Would they ever believe him?

There was only one thing he could do. Confess right away. Tell them everything, tell them about the hylden and the cult beneath Avernus, tell them how the hylden possessed him, tell them –

Something struck him and he slammed into the ground, the wind knocked from his lungs. But it was not a physical blow. He tried to scramble back to his feet, but instead he slapped his hands against the sides of his head and whimpered pathetically as an explosion of psychic torment rushed into his mind. Not the death of a Guardian. This was far, far worse.

It was Nupraptor, the Guardian of Mind. Ariel's lover. He had discovered her body. Mortanius knew it. Nupraptor must have known that Ariel had gone to the Pillars and teleported there when he felt her die. This pain was Nupraptor's pain, unleashed upon them all.

"Nupraptor!" Mortanius cried.

A tidal wave of pain washed over him and he began to drown in it. Pain, unbelievable pain, imprinted on every synapse. Suffering and agony like he had never known swept down on him like a landslide, setting his every nerve ending on fire.

He could not move, the pain overwhelmed him. His face contorted into a grimace of unbearable agony, his body shaking so hard that he felt his spine would snap.

"Nupraptor!" he screamed again, his voice ragged. "Stop! Please!"

But it would not stop. The Guardian of Mind unleashed his pain upon the world until the world was corrupted with it. The pain pressed upon Mortanius relentlessly, squeezing him in a vice of guilt and grief and misery. He lost all understanding of time, the world around him ceased to exist, all that he could feel or know was the pain, the hatred and anger and the all-encompassing pain, until it smothered him and infected his very soul and finally drove him mad.

# Part Five

# The Legacy of Kain

# Chapter Fifty Three

Mortanius adjusted his hood and leaned against a tree for support. His body ached. He hadn't been sleeping much lately, and when he did, he used potions to keep himself from dreaming. The real world of Nosgoth was already like something out of a nightmare, but in Mortanius's dreams, it was somehow even worse.

Next to him stood five others, hiding behind the trees or crouched in the brush. They wore dirty leathers and their weapons had spots of rust. Even from a distance, anyone could see that these men were not the respectable type. But it was dark outside, and Mortanius was sure that no one standing near the ramshackle buildings across the muddy field could possibly see them. However, they kept to the trees just in case.

Torches near the tavern sputtered inconsistent light on the dirt road heading south. Mortanius watched the pathetic flames flickering uncertainly, as if fighting to keep the encroaching darkness at bay. The tavern was located on the outskirts of a seedy and unfriendly little town called Ziegsturhl. An unknown traveler would be hard-pressed to find any hospitality in a place like this.

Finally, the tavern door opened up and a figure emerged into the chilly night air, dressed like a warrior on his way to battle. He wore light gray armor, complete with full greaves and gauntlets. Spaces between the armor showed dark red leather. Tall and athletic frame, clearly noble-born, with long brown hair and a narrow, aquiline face.

The man looked around and stepped down from the tavern's raised porch. He looked unhappy, but then, everyone in Nosgoth was unhappy these days. Although the other men with Mortanius could not see it, a faint blue aura followed the man as he walked around the tavern to retrieve his horse.

"That's him," Mortanius said in a low voice.

"If you say so," Yannig mumbled, scratching his cheek. He spat into the dirt. "He looks like a tough one. Wearing armor, even."

"He's a nobleman, so he's probably had training. Is that going to be a problem? You said you and your men could take anyone."

"Oh, we'll get him for you. No worries there. It's just that, well, if he does get the drop on one of us, we might have a real fight on our hands. Could get messy."

"Do you want more money? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"You're paying us well, old man. But you didn't say he'd be wearing armor."

Mortanius reached into his cloak and handed Yannig a pouch of coins. "Here. This should be more than enough for you to overcome your fear."

Yannig smiled, revealing crooked gray teeth. "Ah, yes. Thank you. That will do nicely."

"You'd better get going. He'll travel south, but he's not familiar with this area. You should be able to ambush him at the Bluestone Bridge."

"Right," Yannig said, pocketing the coins. "Be seeing you," he added as he crept away. His men followed him back to where their scrawny horses were tied. Experienced smugglers and thieves, they could sneak through the forest, even in the dark, and get ahead of their quarry. Mortanius stayed where he was and watched them as they left.

"No," he muttered to himself. "You won't be seeing me."

He sighed and returned his gaze to the tavern. A little while later, the nobleman returned, this time astride his horse, a fine black stallion. He cast a disapproving look at the tavern as he headed out along the road. This late at night, he was clearly eager to find lodging, but he took his time riding down the road, watching carefully for highwaymen looking for an easy target. Long ago, this road would have been safe for travelers, but now there were very few safe places in Nosgoth.

The nobleman was named Kain, and Mortanius had spent the past two and a half decades looking for him. As far as Mortanius knew, none of the other Guardians had bothered to seek him out at all, if they even cared about his identity.

Kain was a member of a minor noble house from Coorhagen, a small city northwest of the Pillars that was currently facing an epidemic of the plague. Coorhagen, like much of the rest of Nosgoth, was suffering. Mortanius had managed to track Kain down just a few days before, when he had passed near the Pillars on his journey south. He was on his way to the southern port city of Meridian, where some distant relatives had offered him a position. Unfortunately for him, the town of Ziegsturhl was not amenable to strangers, and his attempt to find lodging for the night was unsuccessful.

As Kain rode out of sight, Mortanius cast a flight spell and lifted up into the air. He made his way across the tree tops until he reached the Somersond River, one of the waterways that fed into the Great Southern Lake. The road south from Ziegsturhl crossed the river at the Bluestone Bridge, and it was there that Yannig and his band of cutthroats would be waiting.

In his black cloak, Mortanius was almost completely invisible as he floated through the night sky. He found the bridge and lowered himself to the ground a few hundred paces away, in the middle of a dense thicket of tall weeds. He spotted one of Yannig's men hiding under the bridge, his sword out. They had probably hidden their horses on the other side of the river.

Men like Yannig were easy to find. Crime and violence had spread like a cancer over the past few decades, as the cities closed their gates and the social fabric of Nosgoth began to unravel. Harvests had been poor, and minor famines and plagues popped up here and there on a regular basis. There had been a few violent uprisings in various regions, although none of them had any lasting effect. Whatever leaders took control were just as corrupt and ineffectual as their predecessors. Desperate, hungry, and distrustful of their rulers, many people had turned to crime, which only exacerbated the problems. Trade slowed as the roads became unsafe for travelers, and the areas suffering the most had even fewer supplies and goods coming in. Almost every aspect of society was failing.

Everything changed the night Ariel was murdered. In that moment, something fundamental had broken in the bonds that held society together. It was like a disease had infected the world and everyone in it, turning people against each other and turning the land sour and polluted. Even the weather was different, the sky often overcast with sickly gray clouds.

But if the people of Nosgoth were infected with a sickness of the soul, the The Guardians of the Pillars had it far worse. Nuprator, Ariel's lover and the Guardian of Mind, was the one who found her body at the Pillars, and he was so devastated and traumatized by his tragic discovery that he lashed out with his mental powers, aimlessly attacking everyone in the area of the Pillars. His psychic assault was so powerful that people more than a mile away fell to their knees, screaming in pain. The Guardians, far more susceptible to Nupraptor's state of mind than regular folk, had suffered the most. In the years since Ariel's death, they had all gone mad.

Mortanius had been the closest one to Nupraptor at the time of the attack, having just barely distanced himself from his crime before it was discovered. The attack left him wounded and unconscious for most of the day, and it was a miracle that Nupraptor hadn't found him lying there senseless, his hands still wet with Ariel's blood. When he came to, Mortanius managed to make it back to his private estate to cover up evidence of his guilt. His housekeeper Harlis, himself dazed by Nupraptor's attack and ignorant of what Mortanius had done, helped him recover and regain his strength.

None of the other Guardians ever suspected his involvement in Ariel's death, and in the wake of Nupraptor's psychic attack, none of them were mentally capable of investigating the murder or dealing with the aftermath. In the end, vampire assassins under the direction of Vorador were blamed for Ariel's murder. They were a convenient scapegoat.

In the months following the murder, Mortanius descended into grief and depression, wracked by self-hatred and overwhelming guilt. He simply could not accept what the hylden had done to him, how they had manipulated him, how they had so easily infiltrated the Circle itself and used their insidious powers to commit such an unspeakable crime. Ariel was dead because of him. The Circle was now in chaos, with Nosgoth soon to follow. The other Guardians, dealing with the effects of Nupraptor's assault in their own ways, did not intrude upon Mortanius's misery.

But from the very beginning, even in the throes of his worst depression and sickness, he made plans to seek out out the one chosen to replace Ariel as the new Guardian of Balance. And now he had finally found him. Kain was Ariel's successor. But unfortunately, things were not as simple as they used to be. Instead of taking Kain to the Pillars to perform the ceremony to make him a full Guardian, Mortanius had something a bit more complicated in mind.

By the time Kain arrived, Yannig and his men were getting antsy. He must have traveled even more slowly than Mortanius had expected, because it took almost a full hour for him to reach the bridge. He looked very carefully to the left and right and then nudged his stallion into a slow canter.

As soon as the stallion's hooves clacked onto the stone bridge, two of Yannig's men rode out from the other side and charged, screaming and waving their swords above their heads. Kain jerked the reins back and his animal spooked, twisting to the side. Just as his sword slid free of its scabbard, Yannig and his two other accomplices ran out from their hiding places and rushed him from all sides.

Mortanius realized he was holding his breath. He watched in sick fascination as the fight unfolded. Kain tried to remain on his horse, but soon realized it was useless. The animal kicked and bucked underneath him, making it impossible to fight. He swung one leg over his saddle and jumped free, swinging his blade through the unguarded stomach of one of Yannig's men, who doubled over and collapsed in a desperate attempt to keep his intestines in. When one of the other assassins panicked and tried to back away, he tripped over his fallen comrade and Kain rushed in to slash him across the throat.

But he was doomed and he must have known it. He let out a defiant war cry as the two mounted assassins rode him down, knocking him flat onto his back, his sword flying from his hand. Mortanius almost cried out himself in fear that Kain had been trampled. His instructions to Yannig had been very specific. But luckily, Kain avoided the horses' hooves and managed to roll onto his hands and knees, smeared with mud. He made a desperate crawl to grab his sword, but Yannig ran over and plunged his blade right through Kain's back, pinning him to the ground.

Mortanius was ready. He'd been ready for years. He cast a spell to keep Kain's soul from leaving his body, unconsciously clenching his fist in a possessive gesture, as if he was physically grabbing the soul and holding it in place. His magic was powerful enough that even from several hundred feet away, he was able to manipulate the soul, preventing it from escaping.

The assassins stumbled away, calculating the cost of their crime. Two of Yannig's men were dead, but now the others would benefit from a larger share of the money. Yannig ordered the men on horseback to dismount and help him clean up. They said a few respectful words for their fallen comrades and them slung their bodies atop their horses, for quiet burial somewhere else. Afterward, they quickly looted Kain's body, stripping him of his money, jewelry, and a few pieces of his armor. One of the men reached to yank out Yannig's sword.

"No," Yannig said with a cruel laugh. "Leave it. I'm taking his blade."

They packed up their horses, taking along Kain's black stallion as well, and departed the scene, sharing a laugh at their success. Kain's body was left face down in the mud, impaled on Yannig's rusty old sword, a poor death for an honorable man.

When they were long gone, Mortanius walked over to the body. He could not help but feel a sense of guilt at his crime, but he had no choice. Or at least he believed that he had no choice. Ever since the moment Ariel had died, Mortanius and the rest of the world had been on a cataclysmic downward spiral into oblivion, and in such times, only a great crime can heal the wounds of an even greater crime.

"I'm sorry, my dear boy," he said to the corpse. "But it had to be done."

With a wave of his hand, he cast another spell, making Kain's body levitate. Yannig's sword, still impaled through his chest, pulled free of the ground, dripping blood. Mortanius cast the same spell on himself, and together they rose into the air. It was already after midnight, and they had a long way to travel. They did not reach Mortanius's estate until nearly dawn.

# Chapter Fifty Four

Mortanius was exhausted, but no matter how tired he was, he could not afford to get even a few hours of sleep. The spell that kept Kain's soul trapped in his body was only maintained by constant concentration, so going to sleep would result in the end of all of Mortanius's carefully-laid plans. He was tired to the bone, but he stayed on his feet and finished his preparations. By the time he was done, it was midday, but his basement laboratory had no windows, and without candles to light the room it would have been black as night.

His old servant Harlis was long dead, and Mortanius had never hired one to replace him. He rarely stayed at his private residence anymore, and in his absence, the property had fallen into disrepair. However, his laboratory was still intact, and it would serve for this one final experiment.

Kain's body was propped upright and fastened in place with chains. Yannig's sword remained where Yannig had put it, the blade sticking out of Kain's chest, smeared with blood and dirt. It was a grisly sight, but necessary. Kain's body was in effective stasis, temporarily unaffected by decay of any kind. Even within a few hours of death, there would be biological changes that Mortanius could not allow, and so he maintained Kain's body from the moment of his death. For the moment, Kain's soul was trapped inside a gemstone, but it would not remain there for long.

When everything was in place, Mortanius set the stage. With a wave of his arm, the laboratory burst into flames. The fire looked real and gave off waves of convincing heat, but it was all an illusion, a spell created specifically for this purpose. The young nobleman before him would expect to see such a vision in the underworld, and Mortanius needed him to believe.

