

The Vampire's Heart

by

Cochin Breaker

Published by Cochin Breaker at Smashwords

Copyright 2010 Cochin Breaker

ISBN: 978-1-4523-2172-1 (EPUB)

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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\- The Legion Legacy -

Part One: The Vampire's Heart

Part Two: Darkness Rising

Part Three: Godblood

Part Four: The Dead Wolf

Part Five: The Forging Beneath

Part Six: A Soul to Sacrifice

Short Stories: The Garamanth Addendum

Find out what the future holds on Twitter and the Facebook!

### THE LEGION LEGACY

### PART ONE

### THE VAMPIRE'S HEART

Prologue One

\- Angel-Mexis -

1,573 days until the birth of a god

14th day of Spring-Rise, 1533

I am Angel-Mexis, and they will not break me with their vicious games.

It is past midnight and the birth is at last done. I know this because Emmerall in the next cell has finally quietened her screaming. All I can hear now is the muffled sound of the babe's squeal and the faintest whisper of voices. The walls here are too thick to be able to hear anything specific, but I heard 'her' voice earlier. I hate Sister Marn-Theun. She is by far the worst of the women here. She'll do things to us that even the Fathers would not–

The baby's squall is suddenly cut off, only to be replaced by the hysterical screaming of Emmerall. I think this is the worst bit for me. Poor Emmerall, to have pregnancy forced on her, and then to have the babe taken immediately after the ordeal of the birth. This is the third time the Sister has done this; she must think that I'll give up my heathen ways once I can't bear the tragedy any more. She is wrong. She is making my hatred for the Calcian faith ever stronger.

I wonder how long she has been doing this. Is it just for me or has she done this for years?

She is a killer of the innocent because of their heritage. Many a new-born babe has died by her hand, as have their mothers. The worst thing about Marn-Theun is that she is so righteous. She never has a single doubt about what she is doing.

After a few sobbed screams of pain Emmerall joins her babe in eternal silence. She, like the babe, was innocent. She shouldn't have been here. From what I understand, she was raped, and she has now been murdered because of it. How can the goddess Calcia allow Marn-Theun to get away with this? There are so many reasons I will never become a Calcian. The silence from the adjacent cell is cold and lifeless now.

All the captives at the Lighthouse are given lessons in 'Calcian Lore' wherein the Calcians attempt to convert us to their ways and beliefs. Most of the prisoners are sent by parents or village leaders or the city Macers, although some do come under their own volition. All of us that do not take to Calcia's following regret having to come here.

Of the girls that are pregnant by nefarious means, once they have given birth they are rarely seen again unless they have accepted sisterhood. That is something that I personally believe is a fate far worse than death. The gift of death is a blessing compared to being forced to follow a religion you have no faith in.

I am not here because I am carrying child though. I did not have the interest of a man that my parents disagreed with. It was my parents that sent me here, however.

I am a Pagan, and apparently my beliefs aren't normal. The problem my parents have is that I can use magic so easily. My mother is adamant that I should follow Calcia.

That is something that will never happen.

1,549 days until the birth of a god

38th day of Spring-Rise, 1533

I'm in my dormitory-come-cell at the moment, waiting for my chance to escape. Tonight I make my breakout from the Lighthouse; tonight I suffer no longer. I have been here for three long seasons at the mercy of Sister Marn-Theun, and I will avenge all who have been murdered by her evil hands. I will then slip away into the night. It won't be easy though.

Since arriving here I have been working on my escape. Usually the Fathers come and drain away most of a prisoner's magical power, so that they cannot defend themselves. I've been storing up magical energy in one of the bars of my window, hiding it amongst the enchantments they have upon them. Tonight I shall draw upon that stored magic and make my escape.

I have been naked for the past three seasons, only taking to wrapping myself in blankets during the wintertime. The Calcians burned all of my possessions and tried to make me wear their Calcian robes. Like their faith, I have always rejected their robes, which is why I've been at the disposal of the Fathers. They often use me to satisfy their urges. My refusal also made me the subject of Sister Marn-Theun's severity.

Tonight I will at last be able to overpower her. My magic will be whole again, and she will see the strength in me for the first time. It is she who will scream for a change.

Despite my intense hatred for the woman, I can't help but worry that by ridding the world of her I'll sully myself beyond recognition. It is true to say that I've never been to either of the poles of good and bad; I weave between them, near the centre line. I recall once, four or five years ago, I stole a piece of fruit from a stall in Rudra. I wasn't hungry, and I had no actual need for it. I kept stealing for seasons after. Not just fruit though, anything, even things I didn't even have use for. I don't know when I stopped, but eventually I did.

Marn-Theun is evil and she has committed crimes against life itself. It may not be the wishes of my gods, but it needs to be done. I am resolved to do what I feel I must. I am resolved.

I will have to wait until she is inside my cell and the door is locked before I can exact my revenge though, and that could be either extremely difficult or extremely easy to accomplish. She should be here within a mid-hour if my judging of the moon is correct. I can see it, and the surrounding blue sparks, out of the barred window in a small portion of the semi-lit sky. If I look down I can see the hard and cobbled courtyard some fifty feet below.

I place my hands on the bars, grasping them tightly. Immediately I can feel the enchantments lurking within, and below those, my own store of magical power. The bars had been spelled centuries ago so that they could not be removed, as had the walls and door. It made the Lighthouse a very sturdy, un-perished structure. It also makes my escape possible.

I drain the stored power from the bars, imbuing myself with magical ability far beyond that of any Calcian.

***

I listen intently, hearing footsteps coming down the hallway towards me. If it's Marn-Theun, she'll stop off in Jacinth's cell to do her brief checks. Jacinth had come in two days ago, pregnant from the attentions of her lecherous uncle. I have listened a lot during the last three seasons, as there was little else to do once I'd been imprisoned. The wall, though spelled against destruction, did nothing to hinder my magically augmented hearing.

The footsteps, as I expect, come to a stop a little up the hallway, but only for a few moments. Soon Marn-Theun had come to a stop outside my cell. As the key enters the lock I hear the dreaded Sister begin reciting a prayer in the name of Calcia, the goddess I shun.

I let the magic enhancing my hearing go. The small amount of wasted power returns to the world after an instant lingering in the air around me.

The door opens swiftly and Sister Marn-Theun rustles in while the door is pulled hastily closed by unseen hands. She stands in front of the curved wall as the door is locked at her back. The righteous fire in her eyes burns brightly, lending passion to her dour face.

"Good evening young lady, I trust you are well?"

"You having nothing of my trust, and even less interest in my well being," I reply curtly. It's so hard keeping my emotions in check.

"Well, if only you weren't so stubborn, then maybe your stay here could be made more comfortable. We'd all like that now, wouldn't we?" This was Marn-Theun's way; to patronize and goad. It is just one of many things that I hate her for. The Sister never reveals any emotion beyond love for her goddess, and she never allows her prisoners any idea regarding what is going on inside her twisted head. She is even sparing with her blinking, keeping those fire bright blue eyes on me for as long as possible.

"I'm sure we would, but I can't see it happening too soon, can you?" I say in a jovial and light tone, despite what I'm feeling inside. Provoking Marn-Theun is the only pleasure I get at the Lighthouse, even though the chastisement is terrible. However, tonight I will go unpunished.

"Please do not take that tone with me. I only want to help you. Please, let me call for some robes for you. You must surely be cold like that," the Sister says. I imagine she'd smile now, if she were capable.

The idea of dressing as one of them makes me shudder, and I shake my head. Those robes and everything they signify disgust me. To wear them you're supposed to be a virgin, but so few of the Sisters are. They prefer to say that their souls are untouched by man. The robes are long, black and enveloping, made of starched crushed silk. Even the slightest movement would produce a hefty rustle. Their hair is supposed to be scraped back over the scalp, but at night they settle for a loose ponytail. It seems that Calcians do not care much for their own dogma.

I can feel the bile welling up inside me. I try to remain calm but the rage inside is beginning to take over.

"Keep your foul robes! I would rather freeze to death than look like one of you and yours."

"Well now, that is a pity, isn't it? You know the punishment for disrespecting your superiors. Come to me child." She beckons to me while she speaks.

"Disrespecting my superiors?" I scream, "I am far advanced compared to the likes of you and your pathetic kind!"

Marn-Theun's eyes narrow viciously.

"Now child, please do not speak in such tones. I would hate to have to bring the guards in here to restrain you whilst you receive your punishment."

"If you do, you'll wish to the gods–"

"Calcia is the one true Goddess," the sister cuts over me in a neutral tone, as though she's just repeating a standard line.

"Very well, you will wish to your Calcia that you hadn't called them. I will make you suffer so much more if you do."

"The language of threats is a poor one spoken by those of a lower calling than ours. You will never become a good Calcian with that mouth," Theun retorts, oblivious to the threat I pose.

She is a hypocrite. Moments ago she threatened me. That is another reason I hate her and her kind, they are hypocrites through and through.

"Good, I will never worship the betrayer Calcia!" I shout, completely losing control.

The fire in the Sister's eyes roars. Her jaw sets and she reaches for the sword at her heavily robed hip, half drawing it before I'm upon her. I've already cast and the spell is beginning to take effect as I bear her to the ground.

Marn-Theun just looks at me with those fiery blue eyes, her face the picture of calm. Her eyes close for a moment as she casts a swift spell; presumably a call for help.

When she opens her eyes again she sees what I am changing into, and though it does not show on her face, I know Marn-Theun must be scared. I can't attack because of the physical change, but Marn-Theun is too busy with prayers to Calcia to take the advantage. I'm at the crux point of the casting, where my bones and joints are reshaping to accommodate my new figure.

With a painful crack as my spine shifts again, the transformation is completed, and now Sister Marn-Theun isn't looking at a naked fourteen year old girl anymore, she's looking at a three foot tall at the shoulder black panther, poised to attack its prey, hungry for far too long to resist.

I pounce and slam into her chest. My front paws drive the air from her lungs and bludgeon her against the wall once again. With her pinned I look into those blue eyes and lash down with my jaws, biting into the soft flesh of her arm. Again and again I bite, but she makes no noise. She just accepts what I'm doing to her. The taste of blood in my mouth is disgusting and I want to be sick, but the venom inside keeps me attacking. The bone splinters with an audible crack, and her arm comes free in my maw. I toss it aside and start on the next limb.

She is still alive and conscious as I gnaw off her other arm and start on her leg. Never once does she cry out. Never once do I get that satisfaction.

The door opens, surprising me. I was too engrossed in my revenge to have foreseen it. The door knocks the body of Theun sideways as a couple of guards storm in. I turn my head to look at them, and they physically wilt when they see my sleek black muscled body covered in blood.

I pad out of the door as the guards are no threat to me. Both rush to help the doomed Sister. I'd wager that none here even recognise what I've turned into; the panther was hunted to extinction about three hundred years ago. Its natural home, in the Draeg Woods, was the prime hunting grounds for the sport hunters of Tarse.

I head off down the hallways, passing by countless doors to girls that shouldn't be here.

***

I'm hurrying along the circular halls, desperately looking for the stairs leading down. The Lighthouse, the place of my imprisonment, is set out with far more complexity than I had originally imagined. I had expected a single ring-shaped corridor with rooms on either side, but what I find is far more difficult to navigate while running. I've never had free rein to walk the halls and, as a result, their white washed curved corridors all look the same to me.

I smell close human scents, unhindered by walls and know there are people ahead, guards probably. I slow down and slink closer, sticking close to the wall.

A call echoes out from down the corridor, informing all that one of the girls has escaped her chambers. Suddenly the guards are heading toward me with their swords drawn. Following a few paces behind them is a Father. His name is Holste if I remember correctly, and he is strong with his magic. A deep growl escapes my throat, which brings the trio to a halt. Maybe they'll just let me pass like the other guards did, not wishing to engage such a beast as I.

I pad forward and their swords are raised to their defence. Looks like I'm going to have to fight. I hear hasty footfalls approaching from the rear; three sets. I have to fight now, and fight fast, or I won't stand a chance.

I leap forward and high. The guards do not expect my sudden and vicious attack, and my powerful jaws sink into the throat of the first of them, cutting flesh and filling my mouth with blood. His sword flails uselessly at his side. I jerk my neck and rip his throat out. As the dead guard drops to the stone floor, fire erupts down the corridor, emanating from the Father's hands; the second guard is pressed flat against the wall to avoid the searing heat.

I leap back from the flames, but not quickly enough. They catch my face and body, causing my ear, eye and entire right flank to burn. I roar in pain and feel the muscles shriek in agony as I once more surge forward, my sight partially ruined. I have no choice but to continue now, through necessity of life. If I don't make it out I will die tonight. I knock the Father from his feet and race off around the corridor, hurtling as fast as my damaged side can carry me. While I run I stretch out with my magic, easing the damage caused by the flames.

As I follow a wide arcing corridor my trophy slowly slides into view before my working eye. I run for the steps with extra vigour and immediately head down the switchback, crashing into the walls at each turn, moving too fast to be safe and needing to go faster because my life depends on it.

As I reach the bottom of the stairwell I begin looking around madly for the open world and the night air. I can smell it now. I follow the scent out of the 'well, ignoring the offset stairs that lead further down, and move into another arced corridor. I'm halfway to the end of the corridor when I see it. The main doors are made of great dark oak and wreathed in costly iron for added strength.

The doors are closing ponderously as a couple of guards slowly heave them shut. My legs are working madly to get me there. There isn't going to be enough time so I tense for impact and turn my head aside.

I thud into the doors at tremendous speed, opening them and sending the guards sprawling. I feel my bones fracture where the iron studs connect with my feline skeletal structure. Limping forward, I move out into the night. The courtyard gate is closed, but that should not pose much of a problem. I run to the back of the Lighthouse where the rocky ocean cliffs offer greater protection than the wall. The sea glistens in the spark-light. With every step pain flares throughout my body. I'm in no state to escape yet.

I pull my magic within me and concentrate it to the areas of my body that need healing, repairing it as quickly as I can. Bones de-fracture, muscles loosen and my eye shifts in its socket. The burns ease tremendously to allow a clouded vision. The hair re-grows on my flank and I'm once again capable of escape.

I run directly at the wall, hearing the stomp of guards' feet as I do. I leap as high as I can; latching my claws into the mortar holding the vast lumps of stone together. I immediately begin my ascent. The climb is forty feet of terror. I know that guards are waiting to slaughter me if I fall, but I must make it before the Calcians can cast their offensive magics against me. I scramble onto the top of the wall as the first of the prepared spells is unleashed in my direction. With no time to think, I leap from the wall.

The ground rushes towards me and I thank Herne and his horns that I chose this form. I hit the ground and my feline reflexes take up any damage that should have been.

Shaken, I race off into the night, not knowing my direction other than that it is away from my murderers. My plan went a little awry somewhere along the line.

***

I have run for a night and a day, and now night once again claims the sky. I glance behind me at the shaft of light emanating from the Lighthouse. It has shone for the past one thousand five hundred years, ever since the end of the Calcian War; it was said that the goddess Calcia plucked out her own eye so that she could watch Gatheck and protect her Heart. Nowadays the Calcians prefer to think of it as purely metaphor: the idea of Calcia injuring herself to view the world when she could just turn up whenever she desires seems ridiculous to them.

Focussing my mind, I see the faint smudge of woodland ahead slowly growing as I flit over the land towards them, though they are still some thirty miles distant.

I've figured I'm travelling southeast from the position of the North Point, the brightest blue spark in the sky. I don't know the makeup of the land this side of the Gatheck Range as before I was sent to the Lighthouse I lived my whole life in and around Rudra, the great eastern city. Thinking of my erstwhile home brings the Circle of Calcia to mind. It is the Circle I fear: those who wish to convert all to their cause. At least the Descendants only wish for the non-believers to be slaughtered.

Soon I'll be amongst the trees and safe. Its dense formation and thick canopy will protect me from any prying eyes. I just hope I don't run into anyone in those woods.

How long am I going to have to hide there? How long before I can go home? Can I even go home? My parents sent me to the Lighthouse, so will they accept me now that I've escaped? So many questions and not a single answer for any of them.

1,543 days until the birth of a god

6th day of Spring-Fall, 1533

Creeping forward slowly, and keeping low to the ground. I don't make a noise. I haven't been seen yet, and I know I can do this. I've got to.

I sniff at its scent and see the relaxed muscles under its skin and hair. They are muscles that could bunch and flee with tremendous speed at any moment. I creep further still, closing in on the grazing creature. I get to the point where I think I can jump atop my unsuspecting victim.

The wind suddenly changes and it turns, sees me with a dark glassy eye, and bolts. I pursue it at breakneck speeds through the vicious woodland. Thorny bushes and low hanging branches scratch at my face and body as I chase after my prey. I ignore them and race on. I follow hard on its heels, but I don't have the energy to keep up the chase. I crash to the moist forest floor, as a root catches my leg, and skid painfully and abruptly to a stop. My chest heaves air in after the strenuous chase.

My body burns as the blood courses through my veins and arteries. I'm tired, so tired. I'll just close my eyes for a while, then I'll cast again; give myself the strength to continue. I just need to rest for a while. Rebuild my magical stamina.

I'm so tired.

***

I can't continue like this, these woods will be the end of me. But at least the woods hold a better ending for me. How can such an ending not be better, compared with the end that awaited me at the Lighthouse. At least here, amongst nature, it is peaceful. It would be silent but for the noises of animals foraging, birds flying about and singing their morning songs, and the trees talking to each other in their hugely drawn out deep creaking voices. Every sound is completely at home amongst the dense trees.

I am now at home too. This is where my final memories will be of; these woods that I cannot name. This place will take my body and return it to the air, ground, and water of Gatheck. Rudra is not my home, I have no family there. My family would not have put me in this situation.

I open my eyes. The early morning sun makes the leaves glow above me. I feel the inherent magic in the woods energising me, but it's too little too late, I have no more desire to continue.

I lost everything when I was sent to the Lighthouse, and now I want the woods to take the last thing I have: my body. I close my eyes and let the magic go. I sense it seeping into the world around me. I know the gods will welcome me into the Summerland. I have lived as well as I could. I have lived as myself, never trying to change who I am for the sake of others. I have done everything the gods have asked of me, and so now I go to join them.

"You are in the Brangaine Woods, directly east of here is the city of Tomam. There you will find the path you should walk. We are with you, and as always, we guide you and we protect you."

"Herne?"

My mumble evokes no answer. I don't even have the strength to open my eyes and look at whoever has found me, but the voice was hollow, dry and deep. It was a voice of death.

I lift a hand to my head and run my fingers through my tangled hair. I barely even noticed my body painfully change back to my natural human form. I open my eyes, sit up and glance around, suddenly feeling more energetic and alive than I have in years. There is nobody in sight.

Getting up, I check for tracks; to my surprise, there are none. The only evidence I find of anyone ever being here, aside from myself, is a bundle of rough furs some five feet away. When I pick them up I feel the magic contained within them course through me, enriching my own magic and refreshing and calming my body and mind. I check them over and find that they have been sewn to fit a human.

I put the furs on which fit perfectly and instantly drive out the slight spring chill. I smile to myself. It must have been Herne; the green man of the woods, the horned god. He is my patron god after all. It stands to reason that he would look out for me.

I turn and walk east towards Tomam, full of energy and the zest of life. I can hardly believe that only moments ago I was contemplating letting go of this beautiful world. I smile to myself. I'm prepared to take on anything... Well, anything except Calcians; I'd like some time off from them.

The First Chapter

\- Lys-Karalis -

96 days until the birth of a god

The 13th day of Winter-Fall, 1537

There is darkness and a musty smell. My eyes quickly grow accustomed to the dark. I see wood only inches from my face. Instinctively I know where I am. I'm in a coffin.

There must be a mistake. I'm not dead, I'm very much alive. A vague memory flits across my mind. I recall a beautiful and elegant woman. She is my wife.

My ears pick up the sounds of creatures burrowing in the ground around me. The tight confines of the casket prevent me from moving too much. A Sircless, the symbol of the Calcian faith, has been laid upon my chest. My flesh tingles beneath the religious icon.

I need to get out of here; I've got to find Elyse and tell her that I'm not dead. I need to tell her that I love her. Elyse! I remember her, but not who she is. Me? I can't remember who I am! I don't have a name. I just know I must find my beautiful wife.

A plan comes to mind. I need to break the coffin open and claw my way up through the soil. I feel confident that I can do it. I know that I can do it. It feels almost as if I was made to claw my way up from my apparent deathbed.

I place my palms flat on the dark wood in front of me and push with all my might. My hands break easily through the lid and I feel cool damp soil clinging to my fingers. I feel around the edges of the holes that I have made. The wood is soft and flaking. How long have I been down here?

The moist soil begins to fall through the holes. I withdraw my hands and bring them up to head height by passing them over my chest. As I do I knock the Sircless off and the tingling in my chest stops. Now, with my hands either side of my head, I push up on the casket lid. It lifts surprisingly easily, with all the weight of the earth on top of it. 'Crack'.

Suddenly choking darkness envelopes me. The lid has split down the centre and I'm suffocating in soil. Nothing I can do now, just try and remain calm and pass away peacefully. Everybody thinks I'm dead anyway.

But I panic. It's inevitable. My nose is blocked with mud and I can't see. I can taste the soil in my mouth. It's over. I've stopped breathing.

I've stopped breathing. I can still move. I'm not breathing, but I can still move. I'm not in Heaven. Is this Hell? Have I died and just not realised it? But I can move. Corpses can't move. What is happening to me? This makes no sense at all. I should be dead.

Hours pass and I just think. Could I be a vampire? I know vampires don't breathe. But then they drink blood and I've got no thirst for blood. Even then, there hasn't been a vampire attack on the Cracked Isles for many a year. Is there another explanation?

I'm not hungry and I'm not thirsty. I don't understand what is going on. It all becomes too much and the blackness around me becomes that little bit blacker. Silence.

***

I'm clawing and pulling, slowly dragging my way up towards the surface. It is hard work, and my arms and legs feel heavy. I think I'm somehow stronger than I used to be. I still don't understand my situation.

Perhaps a werewolf got me. Maybe I'm stronger because I'm about to change into some kind of slavering monster. But werewolves are just creatures of the past. They were wiped out centuries ago. Maybe I should just stop here until I can be sure it is daytime. But how can I be sure? Oh gods, I hope I'm alright; I don't want to be a monster. If I waited, I could end up waiting forever.

I thrust a hand up through the earth above me. The moisture on my hand from the soil around me is cold in the light wind. I feel around and discover there is something that feels like snow, but warmer. I got married in the summer. It can't be snow. I need to know what is going on.

I push my other arm up and gently ease my head through the ground. There is dirt in my eyes and mud in my mouth. I choke and splutter, rubbing snow into my eyes to clean the dirt and grime out of them. Snow! How long have I been down there? Two entire seasons? Is this what the goddess Calcia has intended for me? I can't be dead. I mustn't be dead.

I pull myself upright and stagger about a little, regaining my balance. I'm in the graveyard of my village, but it is not exactly how I remember it. Our Dirigir Oak at the bottom of the slight slope is much bigger than it was.

A Dirigir Oak stands in each graveyard of Gatheck. Each tree begins its life as a cutting from 'The Dirigir Oak', the tree from which all life began on Gatheck. How can I remember all of this and not remember who I am?

I think that there are more graves than there used to be too. Perhaps a plague has spread through the village in the two seasons I've been down there. I've got to find out if Elyse is okay!

I start toward the village proper when I notice a relatively new gravestone. Fresh snow is piled along its top. The name means nothing to me. I don't even recognise the family name. It is the fact that the person died in the thirty-seventh year of the fifteenth hundred that worries me. I married Elyse yesterday in twenty-first year! What is happening to me? I run my hands over the raised dots, lines, and circles that make up the letters and numbers, hoping that it is my eyes that deceive me. I am not mistaken. I've got to find Elyse. This is all just some big mistake.

An idea strikes me and I stumble back down the slope to the distraught grave that was my own. I circle the headstone before kneeling in front of it. There are no markings on it. I run my hands over where the name should be, but there isn't even the slightest bump. Why was I in an unmarked grave?

I run up to the top of the slope on which the graveyard lies and look down into the small village. Like everything else, it is grander than I remember. I run through the snow, past the archaic church, and down to the house where Elyse and I shared our first and only night, the memory of it so clear in my mind. I was so happy that night. Now I feel dead inside. If the date on the headstone is to be believed then many years have passed. Will she still love me?

The house faces right onto the road that leads up to the church. I yank open the door and look in to find a family in there, staring back at me. A babe begins to cry while the mother and father just stare at me, their mouths wide open. I must look terrible; I've just dug myself up out of my own grave after all. I turn to leave but a familiar voice stops me.

"Monster! You are not welcome in this house! Leave! Calcia wills it."

The voice comes from a man of some twenty-score years that I do not know. How is it familiar to me? There is a slight moustache on his upper lip, and his skin is slick with fresh sweat, despite the coldness of the air. I have no idea who he is.

"Who are you?"

The only response I get is that the man spits at me. He has not the reach to make contact. Then he begins to recite a prayer of Calcia. I feel odd, like someone is watching me. Otherwise his prayer does not affect me. Why should it?

The woman, pretty, blonde, and probably in her mid-teens, meaning she's more of a girl than a woman, takes the baby out of a door at the back of the room. She was shaking, barely in control of her actions.

"Where is Elyse, my wife?"

"She is gone now. You will leave this place! I will not allow you to hurt them!"

"What do you mean hurt? Where has she gone? Where is she?" I roar back, not able to control myself. I'm being accused of something I know nothing about!

"She heads north, monster, but you shall not follow her!"

Then the man charges at me, snatching a knife from the table he was sat at moments before. He holds the blade as if to stab me, but before he's even halfway across the room my instincts kick in and I rush forward. I grab his hand with the knife, and his head, and I swing him around and let him fly into a wall. He hits headfirst and I hear a sickening crack. The man falls to the floor like a rag-doll. Dead.

\- Satch -

"Bataliae is not a Hub! It never has been."

"It was a small Hub."

My brother and I often talk about the war as if we were actually part of it. Obviously we weren't as it was fought about fifteen hundred years ago.

Thinking about Hubs, I take a few moments to marvel at their genius. A city would send out lines of produce to the outlying villages around it, drawing all who could fight into the city, taking the village men in exchange for the food their villages would receive. The war had practically stopped all produce on the farms outside of the villages and so the Hubs were the only way to feed the families. The Circle forces had a much harder time recruiting, having no such efficient methods, but to compensate they had larger numbers of priests.

The only difference between the Descendants of Calcia, whom my brother represents, and the Circle of Calcia, whom I represent, is that Descendants have always believed. Circle followers have come to believe.

"Meth, if Bataliae Lodge was a Hub, then I'm the Macer of Rudra."

"Luckily for Gatheck, you're not."

"Exactly, and Bataliae was never a Hub. It simply doesn't, and certainly didn't then, have the amount of revenue and produce to be a Hub."

My slim dark haired brother kneels, both hands on the pommel of his sword, its point six inches into the rocky frost covered ground. His eyes are down and he is praying before The Dirigir Oak.

The Descendants don't like it when we Circle come to pray here on our pilgrimages. It is after all, currently held by Descendant forces.

I continue to re-educate my brother on the Calcian Wars and his fact-less views on the importance of Bataliae.

"Regardless of whether it was a Hub or not, the Batalian troops were worse than useless. The only time Bataliae ever won was against Miwo's scouting parties in the Koimov Woods! And they were modest victories. They only won because of your Enlilites up north doing all the real damage," I say, gesturing off to the north, in the direction of the very distant city of Enlil. I don't know why I do, because I know that Meth can't see me.

"What I don't understand is how they could be so ineffective though?" Meth asks through his silent prayer.

"Well first off, Bataliae is much smaller than the other cities, and they couldn't support a Hub to boost their numbers. Secondly, Bataliae had practically no trained troops; they only had a few guardsmen from the Lodge, and they were made into officers. And thirdly, a lot of the Batalians didn't actually want to fight."

"I've never understood why they had so few trained troops."

"The Batalians hadn't fought a war since before, well, since the Fourth Land Skirmishes. When they finally had become an army, they never got any experience because whenever they turned up to a battle they were behind the Raven Legion, and they were the veteran Enlilites that fought. They were undefeatable. But the Batalians hadn't moved with the times, and they were going up against seasoned Midiar units, seasoned Qivhors, and the Gathen."

Meth looks up at me, his deep blue eyes asking his question for him. I answer without breaking stride.

"The Gathen were the people of the mountains, they lived solely from the land. They truly were an amazing race, but nobody knows where they went. But the point is that the Batalians got massacred."

"But they were still a Hub."

I know by the tone in his voice that Meth is only joking now, so we share a brief chuckle, before both of our minds focus, instead of wandering, as usual, to a long past war.

Meth is kneeling a few feet to my left, I would kneel also, but I'm keeping up appearances, pretending not to pray. I can do it standing up, it matters not to Calcia whether I kneel or stand as long as I believe and worship.

After we are done here it will be back up the Peninsula Archipelago and across the Heartland to the Heart itself, one of the remnants of the war we so keenly remember.

But enough of ancient war and our travel plan. Pray, Satch, pray, it's what you're here to do.

\- Lys-Karalis -

I stand there for what feels like a mid-hour, though it must only be a few instants. I struggle to take my eyes from the man that lies crumpled on the floor. There is a pain in my chest, not physical, but the pain of realisation. I'm a murderer now. What life is there for me? Should I have stayed inside my coffin and let the world pass me by?

In silence, partly from shock at from what I've just done without even thinking, I leave the house and start to head what I think is north, running away from the church.

I have no idea how to find Elyse, but I know that I must. I do not know if I should though. I shouldn't have killed that man, but I did. And it was easy.

I leave the town I once knew quickly, and it is a further few moments before I reach the town's new boundaries. I run all the way to avoid any more encounters which could turn to violence.

***

Day turns into a cold dark night and I actually find my bearing to be accurate by the North Point, the brightest blue spark in the sky.

I come to thinking about how this could have possibly happened to me. I've walked in the daylight, so being a vampire is out of the question, as are all kinds of demon-host, the Sircless on my chest tipped me off to that. If I had been possessed by something, the Sircless would have bound the demon and I never would have awoken. The full moon in the sky above makes it clear that I am no werewolf.

I just don't understand. Maybe when I first awoke down there I was alive. I can't remember breathing, but I can't remember not breathing either. Is it possible that I came back to life, only to die trying to free myself? Am I some sort of zombie? Is this all the effect of a voudou curse?

I left the road where it turned to Yavert, a village on the opposite side of the island, and travelled overland, heading north through the grassy meadows and the shallow hills.

I will continue my travels quickly, though not by the trails used commonly by people. I'm going to be heading along the jagged coastline, across the rough coastal crags. I'll take to the shallow valleys to the distant north of Khorale, my home town, and I will walk in the half-frozen winding streamlets. I'm going to do all I can to avoid more people. I fear what I might do to them.

I will not stop my journey for any reason. I do not have any hunger, and nor do I tire. I lack the desire to relieve myself. I lack everything that once made me human.

The time passes as I travel, blurring into one long nightmare of twisted thoughts about what I had done to that poor man.

95 days until the birth of a god

The 14th day of Winter-Fall, 1537

The light of morning came as I travelled, but I barely noticed the difference until highsun stuck. I've been so consumed with finding Elyse that I can do naught but think of our reunion.

I have come to the northern coast of the isle of Sacrem, one of the larger islets in the Cracked Lands, better known as the Peninsula Archipelago. The Cracked Lands were severed from the mainland by the long dead god Rahcvah, whose fury at The Dirigir Oak for taking his dead had caused him to smash the land and make it 'cracked'.

I stand on the beach, pondering my course for about a mid-hour. An odd sensation passes over me. I look around and realise that the sensation is paired with the approach of a man. He is walking the beach, scanning the sand with his eyes. This could be a problem. Maybe if I explain my predicament he will lend me his aid. Or I could just kill him. Maybe I'd have to kill him, I mean.

Instinctively I know that the woman I hunt has left this place, but only recently. I trust my instincts. I have to get off this island.

The man looks up and sees me. I smile at him. He looks worried.

The Second Chapter

\- Lys-Karalis -

95 days until the birth of a god

The 14th day of Winter-Fall, 1537

I'm stood looking out over the open water. I'm still amazed and worried by everything, especially at how much energy I have. At one point on my journey I tried running for as long as I could. I soon realised that I could run forever without tiring.

As the waves break at my feet, slowly drawing my down into the wet sand, I realise that I've never actually left Sacrem before, though I have heard many tales about the fertile lands of Gatheck. It is supposedly a land of riches and plentiful provisions. Not that food or money matter to me anymore. I only care for getting to Elyse. I consider taking one of the small rowing boats used by the fishermen, but the way the man had reacted to me, coupled with the terrifying desire I had to simply destroy him, makes my decision for me and I decide to swim. How far can the next island really be?

As I enter the waters, I expect their icy chill to bite down to my bones, but they are not cold, despite the winter. That said, the sun has broken through the thick cloud, allowing is rays to fall full on the ground. The snow upon the grassland next to the beach is starting to melt now.

The water reaches my chest and I realise that I'm not floating. I keep going though, knowing that I don't need to breathe. As my head dips below the surface I notice how deafening the crash of waves is so far out.

The further I go, the heavier I get, until I eventually end up moving at a snail's pace. I try running but that just surrounds me with flourishes of bubbles, and does nothing to increase my speed. It gets much darker as well, down here.

***

I've forgotten how long I've been down here amongst the darkness. I can see fairly well, but everything is wavy and hazy because of the murky water. I've not seen a single fish yet, which makes me wonder where the fishers go to catch their hauls.

Suddenly something catches my attention. There is a new, strange taste in the water. It is a bitter, coppery twang. I try to follow the taste, but I'm not sure where it is exactly coming from because my nose mouth and lungs are full of water, and the more I try to find it, the more I whip the water up into a frenzy of bubbles and seabed detritus. Soon I can't see and the taste is becoming unbearable, I need to find that thing. It calls to me. Even my desire to be with Elyse is overwhelmed.

My senses flare as I realise a presence is approaching from behind me. It's the same feeling I felt on the beach when I met the man. Something touches my leg, so I look down through the darkness, raising a fist to strike at the thing, whatever it is.

When the bubbles have cleared I see a man kneeling at my feet, looking at me. He points back they way I came, or at least I think it is that direction. I presume he wants me to go with him. I try to tell him that I have to find Elyse, but the taste in the water is stopping me thinking right. Also, being underwater means I can't make any sounds.

Something jars inside my head. Gods! He's underwater!

I reach down and lift him to his feet to take a closer look at him. He's probably in his mid-twenties, and his long dark hair smoothly cascades out in the water. His face is odd too; gaunt and dark, with teeth that look weird. Maybe it's just the water making him look like that though.

The man smiles at me, and it is an honest smile. I know it is. I don't know how I know it is, but I just do.

I release him and begin to walk in the direction he had pointed out, but he grabs my arm and points down. He slowly falls to his knees and then onto all fours. Digging his hands and feet into the seabed, he propels himself along the sandy floor at a far greater rate than I'd been travelling. He turns to look at me and I drop into the same position.

I follow him, and to begin with I fall back often, but as it becomes brighter and easier to move, I manage to keep pace with the man fairly well.

94 days until the birth of a god

The 15th day of Winter-Fall, 1537

We beach on Sacrem at night. As we stumble out of the water I try talking to this other man, but I only bring up water. I try again and I feel something inside my chest tear. It doesn't hurt, but it is an uncomfortable feeling.

The man wanders up the beach and finds a large boulder; there are many that dot the rocky beaches of Sacrem, and I presume, the rest of the Cracked Isles. He lies on top of it and opens his mouth, letting the water trickle out. He changes position and more water flows out from his mouth and nose. He does this for a short time and I watch with a little confusion. Then he gets up, looks at me, and smiles that same honest and toothy smile again.

"My name is Kellum-Herbst, and I would like to help you."

He speaks with a strange accent, and I can tell that he is not from the lands of the Archipelago, but I've never heard an accent like that. Only the gods must know where he's from. The travellers that came through the village sometimes had strange ways of speaking, but they never spoke like he does, and they always passed through quickly, always heading to worship at The Dirigir Oak on the furthest island, Far Isle.

"Gyogk?" Again I try to speak and water sputters out.

My voice has changed. Even to my ears it sounds disturbing. Or perhaps that is just me? Or perhaps it's the water in me?

"Lie on the rock as I did. That will drain the water from your lungs. Please allow me to talk to you as you... erm, empty yourself."

I do as he says and clamber upon the rock and begin to copy his positions from earlier. Water begins to trickle out of my mouth; it feels like there are hundreds of tiny snakes slipping up my throat. Kellum-Herbst starts to talk again as I look to the sky and its many blue sparks.

"As I said, my name is Kellum, and I am dead. There is no doubt about that. You are dead too."

I cough and water spurts out of my mouth. I think I had already figured out that I was dead, but hearing someone say it aloud...

"We are vampires, you and I. But you are so much more than just a vampire. You are a Lys-Karalis! You will rule over the vampire nation as a mighty leader."

I am just staring at him, my eyes wide in disbelief. I'd guessed I wasn't human or alive anymore, but a vampire? I've walked in the daylight. Unless all the stories about vampires aren't right? And what is a Lys-Karalis exactly?

I realise that I don't want to hurt him like I did with the man on the beach and the man in my house. Kellum keeps explaining.

"But more importantly to you, I know how you can find Elyse, your soul mate."

"What? How? Tell me!" That new deep voice of mine, like red-hot gravel being crushed, asks the questions.

Hopping down off the rock, I take a good look at this 'Kellum'. The moon is bright and only just waning and my apparently vampiric eyes can see perfectly well. Kellum is a handsome man, dressed finely in a long blue coat with bronze buttons sewn to the front. He wears black trousers and knee high leather boots, though the thonging that ties them extends further up his leg. He has long dark hair, wet from our stroll in the sea, which is tied at the nape of his neck. His face has a manly chiselled bone structure and his eyes are an inky blue colour. The most noticeable thing about him is his mouth, or rather, his smile. When he grins you can tell that his teeth should not fit his mouth. But that is only because his canine teeth are elongated. I tongue my own teeth and find this to be true in me as well.

"I warn you now, that you are not going to like it. The process will involve a huge amount of sacrifice."

"I don't care! I need to see her!" I blurt out. My heart should be racing, but I am dead, and my chest almost echoes of stillness.

"Very well, my 'Karalis."

"Hold on, what is this Lys-Karalis thing?"

"Roughly translated, it means 'Light-King'. I'll explain more later. This is what you must know now, and what you must do. Elyse will one day reincarnate. She'll come back from the dead, though not in the way that you or I have: she will be born again, her soul reissued."

"What's happened to her?" I ask desperately, worry filling my still heart.

"Nothing. She will continue to live out her current life as a mortal human. If you continue as you are doing now, the two of you will never meet. So you must change. Though, when you do meet, it will be a very long time from now, and in order to find her when that time comes you will first have to attain notoriety."

"How do you mean? What's 'notoriety'? And why will I have to wait for so long?"

"Notoriety is a, err, disreputable reputation. You must become a being of evil, a devourer of souls and a drinker of the blood of humans. You must live up to your name as a Lys-Karalis. That is what I mean by notoriety."

Evil? My mind reels and blurts out more questions.

"What? You want me to be evil? How can you possibly even know this, and why do I have to be evil? This just doesn't make any sense."

"I'm sorry. Let me explain. I should have informed you of my 'gift' straight away."

"Gift? What is it?" Now I'm getting really confused.

"Please, let me speak, my Lord."

I hold my tongue and nod for him to continue relating this strange and slightly unbelievable story.

"In my life I was a fortune-teller of sorts, but that was many, many years ago. One night, whilst travelling to our next destination - I was part of a nomadic band - our caravan got attacked by a pack of vicious vampires, hungry for blood. I tried to barter for my life with them, so they took the offer and gave me my un-life. That is not what I had wanted at all. Fortunately for me, I retained my ability to see the future. I have consulted many vampires since my turning and have never heard of any other vampire with any kind of prophetic talent. It puts me in very good grace with the Lys-Karalis..."

"There are other Lys-Karalis?" For some reason I had assumed that I was the only one. I had felt superior. But it seems I am just one of a higher race, provided he speaks the truth.

"Yes, our leader is Liesl, and there are five others, aside from you. They are Luc, Callic, Alleil, Morren, and Revner."

Then why do they call us Lys-Karalis? Surely there can only be one Light-King? There's yet another thing that doesn't make sense. I've had a lot of that since I got out of my deathbed. The vampire keeps talking.