Mortanius had managed to do a little bit of research in the few short days before Kain reached Ziegsturhl, and had come to the conclusion that Kain was a brash and arrogant man, driven by his ego and obsessed with his own sense of right and wrong. It was no secret that Kain's family had lost much of its wealth and social standing in recent years, and his journey to Meridian was in many ways an act of desperation. In another time, Kain would have become the Lord of Coorhagen. His current disappointing situation – forced to travel to another city to beg the generosity of distant relatives – must have felt supremely unfair to him. Everything that Mortanius had learned about Kain led to one overall theory of the man's personality: Kain believed that he deserved better, that he was destined for greater things. Mortanius would use that desire for greatness to spur Kain on his quest.

The final bit of theater was a spell to alter his own appearance. Mortanius moved his hand across his face and his features changed. The tone of his skin became ghostly white and his cheeks and eyes became sunken and gaunt. The effect was quite grim, making his face look more like a skull than that of a living man. Combined with his dark red cloak, he looked like the spectre of death, which he supposed was appropriate.

The spells holding his subject in place ended with the snap of his fingers. "Kain," he said in a booming voice, "Awake."

Kain jerked forward, his eyes popping open in a look of abject terror. He opened his mouth to scream, but there was no air in his lungs. Yanking in panic at his restraints, he sucked in a breath and cried out in despair. Surrounded by flames, the sword that killed him still impaled through his chest, he screamed and pulled so hard at his chains that it seemed he wanted to yank his limbs from their sockets.

"What's going on?" Kain wailed. "What's happening to me?"

Mortanius took no joy in the man's torment, but he kept his expression blank and folded his hands in front of him. "You are dead, Kain. Murdered by cruel men."

"No!" Kain pulled against his restraints again but his efforts lacked the intensity of a few moments ago. He sagged down and stared dejectedly at the ground, his body trembling. "No, this cannot be," he groaned, shaking his head, "... I was on my way to Meridian ..."

"I know where you were heading," Mortanius said. "And so did the men who waylaid you. They were waiting to ambush you, my Lord."

"What are you talking about?" Kain demanded, his head snapping up. "Who are you? If I'm dead, then how am I talking to you? I demand to know what's going on here!"

Mortanius let himself smile. For a moment, he was worried that Kain would slip into despair and self-pity. But even in death, Kain carried himself with a sense of noble entitlement.

"You are most certainly dead, my Lord. But I have interrupted your journey to the spirit world."

"How have you done this? And why? Are you a wizard?"

"I'm a necromancer. As to why I've done it, the truth is that your fate is entwined with the fate of Nosgoth itself. It is within my power to return you to the world of the living, if that is what you desire."

"Of course that is what I desire, you fool!" Kain shouted. Then, he seemed to realize that he was at Mortanius's mercy, and forced himself to speak in a calmer tone of voice. "I would be ... indebted to you. But I must ask again, why have you done this? What is my life to you, wizard?"

"Nosgoth needs your help, my Lord," Mortanius said. "You are an educated man, so surely you know how our world has fallen into decline. The land is poisoned, immorality and crime are rampant, and the people of Nosgoth suffer for it."

"Yes," Kain said. "I know of this. Everyone knows."

Mortanius stepped closer. "I can give you the opportunity to make a difference in the world, my Lord. To hunt down those who seek to harm the innocent. I can give you the chance to avenge your own death, and kill the men responsible."

Kain stared intensely at him. Mortanius could see the thrill of revenge swirling in his mind. People were murdered every day, but none of them ever had the chance to exact vengeance upon their own murderers. Such an opportunity was something that no one could turn down. Kain was a nobleman born into wealth and privilege, and the thought that he had been brought down by a group of dirty peasants surely burned within him. Mortanius was counting on it.

"Yes. I would like that very much, necromancer," Kain said.

Mortanius nodded and walked around Kain. He placed his hand on the hilt of Yannig's sword and pulled. Kain screamed in disgust as Mortanius slid the blade free, the metal scraping on the bent edges of Kain's punctured armor. He felt no pain, but the sight of the sword slicing through his own body would have been discomforting, to say the least. When the sword was free, Mortanius walked back in front of Kain.

With a subtle gesture of his hand, the chains that held Kain in place suddenly broke apart, setting him free. He stumbled a bit at his newfound freedom, placing a hand on the hole in his breastplate. His face twisted in a scowl of fury and anguish, and he stared at Mortanius as if unsure whether to embrace him or throttle him.

Mortanius held out the sword for his inspection. "The men you seek are in the town of Ziegsturhl. You should have no trouble finding them. One of them still rides your steed and carries your sword. This one belonged to him."

"Then I will slay him with his own sword," Kain spat, grabbing the handle and holding the blade up. "I'll kill them all. They've taken my blood, and so I'll take theirs in return."

"My Lord, I promise that you will have all the blood you desire."

"So I will be ... resurrected?"

"When you awake, you will be alive once more. And after your revenge is complete, there is something you must do. You must travel to the Pillars."

"Why the Pillars?" Kain asked, glancing up at Mortanius with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

"Your assassination was only one piece of a vast conspiracy, my Lord. The Pillars are the key to it all. It is there that you will learn the truth."

"What truth? Stop speaking in riddles, wizard."

"Nosgoth is on the verge of destruction, my Lord. And only you have the power to stop it. Go to the Pillars and you will understand. If you do not do this, then Nosgoth is doomed."

Before Kain had time to respond, Mortanius cast a spell to interrupt the magic that kept Kain's body animated. He flopped over like a puppet with its strings cut, the sword clattering from his grip. Mortanius quickly cast the levitation spell again to keep Kain's body from striking the floor. With another wave of his hand, the illusory flames around him disappeared, revealing his laboratory once more. He moved Kain's body onto one of his examination tables, and then found a chair to fall into. Although the flames were not real, the heat they generated was real enough, and Mortanius was sweating like a pig under his cloak.

Casting so many spells in a short time drained his endurance to the limit. Once again, he yearned for sleep, but he was not done yet. In fact, he had not even started work on the most difficult part of his plan. What came next would be vastly more challenging, requiring levels of magic that Mortanius had never fully experimented with.

If he had to be completely honest with himself, he didn't even know if it would work.

Kain was dead. Mortanius could permanently resurrect him, like he had done to Malek so many years before, but that was not a real solution. Nosgoth did not need another undead warrior haunting the land. If that is all Mortanius wanted, he could easily have found a willing subject among the legions of disaffected and leaderless soldiers all over Nosgoth. He would not have bothered to track down the new Guardian of Balance for something like that.

Besides, that is not what he promised. He promised Kain that he would live again, and that is what he intended Kain to do. For the first time, Mortanius would literally bring the dead to life. But it might not be the life that Kain expected.

Mortanius wearily got up and walked over to his shelves of magical components. He had a table set up with several of his magical grimoires. Sitting on top of the texts was a small polished wooden box. Mortanius picked it up with one hand and then carefully raised the lid.

Inside was an object that he had possessed for more than four hundred years. Originally, he had intended to study it, but the Slaughter of the Circle distracted him from that project and he eventually forgot that the item even existed. It was not until about a century ago that he found it again, buried in the back of one of his overcrowded cabinets.

In the box was the heart of Janos.

After four centuries, it should have been a shriveled black husk no bigger than a walnut. But the heart looked as if it had not decayed or decomposed at all. By some strange vampiric magic that Mortanius could not even begin to comprehend, the heart looked exactly like it had the day Raziel of the Sarafan cut it out of Janos's chest.

The heart of a vampire. Mortanius held it up and looked over at the corpse on the nearby examination table. Soon, the heart would beat once more, and Kain would return to the world of the living, but not as a human being. With the heart of a vampire beating in his chest, Kain would become a vampire as well.

# Chapter Fifty Five

He had not returned to the Pillars since the scene of his crime thirty years before. Standing in the grass in front of the platform, he looked up at the towering marble columns as they stretched up into the dark clouds overhead. Once, they were shining white with streaks of gray. But now, the corruption of the Circle of Nine had infected the Pillars themselves, turning them dingy gray and black. Blemishes and imperfections marred their once flawless surface. It was early morning, and a thin layer of mist hovered in the air like a shroud.

He walked up to the Pillars, feeling like there was a huge anchor chained to his shoulders, dragging in the soil behind him. He felt the surge of spiritual energy the moment his foot rested on the marble platform. It felt like an electrical shock tingling his skin, making his hair stand up. A churning anger swirled around him like a maelstrom of nightmares, but he did not close his eyes or try to push it away. He deserved every torturous moment.

"Mortanius ... Mortanius ... Mortanius ..." the air seemed to whisper, increasing in volume and energy until it was like a scream in his ears. Was this haunting presence just for him, or could others see and feel it as well?

"Show yourself. I know you're here," he said.

A figure coalesced from the mist, so thin and insubstantial at first that Mortanius almost thought he was imagining it. But soon it developed into the outline of a person, floating in the air a few feet off the ground.

"Mortanius ... Mortanius ... Mortanius," it repeated, hissing the word like an accusation.

He stood in the middle of the platform and let the flow of spiritual energy wash around him like a gale, making his cloak flap around him. But he did not take his eyes off the figure that emerged from the mist, a woman in a dirty white dress, her face disfigured and stripped of flesh.

The ghost of the woman who once was Ariel, Guardian of the Pillar of Balance, rushed forward, her hair whipping around her face, her eyes ablaze with hatred. But Mortanius was accustomed to visions of the spirit world, and little could scare him now.

"Mortanius!" Ariel shrieked, her voice like the howl of a storm. "How dare you come here!" she screamed in his face. "You murderer! You did this to me!"

Mortanius did not flinch as she threw the full weight of her fury at him. Her ghostly hands swung at his face and passed right through.

"Have you come here to mock me? Your very presence makes me sick! You betrayed me! You betrayed the Circle and all of Nosgoth!"

"I was not in control of my body," Mortanius said calmly. "I was possessed by a malevolent being."

"A malevolent being that you helped bring into the world!" Ariel shouted back at him. "You and your lover opened up a portal to another dimension! You damned fool! You knew that those creatures could take over your body!"

"Not here at the Pillars ... How could I have known?"

"Did you really think they could only control you when you were close to the portal? How could you be so stupid as to believe such a thing?"

Mortanius let the comment wash over him. He had wondered that himself many times in the past few decades. How could he have been so stupid?

"I didn't come here to explain myself to you," he said. "Not even to apologize for what I've done. I can't apologize for it anyway."

Ariel swooped upward and back away from him. "Then why?" she demanded.

"Because I'm trying to fix it. And I need your help."

She tilted her head back and laughed a hideous undead laugh. "Help? You need my help? You murdered me and doomed me to haunt this place for all eternity, and now you need my help?"

"We can restore the Pillars. We can heal Nosgoth."

"There's only one way to restore the Pillars," Ariel snapped, glaring at him.

"I know. I've already put a plan in motion to accomplish exactly that."

The Pillars were bound to their Guardians, and the health of the Guardian was reflected in the Pillar they served. All of the Pillars were now dark and disfigured, because the members of the Circle had all gone insane. So to heal the Pillars, they must heal the Guardians. Since that was impossible, the only other solution was to kill them.

That's what Kain would have to do. His mission, although he didn't know it yet, was to hunt down and murder the corrupted Guardians, and in doing so, restore the Pillars to their former glory. And since he was now a vampire, it would mean that for the first time since the rebellion, a vampire would serve as a Guardian. Mortanius believed that this would strengthen the Pillars and prevent the hylden from gaining a stronger foothold in Nosgoth. As Janos had told him long ago, the Pillars had to remain in vampire hands. If only Janos had explained why.

Ariel looked down at him. "And what about me, Mortanius? What happens to me once this grand plan of yours comes to fruition? Will my spirit be set free, or am I doomed to haunt the Pillars forever?"

"It was my magic that bound you here. Once I'm dead, the magic will fade."

The truth was that Mortanius had no idea what would happen to Ariel. He still didn't entirely understand how her spirit came to be bound to the Pillars in the first place. Was it because she died here at the Pillars? Or as it because the hylden used his own necromantic powers in ways he had never known? And if so, why? Was there some reason that Ariel had been bound here in the afterlife? Maybe the hylden had simply done it to be cruel.

"What is this plan?" Ariel asked, still mocking.

"Very soon, a man will come to the Pillars. I need you to speak to him, to guide him in the direction he needs to go."

"Why don't you do it yourself?"

"It's complicated. He doesn't know my true identity. If I tell him, he'll treat it as some kind of task he's doing on my behalf, or even worse, a personal vendetta of mine. But if you reveal yourself to him, you can persuade him to do what must be done. You can convince him of what's at stake. Besides, he has no reason to trust me."

"Not trust you?" Ariel laughed. "Whatever reason would anyone have to not trust you?"

Mortanius knew that once Ariel met Kain, she would know his true nature right away, and yet he still had the urge to lie to her, to cover up what he had done.

"He's a vampire."

"Oh? Is that all?"

"He's also the Guardian of Balance."

Ariel opened her mouth but stopped and stared at him, mouthing words that did not come out. The mocking smile on her lips faded into a blank stare, and her appearance shimmered and became almost fully transparent. She was so surprised that she had trouble maintaining her visible form.

"The Guardian of Balance?" she whispered.

Mortanius nodded. "Yes. Now do you understand?"

"A vampire Guardian ... Yes, I think I see now," she breathed, almost in awe. "But how did you manage it? Did you ... did you make a deal with Vorador?"

"No. I'd rather not explain how I did it, because it doesn't matter."

"Who is he?"

"A nobleman from Coorhagen. His name is Kain."

"Does he know?"

Mortanius hesitated. "No, he doesn't."

Ariel seemed to sigh, but maybe it was just the wind. She swayed to the left and right and then settled lower to the ground. "He's right not to trust you. You're using him."

"We have no choice. If he's to restore the Pillars, then it has to be this way."

"Are you sure?"

"No," he admitted bitterly. "But it's too late now to change what I've done."

Ariel fluttered and slowly swooped around him, like a bird of prey circling its target. "Oh, Mortanius," she said hauntingly, "you've always believed that you're so wise and noble. So much smarter than the rest of us. But you're just as insane as the rest of the Guardians. You cannot possibly anticipate what this man will do once he realizes what's been done to him. He will surely fail."

"Then we'll just have to wait until the next Guardian of Balance comes along."

"We might not have that long," Ariel said. "The Pillars grow weaker by the day."

"Then we must make sure he succeeds. Will you help me, Ariel?"

She turned her back to him and floated away. Mortanius had hoped that the threat to Nosgoth would be enough to convince her to help, despite what had been done to her. Despite what Mortanius had done to her. She would gain nothing by refusing him, nothing except her own spite, which might very well be enough reason for her to do so. In life, Ariel had thrived on such things. If she refused to speak with Kain, then Mortanius would have to rethink his plan.

But she finally turned around, staring him with one clear eye and one eye scorched red and black. "All right, Mortanius. I'll speak to your pet vampire. I'll tell him where he needs to go, and we'll see if your little plan works out the way you want it to. But there's something else you need to think about."

"What's that?"

"This vampire – Kain – might decide that he doesn't want to be your pawn. He might choose a different path. We are teetering on the edge, Mortanius. One wrong move could send Nosgoth to oblivion, and you're pinning our hopes on a rogue vampire. Instead of saving Nosgoth, Kain might very well seek to destroy it."

# Chapter Fifty Six

Avernus Cathedral was as empty and desolate as a tomb. Mortanius blinked into existence in the main hall, the crackle of magic announcing his arrival. He shivered suddenly in the cold air and could see his breath puff out like mist. Arms at his sides, he slowly looked around, as if expecting something to pop out of the shadows. He rubbed his chin and resigned himself before heading to the staircase that led down into the laboratory, and beyond that, the secret temple.

He'd been away from the Cathedral for several days now. Azimuth would be looking for him, and now that he was back, she would know right away. He had put off meeting her for as long as possible, but now it was time to face her once again.

His private chambers were stark and threadbare, hardly appropriate living quarters for a man of his station. The carpet on the floor was filthy from decades of tracking in dirt from the catacombs. The furniture was rickety and poorly-made. Better furniture was upstairs in the Cathedral proper, but it would have been impossible to bring down here, and the few carpenters involved in their cult were not the most skilled ones. Mortanius didn't mind the poor living conditions. It served to remind him of how low he had fallen.

He removed his outer cloak and tossed it on a chair. He heard rushed footsteps in the hallway outside and leaned on a table, closing his eyes as the footsteps halted at the doorway to his room.

"Where have you been?" came a shrill voice.

He didn't bother to turn around. "I've been away. It's no business of yours where I've been."

"I've led the past two ceremonies by myself! You have responsibilities to perform!"

Mortanius kept his hands on the table and merely turned his head enough to see Azimuth out of the corner of his eye. "I have no responsibility to you or that vile creature we keep imprisoned in the pit. You should consider yourself lucky that I've stayed here as long as I have. If I was smart, I would have left you long before now."

"But you haven't," Azimuth snapped. "Wallow in your stupid guilt all you like. You can't escape any more than I can. You're a part of this whether you like it or not!"

He finally turned to face her. "Leave me," he said coldly. "I'll be down later and we can feed the beast together."

"Its name is Hash'ak'gik! And it is a God! It is more powerful than you could ever imagine yourself to be!" she shrieked before stalking angrily away.

Mortanius leaned against the table and let out a trembling sigh. Azimuth had changed much in the years since Ariel's murder. She had once been a woman of elegant beauty, passionate energy, and boundless humor. But the madness infecting their minds had affected her more drastically than Mortanius. Azimuth had lost her humor, lost her passion, and become a nagging witch that shrieked at him like a harpy.

Her long and luxurious dark hair was gone now. She had cut it short at first and then shaved her head completely, and now she was as bald as Moebius. She still wore the same revealing dresses, but they were dirty and frayed from lack of repair, and she no longer had the figure for them. Poor diet and stress had caused her to lose weight, and her once lovely and form-fitting wardrobe now hung loosely from her bony shoulders.

And she was far from the worst case. It was Nupraptor, ironically, who suffered the most from the madness which had corrupted the Circle. Perhaps it was because that madness had originated in his own mind, or because Ariel's death had affected him the most, but of all the Guardians, Nupraptor was the most incurably insane. Years ago, he sealed himself away in a distant estate in the northwest, dwelling on his delusions and his misery. But Mortanius knew the truth about Nupraptor, as did everyone. The Guardian of Mind, hopelessly distraught over the death of his lover and corrupted by madness, had brutally mutilated himself, cutting out his own eyes and sewing his lips shut.

Azimuth and Malek were the only two Guardians that Mortanius had any real contact with anymore. He had not personally spoken to any of the other Guardians since before Ariel's death. In the aftermath of her murder, Mortanius had retreated from the other Guardians for a time, but so had a few of the others, so his own actions did not warrant suspicion. And now, the Guardians were scattered to the winds, having succumbed to their own madness in different ways.

Anarcrothe, Bane, and DeJoule – the Guardians of States, Nature, and Energy, respectively – had joined forces many years before and retreated to the northern mountains to create what they called their "New Eden," although most of the people of Nosgoth referred to it as "Dark Eden." Bane used his powers as Nature Guardian to warp and distort the animal life into new forms, Anarcrothe used his abilities as States Guardian to alter the natural qualities of the land and water, while DeJoule's powers as Energy Guardian were used to instill the land with uncontrollable energy, resulting in volcanoes and earthquakes. The billowing smoke from the numerous volcanic eruptions was partly to blame for the changes in Nosgoth's climate. The entire region was almost uninhabitable now, twisted and altered to fit the whims of the three corrupted Guardians. It was said that strange mutated beasts stalked the land, while the trio of corrupted Guardians ruled it from a magical dome that glowed blood red.

Moebius, meanwhile, had simply disappeared. Mortanius had neither seen or heard from his old friend since before Ariel's death. The last time they spoke was at William's funeral in Winterheim. As far as he knew, Moebius still worked with the vampire hunters to track down the few remaining vampires on Nosgoth, but his own efforts to track Moebius down always met with failure. Wherever Moebius was, he preferred to remain hidden.

Strangely, or maybe not so strangely, the only member of the Circle to appear unaffected by Nupraptor's spreading madness was the Conflict Guardian, Malek. His personality had changed little since the corruption began, although Malek had little personality left after so many centuries as nothing more than an animated skeleton. In many ways, Malek had gone insane long before Ariel died.

Sometimes, Mortanius fooled himself into thinking that Malek was the only Guardian other than himself to avoid the effects of Nupraptor's madness. But in his lucid moments, he knew the truth. As Ariel said, he was just as insane as the others, but his own madness manifested itself in more subtle ways. Was his plan to save Nosgoth nothing more than the ravings of a madman? He preferred not to dwell on it.

For the most part, Mortanius stayed at Avernus Cathedral with the increasingly-unstable Azimuth, reluctantly participating in the strange cult that had grown up there. They had more than a thousand followers now, although the cult was still very secretive. As far as Mortanius knew, none of the other Guardians even knew it existed. However, hushed whispers and chilling rumors of the dark rites that took place there filtered up into the rest of the city. Whispers of blood sacrifice. Rumors of a terrible demon locked deep underground, worshiped by its deranged, maniacal followers.

Azimuth was bound to the hylden. She was ever their faithful servant. Over the years, they rewarded her with tantalizing hints of magical knowledge, but all of the "wisdom" that she claimed the hylden possessed amounted to very little as far as Mortanius was concerned. The hylden demanded worship and sacrifice, and offered little in return. Other than a few magical trinkets, the only thing they ever gave Azimuth was a demon to feed.

Mortanius still didn't believe their explanation of how the demon came to Nosgoth. If the hylden could send creatures from another dimension, why send only one? Why not bring Azimuth herself to meet with the hylden in their own dimension? If such a thing was possible, Azimuth would have jumped at the chance to speak with them face to face. So where did the demon come from? There was no convenient answer. The only possible solution was that Azimuth possessed a device that created portals between different dimensions. But if she had such a magical device, she had never showed it to him, and he had seen no hint of it in all their years working together.

They called the demon Hash'ak'gik, but Mortanius didn't even know if that was the monster's true name. The hylden spoke through it during their dark rituals, as they spoke through Mortanius and Azimuth, but when it believed no one could hear it, the demon spoke in a different voice. Its mutterings were little more than delusional nonsense, however. Mortanius often heard it mutter and mumble about vague plans to break free from its imprisonment in the pit, when it wasn't babbling about its "brothers" and its "lord." Mortanius had no idea who the demon was referring to, and he didn't really care.

In a way, the demon was as much a prisoner of the cult as Mortanius was. It was trapped down in the bottom of the pit, surrounded by bones and debris, manipulated and controlled by the hylden, unable to escape. The dirt and stone comprising the walls of the pit were scored and gouged with claw marks from its many futile attempts to climb out. Fortunately, the dirt walls of the pit were far too loose and softly packed to support the demon's weight. The demon was never going to climb out, Mortanius was sure of that.

But they still had to feed it. The first few sacrifices to the demon had been criminals and vagabonds abducted from the streets of Avernus. The thought of killing innocent people made Mortanius sick, but it seemed there was a never ending supply of wicked people to give to the demon, especially in the years since the corruption of the Pillars, as Nosgoth fell deeper and deeper into ruin. All kinds of vile and depraved men and women found their way to the dark altar in the catacombs underneath Avernus Cathedral. And when such people could not be found, one of their fanatic worshipers would volunteer.

Looking back, Mortanius could not help but wonder where he had finally crossed the line. When had he surrendered his conscience? At what point had he crossed the point of no return? Was it before the demon had appeared? Was it before the hylden had first contacted them? Was it all the way back when Azimuth had first shown him her Dimensionscope? Maybe if he had convinced Azimuth to reveal her creation to the other Guardians, things would have gone differently. Maybe if he had never come to Avernus in the first place and stupidly let himself be seduced by Azimuth, none of this would have happened. But he could not have known.

It as too late to change the past. But maybe, just maybe, he could change the future.

Chapter Fifty Seven

Several days passed. Mortanius went through the motions at Avernus, trying to avoid Azimuth's angry tirades, and forcing himself not to check on Kain's progress. He could have used his magic to detect where Kain was, but he dared not in case Azimuth could somehow sense it. All he could do was wait and hope that Ariel had given Kain the information he needed.

Would Kain go through with it? He was a nobleman, and not accustomed to taking orders from anyone. Although Mortanius had only interacted with him personally for a brief time, he believed that Kain would do as he was bid. Ariel would be a persuasive witness. If nothing else, the sight of a ghost haunting the Pillars would be sufficient reason for him to undertake this quest. Kain's new undead nature, his egotistical belief in his own greatness, his desire for revenge, and the understanding of what was at stake would all provide motivation.

But the question remained: would Kain actually be able to kill the Guardians?

Mortanius got his answer a few days later. He was in his quarters in the Cathedral basement when he felt it. A familiar rush of pain, knocking the wind out of him and nearly sending him to his knees. He hadn't felt it in centuries, not since the Slaughter of the Circle. It was the stab of psychic pain that told him one of his fellow Guardians had died.

Nupraptor. He was sure of it. Nupraptor, the Guardian of the Mind, was dead.

Mortanius placed his hands on the edge of a desk and leaned heavily on it. An involuntary smile curved his lips, and a giggle escaped his throat. He covered his mouth with his hand until the feeling ceased. He fought the urge to whoop for joy.

Nupraptor was dead! Kain had succeeded! Against the odds, he had managed to track down and kill one of the Guardians. Mortanius felt a thrilling sense of euphoria that threatened to overwhelm him and make him start cackling like a lunatic. But he could not risk revealing his true emotions for fear of making Azimuth suspicious. Before he encountered her, he wiped his face to remove any trace of lingering happiness.

The one who had infected them all with this terrible madness was now dead. Had Ariel sent Kain to Nupraptor on purpose? She and Nupraptor had been lovers. Was she truly so disgusted by his actions since her death that she would send their assassin to kill him first? Maybe it was merely out of convenience. After all, he was by far the easiest target. He lived alone and had few guards at his estate. All of the other Guardians, save for Mortanius himself, would be much harder to kill.

Mortanius heard screaming, echoing far down the corridors of the underground temple. He shook off any enjoyment from his expression, and any lasting effects of the psychic stab of pain, and walked slowly into the hallway, following the agonized cries for help. He was in no hurry to get there.

She was in one of the small antechambers near the bottom of the stairs. She yanked angrily at the sleeves of her dress. If she'd had any hair, she'd have been pulling it out.

"He's dead!" she shrieked. "One of the Guardians is dead!"

"I know, I felt it," Mortanius said, leaning against the wall.

"It was Nupraptor! What are we going to do?"

Mortanius looked at her blankly. "We'll find out what happened and then we'll arrange a funeral for him, of course. What are you talking about?"

"Don't be stupid! Someone murdered him!"

"We don't know that. I've lived a lot longer than you have, and sometimes the Guardians die by accident. Or by their own hand. Maybe Nupraptor grew weary of his life and chose to end it."

Azimuth shook her head adamantly. "No, I don't believe that for a second! He was murdered! Whoever killed Ariel had finally returned to strike at us again! Well, I'm not going to let that happen to me, I'm going to do something about it!"

"Azimuth, what are you –"

She spun and ran for the stairs, nearly tripping on the first one. She regained her footing, grabbed the railing, and went up the stairs like a staggering drunk. Mortanius sighed and went after her.

The main hall of the Cathedral was empty, as always. The torches sputtered weakly, casting long shadows. By the time Mortanius got there, Azimuth stood at the front of the room, holding a black obsidian pendant over her head.

"Malek!" she screamed. "We are in danger! Come to our aid!"