"There are only a few ways to become a Lys-Karalis. Usually a human is turned and the resulting vampire is a Lys-Karalis. Nobody knows how or why, but that is the way it is. The only other way to become a Lys-Karalis is by defeating one in a fair battle. What makes a fair battle is decided by the other Lys-Karalis. You see, because a Lys-Karalis is far more powerful than a regular vampire, the Lys-Karalis usually gets handicapped. So if a vampire were to defeat one of the 'Karalis, they would change places, the title and the powers it invokes would be passed to the victor."

I struggle to understand all of that.

"So what happens to the old Lys-Karalis?"

"Ah, he, or she, though we have yet to actually have a Lys-Kralice, will become a regular vampire, with all the susceptibilities that come with vampirism."

"Susceptibilities?"

"They all stem for one thing... three beings... The gods that prescribe to the 'One True God' ethos: Calcia, Jehovah, and Rahcvah. That is why we die in sunlight."

"What? Why? Why sunlight?" I ask, glancing up at the night sky. The dawn light has not yet arrived in the eastern sky, meaning that morning must still be at least a mid-hour off. My eyes return to Kellum's handsome face, locking onto his own.

"The sun is said to be the Eye of Calcia. She is supposed to be watching her Gatheck, and looking after its people. So when she sees one of us, a vampire, she sends us back to Hell."

"But I've been in the sunlight."

"Lys-Karalis are immune to the sun's powers because they are hidden from Calcia's sight. You are all protected by ancient pacts and deals... I'd tell you more about them, but I honestly don't know any more, I'm afraid. I can only see what will come, not what has passed."

"I want to know why I have to become evil."

This really doesn't make sense. How does someone become evil? Is it even possible? What if you have to be born evil? Or can you learn it? Is there some dark magic spell out there? That would not surprise me. People would kill for that kind of power, the ability to make someone commit dark and terrible crimes. Imagine if I could do that. I could rule absolute.

"Ah, that is the tricky bit. Due to the somewhat variable nature of the future, I cannot say, all I have seen, and I have seen much, is that if you continue to search for her you will never find her. You'll either die trying or you'll miss her completely and she'll live a happy life without you, a natural life. You must become evil to lose yourself, to become one with what you are, to embrace your nature. Then and only then will you be reunited with the one you love."

I just wish I could understand this. It sort of makes sense, but it sort of doesn't at the same time. And where are all these thoughts of dominating coming from?

"How do I know if I can trust you? For all I know you could be trying to trick me somehow."

"My 'Karalis, I offer myself to your service, as I would any Lys-Karalis, but let me prove my words are true. I will answer your other question and then I will affirm your lineage. Is that okay?"

"Fine."

"I believe you wished to know why you would have to wait a long time to be with Elyse. The simple and honest answer is that both of you will be different people. You are immortal now. You cannot die, at least not easily. You will meet again when Elyse has grown up. That could be twenty years, or eighty. It depends when she dies here."

"So I'll never get to see her again?" This saddens me. I still do not completely believe him, but I am becoming more inclined to do so as our conversation continues.

"You will, but as I said, you will have to change. You have to adapt to the life of a Lys-Karalis and become what you are. You must stop seeking her out. If you continue to search, you will live until the end of time and you will never be happy again. Her absence would devour you, I am sure."

"But how can I trust your words?"

"I don't need trust from you at the moment. All I ask is that you believe me. Our friendship will blossom and the trust between us will grow naturally. I have seen it."

"Is the world all pre-planned then?"

"Oh no. When I see into the future, I can see the most likely occurrence. The vision becomes more prone to change the further I see. Here."

He reaches into one of the pockets of his coat and produces a small bronze disc, which he hands to me. I take it, turning the reflective disc over a few times in my hands. It seems to be just a flat piece of polished metal.

"What is this?"

"Just hold it up and look into it."

I do as he instructs and Kellum moves around me to look over my shoulder at the mirrored metal. As I peer into the reflective surface I see nothing but the dark wet sand and rocks of the beach.

"Hmm." Kellum sounds puzzled, so I turn to look up at him.

"What? What is it?"

"Tell me what you see in it."

"Just the beach. What was I supposed to see?"

Kellum whistles and sits down next to me, his coat dragging over the sand, smoothing it a little. He runs his hands through his hair. I wait for an answer, growing more impatient as time slowly passes.

"You didn't see your reflection?"

It hits home. I was looking directly into the mirror. I should have had a reflection.

"No..." I say absentmindedly, my thoughts elsewhere.

"You should have had one. You still have a..."

"I still have a what?" I ask impatiently. Kellum fails to reply. He seems deep in thought. I'm not letting this pass, so I ask again, only louder, "I still have a what?" My voice is far more menacing this time, as I use its new sound to the fullest. Kellum looks at me and nods slowly.

"You... you still have a soul. I do not, that is why I have no reflection." His expression suddenly changes. It is as if he has just tripped over an idea. "You must be their leader."

"Whose?"

"The Lys-Karalis'."

"I thought you said–"

"I know I said Liesl was the leader, but what if you are the natural commander: created with neither the weaknesses of vampires nor the few penalties that the Lys-Karalis suffer."

This is all beginning to go way over my head. Kellum seems to accept his own reasoning.

"I intended to show you what you looked like, but that is impossible now, being as you have no reflection. I will describe you."

"I suppose you could. But I already know what I look like."

"I wouldn't be so sure. And I apologise for the brutality."

What does that mean? He continues, cutting me off before I even begin to ask him what he meant.

"Yours is currently the face of a bloated corpse. Your eyes are sunken, your lips stretched back to expose your viciously sharp teeth, which are framed in a face of rotten flesh with two pearl white eyes staring out. You have high widows peaks and a small semi circular scar slightly off centre on your forehead. Your nose, though bloated and decaying, is of sound shape and form. Your jaw line is hard, but striking. There is the stain of years around your eyes, many wrinkles, set deep into your skin. Your hair is flecked with grey as is your short beard."

I understand what he meant about brutality now. I guess that explains what he meant only too well. And the face he described was my own, though without the decay or the wrinkles or the beard. I reach up a hand to my face and feel the hair there. It must be a just under a half-season's worth. I was clean-shaven on my wedding night. Do I really look like a dead man? That would explain the reactions of the people I had met so far.

Kellum speaks again, snapping me out of my thoughts. I let the bronze mirror drop to the beach. It lands edge down and imbeds itself in the sand, jutting out like a shining fish jumping from a sea of grains.

"Do you see now, my 'Karalis?"

"You're saying I'm a monster. If I look like that..."

"But did you see nothing else?"

"Nothing else?" What does that mean?

"You did not see me either."

"No... no, you were not in the bronze... why?"

"As vampires we have no reflection. If you will accept that I have not lied about your lineage and our race I shall continue... unless you have further doubts about we vampires?"

"No, not really... yes. Blood. I have not felt the hunger which goes along with the legends. I do not crave blood. Should I?" The question just kind of jumped out of my mouth. I'm not sure I even want to know the answer.

"Yes, you do, and you need it. When you consume human blood you will absorb power, and with that life energy you will be able to make yourself look human again. You will even be able to heal any wounds you incur with it."

"But I do not feel hungry and I have not eaten or drunk since I dug myself up."

"Again, this is because you are a Lys-Karalis. You do not have an insatiable hunger, but in order to have the abilities that blood allows us, you must drink of it. Remember when I found you, and how you spotted me. That was the taste of my blood in the water. It was a bitter taste if you remember. That bitterness was the vampire in my veins and the fact that my blood is dead: living human blood is sweet and sickly."

"So if I were to devour blood I'd be able to look normal, like I used to?"

"Not entirely. You will never again look like you do in your memories. You have aged beyond them. You only remember up to your wedding night, am I right?"

"Yes..."

"Yet sixteen and a half years had passed when you rose, yes?"

"Something like that..." How does he know? I should be more careful.

"How did you die?"

"I... I don't know. How did you know what I can remember?"

"I have witnessed this conversation already. Allow me to tell you how you died." I nod for him to continue. "You were stabbed in your sleep. During your life you made an enemy of someone and that person murdered you. I cannot tell you more, as it occurred in the past."

"How do you know?"

"I saw it happen in my visions. Check your chest. You were stabbed three times, twice in the gut, once in the heart, that much I know."

Under my soaking wet suit, the one I'd been buried in, I have several layers of bandages wrapped around my torso.

Peeling the bandaging away I find three knife wounds, two in the gut and one to the heart, just like he said. They're swollen and look infected, but they don't hurt, and they aren't numb. Kellum must have done this, how else could he have known when even I didn't?

"You killed me!"

"No my 'Karalis, I merely knew it would happen. You have to believe me. I know that will be hard for you, but it is something you must do in order to continue your journey."

"And why do I need to trust you to be able to find Elyse?"

"Because, my 'Karalis, I will travel with you and guide you down the roads you have to travel to find her. I cannot show you to your destination, but it is I who will start you off on your journey." He seems to almost be pleading with me. He's almost begging.

"And if I refuse your help?"

"As I said, you'll die whilst searching for her, or you'll miss her completely."

My head aches from trying to understand. Do I go along with Kellum, offering him a glimmer of trust? Or do I strike out on my own, ignoring his warnings, but at the risk of losing Elyse forever.

"So I'm just supposed to trust you blindly?"

"Not really, we will travel together. And yes, you'll have to believe me to begin with, but in time you will learn that I speak the truth and accept that I only wish to help you and our race. With time comes trust."

"And I'm supposed to lead the vampires somehow?"

"Yes, you will lead us to victory over the Calcians. But that is a long way off. First we have to forge a path for you in this world. It will be hard at first for you to accept what must be done to achieve your goals, but in the end you will succeed."

I'm still not sure. But I guess I can use Kellum until he proves himself either one way or the other. He suddenly stands and looks about, scanning the island.

"I'm starving, where can I get some food around here? You could use a good feeding too."

If he described me truly, then I guess he's right.

The Third Chapter

\- Lys-Karalis -

93 days until the birth of a god

The 16th day of Winter-Fall, 1537

We are walking along the beach. We've still not found any food and we seem to be heading back toward Khorale. The vampire is talking at me, but I've not been paying attention.

"...When a new Lys-Karalis is born, it is tradition for them to be inaugurated there, with every other Lys-Karalis and as many of the vampiric race that can feasibly get there. Naturally, being so advanced, you won't need an inauguration. You're the natural–"

I've not known him long, and I've already figured out that he's a bit of a know-it-all. It's annoying, but I'm sure I'll get used to it if I choose to allow him to travel with me.

"Where are we heading?"

"To your hometown, Khorale."

No, no I don't want to go there. I've caused enough damage to that town already. I'm not sure what'll become of me if I go back there. I might not be able to control myself.

"We're not going there."

"Ah, okay. We could... We could go to Lankar, we might not make it there before dawn, but I'm sure we could find somewhere to hide out during the day."

"That will be fine."

Kellum nods and begins to walk a little faster. I have no trouble keeping up with him, but he soon begins his 'teaching' again, and I do have difficulty listening to that. I keep walking tirelessly along the rock strewn beach, taking in whatever I can that Kellum is telling me. It's not a lot.

***

When we were about a mile past Khorale we began to head across the low sloping land towards Lankar. I can't remember the place, but it is familiar. Kellum has found himself an abandoned shed, and I've come to take a look at the place.

Lankar is a medium sized village, which has its own hall, setting it apart from other settlements of this size, and many larger ones.

To begin with I had stayed with him in the dark shed, attempting to listen as he spoke and spoke about unimportant things. I soon decided to have a look at the village. I've kept my distance so far. As bits of the village are familiar I guess that I must have come to this place while I was alive. That seems to be the only answer.

***

We are walking into the centre of the village of Lankar, to a small cobbled square with the hall on the south front. Houses have been built on the northern, eastern, and western sides of the square.

Kellum continues to school me on the 'principles' of being a vampire. This schooling has gone on for most of the daytime, as neither of us need sleep.

"With feeding, it is much the same as the myths and stories say; we bite, draw blood, and drink of it. Normal vampires usually drain their victims, unable to stop drinking because the demon inside has them in a thrall. You, on the other hand, will be able to control your demon, allowing you to take only what you need, meaning that you won't have to kill. But as a Lys-Karalis it will be expected that if you feed on someone, you'll either kill them, or turn that lucky individual."

"Turn? That's when I make someone into a vampire isn't it?"

"Yes," Kellum nods, "you must drink of their blood, and they must drink of yours, but you have to kill them, after all, who ever heard of a vampire that's alive?"

There is so much about vampires that I never knew.

"Does a vampire you turn have to obey you? That way you could have slaves forever."

"No. Firstly, we are not invulnerable; we are immortal. That holds a significant difference that many of our kind seem to shun. We can be killed, but we will not die of natural causes. And we will always live on in some kind of way because if we are killed the body is destroyed and the demon returns to Hell, along with the memories of being a vampire. Duck into this alley."

I do without question, and Kellum keeps talking.

"As for whether they have to obey you, the simple answer is no, although many newly turned vampires tend to stick with their sire. It gives them someone to learn from and some kind of protection if they get found by Calcian Hunters."

Kellum gestures that we should wait. I do so, leaning on the alley wall, while he leans opposite me. I recite to him what I have learned.

"Calcian Hunters travel the land in search of vampires, witches, and demons. They want to kill them all so that the followers of Calcia will be safer."

Kellum smiles, exposing his vampiric teeth.

"Very good, you are learning. Though they hunt more than just our kind, witches, and demons; they will hunt and exterminate anything that is thought to be evil or sinister by the Church of Calcia. They killed all of the werewolves, they hunt the fey-kind, lamiae, spirits, revenants, harpies, golems. Anything they fear will hurt them."

What even are half of those things? I hear something, which stops me asking. At the far end of the alley, and walking towards us, is a youth of about ten and four, probably on his way to work in one of the taverns.

We return to walking in silence and as we are about to meet, the boy steps to the side of the alley to let us pass by. Kellum's hand shoots out and catches the boy's throat, stilling a scream before it can pass his lips and get out into the freezing night air. Bending down he whispers into the boy's ear. My senses allow me to hear his words.

"Do not scream if you wish to live. You will take a message to the most gallant men of your village. Tell them that there are vampires here for the women and children. Once you have roused the men you may run as fast as your little legs can carry you. But know this boy: if you run before our message is passed on we will hunt you down and make you suffer eternal torment in the pits of Hell. Understand?"

The boy nods, but barely. A smell punctuates the air: urine. The boy has pissed himself. A vicious grin spreads across my face, full of malice and delight. The poor boy whimpers even more at the sight and Kellum releases his grip. He falls as his legs are now too weak to support his terrified body.

The power of just a few words really is amazing. Something within me stirs, but it is not a physical thing. I know it is the demon. I let out a bestial roar which echoes through the night, and the terrified boy scrambles, crawling on all fours until he can get himself up to shakily run away. Kellum looks at me, eyebrows raised.

"What?" I say, knowing he's wondering why I roared. I continue to ignore the unspoken question.

"So, we're going to fight the men in the village? That could be fun. I've not really tested myself yet," I say to Kellum.

"No, we're not," he replies, confusing me.

"Then why have you called them out? Do you know that something's going to happen?"

"Yes, something is going to happen. That boy is going to come back here in the morning, scared witless at what he'll find, only to find exactly what he expects: a massacre. But 'we' are not going to fight them. You are," he explains.

"What? On my own? I can't take on an entire village single-handed!"

"But you won't be on your own."

"I won't be on my own? You said you weren't–"

"The demon within," Kellum cuts in, "you can draw magic from it. That magic will help you win the coming battle. A trial by fire is how you will start your training."

As if on cue, my ears hear the sounds of running feet, and a group of large men fill the alley. I immediately sense their weaknesses, as if the demon has indicated the way it thinks this battle will be won. I like its thinking. Their brute strength and slow speed will be their unmaking. Smiling at Kellum, I nod to let him know that I accept his test.

I charge forward, balling my fists and pushing my body to its human limits and beyond. This is the fastest I've ever run, faster than any normal man could hope to run. When I reach the first man standing against me, I do not stop, but punch out at his stomach. I feel flesh rend and hot juices spatter up my arm as something hard scrapes down the side of my forearm.

By putting my hand through him I've slowed myself dramatically, but the group of men have stumbled and are shaken by the severity and speed of my attack, allowing me a flicker of a moment to assess the group and my next move within it. That time is all I need. Of the group of men, six strong discounting the one impaled on me, two have retreated into the open of the main square. Three huddle to the left side of the alley, and a lone man stands on the right, fear etched in his face.

Ripping my arm free of the first victim's gut, I round on the loner, I barge into him, shoulder first. There is a wonderful noise of bones breaking that sets my soul alight with joy. I half-turn to the three men still in the alley, but bloodlust takes control and I round on the crushed man. He is still alive, but only barely. I grab him by the shoulder and lift him: his head lolls to one side at an angle that shouldn't be possible. I sink my teeth into the exposed neck and begin to suck. It is a slow process. Fists start to fly.

All the while I've been trying to feed the three men have been pummelling my back with punches and kicks. Their blows do not hurt, but I can feel my ribs cracking under the ferocity of their attacks. But that does not matter; a few cracked ribs never killed a vampire. And the three men certainly cannot kill this one.

I drop my meal and it lands in a heaped pile on the floor. The barrage of attacks to my back ceases, and as I turn to face my unprepared and most likely fleeing assailants, something slams into my face, causing me to scream in agony. It feels as if my face is on fire. It's like getting scolded, like I'd just dipped my head in boiling water.

I whip my head back to the front and see my attacker: it is just a normal man, new to the fray, armed with a shovel. I don't understand how that could've hurt so much. He swings again, but this time I'm ready. I duck his wild swing and land a fist on his face, which snaps his head back and sends him to the floor.

The remaining men are now in the open of the square, and have been joined by others. There are children ferrying weapons to them. One has picked up the shovel, which I now notice is made from some other metal, not the usual bronze. He stands in the centre of the rag tag formation, while to his left there are three men, two with short swords, and one with a scythe. To his right, two men stand, the first carrying two long slender daggers, the second wielding a long heavy looking two handed sword. I want to get myself a weapon, and that big sword takes my fancy. I decide upon some shock tactics. I want to get there before they can even react.

Suddenly I am. The six men instinctively take a step back, but I'm too shocked to attack. That must have been magic; I didn't move, yet I got to where I wanted to go. But that magic turned my shock tactics against me. Suddenly a barrage of blows takes me to my knees. Only one of the attacks ever hurts me, but I can feel the other six blades biting deep into my body. Rage builds inside me.

Striking out wildly with my left arm I connect with something and one of the men screams and falls to the ground next to me. The attack falters as some of the men stop attacking me to drag their companion to safety. I look up into the faces of my attackers; I see the shovel about to swing into my face and the heavy sword about to crash through my skull. Reflexively I reach up with my right hand to grab the blade before it can connect, and bring my left arm around my face to prevent the shovel hitting my head again. It works to an extent; the shovel sends a jolt of boiling pain throughout my arm and the blade takes half of my hand off, but it gives me the time to get up, leaping to my feet in an instant. I want these bastards to feel pain.

I swing hard for them, intending to knock them back. The shovel wielder's head tumbles to the floor though the second man with the big sword manages to get his weapon in the way. My hand cuts clean through the bronze blade. He takes a few steps backwards and I look at my hand; the nails have grown to be about seven inches long! It is probably the effect of my magic. I look up again to see the man running away across the square like a coward.

Turning, I see the man I struck at blindly, he is on the floor about ten feet away, with one man stood between me and him, his other two rescuers have abandoned him to run from the monstrosity that I am. I stalk forwards and his scythe is brought to the ready. He is tall, young, and not in great shape. His medium length hair messily frames his face.

Smiling, I come to a halt just out of his reach. I consider my words carefully.

"You are a brave warrior. The only one left in this village that will stand against me. I respect that," I say to the man in the dark leathers.

"I do not need your respect!" He shouts back at me, tightening his grip.

"Then you should have respect for me instead."

"I will never kneel before a demon," he shouts through gritted teeth.

"Then that will be your death."

"Hah. If you think you scare me, vampire, you are mistaken. I came here from Scathack, and I have seen more horrors then than you could hope to imagine."

"I have a lot of hope."

I surprise myself with that. Do I have hope? I guess that Kellum had given me the hope to find Elyse.

"Not enough."

"You have a lot of hate. You should come to serve me."

"Serve you? Never," he spits out, "My brothers are Calcian Hunters; they will find you and bring you down, vampire. I have no delusions about beating you on my own; that is impossible."

"Well I see you do have hope, but unless you have an army of brothers then I don't see how they can stop me."