"Azimuth, wait," Mortanius said. "We don't know –"

There was a crackle of magic and an oval-shaped portal sparked into existence right in the middle of the Cathedral. A knight in glistening black armor strode through the portal, tiny sparks of lightning running along the edges of his armor. His longsword was already drawn, and he braced himself and scanned the room as he turned around, instantly on guard as if expecting an attack.

"What's going on?" Malek growled.

Azimuth's arms fell limp at her sides. She stared at him like a helpless child. "Nupraptor is dead, didn't you feel it?"

"Of course I felt it. I was there right before he died. You summoned me because you said you were in danger."

"We are in danger! Someone murdered Nupraptor and we might be next!"

Malek snarled something and slammed his blade back into its scabbard with a loud snap. "Damn it, woman! I don't have time for your nonsense. I have more important things to deal with right now."

"I tried to stop her," Mortanius said lamely from the top of the stairs.

"Do better next time," Malek snapped. "If you summon me here again, the hands of the assassin better be around your neck."

"So it was an assassin!" Azimuth blurted. "I knew it!"

Mortanius came forward. He leaned on one of the wooden benches for support. "Is it true, Malek? Was Nupraptor murdered? I thought that perhaps it was something else. An accident maybe, or suicide."

Malek let out a laugh that sounded like a death rattle. "Oh, it most certainly was suicide. I was with Nupraptor when the murderer infiltrated his stronghold, and Nupraptor sent me away. There was nothing I could do. He practically opened his arms and welcomed the assassin in."

"An assassin," Mortanius said. "Was it – "

"It was a vampire," Malek snarled. "And I would have slain the bastard if Nupraptor hadn't sent me away, the damned fool."

"A vampire?" Azimuth asked anxiously, clutching her hands tightly and holding them against her chest. "Was it the same one that murdered Ariel?"

Malek scoffed, "I doubt it. Why would he wait so long to kill Nupraptor? He could have killed him right after he killed Ariel."

"Then who was he?"

"How in the hell should I know? I've never seen him before."

"I thought the vampires were almost exterminated! You said there were only a few left in all of Nosgoth!"

"There are, but they can always make more," Malek said dismissively. "This one's a new vampire. That I could tell for sure. He was probably only turned a few weeks ago, at most." He growled to himself and took hold of his own transportation medallion. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do and a vampire to kill. Don't summon me again unless you see the assassin with your own eyes."

With that, he disappeared in a pop of magical sparks. Azimuth wailed in frustration and pressed her hands to the sides of her head. "He should stay here to protect us!"

Mortanius tried to calm her down, but he knew it was useless. "We don't know why that vampire killed Nupraptor," he said. "Maybe it was a personal vendetta. Maybe he was just an opportunist who went after Nupraptor because he was weaker than the rest of us. Besides, even if he does plan to kill someone else, there's no reason to believe that he'll come here. He might go after anyone else. We should let Malek track him down and –"

"No! This is the same one, I know it! He killed Ariel and Nupraptor and now he's going to come for the rest of us! But I won't let him! I still have so much work left to do!" She stormed back toward the stairs, waving her arms as she talked. "I have to make preparations! When this assassin comes for me, I'll be ready for him!"

"Azimuth, please," Mortanius said.

She glared at him and brushed past, nearly knocking him off his feet. "If you're not going to help me defend myself, then get out of my way!"

She went back downstairs, muttering to herself. Mortanius let out a long sigh and walked over to one of the wooden benches, which had not been used in so long that they actually had dust on them. He sat down and slumped in the seat, letting his hands rest in his lap. Eventually, the sound of Azimuth's voice faded away, leaving him in complete silence.

When he let his guard down, he finally laughed to himself. The smile on his lips was so intense that it brought tears to his eyes. He sat alone in the main hall for some time, finally letting his emotions show. Azimuth would be completely obsessed with her now project, and would not bother to come up there again, so Mortanius felt safe reveling in his secret victory.

Nupraptor was dead. Seven more Guardians remained.

# Chapter Fifty Eight

Days went by with agonizing slowness. Mortanius was nearly at his wit's end, trying to placate an increasingly-deranged Azimuth, while at the same time obsessively focused on Kain's mission, thinking about it over and over again, trying to predict everything that could go wrong. Where would Kain strike next? Would he strike at all, or would he change his mind and abandon his quest for justice and revenge? Would Ariel tell him the truth? It was maddening to not know, but Mortanius didn't risk trying to contact him.

Azimuth spent her time planning and plotting their defense of Avernus, believing that the Cathedral could be altered to protect her from an assassination attempt. In one of the conference rooms, she spread books and scrolls over a table and studied numerous different plans to defend herself from an assassination attempt. Mortanius no longer tried to talk her out of it.

"He'll never get inside here," she said. "And even if he does, he won't be able to escape so easily. We'll be waiting for him, won't we? Nupraptor was a fool, obviously."

"Yes, a fool," Mortanius agreed.

She had both hands on the table, leaning on it heavily as she stared down at the papers and scrolls. "No assassin could ever kill two Guardians at the same time. We'll stop him, Mortanius, the two of us. You and I, together. We'll lure this damned assassin here and destroy him. He may have killed that bitch Ariel and that idiot Nupraptor, but he won't get us. He won't get us."

Suddenly, a burst of magic announced Malek's arrival into the room. The undead knight looked around warily and then said, "The assassin came for me today. The same one who slayed Nupraptor."

A look of joy and relief came over Azimuth's face and she clasped her hands together. "Then you defeated him? The assassin's dead?"

Mortanius's heart sunk in his chest, and he struggled not to let his grief show on his face. He leaned against the wall and looked at the floor. But neither Azimuth nor Malek was looking at him, so they didn't notice. He had always known that Malek would be the hardest member of the Circle for Kain to kill. He had hoped Ariel would direct Kain to an easier target first, before going after Malek, but maybe Kain chose to fight Malek right away, hoping to surprise him. The thought that Kain was dead, that Mortanius's desperate plan had failed, threatened to swallow him whole.

But the next words to come from Malek's helmet saved him from the grip of despair. "No," Malek said, "The bastard still lives. He was no match for me, but before I could cut his head off, he activated some magical item and teleported to safety."

Azimuth groaned in frustration and clenched her fists until they turned white. "You didn't kill him? What good are you, then? You're supposed to be the greatest warrior in Nosgoth! But a single vampire assassin is beyond your skill?"

Malek glared at her. "I said he teleported away before I could kill him."

"Why have you come here, then?" Mortanius asked. "To warn us?"

"Yes. The rest of you should be on your guard. I believe he will come for one of you next before trying to face me again. Keep your amulets in hand at all times. Don't try to fight him on your own. He's not to be underestimated. Contact me the moment you spot him."

"Why?" Azimuth shrieked. "So he can escape your clutches again?"

"We'll do as you say," Mortanius said. "Thank you, Malek."

Malek studied Mortanius for a moment, then gave him a brief nod and then disappeared.

"Useless!" Azimuth cried, sweeping her arm across the table, throwing the books, papers, and assorted equipment to the floor. "Even Malek has failed us! His job is to protect us, and he can't kill one single vampire!"

"He'll kill him the next time they meet," Mortanius said, hoping it was a lie. "The assassin escaped this time, that's all. Malek won't let him get away twice."

"No, no," Azimuth said, tugging nervously at the sleeve of her dress. "We can't rely on him to save us. We have to do this on our own. We don't need him. We'll turn this Cathedral into a fortress if we have to. That's the only way to keep the assassin from getting to us."

"Do you really think that's –"

"We'll have Hash'ak'gik's followers help us. They'll defend us to the death."

"Why not ask the hylden for help?" Mortanius asked, keeping his voice neutral. He was honestly curious how she'd respond.

She stopped her fidgeting for a moment. One hand reached up to scratch her cheek. "No, we can't come running to them like helpless children every time something goes wrong," she said absently, not looking at anything in particular. She nodded to herself. "Yes, we'll do this ourselves. When that assassin comes for us, we'll stop him and destroy him. We don't need Malek to save us."

Under normal circumstances, Mortanius would have probably disagreed with her. They weren't warriors and they didn't know the first thing about defending themselves against a dedicated assassin. But if Azimuth wanted to face Kain without Malek's help, then so be it.

Of course, he had no way to know where Kain would strike next. It occurred to him, perhaps belatedly, that Ariel might very well send Kain after he and Azimuth. He had somehow believed that he would be spared until the end, so that he could see for himself whether or not Kain ultimately succeeded in his quest, but he doubted things would work out that way. Having failed to defeat Malek, Kain would likely seek an easier target. Mortanius and Azimuth were high on the list.

Unfortunately for them, Avernus Cathedral was not a good place for a last stand. There were too many doors, too many windows, and other spaces to enter from. Azimuth proposed bricking up all the huge stained-glass windows and chopping up the wooden benches for wood to block the doors, but they didn't have the time or enough people to possibly complete so many tasks in the short time that Azimuth wanted them done. Mortanius tried to gently dissuade her from her course of action, but all it did was elicit outbursts of arguing, complaining, and verbal abuse.

Eventually, Azimuth coerced the cult followers into boarding up some of the windows and blocking off access to some of the Cathedral's upper floors, but their makeshift defenses would not be enough, or at least Mortanius hoped so. None of the cultists were skilled laborers, as the shoddy construction down in the catacomb could attest. They lacked skilled carpenters and masons to actually build the kind of defenses that Azimuth desired.

The work lasted for days, with no new information from Malek or anyone else. Mortanius considered contacting the other Guardians to see if they were as concerned about the assassin as Azimuth was, but he decided against it. It would be better to simply let the matter play out without bringing more attention to it. The last thing he wanted was to make the other Guardians take additional precautions.

What was Kain thinking right now? He had successfully killed one of the Guardians, but failed to kill another. Was he still dedicated to this quest? Did he realize that his mission to kill the Guardians was the entire reason he had been murdered and resurrected in the first place? Mortanius wanted to contact his vampire protege to check on his progress, but he repressed the urge to meddle with Kain any more than he already had. All he could do was hope that Kain was still seeking out the corrupted Guardians and would make his next move soon.

Who would Kain target next? Would he attempt to kill Malek again? Mortanius doubted that Kain would face Malek again so soon. He would probably go after an easier target.

The easiest target was Mortanius himself, but he had the feeling that Ariel would not send Kain after his maker right away. But with Ariel, who knew what her motivations were? It was very nearly a miracle that he had convinced Ariel to cooperate in his plans at all. Ariel hated him with undead vengeance, and would surely be glad to see Kain put him to the sword.

For all he knew, Kain was infiltrating the Cathedral at that very moment, ready to jump out of the shadows and cut him down. Would he recognize Mortanius when he stuck the blade in? Would he give Mortanius a chance to explain himself? Or would Mortanius simply be another notch in Kain's sword, another necessary task to complete in his strange mission to save all of Nosgoth?

Mortanius didn't know. All he could do was wait.
Chapter Fifty Nine

After another screeching argument with Azimuth, Mortanius had enough. He left Avernus and returned home to his personal estate. He did so partially to get away from Azimuth for a little while, but also to possibly make both of them a more tempting target. Perhaps Kain was hesitant to face two Guardians at the same time. If Mortanius and Azimuth were separated, Kain might be more likely to strike. He still had other targets to choose from, but all of them were difficult for a variety of reasons. Nupraptor had been comparatively easy, but the rest of the Guardians would be far more challenging. Mortanius found himself constantly thinking about Kain's progress, what Guardian he might choose to go after next, what problems he might run into, what his next move would be. He had to continually resist the urge to interfere.

To clear his head, Mortanius walked his property, which was completely overgrown with weeds and tall grass. Without a housekeeper to maintain the yard, it had mostly returned to nature over the past few decades. The house was in worse condition. Part of the roof was near to collapse, and ivy and other plants had grown up around the outside walls. Mortanius spent so little time there that he didn't think it was worth it to pay someone to do the necessary maintenance. Especially now that he didn't expect to live much longer anyway.

He laid down in bed and tried to sleep, but it would not come. He couldn't stop thinking about the vampire assassin he had loosed on the world. Was there any other way? Could he have done things differently? Perhaps it was just his own madness clouding his mind, but he still believed that this was the only possible course of action. The Pillars needed vampire Guardians in order to strengthen the binding that kept the hylden trapped in another dimension. Turning Kain into a vampire was the only solution. And the corrupted Guardians had to die in order to purify the Pillars. Maybe it would have been better to hire assassins to slay the Guardians, instead of relying on Kain to perform such a dangerous task? Mortanius didn't know, and it was too late to stop what he had started.

After several hours of sleepless tossing and turning, he finally got back up. It was past dawn. He hung a cloak over his shoulders and went in search of something to eat, but of course there wasn't anything at the house. The cupboards were empty except for dust and cobwebs. He thought about returning to Avernus, but he didn't want to deal with Azimuth again. The nearest village was a two hour walk, and he didn't even own a horse anymore, so he would have to teleport.

As he prepared to cast the spell, a wave of psychic pain suddenly washed over him and he fell to his knees. Combined with lack of sleep, the rush of pain was overwhelming,

It was Bane. He knew right away. Bane, the Guardian of Nature, was dead. Mortanius staggered upright and took a deep breath. Before the Circle became corrupted, Bane had been a good man. Jovial, honest, and forthright, and some deep part of Mortanius mourned him.

If Bane was dead, then that meant Kain was in Dark Eden, the northern region transformed into a wasteland of mutated animals and flowing lava. Bane was not alone there, he ruled with two of the other Guardians, DeJoule and Anarcrothe. Could Kain really hope to slay them all?

Mortanius didn't know what to do. Should he attempt to contact Anarcrothe? He could innocently ask what was going on, in the guise of concern for his friends. After all, it was possible that Bane had not been killed by Kain, but in an accident of some kind.

Should he contact Malek? No, of course not. Malek was probably already in Dark Eden, summoned there by either DeJoule or Anarcrothe. Mortanius found himself terrified of what might occur. He supposed that Kain might be able to slay all three of the Guardians in Dark Eden, but he could not possibly hope to kill them and Malek as well. Kain would be hopelessly outnumbered.

Mortanius considered immediately teleporting to Dark Eden himself, again in the guise of helping his fellow Guardians, and giving Kain what aid he could. Perhaps he could kill Dejoule or Anarcrothe himself, leaving Kain to focus his energy on Malek. But no, that was too dangerous, and if Malek defeated Kain anyway then he'd know that Mortanius had betrayed them. If Kain failed in his mission, then Mortanius needed to survive in order to raise the next Guardian of Balance as a vampire. Mortanius could not risk having his actions revealed to the other Guardians.

While he was wracking his brain, trying to decide what he could do, he felt another wave of pain coming, and braced himself for it. Still, it was enough to make his legs weak, and he moved over to his bed to sit down.

DeJoule was dead. The Guardian of Energy, gone. Kain had managed to kill two Guardians in one night. It was like the Slaughter of the Circle all over again.

Mortanius made up his mind. He grabbed his cloak and stuffed his arms into the sleeves. He would return to Avernus and see if Azimuth was okay. That seemed like the best course of action, the thing that would raise the least suspicion.

He felt it coming again, another rush of psychic torment, this one somehow more powerful than the others. Mortanius grabbed a chair and leaned into it as the pain flooded across his mind, terribly familiar, but this time he welcomed it. The three Guardians of Dark Eden were dead, Bane, DeJoule, and ...

Not Anarcrothe. Incredibly, unbelievably, this wave of agony signaled the death of Malek, the undead Guardian of Conflict. Mortanius sat down again, his head spinning. Just moments ago, he'd been concerned that Kain would fall to Malek's sword, and now the opposite had occurred. Somehow, a fledgling vampire had slain the greatest warrior in Nosgoth.

Three of the Guardians, dead. All that remained now were Mortanius, Moebius, Azimuth, and Anarcrothe, who would likely be the next if he hadn't escaped already.

Mortanius prepared himself once more and cast the teleportation spell. He disappeared from his bedroom and reappeared in the main hall of Avernus Cathedral.

And was immediately thrown backwards onto the floor by a powerful blast of lightning-charged wind. Wooden benches went flying over his head, splintering into the walls. Mortanius flailed around and grabbed hold of one of the stone columns that lined the main hall. Squinting against the wind, he got onto his knees and looked in shock at the scene before him.

Azimuth was in the center of the room, standing with her arms outstretched as the winds whipped around her, as if she was standing in the middle of a tornado. Lighting sizzled at her fingertips and her whole body seemed to glow with magical intensity. Mortanius shouted, but he couldn't be heard over the roaring wind.

Near the front of the hall, a sphere of crackling, unstable energy floating a few feet in the air. It was so black that it seemed to darken the space around it, and yet it shone so bright that Mortanius could barely look at it. Like an ominous opening eye, the black sphere expanded and split open to reveal a blindingly bright light behind it, filling the entire hall with brilliance. At the edges, the disc shimmered and swirled with multiple colors, occasionally bursting with sparks or flickering lightning.

Mortanius stared in disbelief as the sphere continued to expand until it was ten feet in diameter, like a huge flat disc similar to Azimuth's Dimensionscope. It was then that he realized what he was actually staring at. The thought was so terrible that he prayed he was asleep in his bed, and this vision was one of his nightmares. But no, this was real.

"Azimuth!" he screamed, bracing himself against the pounding wind.

She must have heard him, because she turned to look. Her face was lit up in a look of insane euphoria, her eyes glowing all white. All around her, magic surged and fluctuated unpredictably.

"Mortanius!" she cried back joyously, her voice somehow booming over the deafening sounds around her. "Look what I have created! The hylden have granted me the power to breach the dimensional barrier! I told you it was possible and now I've done it! I've opened a portal to another world!"

"Close it!" he screamed back. "Close the portal!"

But she wasn't listening to him. She was in ecstasy, under the influence of her own incredible new magical abilities. "No other Guardian in all of history has wielded such power!" she announced. "I am the chosen one, Mortanius! You were wrong to doubt the hylden! They are gods and I am their divine vessel!"

With a sweep of her arm, a succession of lightning bolts ripped through the Cathedral and the windows exploded in a rainbow of multi-colored shards of glass. The very ground seemed to rumble underneath their feet, as if Azimuth's magic had caused an earthquake. But Mortanius heard the booms even above the howling wind, and he knew it was no earthquake. The rumble he felt was an explosion outside. Azimuth's wild lightning had struck one of the buildings next to the Cathedral.

"Azimuth, stop!" he cried in vain, knowing it was useless. "It's too much! You can't control it!"

In response, she laughed maniacally and spun around, the magical forces around her twisting and contorting the very fabric of reality. The dimensional portal pulsed and rippled like the surface of a lake after a stone was thrown in. Mortanius could not take his eyes away, and he stared into it as if hypnotized by what lay beyond.

It was not the world of the hylden, as he had first believed. He saw fuzzy blue plantlife and blooming orange flowers unlike anything on Nosgoth, and there was more. A groan of despair bubbled from his throat as something else came into view. An animal of some kind, with a long snout and horns, its hide mottled gray and green. It stood as tall as Mortanius. Curiously, it sniffed at the shimmering portal and poked its snout through.

"I have the power of the entire universe at my fingertips!" Azimuth cried, heedless of the danger. "No human being has ever wielded this much power! The hylden have made me a god! No pathetic vampire assassin can touch me!"

Another black sphere popped into existence, this one on the opposite side of the main hall, near to the front doors. Mortanius gripped the edge of the column for support and tried to lift himself to his feet, pushing against the wind. He could only watch in abject misery as the second portal opened up, revealing another new dimension, this one a shadowy gray landscape with tall red stalks like tree trunks rising from the ground. A two-legged beast with purple skin, like some kind of mutated gorilla, stood before the portal, staring at it intently.

Azimuth laughed insanely. "Come to me, beings from another world! I am the master of all dimensions! Be the first of your kind to step foot on Nosgoth! From now on, all dimensions are one! I will make Avernus the center of the entire universe!"

Mortanius ran for it. Pushing against the wall to keep himself upright, he bolted across the hall, past Azimuth and the second portal, and went for the doors. They were already open, having been nearly blown off their hinges by the force of the wind. Mortanius fell through the doorway and rolled down the steps to the sidewalk.

He heard screams for help. Blinking away dizziness, he looked up to see flames rising into the sky from the buildings next door. In the light of early morning, people ran for shelter. Mortanius stumbled to his feet and followed them, turning back to look upon Avernus Cathedral.

The entire Cathedral was glowing with an aura of dark magic. Bolts of lightning erupted from all sides, striking nearby homes and businesses, each blast setting off massive explosions of flame. Everywhere, people were screaming and running for cover. Families poured out of their homes and ran crying for help that would never come. Avernus was now the center of a storm of terrible magic the likes of which Nosgoth had never witnessed before, and there was no force in the world able to stop it now. In her madness, Azimuth had unleashed hell.

From the doors of the Cathedral came the huge beast with purple skin that Mortanius had glimpsed in the second portal. Its shoulders and back were lined with curved gray horns like razor-sharp hooks, and its hands ended in enormous claws. It growled like a demon and loped off down the street. Seconds later, two more came after it. One of them spotted Mortanius standing there, and ran in his direction.

Mortanius already had the words of the teleportation spell on his lips. He cast it and instantly appeared back in his home, falling to his knees and collapsing to the floor.

He was in shock, utterly exhausted, drained of emotion, and sinking into the depths of despair. He wanted to curl up and die at that moment. He wanted to cry, but tears would not come. All of his grief and misery, all of his regret and self-hatred, everything that he had done and all of the terrible crimes he was guilty of, seemed to crash upon him like an avalanche.

If Azimuth could open portals to other dimensions, then the binding that protected Nosgoth was falling apart right before his eyes. Would it fail completely before Kain was able to complete his quest? Would all of the Guardians die for nothing? If the Pillars failed, then the hylden could freely return to Nosgoth. If that happened, the unfolding catastrophe in Avernus would be merely a taste of what was to come. Mortanius believed with every fiber of his being that if the hylden returned to Nosgoth, it would be the end of the world as they knew it.

Azimuth believed herself a new god. She thought she would be spared, but Mortanius knew better. If the hylden flooded into their world, Azimuth would die along with the rest.

But as it turned out, that did not happen either. Two days after Azimuth opened up her dimensional portals and set demons free in Avernus, Mortanius felt the familiar psychic blow that announced the death of a Guardian.

It was Azimuth. Instead of becoming a new god, she became Kain's fifth victim.

# Chapter Sixty

Avernus was on fire. For two full days, it burned. The powerful waves of magic Azimuth set loose had spread to the rest of the city, unleashing a monumental firestorm that threatened to burn the entire city down. Mortanius stood on a hill to the south of the city, watching in horrified fascination. Whole blocks of residential buildings were on fire, making the skyline glow bright red almost like the sky of the hylden dimension. The sky roiled with thick black clouds of smoke that hung like a shroud over the blazing inferno. Huge crowds of panicked refugees packed the roads leading away from Avernus, trying to escape. Even after two days, the refugees kept coming. All attempts to put out the fires had failed.

Making his way into the city was impossible, so Mortanius instead cast the teleportation spell into the catacombs beneath the Cathedral. The place was empty. None of the cult followers were there, but of course most of them were likely running for their lives if they weren't already dead. Even if some of the cult followers survived the inferno, they would probably not return to the ruins of the city. The hylden cult would die out, but Mortanius suspected that the hylden didn't care. They had more important goals in mind.

He didn't know what to expect as he made his way up into the Cathedral, but things were worse than he had imagined. Even as he reached the main stairway up to the ground floor, he could feel the overlapping layers of unstable magic that cut through the entire Cathedral, and when he finally made it upstairs, the results of Azimuth's destructive madness became clear.

The Cathedral was in total chaos. Somehow, against all reason and the laws of nature, Azimith had successfully opened up a labyrinth of dimensional portals and turned the interior of Avernus Cathedral into a madhouse of unstable dimensional planes. When Mortanius came up from the catacombs, he found himself lost in swirling maze of intersecting dimensions, fragments and pieces of one world implanted at random across the Nosgoth like ripped sections of a dozen tapestries crudely stitched together onto a different one.

As Mortanius navigated the multi-dimensional labyrinth, he marveled at the unbelievable magical powers at play. Azimuth had long speculated the possibility of casting a spell to create a portal to another world, but she had never tried it. Had the hylden taught her the secret, as she claimed, or had she always possessed such power but merely lacked the courage to perform the experiment?

The deaths of Bane, DeJoule, and Malek had pushed her over the edge. When her own death seemed imminent, she discarded all caution and let her magic loose.

Strange alien beings hunted the halls, creatures from a dozen other worlds. The staircase leading to the second floor was on fire, but Mortanius cast spells to protect him from the magical flames. As soon as he reached the top of the stairs, the flames disappeared and he found himself in a calm landscape of white flowers. Farther down the hall, massive blue lightning bolts cracked across an alien sky. Making his way through the Cathedral was like walking through a madman's dream.

He considered going back, but he owed her this much. Even after everything Azimuth had done, after all her lies and manipulations and destructive obsessions, he still felt he owed her this last final kindness. He should have protected her. Instead, he sent an assassin to kill her.

Mortanius found her body in the upper level of the Cathedral, curled on the floor in the middle of a room dark as night even as fires crackled in the corners. She lay on her side, one hand draped limply over the stab wound that pierced her chest. Kain's work had been clean and thorough. There was no brutality in it. Blood pooled freely on the floor in an almost perfect circle around her body. He knelt down and placed his hand against her cheek. Her eyes were closed, and her face held the first real expression of peace that Mortanius had seen in a very long time.

Most of Nosgoth's current misery was her fault. If she had not become so obsessed with the hylden, then none of this would have ever happened. She was the one who allowed them to gain a foothold in Nosgoth – although Mortanius admittedly had done little to stop it – and without her loyal support, the hylden could never have established their cult or sent the demon Hash'ak'gik. Azimuth, more than anyone else, was directly responsible for the current state of Nosgoth.

However, there was lots of blame to go around. Mortanius was hardly innocent. He was the first to admit that he had played a vital role in the downfall of their world. And even the other Guardians had done their part by allowing the crusade against vampires to continue for so long. In the end, it was the slow weakening of the Pillars that had truly allowed the hylden to infiltrate their world.

Mortanius realized something then. Azimuth had only been able to contact the hylden because the Pillars had grown weak. Even with her Dimensionscope, she could never have reached the hylden dimension if the Pillars had functioned at their full strength. But as the Pillars grew weaker, it was inevitable that the hylden would try to force their way back. Even if Azimuth had not contacted them, one of the other Guardians might have. Perhaps Bane, as Nature Guardian, might have come into contact with them. Or Nupraptor, or DeJoule. The hylden deliberately sought out the Guardians, and Azimuth was the unfortunate one they found first.

Mortanius couldn't really blame her for what had happened. If Azimuth had not created a cult to worship them, then someone else would have. As long as the Pillars were weakened, the hylden would have gained a foothold on Nosgoth no matter what.

He slid one arm under her head and another under her legs, and slowly picked her up. She weighed barely anything. He cast the teleportation spell again, taking them to Mortanius's estate.

In the overgrown garden behind his house, he built a crude pyre of sticks and dry brush. He laid Azimuth's body on the pile and snapped his fingers to create a spark to ignite it.