"I find your lack of faith disturbing." He coughs, and wipes his brow. "Do you, a creature of magic, not believe in the gods?"

"I am destined to rule all of Gatheck. And, while there is still breath in my body I will not stop until I achieve that goal. And I have the support of all the vampires to achieve those ends."

"You are dead, you do not breathe. You have already failed. What does that say for your future?"

At that comment I spread my arms wide, and take a deep breath into my lungs, and exhale slowly. I do not have to, but it'll just show the human that all is not black and white. I smile a malicious smile at him, and rush forward.

\- Thack -

Suddenly the vampire charges at me, a sick smile playing upon its pale clammy face. Unable to move due to the necessity of protecting the injured Rhum, I lash out with the scythe at the creature's legs in a vain hope to buy some time for my brother-at-arms. The vampire easily evades my poor attempt and is upon me with a vicious glint in those dead eyes of his. Suddenly my desire to protect fails and I can think of nothing better than to be running as fast as I can away from the creature at my throat. I twist and turn, scythe forgotten, trying unsuccessfully to escape the death grasp. I feel the creature bite deep into my neck. I'm screaming, thrashing, and scratching at my murderer. I can feel, through my panic, the vampire slowly sucking the blood from my body.

Calm rolls over me, the knowledge of my death is comforting. I'm about to let myself go, to head into the dark alone, but something stops me. At the mouth of the alley where the fight began, the other vampire is now standing with an evil grin on his face. But it is his eyes that betray its apparent nature. The creature is pained by what it is seeing, but evidently unable to do anything to stop it. The apology in its eyes is undeniable. As I begin to feel my soul leave my body something changes, my numb body almost unaware of the difference. My vision blurs.

The vampire is gone.

The picture becomes clear. I'm on the blood soaked cobbles, pressing my hand onto the wound in my neck to suppress the bleeding. I'm not sure how much time passes, with me just lying on the floor, but as dawn approaches my nostrils fill with smoke and my eyes begin to water, my vision is tinted with a flickering orange. The once peaceful village I swore to protect when I came here is burning to the ground. May the gods have mercy on that poor vampire's soul, for when I'm done with it, it will beg for forgiveness and long for daybreak.

In the coming morning light, my sight blackens and my hearing begins to fade. All I can hear is the crackling of fire. Then the blackness of a still mind envelopes me completely.

### The Fourth Chapter

\- Lys-Karalis -

93 days until the birth of a god

The 16th day of Winter-Fall, 1537

The man with the broken leg had stabbed me with a sword he'd managed to reach. It had brought a new meal to my attention. That was an hour and a mid- ago. The horizon glows with the orange of flame in the distance behind us. We torched their pitiful village. I killed dozens of people after the first fight. I feasted on the blood that gushed from their bodies like fountains. Kellum had taught me how to drink more effectively. Now I either rip out the throat and bask in the spray, or continue to chew after the first bite of the neck. Those are the most violent ways. The kindest and thus most unfulfilling way for us to feed is to bite once and not suck upon the wound, but to just let the heart pump a steady flow into our mouths.

I am finally enjoying my new un-life. We tour the island I grew up on, and terrorise those who I did not even know. I am even beginning trust in Kellum's words, or at least his gift. I really have no choice but to trust in his foresight. He has consistently predicted the movements of the villagers. Meaning they have always failed to stop our reign of terror... not that they could have stopped us, even if they had caught us. Kellum looks to me as we walk.

"I need to get to cover. The sun will be up in less than an hour. There is a small hut a few miles from here, hurry on ahead and clear it out, my 'Karalis."

"I do not like that way you talk to me. I hope for your sake that it is just because the sun will soon be up. Remember who I am. Remember."

I hurry on ahead, as suggested, running the distance slowly, all the time silently cursing his attempt to see what he could get away with.

I reach the hut some moments later and I find it empty, except for a few spiders and a fat raven. The bird eyes me before suspiciously taking its leave. I could go back and walk the distance with Kellum, but he has annoyed me. I'll just wait.

It is as I am waiting for Kellum in the hut that my brain gets to thinking of who I used to be. I have absolutely no idea of who I was before I died, but now I need to be someone, I can't just be an unknown.

It is while waiting in the pre-dawn light that I find myself a new name, a new being... or maybe it was my old one, from before I died, I do not know. But during this brief domination of the isle of my birth, I have become the monster Kellum told me I should be. How has it come so naturally to me? It must be in my very nature. Regardless, I will be the vampire and Lys-Karalis known and feared by the name 'Muzbeth'.

I am going to be the greatest vampire. I will be a living legend, never to be forgotten. Well, an un-living legend.

\- Angel-Mexis -

90 days until the birth of a god

The 19th day of Winter-Fall, 1537

Tomam is an amazing city. To use the word phenomenal would not do it justice. Especially now the buildings have a slight sprinkling of dusty snow upon them. Roughly half of its inhabitants live in low houses, built around the thick trunks of trees, while many other civilians live in houses that are built impossibly high, wrapped around the trees in the same way as their lower counterparts. All of the houses are made of wood, and are almost shack-like; seeming tacked onto the trees by a few mere nails, though I know they are much sturdier.

I would not like to live up there though, suspended hundreds of feet above the ground. Each and every time I gaze up at the lofty abodes, the memory of the forty foot wall surrounding the Lighthouse comes flooding back, though it now seems a small hurdle compared to the size of the drop from up there.

I return my gaze to head height; glad my world is not so high in the sky. I focus on the streets, which wind and curve between the trunks, hoping to stop my head tilting back once more, as it usually does out of morbid curiosity.

The houses are cramped together, forced thus by the spacing of the trees, though their inhabitants do not seem to mind. I find my eyes being drawn upwards, towards the heavens, and the canopy, which filters the light. I've been coming here for four years now and each summer the woodcutters climb up to the canopy and cut back the overhanging branches, letting the light in for the rest of the year. The heavy branches are brought down safely via pulley and winch assemblies, which are set up during the spring, and their wood is used in the expansion of the city. Of course, taking wood just from the branches would not be enough to sustain the city's economy and growth. Thus pockets of the forest are harvested, reseeded, and left to grow back, while other pockets of the forest undergo the same treatment. It is a kind and sustainable way to treat the living forest. I'm certain the Pagan gods approve of how Tomam is run.

Still I have not found the 'path' Herne spoke of; though I am sure it was him who directed me here. That's also why I still come here. I don't live in the city because that would be too risky; occasionally Calcians come here. Every now and again I return to sell the hide and furs from my kills in the woods. Today I intend to buy some new boots, as the leather on mine has finally worn thin and cracked, and so now let in the cold water that saturates the forest floor during winter.

I don't speak to the people in Tomam, well, not the majority anyway. The first time I appeared they all just stared at me, almost unbelieving. Children cried, dogs barked, and one man broke an arm. But that is long past. They had dubbed me as a wild woman to begin with, filthy and covered in scratches and cuts, wandering around their city in complete awe. I'd been ushered out of the town that time, but I've been back hundreds of times since, and now I'm something of a regular, no longer filthy, and currently in perfect health. I'm just another person to them now.

I wander down the main street, which curves loosely around an old and ancient oak. The roads here are nowhere near the size of the roads in Rudra or even Wentham, but I guess they do dwarf them in complexity.

I come to a stop at a low building with a sloped roof; Gurnen's house, the leather worker. I know that he'll be around at the back of the house, away from the road, working under his veranda. He's always outside; I'd be surprised if he didn't sleep out there. I head off around the side of the vaguely circular building.

As I near the back a body comes into view, dressed in black robes. It is not Gurnen, and the person has their back to me. I hear Gurnen talking with that person. I pause, sliding back so that I can only see a sliver of the robes. My heart skips a beat and then stops dead. Or at least that is what it feels like. It is something spoken that shakes my heart and takes the breath from my lungs and worries my head; my name. I haven't told anyone here my name!

I press myself against the outer wall of the building and edge ever so slightly closer to improve my ability to hear the conversation. The words become clear and I hear Gurnen's voice.

"...never before, alright. Go and ask someone else will you. I don't know anyone by that name."

"Please, Sir, if you would just look at the picture again? Others have informed us that the girl has been seen trading supplies with you."

"No? Surely, that can't be? It's the Wild Woman, only, not wild, and a bit younger. Why are you looking for her? Sorry, I didn't recognise her; she doesn't look anything like that anymore."

Indeed I don't. Now my hair is long and knotted into braids, and my face has filled out; I have put on weight since I was at the Lighthouse. The other man mumbles something that skips past my ears unheard.

"So, why are you looking for her then? What's she done?"

"This young girl escaped from the Circle's custody four years ago, and now we're looking for her as well. She's very dangerous. If she comes back–"

"So you aren't Circle?" Gurnen's voice cuts him off with another question.

"No. We are Descendant."

"What was she in custody–"

Shit! I turn and run, reaching out with my magic and changing my body back to panther form as I run, the business of furs and hides forgotten. My shifting bones and muscles cause me to stumble and fall, and I hit the ground hard. I stay quiet and get up quickly, still not completely changed.

Moving as fast as I can, I hit the warren-like streets and begin heading south away from the village and toward the trees and their protective custody. I hear footsteps running behind me so I chance a quick look back; a priest, dressed in black, is following me. Another joins him out of a side alley, and a third from the doorway to a house across the street. I return my eyes to my chosen direction. What is happening? Is this my path? To be chased by both the Circle and the Descendants? What do the Descendants even want with me? They won't want me to become Calcian, meaning they have something totally different in mind; murder.

I up my pace and hurtle through the trees, still heading due south. Ahead, a priest steps out of the shadows to block my path. Head down I barge past him, knocking him from his feet and the air from his lungs before he has time to cast any magic; these Calcians are so slow. I further my speed to full pelt. I need to get away from these people.

***

Hours have passed with no respite and I'm exhausted. I am tearing south across the grassy plains, which lie on the south border of the Brangaine Woods. The wind is heavy and stirring, whipping the icy snow into my face.

I'm being followed relentlessly, the original group of four from Tomam have been bolstered to a group of five, with six other groups of five also converging on my location, one of those groups is flying a couple of hundred feet up, in chevron formation. Evidently they are informing the other six groups of my exact position.

I've never known a Calcian to have the magical aptitude for flight, and neither have I ever heard of them in such numbers or with such organisation. I can't think of anything they could be other than Calcian Hunters, so all I can do is run. I cannot hope to fight the Hunters, especially in the numbers they are in at the moment. One terrified Pagan against thirty-five Descendant Hunters. Not a chance. I don't even know where I'm heading, running blindly away from my pursuers.

Because I've not stopped running since they found me, I have to use up my magical stamina to keep myself going, as well as magically increasing running speed. I can hear the ocean distant in the south. I can't veer left or right away from the cliffs ahead of me, because the Hunter teams have flanked me. My only chance is to swim, but I have no idea to where.

Why do the Gods want me dead? Why didn't they just let me die at Brangaine in peace? It must be because they want me to suffer for some reason, though I have no idea why they do, or what I have done to deserve such treatment. Well, fuck them, if they want to play games I'll show them games. And I will pay them in the blood of the people that so want to see me dead. Gatheckians will pay for what they have done to me, as will Herne and his horns.

I will embrace the ocean, and I will not let the betrayer Calcia have me. I have something to do now. I have found my path.

The gods will rue the day they betrayed me.

***

I'm wrong about the cliffs, evidently; the beach sand around my padded feet is testament to that. I have no idea how I'm going to shake off the fliers, but the ground based Hunters shouldn't follow me. I hope they won't follow me.

I reach the waves which soak my legs and underbelly immediately. The salty waters are freezing against my sweating form. I thrash into the water, wanting to get to swimming depth as soon as possible.

I have practically no magic left, but I can't rest, soon I'll change back, and I'll have to make it to wherever I'm going on my own, without my magic. The roar of the sea is deafeningly in my ears. I glance up at the circling Hunters. Fortunately they are not closing, and that's a bonus.

My bones ache, and my muscles tense and spasm, sending me under the surface to get a mouthful of salty water. My body involuntarily reverts to human form in the froth and foam.

I break the waves, gasping for air, struggling to keep myself afloat. I'm so tired I can barely tread water. Fortunately I can swim, I learned in the River Dawn when I was young, though I don't think I can at the moment. I need to regain some strength; the little I had left is quickly being leeched away by the freezing cold winter waters and my need to stay afloat. I slip back under, taking a lungful of ocean, and surface again, coughing, spitting, and spluttering.

The flying Hunters are casting their magics. I can feel that much just from my senses; I've no need to even look.

As they unleash their spell I let myself sink under the waves, turning underwater and swimming down, away from the impact point of the spell. I have no idea where the strength do it comes from. The water glows red and heats up to boiling point. Fortunately I'm not at the point of impact anymore. I swim further, as far as I can on the little breath I have. But I fear it is too little. My brain fuzzes over and I try to breathe in, wreaking my chest to get air that isn't there. In the cold water blackness comes so swiftly.

\- Holste -

"The witch is dead, Holste, we should leave," Iniar shouts to me.

"We need to find her. I need her body!" I shout back over the buffeting coastal winds.

"No Holste! We need to land, if anyone sees that we've developed the aptitude for BodyShifting we'll be done for. You know, burned for heresy and witchcraft ourselves. The girl is drowned, and I will not let you endanger all of our lives."

"What do you mean?" I shout, as I turn to look at Iniar. His dark tinted wings are beating rapidly in the ice-cold gusts, keeping him steady. I feel the magic well up around him and throw out my own instinctively. Power clashes with power and whatever he'd cast washes over my shields ineffectively.

I glare at him, pure distaste burning in my eyes. He will pay for his mutiny. My second in command just attacked me, which was not a clever move on his part. Annoyingly though, he does have a point. I signal that we should return to the Lighthouse.

I never take my eyes from Iniar.

89 days until the birth of a god

The 20th day of Winter-Fall, 1537

It is past wanemoon and Iniar is not happy at having been relegated to a regular position within the new Legion. I have removed his rank because of his attack on me. My new second in command is Golthor-Penk, a small weedy man, very nervous, but an excellent caster to compensate. He will not last long in his new position, but he'll do until I can find a more suitable permanent replacement. I'm thinking Lorien, but he just doesn't live up to the standards that Iniar has set. Everyone, including Penk, knows that Penk is just a fill-in.

We're in the catacombs that lurk beneath the Lighthouse at the moment, sat in the mess hall, 'relaxing' as it were. Iniar sits away from the rest of us, shooting me vicious glances whenever he can. I am not that bothered by it. He is ambitious and that is a good thing, but he takes chances he should not and those chances have landed him in his current situation. Food should be served in a few moments.

None of us want to mention our failure to capture the last witch we were assigned. I know I'll have to explain why we had to kill her, and that won't be fun, mainly because I'll have to see Legion. So instead, we've been talking about our next assignment; capturing a witch from Nuima, a mountainous city north east of here. We've been talking for about half a mid-hour, discussing our plans and tactics. Well, I say we, but it is mostly the voices of myself and Lorien, leader and tactician, respectively, that can be heard.

"We have to give careful thought to how we approach the city. If we just march in the locals may well fight back," Lorien explains.

"Lorien, why would they do that? We're going in for the witch; the locals will understand that," Penk asks, furthering lowering my estimation of how long he'll last.

"No, they won't. What they'll see is us marching on their city. They'll try to stop us. I would in their situation. We all would."

"So what are we supposed to do? Go in the back way?" Penk asks.

"It would be a push, but I don't see any other-"

The sound of Sincli giggling manically cuts Lorien off. All eyes turn to him. The middle aged man has a vast smile cracking his features and a warm rose colour tints his skin heavily.

"Sin, what's the matter with you? What's so funny?" I ask, already a little irritated. I'm hungry, and not looking forward to having to explain myself to Legion. I don't need Sincli pissing about.

"Penk said 'Go in the back way' and then Lorien said 'It'll be a push'!" Sincli explains through his snickers.

And so, with that said, he returns to his giggling, joined now by the rest of us. I can't help but laugh. Even the moody Iniar lets out a hastily stifled chuckle. Only Sin could find humour in sodomy, but his infectious laughter is truly that. I am glad he is on my team; though his concentration does sometimes lapse which can cause problems for the rest of us from time to time.

After the moment eventually passes, and we all return to some kind of normality, the door opens and three of the kitchen staff walk in, carrying two platters of food, mostly sweet meats, and a tray with five glasses of fine red wine and a full bottle to boot. Food and drink still any further musing on our objective.

The Fifth Chapter

\- Angel-Mexis -

89 days until the birth of a god

The 20th day of Winter-Fall, 1537

I've been lucky, so very lucky. Bar the betrayal, that was not so lucky. But I'm still alive, and that's the main thing.

I have no idea where I am, other than on a rocky beach. I have sand plastered to the left side of my face and all down my front.

I've been awake some hours now, but I can't move; I'm far too exhausted. I need to build up some magical power. Then I'll be able to sort myself out.

I hear noises off in the distance. I ignore them. They can't possibly be of any interest right now. The sound of a sharp intake of breath falls to my tired ears; it is not my intake of breath. I hear the crunch of running footsteps in snow, which vanish, and then there are hands on my shoulders, turning me onto my back.

I open my eyes as much as I can, which in truth is not much. An old man is looking down at me, balding and growing fat. I close my eyes again. His hands brush the sand from my face, away from my shoulders and from my breasts. His hands continue to rub further down on my body. This is not right. He opens my legs. This is not right. I open my eyes, he is untying his breeches and pulling them down he exposes his erect, yet small, penis.

He moves forwards, kneeling between my legs. He takes my arms and holds them at the wrists above my head, putting all of his significant weight on them. It hurts. He enters me, thrusting slowly. His hanging stomach rubs against mine. He will not live to regret this.

I draw in every ounce of magic left in me, taking it from my surroundings, every grain of sand, every rock, the ocean, and even from him. I'll need all the power I can muster to manage this. I cast my magic, but he's too lost in the moment to realise what's happening straight away.

My bones crack and reshape, my skin darkens and fur grows to cover my body. My muscles alter and reform and I flex my claws as they slide out from what was once my fingers. The man has stopped now, and adamant fear emanates from him. He has realised his mistake.

Now that I'm stronger than him I rip my front legs free from his grip and rake a set of claws across his chest. He screams and falls back onto the sand, half naked and trying to wriggle away.

I right myself and pad over to him. I lash out again and again, claws cleaving flesh and jaws tearing it free from its moorings to the bone. As I continue to feast on the bastard that thought I was defenceless I notice that people are approaching, very cautiously. I mean them no harm, but they do not know that.

Well within a mid-hour there are at least thirty people stood on the beach watching me pick the flesh from the bones of my rapist. Many of the men watching are brandishing weapons; swords and knives, some wield nothing more than big sticks. I can feel their fear of me. After all, why would a thought to be extinct panther be on their beach? I show them why, letting the magic return me to my natural form, I fall to the ground and retch up my meal; my human stomach is not capable of processing so much raw flesh and blood.

Now they will see me for the victim I am; a victim of rape, a victim of the gods, and a victim of the Calcians. I am just a witch and I pose no threat to them.

That said, I will be a victim no more.

I see the shadow of a person come to stand over me. I look up and pain suddenly spears through my neck and head, and that familiar blackness comes to me again.

***

I come to consciousness with a terrible crash. My head feels like it has split open. My face is painful and heavily swollen, and my arms and legs are bound to a post behind me. I'm upright, above a crowd which is milling, waiting. What is happening? A young and dirty boy in the crowd looks up at me and points a chubby finger in my direction.

"The vampire is awake!"

His call brings the attention of many of the others to me. What does he mean by vampire? What are they talking about? I'm no vampire.

A tubby man wearing relatively fine clothes steps up to the head of the crowd; he's probably their leader. From my vantage point I can't help but stare at the bald spot on the top of his head, which he has tried to hide by dragging over the hair from either side. He speaks with an air of importance, obviously imbued by years of esteemed leadership and pampering. I cannot help but feel that he is a weak fool who knows nothing. I will kill him. And I will make it slow and painful. No gods will be able to interfere. They do too much meddling in the affairs of mortals as it is.

"The village has found it to be true that you are the vampire that has been terrorizing our lands. Your demonic ways offend the great goddess Calcia, and you will be burned at the stake for your crimes against her."

"I'm not a vampire you son of a whore, I'm a witch!" I shout down at the balding fellow, whom just shakes his head, and continues speaking, ignorant of my truth.

"May Calcia have mercy on your soul in Heaven and Samael take your mind to the pits of Abadon, for eternity in Hell. Calcia will see it true."