The funeral wasn't for Azimuth alone. It was for all of the slain Guardians. Nupraptor and Bane and DeJoule and Malek. None of them had received proper funerals as far as Mortanius knew. Malek had taken it upon himself to burn Nupraptor's body, but Malek's own remains – nothing more than some dried-out bones and a set of black armor – still lay in Dark Eden, along with the bodies of Bane and DeJoule. No one had dared go there to put them to rest. The thought that Guardians of the Pillars were simply left to rot where they died was an unforgivable insult to the Pillars themselves, but Mortanius couldn't summon enough outrage to do anything about it. Would anyone be there to give him a proper funeral when he was gone?

He stood there to watch the pyre burn. Azimuth was the second woman in his life that he had set upon a pyre. For many years now, little affection had been shared between them, but there had been a time when he might have been in love with her. He hadn't cared for her in the same way that he cared for Ellendra, but Azimuth was his friend and his lover and much more. Had things been different, if the Pillars had been strong enough to withstand the influence of the hylden, he and Azimuth might have had a long and prosperous relationship. Maybe in time she would have eclipsed Ellendra and become the love of his life. But deep down, he didn't think so.

Had Azimuth ever really felt the same way about him, or was their romance just a playful diversion for her? Mortanius suspected it was the latter. Had their discovery of the hylden not made them long-term partners, she would likely have tired of him like she had done with all of her previous lovers. And yet, Mortanius still held some emotions for her. He preferred to think of the good times between them.

She was the fifth to die by Kain's hand. Three Guardians remained.
Chapter Sixty One

Mortanius stood in his laboratory and took a long look around. Surrounding him were the works of his lifetime. Dozens of shelves of books and magical grimoires, cases of old biological specimens, tables full of equipment, boxes and cases full of prototype magical gems and other artifacts, and thousands of random items, mementos, trinkets, and other paraphernalia collected over his centuries of work as a scientist and mage. Over a millennium of collected knowledge.

He considered stacking all of it in a huge pile and lighting it on fire. Maybe it would be best to just destroy it all, to burn his home down just as Avernus had burned down, to erase every fragment of evidence of his life as Guardian.

But he had to think of the future. Once the Guardians were dead, Kain would be the sole Guardian left to stand watch over the Pillars, and it would be his duty to train and raise the new Guardians. It would be a monumental task, but he would have to do it, and his job would be made easier by finding the records and private notes from the slain Guardians and passing them on. Mortanius's successor as Guardian of Death, whoever that might be, would benefit greatly from his centuries of acquired knowledge.

Mortanius knew he was not long for this world. Kain would be coming for him soon. How long did he have, a few days at most? If Kain chose to track down Anarcrothe or Moebius first, then maybe he would have longer to prepare.

He had no qualms about death. He had lived intimately with it ever since he was ten years old. Death was no stranger to him, and when it finally came, he would embrace it. His own death was an insignificant price to pay for everything he had done.

As he walked around the lab, picking up random books and exploring the centuries worth of notes on half-finished experiments, he suddenly stopped cold.

Something prickled the back of his neck. He set down the grimoire he had been flipping through and turned toward the door to the laboratory. Someone was coming down to see him. But not Kain.

A few minutes later, a figure emerged from the dark hallway and stepped into the laboratory. Mortanius hadn't seen him in almost fifty years, and like him, the years had not been kind to his unexpected visitor.

Moebius had never been a stocky individual, he was always on the thin side. But now, he seemed positively emaciated. His hood was up, and his cloak's voluminous sleeves disguised just how skinny he was, but Mortanius could tell. His skin had a yellowish tinge and his eyes were deep and sunken, like a man deprived of sleep for too long. He leaned on his staff, his footsteps faltering and weak, but he smiled when he saw Mortanius, his eyes glinting in the shadow of his hood.

"Ah, how are you, my dear old friend?" Moebius asked.

Mortanius opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind. Instead, he shrugged and said, "I'm still alive."

"So I see." Moebius took a long look around Mortanius's laboratory and said, "I thought you had abandoned this old place. But it looks like you've been doing some work down here lately."

"Yes, I've done some experiments recently."

Moebius nodded and clicked his tongue, continuing his long gaze around. "I'm sorry about Azimuth, you know. Terrible shame about her. Of course, she wasn't the woman she once was. I heard that your relationship with her had become strained of late."

"You heard that, did you?"

"Oh, yes," Moebius finally made eye contact, his smile returning. "I may have hid myself away these past few decades, but I haven't cut myself off from the rest of the world. Not at all. I've been paying very close attention to current events. Very close attention."

He hadn't taken a step closer since he came in, and the distance between he and Mortanius was at least twenty feet. But it seemed much larger than that. Mortanius felt like the distance between he and his old friend was a vast gulf spanning miles and miles.

"Why have you come here, Moebius?"

"To give you an invitation."

"An invitation to what?"

"An execution."

"What are you talking about?"

Moebius took a breath and placed both hands on his staff, gripping it tightly as he leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. "We caught him."

Mortanius felt a spike of panic. "Caught him?"

"Vorador," Moebius said intensely. "We captured him yesterday."

Mortanius blinked stupidly and shook his head. "You ... you caught Vorador? You actually have him? You took him alive?"

"Yes. He's sitting in an iron cage as we speak."

"How?"

"With difficulty," Moebius said. "But it was worth it. Malek's vampire hunters have been systematically exploring every inch of the Termogent Forest ever since William was assassinated. Vorador kept his lair hidden all these years, but his magic was not infallible. We finally determined where his mansion was, and gathered over two-thousand volunteers to surround it and finally break in."

Mortanius was speechless. It occurred to him that he never really thought that Vorador would ever be captured. The ancient half-breed was simply too powerful and too careful. His location within the Termogent Forest had been a mystery for millennia, known only to other vampires. Of course, those vampires numbered few and far between now, thanks to the ongoing crusade led by Malek and Moebius for the past half-century.

Even with so many people searching together, Mortanius didn't believe it was possible. And for it to happen right now, in the midst of all of Mortanius's other plans, almost seemed like an impossible coincidence, as if it had been planned.

"Malek," he said. "His only wish was to see Vorador captured."

Moebius nodded and cast his eyes downward. "Yes, it's a shame that Malek didn't survive to see this. But he had his chance. In the end, Vorador was too strong for him after all."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you know?" Moebius snickered. "Malek was destroyed by Vorador's hand. Appropriate, really. Vorador's the one who killed him to begin with. I guess he was just finishing the job he started centuries ago."

"Vorador destroyed him?" Mortanius sputtered. "But ... I thought that an assassin ..."

"Oh, yes, the assassin was there. He's the one who slew Bane and DeJoule. But when Malek was summoned to defend them, the assassin managed to summon Vorador to his side. Vorador took care of Malek while the assassin killed the Guardians. In fact, you might say that Malek played a part in Vorador's capture after all. It was only because Vorador left the safety of his lair at that moment that we were able to get close enough to capture him. It was a bloody fight, but we came through victorious."

"How many men died taking him captive?"

"Two or three hundred," Moebius said with a shrug. "I lost count. It doesn't matter. They gave their lives for a great cause. Vorador is finally going to pay for his crimes. He'll be executed tomorrow. The last vampire on Nosgoth will die. And you're invited, old friend. You can have a seat in the front row."

"The ... last vampire?"

"Yes," Moebius beamed. "He's the last one. All his kin are dead. He is the very last."

"I heard that there were only a few left ..."

"We have hunted them all down," Moebius said proudly, tapping his staff on the floor. "Finally, after all these centuries, we've done it. Once Vorador is executed, the entire vampire race will be eradicated once and for all. Vorador was the first half-breed, and now he'll be the last."

"But Malek said that the assassin was a vampire ..."

Moebius snickered again. "Oh, yes, the assassin. I nearly forgot about him. Don't worry about that one, old friend. He's served his purpose, but he'll be dealt with in due time."

Mortanius felt like he was a child again, listening in vain to the vampires as they spoke in riddles about events and history far beyond his comprehension. It seemed like nothing Moebius said made any real sense to him, and he struggled to maintain some semblance of understanding.

"What do you mean ... served his purpose?"

Moebius leaned on his staff and studied Mortanius with glimmering eyes. If Mortanius had harbored any desperate hope for Moebius's sanity, it evaporated in that instant.

"Did you really think that I didn't know?" Moebius asked, his voice as sharp as a razor. "Did you think you could ever keep a secret from me? I know everything, old friend. I know all about your little vampire errand boy, the one you resurrected to slay us all. I know about him, I know about the monster Azimuth brought to Avernus, and I know that you are the one who murdered dear Ariel."

"How?" was all that Mortanius could say. He didn't have the strength left to be surprised anymore.

Moebius continued to stare at him. His expression reminded Mortanius of how Azimuth looked when she spoke of the hylden. "I see the past and the future and everything in between. I hold the mysteries of time right in my hand. Everything has transpired exactly as I predicted that it would."

"You can predict the future now?"

"With perfect accuracy. I built a device that allows me to sift through hundreds – thousands – of possible futures and see how each of those possibilities can come to pass. I don't merely predict the future, old friend, I create the future according to my whims."

"You told me once that you were working on a device like that," Mortanius said in a flat tone of voice. "But I didn't know you finished it."

"I completed it centuries ago. I call it the Chronoplast."

"And you can ... choose what future suits your interests?"

"Yes, exactly!" Moebius cackled.

"So the world that we live in right now," Mortanius said. "This is the one you wanted? Nosgoth is overrun with violence and crime. The Guardians are corrupted with madness. The Pillars are weakened and unstable. This is the world you chose for us?"

"It had to be this way," Moebius said intensely. "Sacrifices had to be made. I don't expect you or anyone else to understand, but this is the future Nosgoth needed to eradicate the vampires once and for all."

"The vampires," Mortanius sighed. "It always comes back to the vampires, doesn't it?"

"Do you think me mad, old friend?"

"We've all gone mad."

"Indeed. But I did what I had to do. Because I serve a cause greater than any government, greater than the Circle of Nine, or even Nosgoth itself."

"And what cause is that?"

Moebius straightened and stood proudly, tapping the base of his staff against the floor. "I serve God. The true God of Nosgoth, the Creator of Life and the Master of the Wheel of Fate."

Mortanius looked at his old friend and wondered when he had gone insane. Was it when Nupraptor infected them all with his grief and anger, or was it long before that? He had always been eccentric and peculiar, but Mortanius had known him for so many years that he sometimes forgot just how strange Moebius behaved. When had Moebius truly slipped into madness? Was it when William was assassinated? Or earlier still? Was it when Vorador slaughtered the Guardians, or maybe even earlier than that? Was it the day that he had first laid his hands upon the Pillars and become the Guardian of Time? Mortanius began to wonder if Moebius had always been this insane, and he had simply never noticed.

"And how long have you served this ... God?" he asked.

"Since the beginning," Moebius declared. "Since before the rebellion. He first spoke to me when I was still a young man. It was God who directed me to find the staff." He held it out, as if showing it to Mortanius for the first time. "It was God who gave us the weapon we could use to overthrow the vampires. Without God's guidance, we could never have risen against them."

"And you never shared this information with me before?"

"I wanted to, many times. I wished that you might join me in His service. But my first loyalty is to God, and He forbade me from revealing this truth to anyone else."

"How convenient."

"Besides, I know you too well. You would not have believed me, just as you do not believe me now. Unless God spoke to you himself, you would have always doubted. It is in your nature to be skeptical of everything, even the most obvious of truths."

"So all of this," Mortanius said, making a vague gesture with his arm that encompassed all of Nosgoth, "was in order to get rid of the vampires? That was your ultimate goal? And what of the Pillars? Without the vampires, the Pillars have grown weak. What of the hylden?"

"Irrelevant," Moebius scoffed. "They are at the limit of their power. The Pillars are a symbol, nothing more. Those hylden creatures cannot harm us."

"You're wrong," Mortanius said. He shook his head just a little, his eyes drifting to the floor, as if the effort of looking at his old friend had worn him out. "Maybe this God of yours doesn't have all the answers. Or maybe there's no God at all, and you're truly insane. But the Pillars are the only thing holding the hylden back. If the Pillars fail, the hylden will sweep through this world like a plague. They'll destroy Nosgoth."

"No, old friend. I'm afraid you're mistaken. Your vampire Kain is the one who'll destroy Nosgoth. He is the real enemy. Granted, he was a necessary part of my plan as well as yours, but now he's outlived his usefulness, and he must be destroyed along with Vorador. Only then will Nosgoth be safe."

"I don't believe you. I don't care what you've seen in your crystal ball. Kain will restore the Pillars and save Nosgoth. I know it."

Moebius snickered again and sighed. "Oh, well. I suppose I could show you the Chronoplast and you could see it with your own eyes, but I don't think I will. Perhaps it would be better if you heard it from Kain himself."

"Really? Kain's going to tell me that he'll destroy Nosgoth?"

"Not exactly. I'm sure you'll run into Kain again very soon. When you do, take a close look at the weapon he wields. Then you'll see."

"What are you talking about?"

Instead of answering, Moebius turned and stepped back into the hallway, blending into the shadows. "I would love to stay and chat some more, but I really must be going now. I have so much work to do before the execution tomorrow. I hope I'll see you there."

"I've seen more than my share of death," Mortanius said.

Moebius chuckled at that. "Yes, and I've seen more than my share of time."

He looked back at Mortanius and leaned upon his staff once more. His face softened its expression. "It's been good talking to you again, Mortanius," he said. "Almost like old times. But in case I don't get to see you again, I want you to know that I've always valued your friendship."

"And I yours," Mortanius replied honestly.

"We changed the world, you know. You and I together."

"Yes, we did."

Moebius smiled again, and walked off down the hallway. Eventually, Mortanius could no longer sense him anywhere nearby.

Mortanius chose not attend Vorador's execution. Part of him wanted to see Vorador die, to watch the creature responsible for the Slaughter of the Circle burn for what he had done, but he knew too much now about the vampires and the hylden to seek revenge anymore. The Circle had sanctioned the death of the last true vampire on Nosgoth. Perhaps Vorador was right to murder them.