A man, dressed all in black amongst the crowd holds aloft a piece of wood, its end wrapped in cloth. Hands come up and tinderboxes reflect the bright winter sun in all directions. The wood is ignited easily and the cloth begins to burn brightly.

The black-clad figure walks forward, moving slowly through the crowd. He bends and puts the light to my pyre. The mass of wood beneath me quickly catches, and the flames begin to rise. I have to think of some way out of this predicament, and I have to think quickly.

Smoke rises up around me, choking me. Already the heat is unbearable. I drag in magic, hoping it will be enough, knowing it needs to be. I spend as long as I can drawing it in. No more time.

The flames lick at my feet. All I can hear is my own screaming. All I can feel is pain. All I can think of is vengeance.

\- Holste -

The city of Nuima is surrounded by mountains, so we've had to fly above Vadaj's Pass, which leads directly to the city.

We approach under the cover of darkness and heavy cloud, even though the few lanterns burning in the city's streets will provide far too little illumination to give us away to the drunken citizens on its meandering roads.

The light spewed forth by the Lighthouse is, rather perversely, our only enemy at the moment; it threatens to expose us while we fly. There are only the five of us going in, the Lead Squad. Iniar has put aside his grievances with me, while we are in the field, at least.

In the distance, dead ahead along our trajectory, I can see the burning bright lights of the western walled city, Enlil. In a few moments we'll be coming over our drop area, the first risk to the men under my guidance.

We pass quickly over the Macenial House; Hier-Mehhok will be sleeping in his bed, unaware of what's happening under his very nose. I glance down again and see the market area below me. I sweep my wings back hard, angling myself down, knowing that the other four are doing exactly the same. I'm falling hard, the cobbled ground rushing toward me, dropping like a stone to my death. I only hope that our drop is too quick to have been noticed by the drunken revellers and the night workers.

A little before I need to, I spread my wings, catching the air, and slowing myself dramatically. Penk falls furthest, braking his fall at the last possible moment to avoid impact. I flap lazily and drop to the ground, Sin, Iniar, and Lorien following me.

Penk has already cast a Sanctuary, creating us a magical safe haven from prying eyes, completely unnoticeable to all but the extremely gifted, and then only those extremely well trained.

"Iniar, Lorien," I have their attention immediately, "I want this area searched. Penk, Sin, I want you two searching the northern residential sector."

The two men nod and vanish into the night, leaving me alone within the sanctuary. I sit down, taking a thick stick of white chalk, imported from Dawn View, out of my pack, and mark a large Sircless onto the floor around me. I begin to raise power within the circle once it is complete.

Penk or Iniar will send a magical signal to me when either finds the girl, so that I'll know when to cast. Within the Sircless I draw magical power directly from Calcia, and that power is held within the boundaries of the Sircless, unable to escape, charging the small space around me with phenomenal magical power. I find it constantly amazing how much magic can be manipulated. Never before have Calcians been able to BodyShift, but now we can grow wings, thanks to our observation and study of other magical practices.

Something itches at my senses, something pressing against the edges of the Sircless, trying to get in; it is Penk's signal. I siphon a small amount of power off to Iniar, letting him know the situation and where he should go to lend support. Gathering all of the power within the Sircless, I cast and my vision shifts until I get a birds-eye view of the residential area, though I am still sat in the market. I focus the magic around me, and the roofing that hides the people of the city shifts slightly and I see hundreds of dots pop into existence. Some are a dull grey misty colour, people that are not adept in magic, and four vibrant white people, Penk, Sin, Lorien and Iniar, and one pulsing green; the witch. There are other colours, but they a few and far between, and we have come for this witch in particular.

I lash out with the power raised within the Sircless, striking out at the witch. Magic connects with magic, grinding against each other, a test of strength, quantity and skill. I increase the flow of power into the casting and the witch's shields fail, flushing her with Calcian power designed and shaped to render her a magical void, temporarily, anyway.

Suddenly the view below me changes and a howling black void opens up where I struck at the witch, which is slowly expanding. The white lights of my men are quickly closing on the epicentre of the void. I switch my vision back to my eyes and stand, somewhat shakily, still flushed with more power than I usually can carry within me. Stumbling sideways, I support myself with a weary arm on the wall of a shop, dark to the world and unknowing of what goes on just outside its purview.

My head swims with the magic and a dull thumping begins at the base of my skull, instinctively I know that it's going to be a very long headache. I close my eyes for a couple of moments until I hear the sound of footsteps approaching.

Straightening, I prepare to cast, hoping it is my squad but fearing it won't be. Penk rounds the corner followed by Lorien and Sin. The latter man is carrying a body over his shoulder. Iniar is last to arrive. I let out a deep breath, completely unaware I'd been holding it in. I take in Sin and the man at his shoulder.

"New boyfriend?"

"Ha, bloody ha. You're so funny. I can barely contain my hysterics," Sin retorts in the most deadpan voice he can muster. The corners of five mouths turn up.

"So I take it this is our witch?" I had assumed it would be a woman, but I know that a man can just as easily be a heathen.

"No, I thought he was pretty, so I hit him with my club and now I'm going to take him home to my cave to make passionate love to him. Of course he's the witch."

"By Calcia, what has gotten into you?"

"Well, this guy isn't exactly light and we're all just stood here contemplating my comedic, yet untrue, sexual preferences. Can we go yet? I don't fancy getting caught stealing a person from a city. It's just a little bit on the side of extremely rude."

There is a glint of mischief in his eyes. I glance to the skies to make sure they're clear. As expected, they are, so I beat my wings heavily and lift myself from the ground, slowly rising up toward the heavens.

This success will do some good in pleasing Legion after the Angel-Mexis debacle. I hope it will, anyway.

\- Muzbeth -

The rumours of me must have already spread to the town we are headed into; Longbridge. Kellum and I both look alive at the moment, which is a rarity. I can now use magic to appear as a normal person. Basically, the more blood and thus magic within me, the more normal I look; except for my teeth. They don't change. Though I'm sure I could change them if I expended a little magic, but what would be the point in hiding what I am? I'm only human looking at the moment because Kellum asked me to very respectfully.

We've both gained new clothes too; my old funereal garb is long gone and now I wear a simple plain white shirt and breeches, held at the waist by a sash-belt. I've had a haircut, and my beard shaved. That was two days previously, while Kellum was sleeping. The barber had nicked my chin whilst shaving me, and he was amazed to see the small cut heal before his very eyes; he had muttered something about magic or a miracle or something. He was an idiot, so showed him what I really was, and killed him. It was only fair. I, and people in general, shouldn't have to suffer such inadequacy.

Shaven and cleaned, I look like an inheritor to land. Kellum on the other hand is dressed in a spectacularly dramatic long coat. He'd taken it from the Macer of Sacrem, and the workmanship was perfect. Unfortunately, it got a little blood stained when I had stuck my claws into the Macer's throat. Kellum had managed to find a way of keeping the garment, despite its ruddy stain; he dyed it black. It was originally white with some kind of silver stitching, and now that same silver glitters in the moonlight. I don't know how or why it didn't go black like the white and crimson had. Beneath this new coat of his, he wears a white shirt and black waistcoat, which has an expensive iron fob watch tucked into the pocket. Knee high, dark leather boots and dark grey loose fitting britches finish his attire; the vampire looks like how I imagine a big-city Macer would, though surrounded by dirty provincial commoners.

As we enter the town, we see that a raging fire illuminates its central area. As we draw closer, I notice that within the flame is a blackened corpse, which seems to be held to a post in the centre of the bright inferno. We head closer, confident that we will have some fun here. I glance sideways at Kellum and he gives me that weird grin that I've somehow come to like.

But then it drops, and Kellum follows suit, falling to his knees. He brings his hands up to his head and begins muttering to himself. Suddenly he emits a short scream, drawing the attention of a few villagers that heard it from around the fire. Kellum quietens but does not get up. My ally looks terrified. I squat beside him and manhandle his face so that he is looking at me.

"What's wrong?" I ask. I am more worried by my concern for him than I actually am for him.

He tries to speak, but before he can get any words out he screams again. I send a little calming magic into him and reiterate my question. This time he answers.

"It's a vision. You have to protect us. You hav–"

His third scream makes me start. I've never seen him in such a panicked state before. I would like to say it scared me, but instead I just get a sense of power from it; seeing him so weak and defenceless only serves to bolster my own ego. I feel so full of energy that I must be impossible to defeat. I am truly and undeniably immortal. "Undeniably"? Maybe I am actually learning something by having Kellum with me... even if it is just his words.

The few villagers that started towards us have stopped now and are stood a good many paces from where Kellum whimpers. I straighten and turn to face them. Some of the men have tools. Maybe they hope that they can stop me. How foolish.

Surely they've heard of the obliterated settlements. The few victims I have left alive to spread the legend should be doing their jobs, and yet here we have a typical human answer. 'We can stop it; surely it can't be that powerful'. Oh, how wrong they can be. I think I'll have some fun and play with them a little.

"Halt people of Longbridge. We bring you terrible news!"

My voice is still as disturbing as when I first met Kellum. I could heal it, but it does lend a certain air of the sinister to my words.

The people's numbers are slowly growing as more people come from the fire, and from out of houses to look at the spectacle of the two strange men in their village. The man at the head of the group comes and addresses me. The civilians come up behind him to listen in to our conversation; curiosity evidently overcomes fear of vampires in this town.

"What news do you have for us traveller?"

"Do you know of the vampire that hunts the peoples of Sacrem?" I ask, with a smile on my lips.

"That vampire has been dealt with. We found her feasting on one of our fishermen this morning. She is burned now." As he tells me of their triumph, he gestures to the blazing pyre behind him. I'm the vampire; so who the hell was that up there? I chuckle to myself; they killed an innocent.

"How can you be sure that she was the vampire?"

"She was feasting on blood. What else could she be? We are lucky to have stopped that brief plight." And with that he turns, grinning to his people, his arms outstretched in victory, soaking up their cheers. I find it difficult to keep from laughing.

"Brief? You have not solved your problem so easily." I sneer at the man. He is a fool and I will not abide such idiocy.

Their leader faces me once more, a look of distaste on his face.

"How so? And what is wrong with your master?"

"He is not my master! He belongs to me," I bellow back, anger suddenly filling me.

The man talking to me takes an angry step forward, and leans close to my face, attempting to threaten me.

"Know your place servant. What has the world come to when servant and master are reversed? You are deluded. Now tell me, what is wrong with your master?" He raises a hand as if to strike at me with his fist. I do not flinch at his threat.

"Do you doubt my power? Do you think that this monster that kneels could possibly hope to end my life? Let me show you something, human," I say.

"What?" Confusion flushes his face and that one word is all he can manage.

I reach out with my senses, probing down, reaching for the fires. I get to where my demon's prison once was, Hell, and I draw power from that place. The demons that are imprisoned there still fill me with their magic that I can naturally use, thanks to the demon that resides within me.

I make my magical assertion and look closely at the villagers. They are slowed to little more than the pace of a dead snail. I take the time to marvel that the complete lack of sound. I extend and harden my nails, turning my hands once again into vicious weapons capable of destruction on a grand scale. Very slowly the villagers begin to move, so I slide my left hand into the soft flesh of their leaders neck. Blood would normally be gushing out of the deep cleft, but time is still moving at about a tenth of its normal speed. I drag my hand free, bringing tiny drops of blood with it, which slowly drift toward to the muddy and icy ground.

I thrust both sets of nails deep into the chest of a burly man stood just behind the as-good-as-dead leader. He does not even flinch, he just stares straight ahead. I lift him and in his eyes I see the pain register, moments after it has been inflicted. I toss him to my left knocking a quarter of the slowed posse down to the ground.

Blood is beginning to hit the floor now, and the villagers are slowly taking to defensive stances, though I'm still moving too fast for them to even pose any kind of threat. A woman has half turned to run, so I move up to her and place one hand on her shoulder and the other on her neck and simply prize her head from her body, it is a pity I will never hear any of these people screaming.

I cut the arm from a man who had been holding a long handled hammer and I take the weapon from the severed arm before it hits the floor. Wielding the hammer I swing it at head height, targeting a portly man dressed in finery. I think he was one of the latecomers. The hammer shatters his face and my swing continues through his head, feeling no resistance, to smash into the head of a second person, whose face suffers a similar fate.

I swing the long weapon up into the chin of a young woman, who would be attractive but for the size of her nose. I do not swing through her head, this time. I stop the hammer immediately after it hits. The woman begins to rise up into the air, her head smashed back. I easily dodge a fist, coming far too slowly to hit me.

I must have been stood still long enough for them to get to me. The few remaining villagers I dispatch easily, though some more people come to the aid of the massacred but only add to the pile of bodies. The woman I launched hits the ground, slowly. I have left just two alive, they look like twins, but they could just be brothers. One has fallen to the ground in terror and the other is stood, frozen to the spot, not by magic but by fear. I can taste it clearly on the air. I let the magic go and retract my nails. Sound instantly rushes back to me along with the sound of laboured breathing and the cries of those close to death. I lift the fallen brother up by the scruff of the neck and bring him in close to feed. A voice calls out to stop me.

"Vampire! Do not kill it."

The Sixth Chapter

\- Muzbeth -

89 days until the birth of a god

The 20th day of Winter-Fall, 1537

I turn to see the blackened corpse walking, somewhat shakily, toward me. The voice is dry and cracked, but from the smell of the corpse and way it spoke I know it was once female, though any body parts it once had have been burned off. More of the walking dead; how many of us actually are there?

"Kneel before your Lys-Karalis, dead creature!" I shout to the walking corpse.

"I am not dead, just somewhat incapacitated at the moment," she replies calmly. She continues to approach us.

"Then I demand to know what you are, and a good reason why I shouldn't kill you."

"I am a witch, and you should not kill me because I can help you. I can teach you things. The people of this village betrayed me, and you have stolen my revenge," she tells me.

I'm guessing she thinks that because I have killed some of them, and she obviously wanted to do that. I like that.

"What makes you think I can learn anything from you? I am Lys-Karalis."

"Well, for a start, I can make that worthless organism you are holding into a valuable asset if you will allow me to share with you my wisdom."

"And how would you do that?" I ask, "they both stink of fear. It is a weakness that I do not abide."

"Yet you ask those that follow you to fear you? That is insane demon logic. However, should you make one of them into a creature of the night such as yourself you would be able to see what the other is up to."

Now she has gotten closer I can see and smell the raw red flesh under her sore and cracked skin. The fingers that she had lost have grown back and those she did not lose now have a new pink flesh covering them. The flesh is slowly spreading up her arms and legs too. Her muscles are growing back as too are the curves of her hips and her breasts.

"Because they are twins?"

"Yes. And as I'm sure you realise, the foresight that that could give you would be an immense boon."

"True, but I do not need any more foresight." I snap the head of the boy I am holding and I feel the warm spray of blood on my face, licking my lips I begin to walk toward the quickly reforming woman. As I pass the other twin I lean down to whisper into his ear.

"Fear me, for I am the destroyer, and I will bring this world to its knees. Now run, before this Karalis changes his mind."

And that is what he does, and he does not look back. He runs directly for the bridge that crosses the river that swims lazily past the town. I a few hours it will run red with the blood of the dead at my feet.

I continue to walk toward the woman. New flesh now covers most of her body, and only a few places still have the raw redness. Her right breast reforms as we come within reach of each other, the nipple being the last part to re-grow.

She is not exactly beautiful, but she has a grace about her, she has no hair on her body at all, and I notice her finger- and toe-nails have not yet grown back. Now I know that she is not dead; I can see that by the way I watch her chest rise and fall; the dead do not breathe.

My eyes glide down her body, which is fantastic; her breasts are pert and her stomach flat. The lack of hair extends to her groin. Her hips are wide and beautifully curved. My eyes rove further down and I notice a three inch scar on the thigh of her left leg. This puzzles me for it should surely have healed when the rest of her did. I reach out to run my finger along it but she grabs my hand. Her touch is warm, and pleasure shoots up my arm and throughout my body at her touch, stirring my own body into a magically aroused state.

Up close she is not quite as plain as I had previously thought. Her cheek bones are high and pronounced, and she has a small nose and thin but smooth lips.

She brings my hand up to her face and bites my knuckle, not as if to draw blood, but a playful nip. Her other hand snakes down my torso and finds its way into my breeches, where she begins to slide her hand along the length of my magical arousal.

Flashes of memory emerge and a face suddenly flashes before my eyes. It takes a few moments to realise that it is the face of the teenage girl holding the baby that was in my house. She looks terrified and in pain in my memory. I push the sight from my mind, though it makes me stiffen further. This is a woman though, so I do not know why I thought of the young girl with the babe.

Suddenly she draws her hands away to my chest and pushes me over. I land in the muddy dirt of the road, created by the melted snow and the traffic of people, looking up at her. She kneels over my legs and begins unbuckling my belt. Then she reaches up to my blood-stained shirt and begins tearing at it. As she rips my shirt off, something catches my attention and I see Kellum leaning against one of the buildings, he appears to be watching the woman; watching this witch strip me.

Suddenly she backs off, standing once again, leaving me on the ground, exposed. She moves so sensually, which arouses me further. She draws a ring around her in the mud with a toe, then she kneels within the circle she has made and all goes eerily quiet. I stretch out with my mind and vampiric senses to see what she is doing, and my eyes slowly attune to a green light building within her circle. While she is doing whatever she is doing, I decide to remove the remainder of my clothing. I have to wait no longer than a couple moments to see what happens.

As she knelt within the circle, the light had grown considerably, almost blotting out her figure. Now there is a perfect column about twenty feet high of green swirling light, with a vague body at its centre.

All of a sudden the power earths; the column thunders down to about a foot above ground level, and begins to spread along the floor. Just before it touches me, it retracts and the green light is pulled into the witch, who is now standing once again.

As the last of the green light vanishes into her, I observe with a small air of wonder as her hair grows from her head. When it has finished growing it reaches down to her waist, cascading down the front of her body, covering her breasts, her groin is now also clad in pubic hair, which I must say is a little disappointing. Magic is such a useful tool.

She strides forward from her circle and straddles me, my erection and her vagina coming within scant inches of each other. She leans in close and kisses me. It is a sensual kiss in which her tongue enters my mouth and plays with my own. Then she quickly stands and regards me, smiling.

"Not so fast vampire, I think you should wait a while for this. It will do you good."

And then she turns and stalks away down the street, my erection hardens as I observe her buttocks swaying as she walks. I want her. I get up and put on my trousers again, though I don't bother with the ripped and torn shirt, it is nothing more than rags now.

Kellum comes to stand by me in the middle of the road, and gestures that we should walk down the street after her. The witch enters a two storey building and we begin to follow her in.

It is a wooden construct, which seems to be on the verge of rotting. Above the door is a shingle depicting a pitcher of ale, clasped in a rough hand. I had worked in a publican house when I was a boy, I think. I'd serve drinks and prepare the foods. But I've not been in a pub for many years now, according to Kellum, though it only feels like a few days to me. I've probably forgotten what ale actually tastes like anyway.

We walk into the pub, pushing its surprisingly sturdy door aside. Inside the structure it is dark, but my advanced senses allow me to see perfectly well in these situations of lacking light. There is a bar along the back wall with three pitchers clustered at one end – they are unclean, probably containing the remnants of this evenings drinking. In the remainder of the room are several chairs arranged lazily around circular tables, which also, I notice, are scattered with drinking bowls. At odd intervals around the edge of the room, stools are placed.

The most striking thing about the room is the smell. I can smell blood, but it smells bitter; it smells vampiric, not human.

"Kellum, are there any vampires about?"

"Not to my knowledge. Let me just consider the events to come." As he does, Kellum's gaze becomes distant for a few moments before he snaps back to reality.

"No vampires and no imminent attacks," he tells me, "though the witch will be back soon – it would seem that she has gone into one of the back rooms to find some clothes. She's trying them on."

"Is she really a witch?"

"Yes, she has magical powers granted to her, possibly from her parents, from her religion, or directly from her gods. She is a Pagan, which is the religion of a witch."

"How can she get magic from her parents?"

"If they too were witches, their offspring could be an innate witch, having magical powers naturally, similar to our magic granted by the demons that inhabit us."

"How is it possible for two witches to mate?"

"What do you mean?"

"Two women. How can two women have children?" I pull aside a chair and sit at one of the tables. Kellum continues to stand.

"Oh, erm, throw away what the church taught you of witches; they aren't all women, there can be male witches too. Admittedly there are more female witches. All they have to do is believe in the Pagan gods, and use the magic they give them, and they're a witch."