Much later the following night, after the execution, Mortanius was struck by a wave of pain that announced the death of his oldest friend. Kain had struck again. Moebius was dead.

# Chapter Sixty Two

Mortanius thought that he would never have a reason to return to Avernus Cathedral, but after his conversation with Moebius, something in the back of his mind made him want to return there. He wanted to know something, and he felt that Avernus was the only place where he might find the answer.

The stairway leading up to the Cathedral had collapsed and was now blocked by charred timbers from the remains of the Cathedral, which had finally been engulfed by the raging firestorm. Most of the city above was nothing but smoking ruins now.

The catacomb was mostly untouched. Normally it was bitterly cold, but now the temperature was tolerable, although the lingering smell of smoke remained in the air. Mortanius made his way to the central chamber and walked up to the pit.

Mortanius had wondered if perhaps Azimuth had set Hash'ak'gik free along with other monsters she set loose upon the city. But when he looked down into the pit, he saw that the demon was still there. The beast stormed up to the edge of the pit and raised itself up on its hind legs. It trembled with rage, and bellowed at him, "Blood! Give me blood!"

Mortanius let himself show a hint of a smile and slowly shook his head. "No, demon, not this time. There will be no blood for you this day. I've come to speak with your master."

"Your master," the demon growled. "Your master!"

"I know that they're listening. I want to know why they haven't tried to stop me."

The hylden had proven that they could force their consciousness into his mind even when he was far from Avernus. They took over his body when he was at the Pillars, in order to kill Ariel. And it was no coincidence that they just happened to possess him at that moment. He believed that they always knew where he was and what he was doing. But if that was the case, then why hadn't they possessed him in order to stop him from resurrecting Kain? The Pillars were weaker than they had ever been, so it should have been easy for the hylden to take over his body. But they had not done so in weeks now, ever since the last time he served as their voice in the cult ritual.

"Give me blood!" Hash'ak'gik screamed. "No talk! Give me blood!"

"Answer me, damn you!" Mortanius snapped. "Why are you silent now? Why haven't you made your presence felt? Are you so secure in your victory, or are you afraid of what I've done? I resurrected Kain in order to restore the Pillars, and yet you haven't made any attempt to stop me."

"Kain! My Lord!" the demon suddenly roared, shaking its head angrily. "Kain!"

Mortanius looked down at the demon and carefully stepped back from the pit. Something about this wasn't right. The demon often shouted nonsense, but it called Kain its Lord. Why would it say something like that?

He heard some scratching from the other side of the chamber and looked up. To his surprise, three robed figures came hesitantly out onto the balcony area on the other side of the pit. The cult followers entered the catacomb through a narrow passage which led from the balcony to a secret entrance in Avernus. Mortanius had assumed that the entrance was destroyed along with everything else. He had not expected to see any cult followers.

The three cult members looked like they'd been through hell. "My ... my Lord?" one of them mumbled, not making eye contact. "Are we ... are we still allowed to come here and worship?"

"I didn't know that any of you were still in the city," Mortanius said. "I thought you had all gone. How many of you are there?"

"Only twelve, my Lord. The rest have left the city or died in the fire."

He didn't know what to say to them. Should he tell them that Azimuth was the one who started the fire in the first place? That she was dead and their cult was soon to follow? That the hylden were to blame for Nosgoth's downfall?

"Get the others," he said. "Bring them and we will ... we will worship."

And so for one last time, Mortanius presided over a cult ritual. It felt absurd to go through the motions anymore, especially now that Azimuth was dead, but the unexpected arrival of the cult followers had distracted him. He simply couldn't believe that any of them remained in the city.

The pathetic wretches had nothing else in their life except this foul gathering. The fire had destroyed their homes and everything else they held dear, and Mortanius simply didn't have the heart to take away their delusional cult as well. He'd give them one last meeting, one last ritual, and then send them on their way.

This one would be different, however. While the followers ran off to get the others, Mortanius took a moment to prepare a simple illusion spell. Up close, it was easy to tell that the bound figure at Mortanius's feet was not real, but the cult followers would be fooled. The demon would not be fed, but the followers would think it was.

It took only a few minutes for all the followers to arrive. Most of them were probably living in the ruins right near their secret entrance, unable or unwilling to go anywhere else. They were dirty and miserable, their cloaks smeared with soot and reeking of smoke. Mortanius wondered when they had eaten last.

It was a short ceremony. The hylden did not speak through him, again deciding not to take control of his body for reasons he didn't understand. He said the words anyway, praising the beings from another world, and the followers repeated his words with tired voices. He pushed the illusory sacrifice into the pit and ended the spell.

"We offer this sacrifice to you, great Hash'ak'gik," he said, raising his arms.

"Hash'ak'gik, Hash'ak'gik, Hash'ak'gik," the followers repeated.

"May this blood nourish you for all eternity."

"Hash'ak'gik," they said again, bowing their heads.

He lowered his arms again. "Hash'ak'gik is pleased with our sacrifice. We are his chosen ones. We are the his voice in Nosgoth. But this place is no longer safe for his loyal followers. Many of his chosen ones have perished. And so it is time for us to leave this place."

Some of the followers looked nervously amongst themselves. Others nodded in understanding and continued to chant.

"Hash'ak'gik orders us to depart the remains of this city and spread his word elsewhere. We must go to other cities and start anew. This is the will of Hash'ak'gik."

"We tremble, and we obey," the followers mumbled. "Praise to Hash'ak'gik."

"Farewell, chosen ones. Depart now, as ever, in his service."

The followers slowly filed out of the chamber. Some of them cast meaningful glances back at Mortanius, but he waved his arm to urge them out. This was the best he could do for them. Maybe some of them would do as they were told and find new homes. Perhaps a few might make a better life for themselves.

Hopefully none of them tried to return here again. Avernus was nothing but a smoldering ruin now, so it was unlikely any of them would be able to survive in the city much longer. And once the Pillars were restored to their previous strength, the hylden would no longer be able to possess the demon anyway, so it would cease to be useful to anyone. It was possible that once Mortanius left Avernus for the last time, the catacombs would be forgotten and the beast would be left to starve to death down in the pit. It was a pleasant thought.

He returned to his private quarters and fell into a chair. He felt tired and anxious. He still didn't understand why the hylden had not possessed his body in order to sabotage his plans. They could have done it at any time. It would have been easy to take control after Kain was dead, and burn Kain's body before Mortanius could take it back to his laboratory.

Azimuth's Dimensionscope was destroyed when the Cathedral burned down, so maybe that explained their silence today. But the device worked perfectly when he resurrected Kain, and he didn't think they needed the Dimensionscope to possess him anyway. There was some other reason, but he had no idea what it was.

After a little while, he dimly heard the demon in the pit roaring and shouting, its voice echoing down the hallways, but he ignored it. He couldn't make out any specific words, just bestial shouts of rage and pain. It was angry at not being fed, and Mortanius couldn't possibly care less. The demon would die down here, and that was fine with him.

He leaned back in his chair and tried to think. Moebius said that Kain would destroy Nosgoth, but how could he possibly do such a thing? The only way Kain could destroy Nosgoth was by failing to kill the Guardians, and he was doing a very good job so far. Moebius had clearly been insane, but all the Guardians were insane, so that was no excuse. Was his cryptic statement about Kain just another delusion, like his mysterious God? Or was he confused about one of his possible futures?

Mortanius wracked his brain, trying to think of some scenario where Kain might possibly harm Nosgoth, but he came up with nothing. All Kain had to do was slay two more Guardians – Anarcothe and Mortanius – and it would be over. The corrupted Guardians would be dead. The Pillars would be restored, Kain would become the Guardian of Balance, and the hylden would be stopped before it was too late. Moebius's claims were nothing more than the ravings of a madman.

Mortanius stood up. He decided that he wasn't going to wait for Kain anymore. With Vorador dead, the Pillars were at their very weakest point, and the longer it took Kain to kill his last two targets, the higher the chance the hylden might find a way to break through. Mortanius had to speed things along. He wasn't going to sit and wait for Kain to arrive, he would bring Kain to him.

He cast the messaging spell and spoke into the magical aura that encircled him. "Kain, my Lord. It is I, the necromancer who resurrected you. I know there are many things you wish to know, and I promise you will have your answers. I'm contacting you to tell you that you are very near the end of your grand quest. Only two Guardians remain. Come at once to the Pillars so you may finish this and help restore Nosgoth to its former glory."

He lowered his arms and the aura winked out like a light. He sighed to himself and looked around his quarters. He would never return to this cursed place. He would never return to his home. Once he made his way to the Pillars, that would be it. Truthfully, he didn't know exactly what was going to happen, but there was really only one way it could end.

Had Kain already figured out who Mortanius really was? Had Ariel told him, or maybe one of the other Guardians in their final moments? He supposed it didn't matter. If Kain didn't know that the mysterious stranger who resurrected him was also one of his targets, then he would find out soon enough. No matter how it all transpired, Mortaius would not walk away from their meeting.

Anarcrothe had gone into hiding in the wake of Bane's and DeJoule's deaths, and his current whereabouts were unknown. There was no telling how long it would take Kain to track him down, so Mortanius would have to lure Anarcrothe to the Pillars first, so that Kain could slay him as well.

He was about to cast the messaging spell once more to contact Anarcrothe, when he heard the soft pad of footsteps behind him.

"Mortanius," came a faint voice, like the sound of a sarcophagus creaking open.

The unfamiliar voice chilled his blood, and at first he was afraid to turn around. But then he slowly turned to see the unnatural figure that walked through the doorway.

It was neither human nor vampire nor even hylden, but somehow seemed to blend the features of all three races. Its withered skin was a ghostly blue color, with both dark and light shades spread across the surface of its gaunt, twisted form. It almost looked like a long-dead corpse, dried out until it was nothing but a husk. Its limbs were shrunken and stiff, the musculature visible under a layer of transparent skin. Its internal organs were all but gone, reducing its lower torso to nothing but a gaping void. Little remained but a spine to connect the creature's chest and waist.

But even though it appeared to be an undead creature, perhaps not unlike how Malek once appeared underneath his armor, this creature did not move like one. It moved with the confidence of a predator, its feet moving across the floor with a calm, certain grace. It walked like a hero bravely coming to slay a great beast. Although it carried no weapon, Mortanius could see that it needed none. Its hands were weapons, its fingers huge black claws. A filthy, crusty brown shawl or scarf was wrapped around its shoulders, covering its neck and the lower half of its face. Its eyes glowed an eerie, spectral white.

"What ... what are you?" Mortanius asked, but as soon as the words came out of his mouth, he already knew the answer.

It was obvious, really. It was the reason the hylden had not answered his call. The hideous creature didn't look like its image in the vampire mural, but Mortanius always knew the murals were just a painter's ideal. The strange blue wraithlike being standing in front of him could be no one else.

It was the hylden champion, the one shown in the vampire mural, who would someday do battle with the champion of the vampires. That's what the murals portrayed. Mortanius understood it now. Two champions prophesied to meet in combat and end the war between the two ancient races once and for all. Suddenly, everything seemed to fall into place.

If this was the champion of the hylden, then the champion of the vampires must be Kain.

The hylden champion stood before him and said, "What I am is irrelevant. You would not understand. I have come here to claim the heart of the ancient vampire known as Janos. I know it's in your possession. Give it to me and I will gladly leave this place."

"You're too late," Mortanius said, his voice quavering, as he backed away from the demonic warrior. Its calm, assured voice was almost more terrifying than if it spoke in a bestial roar.

It tilted its head ever so slightly. "Too late? For what?"

"My plan was set into motion long ago," Mortanius said, trying to sound defiant. "You can't stop it now. Kain has already defeated the most powerful sorcerers in all of Nosgoth. How hard do you think it will be for him to destroy you as well?"

"I will deal with Kain later," the hylden champion said. "Right now, my priorities lie elsewhere."

"You're too late," Mortanius said again, shaking his head.

The creature patiently held out its clawed hand. "Just give me the heart of Janos."

The sheer lunacy of it almost made Mortanius break out in manic laughter. "I don't have it. Kain already has it, and you'll have to kill him to get it."

"Kain has it?" The champion looked away and raised its hand to the crusty shawl around its shoulders, as if lost in thought. Then its white eyes went wide, its alien expression unreadable, but Mortanius could swear that it was genuinely surprised. Then its head flicked up just a bit and its voice held a trace of awe. "It's in Kain's body. You used the heart to turn Kain into a vampire."

Did the creature truly not know?

"How else?" Mortanius said. "There was no other way."

He jerked backwards and reeled as the hylden's presence suddenly swarmed across his mind, finally trying to take control. To give new orders to their champion, no doubt. He struggled in vain for a moment, but they were too strong and he quickly blacked out.

When the presence lifted, he staggered back and leaned against a table, his head spinning. He was still in his quarters, and amazingly, the hylden champion was still there, looking at him oddly. Mortanius felt that they had only retained control of him for a few minutes at most.

"I understand things better now," the champion said.

Mortanius brushed aside the comment. He was breathing hard, exhausted even after a short time under the hylden's control. "Your masters will not have their victory," he said, straightening up to retain some of his dignity, although he felt there was little of that left.

"I have no master," the creature replied.

"I believed that once," Mortanius said. "But now I know better."

The hylden champion pondered that for a moment and then said, "If Kain has Janos's heart, then I must find him and take it."

"I'll never tell you where he is."

"It doesn't matter. I have a feeling that Kain will find me."

"He'll destroy you."

"I think not. He's tried before, and yet, here I am."

Mortanius didn't understand. Had Kain already faced this creature before?

As if sensing his confusion, the hylden champion said, "I'm afraid that things are more complicated than you realize, necromancer. There is much you are ignorant of. Kain is not the hero that you imagine him to be."

Speaking in riddles, just like Moebius. Mortanius fiercely shook his head, refusing to listen. "You're just trying to deceive me."