"I thought that male witches were called warlocks?"

"It all depends on viewpoint really. From my experiences, a corrupted witch calls herself a warlock. Obviously a corrupt male witch would also be a warlock."

"This is all a bit confusing. Do you want a drink?"

Kellum shrugs, so I get up and head over to the bar. Arrayed on a shelf set above the countertop are a few clean pitchers and some stacked drinking bowls, the bronze they are made from is dull in the darkness.

Hopping over the bar I find several barrels, each labelled differently. I run my hand over the dots and lines that identify them as differing ales. I pry the lid off a barrel of 'Vested Interest', whatever that means, and take two of the pitchers from the shelf. I fill them and head back to the table, going around the bar this time, not jumping it. I hand one of the large jugs over to Kellum, who takes an experimental sip, cocks his head to one side and then smiles. I can still smell the vampiric blood. I decide to ask about it.

"Kellum, why is there vampire blood here?"

"I can smell it too, but it's not a vampire's blood; it's just dead blood. There must've been a bar fight here recently, and they obviously didn't clean up after it very well. I think that's the most logical answer."

Then he drinks again, but deeply this time. Satisfied with his reasoning, I taste the ale myself and find it to have a bittersweet taste; though nowhere near as nice as 'fresh' blood.

"So okay, I think I understand some of the warlocks and women and magic stuff. What happened to you out there?" I ask. Kellum takes more of his ale before he answers.

"To be honest I'm not exactly sure, my head felt as though it was about to explode. It must have been some sort of vision kick back. It's never happened before, mind you. I wonder if something big is coming."

"Big?"

"Big, as in world changing." he says with a dark look on his face.

"Oh, so quite big then. What can you see of it?"

"That's the odd thing, nothing. My sight of it is blocked for some reason. And that gives me cause for extra worry."

As if at the mention of trouble, the woman walks into the bar area through a door situated in the corner of the room.

Now she is wearing a long green dress over a white blouse, giving her a mighty cleavage. Her hair is tied loosely back in a tail, and she is booted in leathers, which rise up her legs, past the hem of her dress. As she walks up to the bar she had her hands amongst her hair, seemingly tightening the knots that hold it loosely.

"So, 'woman', what are we supposed to call you, being as you seem to be sticking around with us?"

"Vampire, what makes you think I'm going to stay with you?"

"Well, you seemed intent on making me wait earlier, and if you think I'm going to let you off, you've got another thing coming," I say through a smile.

"A fair point. You can call me... Witch. And who might I ask is your vampire friend here; your other lover?"

"Still your tongue, Witch. This is Kellum. He serves me, as will you."

Kellum nods at the woman, but Witch just glares at me, failing to acknowledge Kellum. I return her gaze and our eyes lock. I outstare her easily, as not having to blink is a major help.

"So then, what do you two actually do, other than wander about terrorising folk?" she asks as she averts her gaze, looking down now. I indicate that Kellum should speak. I have had enough games with this woman for now.

"Well, it is funny you should mention that..."

As Kellum begins to speak of our seemingly pointless wandering and my need to attain an essence of purest evil, my mind begins to wander, to think of removing Witch's clothes.

The memory of her naked is still bright and pure within my mind. I think of biting her, a naked embrace that would last forever. Just the two of us entwined together. Something feels so right about that scenario, but it also at the same time it feels so wrong. But I just can't put my finger on it. It's almost like I shouldn't be thinking of her.

I have no idea what that means.

\- Satch -

The tales we have heard are worrying. There are many of them too. Most say that monsters have burned the village to the ground. Others say that Calcia no longer cares for Sacrem.

Narrow spindly trees and scraggily bushes fly past us at tremendous speeds. We'd beached on the isle of Sacrem not many moments ago, on our journey back to the Heartland from The Dirigir Oak, though we'd met survivors long before. As soon as our feet were on the rocky beach we began to run. I'd checked the map while we were in the boat and realised that it was only about three miles to the torched village, Lankar.

Meth had cast a CascadeTrap upon us and now we're moving toward the destroyed village much faster than is naturally possible. The spell has slowed the world around so that we may pass it by faster. Unfortunately the side effect of such a magic is that we can't converse with each other, and I'm guessing that Meth is just as worried about what we'll find when we get to Lankar as I am.

We close the distance to the village with every step, and as we near, it becomes clearer that there are still some fires burning. I cast out my magic, calling to the elements, and summon what I hope will be a raging storm. I pray to Calcia, to my goddess, for heavy rain to douse the flame. Ever so slowly the clouds roll in, dark and undulating. With a flash of lightning the rain breaks, heavy and ultimately soaking. It may not put the fires out, but it will certainly aid the process.

Meth looks at me, mouthing the question 'Is this you?' I nod, knowing that he would not be able to hear me if I spoke. It is truly surreal moving at magical speed. It is the silence that gets to me. Whenever I travel like this I begin to doubt whether I will ever hear anything again.

We crest a low hill and look down onto the destruction beneath us. A once vibrant village is all but burned to the ground. Many of the villagers, those that have not fled or died, have set up a makeshift camp on a nearby hillside. They are looking up at the thick cloud in the skies, their tears mixing with my summoned raindrops. Though they live, they have lost their lives.

Meth's spell falters and fades, returning us to the natural cycle of time. A myriad of sounds rush to fill my ears; each and every drop of rain splashing onto the ground, the deep rumble of thunder high above us, and the distant crackle of flame eating through what little timber remains.

We look at each other fleetingly, and race across to lend our aid to the distraught villagers.

***

It is unbelievable, even surreal, to be walking through a makeshift village. There are people, even children, wandering about alone, clutching what few belongings they could save.

It's made all the more surreal because they're rushing to erect shelter from the rains. It's the contrast that makes it so strange, I think. They all have so little left and yet they're going out of their way to try to keep a little dryer. Surreal is the only word that can describe the situation, for me anyway.

Meth had rushed off to assist in another area of the ad hoc encampment, after seeing a paralysed child, leaving me to first walk among the dead and soon to die. I'm sure that immediate magical healing is the only way for that youngster to ever walk again. That is what Meth and I are here to do. We are here to help those in need. We may be Calcian Hunters, but we can use our magic in aid too, not just to protect.

As I pass a group of elderly women huddled under a sodden blanket, another woman brushes past me, heading to the main camp. I quickly turn and grab the woman by the wrist, and spin her around to face me, suddenly intent on finding out some answers. She has a wrap of possessions in her arms.

"What happened here?"

"Demons came and killed! They burned everything. Nothing is safe!"

"Think carefully now, can you tell me anything else?" I ask in what I hope are soothing tones.

"They were death," she shrieks, struggling to be free of my arms. I calm her with a little magic and she continues, more sedately, "they killed our men and cast the fires. They left before the sunrise. We could not have done anything."

The bundle in her arms shifts and I lean in close to her. Looking out from her protective clutches is the face of a child, no more than a year old. A burn has blistered the skin up its neck and behind its tiny ear. The woman begins to cry and tries to move away again. I hold her still, placing my hand on the baby's head. I let my magic slip out of me and through the baby's skin, to saturate its body.

I cannot actively heal one so young because that would be dangerous. Healing an infant with magic for an adult can sometimes trick a baby's body into thinking it need no longer grow. So I have given it the means to heal itself instinctively. As I understand it, babies are born with the instinct to dive underwater, so I hope it is the same with magic. But if not, the child will grow up to be an adept in magic, whatever path he or she chooses. The woman finally pulls away from me and flees, not realising what I've done for her baby. She is too protective of the child to think beyond the now.

I move continue on to rows of laid out bodies on the hillside. There are two areas set side by side, one for those that are dead, and one for those that are soon to die. I walk up the centre of the two areas, inspecting the dead on one side, and checking the living on the other. The dead greatly outweigh the living.

The first corpses I inspect have died from the fires, not from whatever attacked them, while the first in the living area should not be there. I soon come across the body of a man, with an unnaturally angled leg. Were he not dead he'd be in a great deal of pain from his broken limb. I roll him head to one side and nausea sweeps though my body. Seeing the side of the throat ripped out, I gag, but manage to keep my guts in check. This is the work of a vampire.

I run my fingers across his teeth to check for blood. I don't like what I find, and I can't take the chance that he'll become a vampire. I cannot be sure, as it is probably just blood from his throat, but it is better to be safe than sorry when vampires are involved.

I reach into my satchel and retrieve a sandalwood stake and heavy mallet. Placing the point above his heart, I drive the stake in. The body shudders under the impacts of the hammer. If he had been turned, he will not rise now. In the morning we will burn his body and bury the ashes at a crossroads, meaning he will never able to return from the dead, whether he would have been a vampire or not. This man's soul will never live again.

I stand and walk over to the adjacent 'living' victim of the vampires, expecting to find another one already passed. This one lies on his side, head resting on the bloodied grass. Using my foot I roll him onto his back. I feel the nausea bite and turn my head before vomiting onto the wet hillside. Lying at my feet is my little brother, Thack. He has a bite mark deep in his neck. A tear pricks at the corner of my eye, but I blink it away when I realise he is still breathing. I can think of only one thing to do.

"Meth!"

I scream the name.

### The Seventh Chapter

\- Satch -

88 days until the birth of a god

The 21st day of Winter-Fall, 1537

Meth had rushed over, taken one look at Thack and seized my hand, linking our magic together, allowing my magic to feed off of his, and allowing his to feed on mine. It made us much stronger together than we would have been separately. We both knew what had to be done.

We cast as one, a single spell between the two of us, almost as if it were one magic. The spell had an instant effect on Thack. He regained colour in his skin, losing the paleness of lost blood, and the neat bite mark in his neck healed over, though a scar remained.

We brought him to where the village folk had gathered to watch the last of their homes be destroyed. We stayed with the people, healing the injured and doing our jobs, just waiting until Thack would wake.

He finally begins to stir as Meth returns from finishing checking through the dead and dying. He settles down by our youngest brother's side, a bowl of broth in each hand and a sodden hunk of bread wedged into his mouth. Thack's eyes flick open all of a sudden and he draws in a shuddering breath, looking up at the two of us from his position on the wet grass. His eyes narrow as he looks at Meth; the two of them never got along. Thack is a Pagan and Meth had always disliked him for it. Three different religions for three very different brothers. Meth is Descendant, I am of the Circle, and Thack is a Pagan. Right now is not the time for Meth's unrelenting attempted-conversion, but he's spoken before I realise what he's doing.

"Well, it looks like Calcia has been good enough to spare you."

"Meth, Satch, it would appear I should thank you."

"And Calcia," Meth adds. I feel my annoyance rising.

"Meth. Leave it. Not now." Meth looks at me, his own annoyance clear in his face, upset that I have halted his attempt at 'saving' Thack. Returning my gaze to Thack, I continue, "Thack, let's get you fed and then we need to talk. I hear you had a visit from some vampires, which was unlucky to say the least."

"A little more than unlucky, I'd say. Help me sit up," he replied with an unwarranted smile.

Meth and I both take an arm of our brother and haul him gently upright. He seems stable enough though I keep supporting him just in case. Meth hands him a bowl of broth, after cooling it a little magically, and then turns over the bread to our brother. Thack eats ravenously, as if he's not eaten in seasons. Meth and I share the second bowl. The broth is bland, but hot and more than welcome.

Once we have all eaten our conversation once again picks up.

"Thack, what were vampires doing in the village?"

I ask as we slowly check him over for any more damage. He seems to be in top physical condition, if not slightly on the tubby side. I keep talking, trying to come up with some reason they were on the Peninsula Archipelago. "Usually they keep a low profile, try to keep out of our sight. Perhaps they were looking for something, or–"

"I have no idea," Thack cuts in as I break for breath, "but I don't think they came to find something. The only thing I can think of is if they're heading to The Dirigir Oak to do some–"

This time it is Meth that interrupts.

"They are heading north, to the Heartland, not further down the Peninsula. I spoke to some of the survivors before Satch found you. We will get them for this. Don't worry."

I'm a little surprised at Meth's sensitivity. He's usually so harsh. I take a few seconds to compose myself.

"So what exactly did they do?"

I quickly stop myself from talking on so that my brother can speak.

"Well, from when I turned up, after they'd called us out, it seems that they just wanted a fight. Well, one of them anyway. The other just stood and watched."

"It could be that a master vampire was giving tutelage to a freshly turned," Meth adds.

"But the one who fought was skilled in demonic magic, more so than any normal vampire."

"This makes no sense. The skilled ones are usually the master vampires, and they tend to show more restraint. They're capable of standing back and watching. If that's the case I'm guessing that we have at least one master vampire, maybe even two. This could be a lot more difficult that it first seemed," I say. Meth looks as though he's ready to go and fight them right now, while Thack looks happy that he is not.

"Vampires, another great gift from Calcia and Jehovah," Thack says to himself, though not quietly enough for Meth and I to not hear. It causes my two brothers to fall back into their old ways, back when we were just children. Meth's voice raises a few notches.

"The demons caused themselves, if they hadn't rebelled..."

"They didn't rebel, Meth," Thack tries to explain, even if it is just his own opinion, "Calcia and Jehovah shoved them in Hell for no good reason. They did make them like that after all."

"They tried to overthrow the almighty powers. They thought they could," Meth retorts angrily.

"So now we have to suffer them? Thanks, Calcia!" Thack shouts back.

"Enough!" I shout over the pair, finally shoehorning a word in, hoping it will bring the carriage of argument to a halt.

Luckily they take notice of me and fall into silence. I use the new quiet to begin to organise.

"Alright. Here's what I think we have to do. Find the vampires that did this, and set a trap for them. I doubt we'll be able to take on two master vampires alone, even if that is a worst-case scenario. We also need to do it fast, preferably before they hit the Heartland. If they are masters they'll move a lot faster than us. Meth, I need you to contact reinforcements in the Heartland to explain the situation."

A shiver runs up my spine, causing my line of thought to shatter. I try to grab at the metaphorical shards, but it is no use. Maybe if it weren't so cold.

"Meth, it's getting cold again, if you wouldn't mind?"

Meth simply nods, and turns to one side, conjuring the flames that will ward the chill from our bones. While Meth works my thoughts on how to deal with the vampires coalesce and come flooding back to me; could it have been the use of magic that rekindled my mind?

"You'll need to tell them what we think these creatures may be. They'll need to know of the worst they'll be facing. If we're lucky we'll be wrong and they'll both be normal vampires. We can only hope. Now Thack, you have a big choice to make. Do you want to stay here and rebuild the village or do you want to come with us? You know what we want."

"Well, everything here for me has gone up in smoke, if you'll excuse the phrase, so I'm coming with you guys. That vampire needs to be stopped before it can do any more damage."

"Good. Then we'll rest here another day, let you get your strength back, and then we'll move on in the morning. Can we get horses from anywhere around here? We'll need them if we want to keep up with the vampires."

Thack seems to think a while on it.

"There'd have been a couple in the stables in town. Unfortunately they might still be in there, a little charred. But then again someone may have turned them out. If they're safe I'm sure we'd be okay to take them to avenge the village. If not I can call some wild ones to us."

"Call? Sure you don't mean cast?" Meth asks sarcastically.

"Meth, yes I mean cast. Are you going to be okay with that?"

"Listen to yourselves! You two, we're going to be together for quite some time, so we need to get along. Just try not to fire each other up, for all of the god's sakes."

My accidental mentioning of fire makes me shudder despite the heat from Meth's warming flames. If we don't stop these vampires, soon it could be Enlil or Rudra that goes up in flames.

\- Muzbeth -

The three of us left had Longbridge about an hour before sunrise, heading to a nearby fishing port. It was small but more than capable of serving our needs.

The rains had come quickly as we walked, soaking us all to the bone. Witch's clothes clung to her figure, which only served to further her beauty in my eyes. I will have her and she will be mine eternally.

We had arrived at the port a few moments before dawn. If it had just been Kellum and myself we'd have arrived long before, but we are now slowed because of Witch; she tires easily. As we walked Kellum and I 'interrogated' Witch. I seem to be talking and thinking more and more like Kellum with every day that passes. I guess I could have been like this before I died though, and now I'm just become more like my old self. I just don't know.

"So what is your name? I'm told I've been dead for quite a few years but I'm sure normal names haven't gone out of the window quite so quickly."

"It doesn't matter. 'Witch' is who I am now, not who I was."

"Then who were you?" I asked again, putting more force into my new voice.

"Why does this matter to you?" she questioned.

"Because if you're going to be travelling with us then I'm going to want to know about you," I said. In truth I wanted to know now mostly because I'd asked and she hadn't answered. I'm the one in charge here and she needed to learn that. She still does.

"Okay, you can know about me; my name is Witch. That is who I am."

"Bloody women!" I shouted, my frustrations escaping me.

"Excuse me! I'm sure you've both got secrets of your own," she said quickly back.

Kellum quickly took up the reigns of the conversation while I fumed at her defiance.

"True, we do have secrets, both of us. Fortunately his are locked away safely, because even he can't remember them."

"And yours?"

"Why, young lady, they're secrets, it would not be proper to tell," Kellum said with a smile.

"I'm sure," Witch responded, narrowing her eyes in mock suspicion.

"So, tell us, if it is no big secret," Kellum says after a few moments of silence, "what were you being burned for?"

We were passing across the rolling hills of northern Sacrem, heading towards Yavert.

"Ah, now that I will tell you. At least then some others will know what the Calcians did to me. Well, the cut down version goes like this. Some years ago my family sent me to the Lighthouse because they thought it wrong that I could use magic without being a Calcian. All the time I was there I refused to accept their beliefs. I was tortured, countless times. Each time I would use my magic to recover. Then one day I escaped and began wandering the Heartland with nowhere to go."

"Sounds fun." I was being sarcastic, and they both knew it.

"Let her finish, my 'Karalis," Kellum said to me, respectfully.

"Thank you. So I eventually ended up in the Brangaine Woods, living in the wilderness and surviving on the land alone. Eventually the Descendants found me and chased me to the coast and drove me into the ocean. That was cold. I swam day and night, heading directly away from the Lighthouse. And so I ended up on an island, completely exhausted and naked. The villagers found me, thought I was some sort of vampire and tried to burn me at the stake."

Kellum shook his head from side to side, then took a lungful of air in and let it out slowly. I still don't understand why he did that then, but he still does it from time to time.

"Why do they never ask questions? It's always burn first think later with the peoples on the Peninsula Archipelago."

"Apparently. So then you two turned up and gave me a chance to get down and regenerate. Now I'm here with you."

Then there was silence and it was a silence of which I was very glad. All of that had gone by a little quickly for my liking. We continued heading toward the fishing port, leaving the hills and valleys eventually. Kellum directed us easily to daytime shelter for him, and now he sits silently in the corner of the large damp room.

A man had come to see what the three of us were doing in his barn. Kellum killed him and we both had our fill of blood. Witch had watched with some interest as we fed. The farmer never made a sound.

\- Thack -

87 days until the birth of a god

The 22nd day of Winter-Fall, 1537

The three of us ride bareback as the tack for the two broken horses we recaptured was lost in the fires that destroyed Lankar. The wild horse I ride has never even worn tack.

We gallop as much as possible, keeping the horses' stamina levels up with magic. Fortunately my wild steed has good stamina. Because I have to keep it calm and placid with my magic I can't really spare as much to keep it strong, as Meth and Satch can.

We're riding down a dirt track to a small dock area. There we hope to procure a boat to take us to the next island. Fortune favours the bold. But that is not true if they need to be somewhere quickly. It would have been better if we'd gotten a boat at night, letting us rest whilst still on the move, but as it is, the sun past its zenith about four miles back.

The continued rains from yesterday blew out a few hours ago, taking all other late winter cloud with them, meaning that it now feels more like spring.

As we approach the dock, the men working it stop and look at us. We are a rag tag bunch; two dishevelled Calcians, the signs of depleted stamina telling on their faces, and me. I'm dressed all in black, though there are scorch marks on my clothes and hair, and the bite mark on my neck, red and sore, obvious against my naturally pale skin.

Meth slides off his horse and Satch and I halt whilst remaining atop our mounts. Meth walks forward to talk to one of the dockworkers. They exchange a few words and the worker points to a burly man with a barrel chest. Meth walks over to him, nodding at the man when he catches his eye.

"Good day, sir. I wish to charter a boat, your boat. I have heard it is fast."

"Indeed the Tremor is fast, fastest in these waters."

"Then myself, my two brothers," Meth gestures behind at us, only breaking eye contact with the owner of the Tremor momentarily, "and our horses, wish transport to the island of Langsom."

"That will be expensive you know, and she will be considerably slower with the horses on board."

"We will leave the horses then; speed is paramount in this situation," Meth says, making that choice on behalf of myself and Thack.

"As is payment, my friends. I'll take six coin and the three horses you're leaving."

"Only two of the horses are any use to you," Thack cuts in.

"What of the third?" The owner of the Tremor asks, as Meth shoots my younger brother an angered glance.

"It is not broken, but controlled by magic," Meth concedes.

"Then I say twelve coin and the two horses."

"Very expensive, but for that kind of money we need to make land before wanemoon, any later and you will get only the six coin and the horses."

I wonder what Meth is doing. I know full well how much money we have with us.

"A challenge, but a fair deal. It will take me a good few moments to prepare the Tremor. Are you gentlemen going to Solisport by any chance? That's the nearest."

Meth nods and the man with the barrel chest strides off up the dockside and hops across to a slender single-mast vessel, assumption tells me that it is the Tremor. Meth comes back to us.

"I trust the two of you heard that."

We both incline our heads.

"Then dismount, brothers," Meth says with a smile.

"Meth, in case you haven't noticed we do not have six coin between us, let alone twelve," I say quietly, so that there is no chance being overheard.

"I know. It is all in hand. Trust me."

Satch looks across at me and grimaces.

"Why do I always get a bad feeling when he says that?"

\- Meth -

85 days until the birth of a god

The 24th day of Winter-Fall, 1537

My feet hurt and my head aches. Thack is causing a constant throbbing nag in my mind; I can feel his heathen magic pressing against my own. Satch is not helping either. He seems sympathetic to Thack. I know Satch used to be Pagan like Thack, but he came to his senses and began to worship Calcia. Now he should be helping me to convert our brother. Calcia wills it. I will it. So should he.

We need to be catching up with the vampires but now we're crossing the isles on foot it's proving a little hard to keep up. Or at least that's what I think. A village lurks on the horizon, and we're all thankful that there is no sign of destruction. Not yet anyway.

A small black dot has appeared between us and the village. It is a few miles distant but it looks like it could be a person. I point it out to my brothers, extending my arm forth. They are still angry about what happened on the boat.

"Look, on the horizon."

My voice is rather deadpan for some reason; probably because I'm so tired of walking.

"Is that a person?" Satch asks quietly.

"I think so."

"It could be the vampires. If they are master vampires," Thack interjects, before slipping back into his usual silence. It is in his nature to be quiet.

I remember when he was younger he said he did not understand conversation. It puzzled me then, but now I think I get what he meant. He can't comprehend why he should tell people trivial things about himself; they will never need to know them, and they most likely will not remember or care. I feel like that sometimes.

We have continued our walking while I thought. Now I can see that there are four figures, meaning that it cannot be the vampires, not unless they have met up with two more master vampires. But that is incredibly unlikely. I hope.

As the troupe of four nears, it becomes clear that it is a family. A father strides ahead to meet with us, a woman, probably his wife, and two boys follow him. They are dressed shabbily in clothes that are too dirty to be healthy. They have a few possessions with them. They look like refugees of some sort? Are they fleeing the vampires that we are hunting?

The shabby man speaks first. I cannot help but wonder how long they've been fleeing.

"Greetings, good men. My family and I are on our pilgrimage to The Dirigir Oak. Might I trouble Calcia's honourable men for some bread to feed my family?"

They're on pilgrimage? They're not fleeing for their lives? I guess even the poor can worship with fervour just as well as the wealthy can.

"That's fine, how much do you need?" Satch asks. I had expected to be begged for protection from the vampires, or coin, which even we do not have.

"Just enough to get us to Solisport," the man says with a thankful smile.

"Where have you come from?" I ask of the man, intrigued.

"Harwood." It is a town near Scathack, where myself, Satch and Thack grew up. I don't think we've ever been there.

"I meant on this island."

I do not mean to, but the words come out a little harshly. The man shrinks back fractionally, and his smile slips, before answering.

"Oh, we've passed through Menkh, Denro, and now we're going to Solisport," he says a little nervously.

"Have you heard anything of vampires on the island?" Satch asks as he searches through his pack to find them some bread.

"No. Should I have?"

It's best not to say too much, so I remain quiet. Satch hands over some stale bread and the man takes it gladly, a smile once again warming his dirty face.

"Okay, when you get to Solisport, get a boat to Geneet-Sa. Take the longer way around to Far Isle. Don't go to Sacrem."

"As you wish, Father."

"I am a Hunter, not a Father," Satch corrects the man, a smile on his face too.

"My apologies. Veli, Rupar, thank these three Hunters."

The children thank us in their high voices, as does the man's wife, and then we part ways. I'm surprised that Thack didn't object to being called a Hunter.

At least we're now ahead of the vampires, which means that we can set a trap for them. Maybe we'll even get some reinforcements from Midiar.

\- Angel-Mexis -

76 days until the birth of a god

The 33rd day of Winter-Fall, 1537

"Muzbeth! I've found another!"

My shout echoes about the eerily empty town. They knew we were coming. The people of this place either fled or hid. I just found my fourth hider. He had rather foolishly run to the graveyard and had clambered up into the Dirigir Oak. He still cowers there now, clinging to one of the thicker branches in the vague hope that the tree, which looks after the dead, would now look after him in life.

"What are you doing up there, sir?"

He does not respond to my 'put on' ignorant voice. One more try...

"Sir? Are you okay?"

I still get no response. People; I fucking hate them. All they do is think of themselves. It makes the vast majority of them worthless, but the same trait also makes that rare few quite astonishing. I am one of those rare few.

I'm bored of playing this pointless game now, so I delve into my magic; viciously pulling out the wriggling strands that once came so freely to me. Now I have to force them into my care. I am a warlock. I am vengeance. The gods gave me magic, and then they took it away. So I stole it back. Now I'm an abomination to them. And how I love it like that.

I grind the fleeting strands into shape and form and send the spell out. Once I had used the same spell for healing, but now it is only for harm that I use it. The healing magics have been corrupted and now they inflict damage. Now they are fun to use, where once they had been boring and dull.

The man up the tree screams as the spell catches hold of him. He begins to tremble ever so slightly, and then he loses his grip and falls from the tree, hitting a few branches on the way down. He lands with a thud, where, on the ground, he writhes. He clutches oddly at his chest, trying to claw his heart out with his blunt fingernails. I watch intently, seeing his eyes lose focus and eventually see him slip away. How ironic that when he died he did so at the foot of the tree that would protect his soul. That is the only thing of fortune that he has acquired in the recent past.

Muzbeth comes at last and stands close by my side, putting his arm around my waist. His hand begins to caress my side. He obviously wants me and I'm sorely tempted to let him take me. I'm still feeling the high of magic and murder, so I bat has dead and cold hand away playfully. I turn to look at him and he sets his jaw defiantly. I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him lightly on the lips. He does not move. I slide my hands down his trousers. He gets hard. I feel the magic working within him. I smile. He smiles back. I remove my hands. He frowns. I walk away. My sexual game with him continues.

The sun still flies high over Gatheck. The world continues it endless march.

### The Eighth Chapter

\- Thack -

70 days until the birth of a god

The 1st day of Spring-Rise, 1538

Meth had sensed the vampire coming about a mid-hour ago. That's why we're in such a state now. All of our focus is on to organising the town's defence. Satch had ordered all of the women and children to head to the north side of the island as soon as Meth had told us; apparently it would be safer there, or so my brother thinks. Meth's got all of the men that are capable of fighting and is placing them 'strategically' around the town. I'm a little dubious of the tactics taught by the churches, mainly because they managed to go to war with themselves.

He's got them thinly spread, but I know that up against this vampire, it is not any use to fight up close, so variation and distance would be the key. The town's best archer was placed immediately; stationed on a roof with a good view of the town. It is his job to make the first strike against the vampire. I'm sure he'll be scared, but I have faith in these men. They know what they must do and the reasons they must do it. They also know the cost of failure.

I walk over to Meth who is talking at one of the men; I wait for him to finish before I address him. The man walks off with an old short bow in his hand. Are we sending these people to their deaths? Would it be better if we'd lured the vampires away from the populous?

"Meth?"

"Little brother?"

"Do you really think we can win this?" I ask.

Meth makes a signal gesture to a man who is approaching, and the tubby man, probably only into his early twenties, turns and waddles off. His journey wasted.

"Thack, seriously, if you'd become a Calcian like mother wanted you to be, you would understand the kind faith Satch and I have in ourselves. It's not too late either, it would mean you'd be Circle, but it is your calling. We three brothers are meant to be fighting in the name of Calcia together. Look at our situation, it is meant to be. Calcia has made it so," Meth says, completely failing to reassure me.

"Brother, surely you would have noticed, but those years we didn't talk was because I chose to keep my own beliefs, not to take up yours and mothers. That is not going to change. I am what I am. And I suspect that the only reason you're helping me now is because Satch is." My irritation that this is once again his chosen topic of conversation rises, as it invariably does. He never seems to get it though his thick skull that I will not become a Calcian. I do not want to be one. Though I guess it is testament to his character that he believes so vehemently.

"Thack, your heathenism is not all that severe, you could still become a Calcian. You have the talent for magic. You would be a powerful Hunter, one of the best. It is not too late to save yourself. Do you wish to go to Hell when you die? To be with the demons?"

"When I die I will go to the Summerland, not to Hell; that place is reserved for Calcians."

"Never has a good Calcian gone to Hell!" Meth says, a little too loud. A few of the villagers turn to watch us. I'll bet if he gets much louder Satch will soon be along to sort us out.

"And what of the stories concerning the Lighthouse?" I ask, fully expecting some poppycock answer.

"Rumours spread by non-believers such as yourself."

"Don't be stupid Meth. You've got magic, you can feel it. Just search for the pain and terror emanating from that place," I say. Meth's frown becomes a full-on scowl.

"I've had enough of this; you can talk to your brother from now on. I will not have you slander the true faith. Not in my presence. Calcia will see to it when I cannot. May She have mercy on your tarnished soul."

"You are naive brother; it is a pity you got to Satch. He would have been happier if you'd have left him alone. He was happier before."

"True, he does not have the heart of a great Hunter, but I suspect that of all who weren't born to the faith. The Descendants of Calcia are the rightful heirs to Gatheck," Meth says, pride all to evident in his voice. He reminds me of a preacher from the Calcian Wars. He was a tyrant, according to the records.

"You sound like Preacher Vyne. Is that what you want?"

Meth ignores that last statement and just walks away, not even catching my eye.

The battle will come soon.

\- Holste -

We are waiting.

My team made it back to the catacombs just before sunrise this morning, and thankfully, our captive witch remained unconscious, through further spell work, until we'd arrived.

Our journey was much longer on the way back. We had to travel on foot, taking turns to carry the dead-weight witch, thanks to oddly clear skies. There was some light-hearted discussion as to the nature of the strong southerly wind that had upped the risk of being seen. Sincli and Penk thought that it was just natural wind, whereas Lorien and I could tell it was a magical thing. But when all is said and done, it was not viable to fly in the clear blue skies above Gatheck.

Currently we're all in one of the observation rooms. This is one of the larger ones, which is about twenty foot along each wall, and has one wall completely made of spelled glass looking onto a second room, which has the same width but is only about half as deep.

We're watching the newly awakened and very weakened witch coming to terms with the loss of a lot of power.

I can't imagine what it must feel like to wake up and find out that you're no longer free. It must be horrible. But then, he is working against the natural order of things; knowingly going against Calcia, and attempting to disrupt her influence. He deserves all of what he'll get. And by being captured he will be furthering Calcia in a way he can never understand.

A door opens behind us and in steps the man in charge. None of us turn to look at him. He likes it that way. He is the man with the new vision for the defence of Gatheck. He is the commander of our new order. He is known to us only as 'Legion'.

He first found his way to the Lighthouse a few seasons ago, dressed in ornate dark armour, which gleamed in the mid-day sun, I'm told. The story goes that he opened the gates using his magic and forced his way down into the catacombs where he met with the Grandfather Kestaris.

Apparently, when he made his progress around the winding corridors within the Lighthouse, he did not hurt us, he incapacitated us, but did not hurt or kill us. There was a lot of activity, and when the priests went to check on the Grandfather, they found the armoured man in his company. It quietened down then.

I was on the upper floors at the time of Legion's arrival, but word gets around. A few men had come to search the higher levels, but neither had bothered to explain what was going on.

A few hours later Grandfather Kestaris called the thirty-five of us in and told us that we would be forming a new order, and that Legion would be our commander.

"My gentlemen, well done. You have captured yet another perfect specimen," the deep powerful voice from behind us says.

Somehow none of us have ever seen his face, and I can now see the reflections of the rest of my team trying to get a look at him through the reflection in the window. I can't blame them; I'm doing the same. I can see the five of us perfectly clearly, though translucent, but I can only make out a dark shade by the door that must be Legion. He continues.

"So tell me young Father Holste, how did the Void casting go? I am led to believe that you changed it somewhat. Is this true?"

"Yes, Legion, I focussed the Void to only affect a certain type of magic. It meant that my men were completely armed when they apprehended the witch."

"Well done, young Father Holste. But do you see your folly?" Legion asks.

"I am sorry Legion, I do not understand; the mission was a complete success, we were seen by no one."

Fear starts to edge into my voice; a slight quiver that I hope only I can hear. I do not want to irritate him; I've seen what he can inflict on a witch with a single order to one of his subordinates.

"Father Holste, you are meddling with magic you do not understand. To attack a specific kind of magic instead of the entire spectrum can be useful, I agree, but when your own magic is still evolving, you cannot tell when one magic becomes another, albeit still endorsed by the Great Calcia," Legion explains. I swallow hard as a terrifying thought comes to mind.

"Are you saying that we are going to become witches?"

"No, but when you target specific magical matrixes you cannot be sure of locking the spell to that one you require. It may bleed to others, and in that situation, Calcia forbid it ever happen, your men would be left defenceless, unbeknownst to them."

I know he is right. I see my mistake now. We are learning new magics and I have no idea what they effect that will have on the 'matrixes'. We can do some of the things that witches can do, but does that mean that we are witches ourselves, even though we still have faith in Calcia?

"Legion, I am sorry, now I understand that my actions were foolish. I will await my punishment."

"Do not fear young Father Holste, I do not wish to punish you. Nor do I wish to scold you. I am proud that you are willing to advance Calcian magic on your own, without the aid of research. It is just that the spell you created could be a hindrance if used again. But do not forget it. One day that spell may be your only chance of survival, no matter how risky," Legions says, his voice resounding with power. "Now, Head Researcher Iniar, what have you gathered from the new subject thus far?"

Iniar started a little when Legion said his name, and he almost turned to face our commander, before he caught himself and schooled his bodily reflexes.

"Not much, I am afraid; he is still dramatically weakened by the Void spell. I believe he is too weak to cast efficiently in a combat situation. We are currently monitoring him for any magical or physical repercussions of our capture of him."

"Very well, then I shall take my leave of you gentlemen. Calcia watches over you in all that you do."

I nod silently, barely even breathing; the only sound that pierces the silence is that of the door opening behind us. I watch the reflected, shady, and unfocussed figure move through the door and close it behind him. Still the silence prevails. But something nags at the back of my mind. Something is not right. I can't put my finger on it.

I turn to face the men at either side of me. Almost as one we let out a breath of relief. Legion always has this effect. He makes people uneasy, worried, and scared even. His power is phenomenal. I would not like to be on the end of an offensive spell from him.

"I'm going to my quarters for a while. Inform me if anything happens with him," I say, gesturing to the man behind the glass. The witch is completely unaware that we are watching him.

I take a step towards the door and freeze, my footfall echoing loud in the large room. My unplaced finger falls hard on realisation.

No footsteps.

\- Muzbeth -

I enjoy hunting. It further hones my instincts and abilities, and I also fall further into the depths of evil and bliss. The night has lifted and the blue sparks are hidden by the light blue sky of the first day of spring. I'm running alone toward my latest hunting ground, a small hill-top village.

During the day Witch comes with me, to exact her revenge on the people that betrayed her, and during the night Kellum and I ravage settlements, whenever we can find them.

We'd eventually left Sacrem, heading north towards Gatheck, in a small boat during the night, island hopping in the darkness. Each day we would stop on an island and each night we would forge on. Kellum says that there should be just two more nights before we reach Gatheck proper.

It has been too long since we last found unprepared civilisation to torment. As of late the towns and villages have usually been evacuated to some extent.

During our travel overland I had noticed a small hamlet on the horizon. I grow bored so easily at the moment that I made a mental note of it. I'm heading there now to have some fun.

Technically I'm here with Witch, but I've left her trailing behind me. I'm going to devour everyone there, so that when Witch finally turns up we can't be interrupted; I've wanted to 'have' her since we first met. I'm bored of travelling and now I'm bored of playing her games; if she doesn't want to give me her body, then I will just have to take it from her, dead or alive. It matters little to me.

During our travels I've not been able to eat properly as the villages have become scarce and the inhabitants of those villages had fled their homes. As such I look like a three-week-old corpse that's been left out in the sun, which is pleasant enough for me, not so much for Witch or the humans I encounter.

As I get nearer to the village I realise that it is in fact perched atop a cliff, not a hill. I reach inside myself to connect with the Demon and cast my magic. As it takes effect I feel the musculature on my back shift; the bones change shape and my insides move to make room for the massive muscles forming down my sides. My skin ripples and stretches, sliding over new bones. I wonder if it hurts when living creatures, capable of feeling pain, BodyShift. That's the name given to the spell by... the Calcians? I'm not sure who actually.

There is a tearing sound as my dirty shirt rips from the strain of my expanding torso. I pull it off with a yank and let it flutter off into the sky, playing on the strong winds.

I do the same; tensing my new muscles harshly, I drag down the two fourteen feet long wings, which sprout from my shoulder blades, and rocket into the air, straight up. A few more beats and I'm about seventy feet up. It is truly amazing to be able to fly. To see a portion of Gatheck laid out below me, so small and seemingly useless. It makes me feel alive and powerful for some reason; I feel like a god up here.

I glance down at the entire island which is displayed beneath me; I can see the empty tavern Kellum is staying in, see the tiny speck that is Witch trying to find me on the ground, and the cliffs on which the little village nestles, perched above a massive drop down to the hard rock, which would smash to pieces any that fell upon them. I beat my wings a few times and manoeuvre myself until I am facing the village. A mighty beat of my wings propels me at speed toward the cluster of buildings.

I swoop in low over the houses, letting the wind carry me there. I drop into the middle of the houses, a central area that has remained clear of buildings. A road divides the village in two, with houses seemingly scattered randomly about it. There are no people on the trodden dirt road, which leads only from the first house to the last. I dispel my magic, feeling my body return to its natural shape as my wings fail to exist any longer; their magic seeping into the space around me.

Something thuds into my shoulder, I look down; an arrow sticks out of my dry flesh. I cast around with my eyes and pick out the lone figure on a rooftop, a bow in hand, and a second arrow nocked and ready to loose. He fires again but misses my head by less than an inch. I don't flinch. It is not because I am making an effort to stay still, but because I am not scared at all. I know such a crude weapon as an arrow cannot kill me. Something thuds into my back, tearing through my lungs and out of between my ribs; breaking my chest cavity wide open.

\- Meth -

The vampire came in low over the rooftops, and thankfully failed to see Pryor hiding atop the agronomists building. It landed in the centre of the houses with an air confidence. Its pale wings shimmered and faded to nothing as the flesh of its bared torso contorted and reverted.

I looked up to see Pryor's pale face looking back and I gave him the nod, signalling him to commence. I looked to my left at Satch, indicating that we should raise our shields. Together we hefted the six-foot length of sharpened stake and walked out on to the single street.

I felt the stakes weight lighten and, as planned, let it go. It remained in the air, defying gravity; Thack is playing was part, thankfully. I stood next to Satch and touched his hand. His power flooded into me. Immediately I felt our magic, gifted to us by Calcia, entwine and become stronger for it. We cast together, forcing the stake toward the vampire's back at tremendous speed.

It struck home.

\- Muzbeth -

I look down at my ruined chest. A branch has forced its way through my once vital organs. I drop to my knees and howl, though no sound comes out; my lungs are ruined.

I feel for the branch at my back, it's about six inches thick, and it protrudes from my chest a good ten inches at the front. Something hits the ground to my left. I look and see an arrow lodged in the dirt. More arrows begin to fall; they thud into the ground all around me, every now and then one lances into my body. I ignore them all.