"What benefit would there be to deceiving you at this late hour?"

"To weaken my resolve. But it won't work. I've finally come to understand the truth. Moebius and I were wrong to overthrow the vampires. But Kain will make things right. He will complete his destiny, slay the corrupted Guardians, and you along with them. And with him, the Pillars will return to vampire guardianship, as they were meant to be."

"That, they will," the hylden champion said. There was a haunting sadness in his voice, and it almost diverted Mortanius from his course. "But not quite the way you intend."

Mortanius shook off the feeling. "Save your lies, demon. You will not sway me."

"Go to the Pillars, then," the creature said, waving his hand dismissively. "Go to your death."

"Yes," Mortanius said. "Yes, I will. It's time to end this."

He cast his teleportation spell and disappeared.
Chapter Sixty Three

It was nearly sunset, and the glowing orange sky above the Pillars would have been beautiful if Mortanius was in the mood to appreciate such beauty. Instead, he looked out at the flat meadow and the trees beyond, and then turned to gaze upon the Pillars themselves. He had not really stared at them since he was a child. These massive, supernatural Pillars, reaching up into the sky so far that they disappeared in the clouds, had terrified him then, and they terrified him now.

He was ten years old when he first came to this place, and now he was over 1500 years old. His time as a Guardian began here, and so it would end here as well.

The ghost of Ariel floated nearby. "Congratulations, Mortanius. It looks like your plan has worked so far. Only you and Anarcrothe remain."

"Yes," Mortanius said. "Everyone else is dead. Even Vorador is dead."

"I know. I felt it. By some strange twist of fate, Kain is the last vampire on Nosgoth."

"He's a Guardian of the Pillars. That's all that matters. Without him, the hylden would have already come to our world."

"The Pillars are nearly destroyed now," Ariel said sadly. "They've stood for thousands and thousands of years, but the magic that binds them is nearly gone. There's almost nothing left. It will not take much for the Pillars to fall."

"Then we must move quickly," Mortanius said.

He cast the messaging spell and spoke into the aura. "Anarcrothe," he said. "This is Mortanius. The assassin just came after me, but I was able to escape. I believe I know how to stop him, but I can't do it myself. I need your help. You and I are the only ones left now, and it's up to us to stop him. Please come to the Pillars right away. I'll be waiting for you there."

He ended the spell and lowered his arms.

Ariel looked at him. "Do you think Anarcrothe will answer such a call?"

"Yes, I do. He and I have always been friends, and he needs my help but is too proud to ask. He will come. But you cannot be here when he arrives."

"Of course. But I will be watching ..." Ariel became transparent and then faded completely from view. And then Mortanius was alone.

Moments later, the sun slipped behind the mountains, plunging the Pillars into shadowy twilight. The brilliant orange of sunset faded into pearly gray and then dark blue. The last sunset of Mortanius's life. A thin mist seemed to float up from the ground as soon as the sun went down, and soon the Pillars were surrounded in a hazy fog.

A flash of magic appeared in the grass several yards away. Anarcrothe, the Guardian of States, came through the teleportation portal and frantically spun around to see if there was anyone around him. He did not look well. His hair was tangled and greasy, his chin unshaven, and his clothes dirty and stained with sweat. His movements were jerky and trembling as he approached the Pillars, like a man addicted to drugs.

"Mortanius, Mortanius. Oh, it is good to see you," he mumbled as he stepped onto the platform. "I've been running for days. Trying to stay one step ahead. We're being hunted, Mortanius. I saw him when he killed DeJoule, dear sweet DeJoule."

Mortanius nodded and put his hand on Anarcothe's arm. "I know. He killed Azimuth too. He's taken everyone else."

"Even Moebius," Anarcrothe said in amazement. "Moebius could see the future! How could the assassin kill a man who knows the future?"

"Maybe Moebius wasn't as omniscient as he believed himself to be."

Anarcrothe shook his head. "It's just us now." He looked anxiously at Mortanius, a glimmer of hope on his face. "But you escaped him? You got away? Please, tell me what we have to do. I tried to fight him ... I tried, Mortanius. But he was too strong."

"I agree, he's very strong," Mortanius said calmly. "But we can ambush him. We can set a trap."

"Yes, yes," Anarcrothe said, nodding. He rubbed his hands together. "It could work. You're the Guardian of Death. Use your powers against him! You could kill him with a glance!"

"We will draw him to us. We have to lure him into the open."

"Yes, but where?"

"Here, at the Pillars."

"Right here?"

"Yes, I've already summoned him. He'll be here soon, and then we can face him together."

A look of confusion and bewilderment came over Anarcrothe's face. "What? You ... you summoned him? What are you talking about?"

"I used the messaging spell."

Anarcrothe shook his head and took a step back, looking around nervously once more. "But to send a message, you need to know the name of the person you're talking to."

Mortanius smiled reassuringly. "His name is Kain."

"What? How could you know ..."

"He's coming for us, Anarcrothe. We're the last two Guardians. Once we're dead, his mission will be complete. It has to be this way."

Anarcrothe shrieked and swung his arms as he backed away. He stared with wide, deranged eyes and fumbled at his cloak. "What are you talking about? Mortanius! What have you done? What have you done!"

"I did what I had to do," Mortanius said with infinite calm. "To save Nosgoth."

"You betrayed us!" Anarcrothe shouted, his confusion giving way to anger. "You betrayed us! It was you! You set the assassin upon us!"

Mortanius stepped to the side, walking in a slow circle around Anarcrothe, who braced himself and swung his arms out. "Nupraptor poisoned all of our minds. The Guardians are corrupted. The Circle has failed in its sworn duties. It had to be destroyed."

"Failed our duties?" Anarcrothe snapped. Magic crackled at his fingertips. "You're a fool, Mortanius! The Circle exists for us, we don't exist for it! The Guardians are the rulers of this world! Our powers will save or damn Nosgoth at our whim!"

"I'm sorry, friend," Mortanius said, preparing himself.

A swirling mass of green magic flashed across Anarcrothe's body and he threw his arms forward to hurl it at Mortanius, who flickered out of the way. He reached out to grab Anarcrothe's soul, but the Guardian of States defended himself. With a sweep of his hand, the air around Mortanius turned black and thick as grease. Mortanius had to stumble backward or else drown in it. He created a bolt of lightning and fired blindly.

The two mages circled each other, launching bolts of magic. Anacrothe could alter the states of matter, and Mortanius was nearly swallowed up when the ground underneath his feet turned to quicksand. He struck out again, clawing spectral hands across Anarcrothe's soul. Anarcrothe gasped in pain and staggered away, trying to form a magical shield around himself. Another mass of corrupting green magic swarmed across Mortanius but he dispelled it in time.

He fell to one knee and fired another bolt of lightning. Anarcrothe dodged but his magical shield faltered, and Mortanius once again reached out to grab a hold of his soul. Anarcrothe choked and clutched at his chest, his eyes bugging out, spittle flying from his lips. Mortanius squeezed his hand and fired bolt of lightning with the other.

The lightning blasted through Anarcrothe's chest. Blood spurted from his mouth like a geyser and and he fell to the marble platform, his body sprawled in an unnatural position. Mortanius, panting for breath, stood up and released Anarcrothe's soul, and it flew off into the spirit world.

And then there was only one.

# Chapter Sixty Four

In the penetrating silence that followed, Mortanius thought he heard a sound out in the darkness. He glanced down at Anarcrothe's body and stepped away from the pooling blood.

"I didn't want it to end like that," he said softly.

There was a whisper on the wind, muffled by the thick mist, the faint laughter of Ariel watching the scene unfold. Maybe she found grim humor in the fact that Anarcrothe had unknowingly followed in her own footsteps as the second Guardian to die at the Pillars by Mortanius's hand. But this time was not like before. This time Mortanius knew full well what he was doing.

He glanced up as another sound came from the darkness, a sound followed by a figure that emerged from the mist like a shadow. A man in dark armor contrasted by his deathly pale skin. A sword was in his hand. The sound Mortanius heard earlier was the sound of that sword being drawn.

Kain stepped up onto the platform and Mortanius got his first good look at the savior of Nosgoth since his resurrection. The man standing before him did not look much like a savior, that was true. Vampirism had changed his appearance drastically in a short time, and he no longer looked like a man at all. His skin was as white as an albino's, his formerly-brown hair also bleached white, and his eyes a peculiar yellow color. His armor was dark, dingy gray, the padding underneath bloody maroon.

He carried a familiar sword in his hand. Mortanius stared at it, uncomprehending, as Kain stepped forward. It had a long, serpentine blade and a skull embedded in the hilt. There was little light, but the sword seemed to glint as if reflecting the light of a bonfire.

"Necromancer," Kain intoned, his voice deep as a grave. "I have returned here, as requested."

"Yes," Mortanius said distantly, not taking his eyes off the sword. "To complete your quest."

Kain looked down at Anarcrothe's body and sniffed in disapproval. "This one escaped me in Dark Eden. I see you've gotten your own hands bloody."

"My hands are bloodier than you know."

"Perhaps not. Answer me this, necromancer. Are you the one who hired the brigands who ambushed me at the bridge?"

"Yes. I hired them."

"I should kill you for that alone."

"You should."

"I am tempted. But it seems I have other, more pressing reasons to end your life. I overheard you arguing just as I arrived. He named you Mortanius. I've heard that name before."

"Yes."

Kain raised the sword and pointed it at him. His eyes seemed to glint with bloodlust, and as he spoke, his fangs were visible. "That makes you the final Guardian of the Circle. It looks like you're the final name on my list, necromancer."

"Yes," Mortanius said again.

"Defend yourself."

Mortanius had waited for this moment for weeks, even since he first learned Kain's identity. He knew it would always come down to this, he planned for it, he prepared for it. Everything he had done culminated in this final act. To cure the corrupted Pillars, to restore the binding magic which held the hylden at bay, to heal Nosgoth itself, Mortanius knew that he must die along with the rest of of the Circle. He had come to meet Kain at the Pillars to accomplish exactly this goal. He life, having lasted far too long, must come to an end.

But the instinct to live is strong. When Kain came at him, Mortanius's body seemed to move of its own volition. He jumped backwards, magic flowing around him, and cast a magical shield to deflect the oncoming blow.

Kain moved faster than any mortal human ever could. Mortanius marveled at his supernatural speed and inhuman power as he battled his way through layer after layer of magical defenses. The giant curved sword seemed alive in his hands.

The sword. Even as Mortanius fought for his life, he could not take his eyes off it. He faced a vampire assassin with white skin, wielding a sword identical to the one taken from Janos. Identical to the one Moebius had gifted to William of Winterheim. How was it possible? What did it mean?

Mortanius desperately wished to know how Kain had acquired the sword, but there was no time. There was only time to fight, only time to live another few moments, to look back on a lifetime spanning millennia and wonder where it all went wrong.

Kain's soul glowed as bright as the sun. It was like a beacon, focusing the attention of the entire world. Mortanius reached out for it, but it burned his hand. Kain was more than just a vampire, more than just a Guardian, he was more than Mortanius could ever imagine. It was as if all of history had converged to give Kain life, and Mortanius was merely a bit player in the grand scheme of the universe.

He retreated back again and again, firing bolts of lightning, summoning ghostly black hands from the spirit world, wrapping himself in deadly magic. But none of it mattered. Kain fought through it all like an unstoppable force. The champion of the vampires would not be denied.

With a cry of victory, Kain surged forward and thrust the serpentine blade straight through Mortanius's chest. The blade slipped through without a hint of resistance, as if the blade itself was a spectral weapon, incorporeal and intangible, the mysterious vampire blade of prophecy. Mortanius looked down dumbly at the hilt as it pressed against his chest, and then raised his eyes to look upon the assassin he had created, his own undead son.

With a sigh, Mortanius fell to his knees. He was the Guardian of Death, and yet despite all of his experiments, all of his research, all of his years of experience, he had never truly learned its most basic truth. What did it feel like? What did it feel like to die?

Kain looked down at him, his expression unreadable. "And now it's done," he said simply. "The Guardians are no more. I'm finished with this."

"... No ...," Mortanius gasped. "There is ... still ... one more ... for you ... to face ..."

He wanted to tell Kain everything, to warn him about the hylden and their champion, to ask him where he obtained the sword, to ask for forgiveness for everything he had done. But he didn't have the strength. In his final moments, he wished he had more time. Kain had achieved the impossible, he'd slain the corrupted Guardians and ended the corruption of the Pillars, and yet there was so much he didn't know about his destiny. He would have to discover the truth on his own.

Mortanius looked into the spirit world. His own soul seemed to hover outside of his body. He felt it slip away, freeing him from the prison of life, and somehow pull forward into the sword that still impaled him through the chest. He did not understand what was happening or how he could ever experience such a thing, but the moment seemed to last forever, and he watched it as if from a distance. Did his powers as Death Guardian give him this ability, to objectively study his own death?

He watched as his soul departed from his body. But it did not fly away. Instead, his glowing soul disappeared into the sword, as if the magical blade had absorbed it. Kain pulled the sword free and Mortanius slumped backward onto the Pillar platform.

But it was okay. He was at peace and felt no pain. The Pillars were restored, and that was all that mattered. Kain would do what needed to be done. The very last thought that went through Mortanius's mind was that Nosgoth would be saved.
About the Author

Andreas Leachim has been writing fan fiction since the mid 2000s. His first fan fiction story was based on Legacy of Kain, and since then he has written fan fiction based on Resident Evil, The Elder Scrolls, and G.I. Joe. All of his works are posted on the website Fanfiction.net under the user name Lord Leachim, and his Resident Evil Legends series has been also been published on Smashwords. Andreas Leachim is not the author's real name, it is a pseudonym. He also publishes original fiction under his real name, but his fan fiction is much more popular.