Gripping at the protruding branch which leers out of my chest, I push it out of my back, reaching around to remove the last half foot of it when I can reach no further to push it through me from the front. Another arrow bites into my cheek. I only notice because now I cannot close my jaw.

I stand up, finally free of the weaponized-branch. The hole in my chest heals over after just a few instants and a little magic. I look around to see that there are many archers, and walking toward me are three men. I recognise one of them, but the other two I do not. The one I have seen before is tall and young, and looking a lot worse for wear since I last met him. His black hair is singed and his face is pale from weariness, though he still wears his dark leathers. Of the trio, the biggest is probably in his middle twenties. He's also the tallest; his height and stature improved by a broad chest surrounded by muscle ridden limbs. The other man is probably still in his teens and is small and scrawny looking. He has dark brown short hair and a small moustache covering his top lip. The leather dressed man's new friends are dressed in the Calcian garb; they're probably hired Hunters. How foolish.

"You are mistaken if you think you can kill me."

"You underestimate the power of Calcia."

It was the small man that spoke, and in his eyes was a glint of malice. Malice and Calcia, how those two go hand in hand. And it is said that we vampires are brutal. The Church is more a murderer than I.

"Oh, Calcia does not scare me, gentlemen, for I am a god amongst vampires."

A smile would have reached my lips if they were not pulled back by rigor. I liked feeling like a god. But I am. I'm a Lys-Karalis. Deity and Ruler.

"Name, vampire, now."

"I am Muzbeth, high lord to Mankind and supreme ruler of Gatheck. I would ask your names too, but it would be a waste of your breath. You don't have much left," I pause, mainly for effect, "I can assure you." I finish sinisterly in my malicious voice.

Now the man in black steps past the dark haired Calcian and addresses me a little too bravely considering our last encounter and how that turned out for him.

"Well, that may be so, but we will take our chances. I am Thack, and these are my brothers, Meth and Satch," he says, gesturing that Satch is the larger of the two.

"And I am supposed to care about you, why?"

"Because we are your destruction. You are evil," the one called Meth announces.

"Thank you, but good and evil are points of view," I say as I pull out an arrow from my shoulder.

"Only those of evil have that opinion," the bigger man, Satch, spoke through gritted teeth.

Maybe these three brothers would prove a challenge to me after all; a worthy opponent at last. The brother called Satch continues.

"You will leave the Cracked Lands now and you will not return here. You have seen what our magic can do. If you wish to face us we will engage you at the north end of the Gatheck Range, outside the City of Scathack. It is our home."

"And I'm going to do as you ask because?" I ask, playing with the hearty meal standing before me.

"Because we will kill you now if you do not. We are giving you a chance to grow more powerful, we on the other hand are buying ourselves time to set our affairs in order so that should we fail to destroy you we will not leave considerable difficulties behind us for those that follow," Meth says in what is evidently his most political voice. His eyes still hold their malice and distaste.

"No. You do not understand," I tell them, "I am going to kill all of you on this cliff-top. Every last one of you, and I can promise it won't be quick.

"These men with us defend their homes, they will not easily fall."

I chuckle to myself hollowly.

"So?"

I raise my palms and flame erupts from my hands, cascading toward the three brothers, but the flame hits some invisible barrier and rolls around them, harmlessly.

"You are outnumbered Muzbeth, leave here."

I do not catch who said it, but their overconfidence pisses me off. I roar, this time making a bestial sound which is carried for miles around thanks to the wind and the open geography up atop the bluff.

I rush forward, moving as fast as my dead body can carry me. I brush past Meth, let a hand connect with Satch's jaw and crash directly into Thack, pitching him off his feet. I grab him in mid-flight and carrying him toward the cliff edge, intent on throwing him to his death at the base of the vertical rock. Just a few more steps to the edge, and as one of the steps go, so does my captive. His weight changed in my arms and then he disappeared.

I grind to a stop and look around, everyone in the village, all the archers and the two Calcian Hunters, are nowhere to be seen. This is a trap. I wander back to the street cautiously, eyes everywhere. Looking for any signal as to what they're up to. My eyes see something. There are two people here; I'm one of them and the other is a tall man covered in a black cowl, carrying a silver scythe, which glints in the sunlight. It has two handles, which are gripped in hands that are covered by the cowl he wears. Its slender wooden structure curves around his body, drawing my eyes up to a pitch-black emptiness where the light fails to find his face.

"You! Tell me what is happening here!" I yell.

He does not say anything. He just stands there, somewhat sedately. I walk towards him, summoning up the magic that will protect me from that scythe.

"Do you not hear me? Or is this insolence just going to be a prelude to your death?"

Again, he refuses to speak. The way he is just standing there, holding his scythe like a staff, is actually quite disconcerting. It's similar to the way a hunter will play dead to get to its prey, though he is leaning on his staff slightly, not playing dead. There are only a few feet between us now.

"Do not test my patience; I will not hesitate to destroy you."

But he is testing my patience. I still get nothing from him but silence. I grow my nails and thrust my hand into his torso as I get within range. I strike my hand into his insides, but he does not flinch at all. I remember my ignorance of the arrows; he is doing the same thing. I knew the arrows could not hurt me, and he knows I cannot hurt him. He does not make a noise; he does not even rock from the force of my strike. He is taller than me and as I look up into his shadowed face I suddenly get very worried.

The scythe swings around and cleaves my forearm from the rest of me. I scream in pain and fall to the ground, scrambling away from the man dressed in black. I see his pale hand gripping the scythe and he swings it across my gut, slicing open my stomach and dragging my dead entrails with it. My eyes roll back in their sockets but I fight my reactions and pain so that I can look upon my murderer.

"Don't kill me! I don't want to die!" I plead.

"You are dead already," he finally says. His dry words fall slowly from dry lips.

He swings his scythe down into my face. I feel it cut into my forehead and slice at my brain. Real pain comes to me for the first time. It feels like my very soul is being sucked out through the scythe blade, like something's clawing at my brain and my eyes. I feel the hollowness where my soul should be. It feels like an angel is inside me instead of a demon, and it's burning its way out.

The weight in my arms shifts, my legs and feet pound against the floor and my mind lurches, horrible phantom beats cracking the dry organ. I don't understand. My brain swims in confusion. I don't know what I'm doing. I desperately try to figure out what the hell is going on. I have both of my arms, I have legs attached, and I'm holding a man.

Suddenly I'm falling, the person that was in my arms is forgotten. Instinctively I beat my wings hard to slow my descent, it works. Apparently I've still got my instinctive magic. But it is tired and I know I can't hold it for long. My sudden exhaustion is almost paralysing. I need blood. Sweeping out into the ocean I circle and head further up the shore, attempting to skirt that abomination of a town. I land about a mile up from the town and lay spread eagle a rocky beach at the base of a cliff, completely exhausted. I need sleep but my body doesn't. I hope I'm dying. I just want something, anything, to end the hollowness within me which I am now so wholly aware of. I lie on the beach, staring at the sun willing it to take this soulless monster in.

\- Satch -

His punch glances off my chin, causing little damage but enough to bring the taste of blood to my mouth. I look around at the vampire, who's got Thack in his arms somehow. My younger brother is apparently too shocked to do anything to free himself. Suddenly I'm up and running, charging after the vampire as it heads to the cliff, no doubt intent on throwing my brother off.

As it nears the edge, the vampire falters in its step and slows dramatically, though he still runs toward the drop. I'm gaining on the pair fast. Just a few more steps and I'll have caught him.

To my horror I see it happen.

He doesn't stop running; straight over the cliff they both pitch. I dive forward, reaching out a solitary hand and a single lifeline, grabbing at my slow falling sibling. I catch a hand and the vampire plummets. I look into Thack's eyes and see it; his faith. The faith I used to have, and in that moment something leaves me, a terrible loss that tears at my soul and strength, it makes me weak. Calcia has deserted me, taking the strength to save my brother with her. I speak to my hanging brother, the words coming naturally, but through gritted teeth.

"I've got hold of you and I won't let you die, not today, not for a long time," I say as a tear rolls down my cheek. Thack just smiles calmly up at me.

"You can't die!" I tell him, "I need you to help me though all of this. I've come back." My voice is breaking, and my arm is burning. I can't hold him much longer.

"Thack. No," I whisper as our fingers lose their tenacious grip and he falls, a long and agonising fall, viewed by me alone on top of the bluff. His landing is a long time coming and when he finally hits the base of the cliff there is a red spray to rival that of the ocean. I couldn't save him. I wanted to but I could not. Calcia killed him. Calcia made me incapable of saving him.

All I can think of as I turn to watch the vampire fly away is my brother's last few words, shouted to me as he descended to his untimely death.

"Keep faith!"

### The Ninth Chapter

\- Muzbeth -

70 days until the birth of a god

The 1st day of Spring-Rise, 1538

I stumble into the abandoned tavern just before sunset, tired, though slightly magically regenerated. Witch runs to the door to hug me tightly. Her body feels hot against mine.

Inside the tavern nothing has changed, spare the dust, which has been churned up by our movements. Still there are the rotting tables strewn about the place, though there are no chairs to be seen. The shelves that line the wall behind the bar are empty save for a few long empty, dust-covered bottles, their little white labels bleached by the sun streaming in through the twelve-foot wide hole in the roof.

"Kellum said you'd find your way back here! Where did you go? I was worried!" Witch blurts out a little too quickly.

"Went for a walk. Wish I hadn't."

"Why? What happened? Muzbeth, tell me!" she demands, as relief replaces the panic in her eyes.

"Where's Kellum? He should hear this too," I say to her.

"He's in the cellar, I'll take you down to him."

Witch turns to head over to the cellar door, but I grab her by the hand and turn her back to face me. I pull her close into another embrace.

"No, I need to eat," I tell her, "I'm exhausted; I can't even use magic anymore."

"Don't worry, Kellum'll be able to go and find you someone."

I smile at her. She smiles back thinking I'm going to agree with her. I'm not.

"I need you."

"What? No," she says defiantly, trying to push away from me.

"No? You refuse your master the necessities of life?"

"Kellum told me that you'd kill me if I let you feed from me," Witch says as the panic once again returns.

I throw out a fist, aimed at her face. It stops a few inches from her face, energy crackling around it my hand. Her magic is stronger than I am at the moment. But for how much longer?

"Fine! If I die on your head be it," I spit, before pushing here away.

"Come on then." She scowls at me but seems to come to her senses.

Witch proffers her hand, trying to help me walk to behind the bar where the trapdoor to the cellar is, but I push it away, a little less violently than I would have liked. She looks at me, a look of fear flashing across her face momentarily and the recognition of truth in her eye. No longer would she entertain thoughts of sleeping with me. Now she knows I am truly evil and that I care for none but myself. I came to realise that upon that rocky beach a mile from the hamlet.

"What?" she asks, stupidly. Is she trying to deny herself the truth she's just seen. I'll give her more proof.

"I can fucking walk on my own! Dare you diminish my authority by assisting me? I will make Kellum's prophecy true if you would wish it. Just leave me alone."

She looks away from me and my broken and disturbing voice. It takes me a moment to realise that they were not my own words; I was speaking like Kellum again. Witch is evidently trying now not to meet my eyes. In sullen silence she pops behind the counter and pulls open the trapdoor set into the floor.

She stands aside, respectfully allowing me to enter first; I jump down silently, the only noise is made by my feet on the damp cellar floor. I look around for Kellum and see a shadowy figure in the corner.

"Why did you not tell me I would be attacked?"

"Because I have to look. Occasionally the visions come to me, but most often I have to look myself. You did not tell me you were going there, I did not expect to need to look. That is why I did not tell you. Why did you leave Witch behind?"

"You know why, you would have seen my intentions."

"Yes, you idiot, intentions, I see what is going to happen. Not what is done, or what is happening, but what is to come. I cannot tell you what you are thinking!" he shouts back, frustration in his voice.

How insolent! Who the hell does he think he is? Maybe he's getting some thoughts above his station. I will have to sort that out.

"Speak to me like that once more and you will never see anything again. Understood?"

"How can you be so blind? You are in no state to be making threats. I can see the future. I know what you will do. Get over yourself. You may be one of the Lys-Karalis, but fuck me; you are an arrogant fool as well."

My blood positively boils. I will not forget this. I reach for my magic and feel it there. I summon it up, preparing to form it, but it does not come. It has failed me, probably because of my earlier encounter. Time for a different approach I think.

"I am beginning to tire of your assumed immunity from me. Just because I tolerate you, does not give you licence to live without threat from me," I say, rolling my shoulders. When all is said and done I'm still the stronger man.

"Are you even capable of listening?" he asks with a shake of his head.

Kellum is getting quite wound up now. I notice that he is beginning to shake with anger. Without my magic to protect me, he is a little threatening. I let him continue.

"I could strike you down now. You have no magic, or at least will not cast if you do. Now what the fuck happened to you? Witch came to find me a couple of hours ago and told me you'd lost her. So I looked for you, and you were lying on a beach somewhere. Now last time I checked sunbathing wasn't all that tiring!"

"Oh, and you would know. Very well, though your insubordination has been noted and you will be punished later. Just hope my ire has lessened by then."

So I tell them exactly what happened, though I keep my reason for going to the village to myself, there's no point in letting Witch know my intentions now.

When I finish my description of the attack, Witch pauses for a moment, just staring at me down through the trapdoor, then she stands up abruptly, and takes a few steps back, I smell something akin to fear emanating strongly from her.

I have known this was coming since the three of us left that tavern where she dressed. I have known for a long while, but until now, I did not know when it would happen.

"How could I have been so blinded by vengeance? My gods want you dead, and now I have seen sense, I will strive to make it so, no matter how long it takes," Witch says from the upper floor, with a slight tremble in her voice.

"Ah, poor Witch, I have known of your treachery for a long time, I know how this encounter ends."

She pauses momentarily. Then I assume realisation sets in as she figures out how I knew.

"Kellum. Of course, I should have figured that one long ago, but then, I've only intended on killing you for a few seconds, how long have you known?"

"Oh, since we first met in that stupid little village. I've only kept you for the chance of bedding you on your own terms. Now I'll do it on mine."

"No! Master," Kellum interrupts me, "she must be allowed to run, she will not get far. You will send me after her – to kill her, and she will scream. That is what I have seen." His futures sort of makes sense. Given my own state of wellbeing, which frankly is not good, I'll need some blood before I can be my usual voracious self again.

That said, I want this. Kellum must be wrong.

"No, she will be mine."

"Master, it is destiny," Kellum pleads.

Kellum is calling me master? This is new, but it is right. If he truly believes that he must kill her...

"It is a pity, but very well. Run, Witch, run like never before."

And she does. Witch runs like hell, heading toward the door. I long to chase her down and make her suffer. She should never have thought of harming me. Kellum walks forward slowly, his head turning to look up at the quickly darkening light coming in through the trapdoor; suddenly he tenses and jumps up into the bar proper. His face looks down at me through the hole and he shakes his head.

"My 'Karalis, she will suffer. I will bring you her blood if you wish it?"

"That will not be necessary, I am feeling stronger; her fear has fed me. Make her pay."

And he disappears into the fresh night. A few moments later I hear Witch squeal. I strain my senses and manage to hear what is being said.

"I do not want to hurt you, Witch, but that does not mean I won't," Kellum says.

"Then let me go Kellum," Witch pleads.

"Sorry, did I say I didn't want to hurt you? I lied."

"Kellum, please. There is no need to kill me, your master will never know. Just tell him you killed me," she tries to bargain.

"Unfortunately for you, my loyalties are strong and will not be tested so easily."

"But... Please, I don't want to die. I... You could come with me, we could go together, and we never have to see him again."

"Witch, I do like you, but now you must scream; for me, for all the vampire Lys-Karalis, and for your master, Muzbeth."

And then it comes, a deliciously tender scream, full of fear and desperation and best of all, pain.

Though I will never get to have her, I will always be warmed inside knowing that she suffered so much in her last moments.

***

Kellum and I made the final journey to Gatheck under the light of a full moon. Being unhindered by Witch meant we could move much faster and travel all night. We reached the Heartland coast an hour before dawn; its white sandy beaches a stark change from their rocky counterparts on the Cracked Isles.

To the east and stretching to the northern shore of the Heartland stood the mighty Gatheck Range, the mountains in which The Heart nestles. I'd never seen them before and they were, and still are, truly inspiring, hundreds of giants pointing at the blue sparks. I only wish that Witch could have been there to see them with us. Despite her stupidity in trying to betray me, she really was very attractive. But still, there will be plenty more women here in the Heartland.

I looked to the sky above the mountains to the east, and saw the first signs of the morning light beginning to crack the dark sky. I faced Kellum.

"So where do we go from here?"

"There is a city about two miles down the coast; we'll head there. We must walk."

And walk we did. We still walk. The Gatheck Range seems to have hardly moved. As we walk my thoughts turn back to my heritage and the myths surrounding Calcia.

"So how could you become a Lys-Karalis?" I ask, kicking at the sand.

"W-what?" Kellum stops abruptly, staring at me, I continue walking for a few paces before turning to face him. Walking backwards, I smile, and talk.

"Remember, you told me that it was possible for a normal vampire to become a Lys-Karalis."

"Ah, of course." Kellum rubs at his eyes, and jogs forward a few paces to come alongside me, meaning I can turn and walk forwards again. He continues. "Well, when a normal vampire challenges a Lys-Karalis and wins, they inherit the powers of the Lys-Karalis."

"I know that, but I want to know how. And if it can be stopped? And what's Calcia got to do with it all?"

"Oh, erm," Kellum pauses, evidently thinking of how best to explain what he knows to me. I'm not even sure I'll understand it, but I'd like to know regardless. He continues in less than a moment. "I don't know for sure but from what I've gathered from my years around Lys-Karalis I would make an educated guess and say it was something to do with demon transference. You see, a Lys-Karalis is exactly the same as a normal vampire, technically. It just that they have 'subservient' demons within them. We normal vampires do not. I would guess they get swapped over somehow, hence transferring demons. As to whether or not it could be stopped, that I don't know. I'm not sure even what the process of becoming a Lys-Karalis is; I just know that the other Lys-Karalis have to be involved somehow."

"Would you ever want to become a Lys-Karalis?" I ask, wondering exactly how high with the vampire ranks he'd like to climb.

"Oh hell no, and I couldn't," Kellum replied, without a second thought.

Evidently he has no delusion as to his rank in comparison to me. Time for a bit of digging I think.

"I thought you said-" I begin.

"Trust me," my mentor and subject interrupts, "if I could, I would. You see, you're thinking I am this body. I am not, I'm a demon using this body. I, the demon, would just get chucked into another body and the subservient demon would get this body, and whoever I was before I died would be in control once again. It's the body that becomes the Lys-Karalis. Many vampires have made that mistake and paid the price for it when their revived hosts want their revenge."

"Well I never. It's so complicated, isn't it?"

Understatement of the season, that. To be honest with myself most of this is passing me by. I can't even really remember exactly what he just said. I guess I almost zoned out.

"Oh, there's more," Kellum announces.

"Go on."

"It's not about becoming a Lys-Karalis or anything like that. It's this city we're heading toward, Midiar. I need to ask you something; would you please not kill too many people?"

His question surprises me, given all that we've done together. Great, he must have 'seen' something. I can't think of anything that would stop me from killing, so why should I? Nothing can challenge me. I'm a Lys-Karalis. Though, perhaps I'd better find out why he wants me to not kill.

"What? Why not?"

"It is a city for a start, much larger than any village, and their clergy will be in greater numbers than those that pilgrimage to The Dirigir Oak, and they'll be organised to boot. You'll need to keep a low profile."

"Are you saying that they're going to be a threat to us?" I ask. I'm not sure if that worries or excites me. Provided the cowled man isn't there, I don't see how anything could be a threat.

"No, they'll be a threat to you," Kellum says.

"What about you?" I ask.

"I'm afraid we must part company," he says simply.

"What?" I ask, shocked. This is turning out to be a really disappointing conversation. First I don't understand, then I'm not allowed to kill, and now I'm going to lose the foresight Kellum grants me. This is just fucking fantastic. Can this possibly get any better?

"It is our future. I have seen it. But do not worry; in Midiar you will meet a more 'forthcoming' accomplice. You and she will get on very well indeed."

She? Maybe it will get better after all. I hope she is more forthcoming than dear Witch was. And hopefully she'll be just as attractive. But what of Kellum; why has he suddenly decided that we must part?

"So where are you going?"

"I am going to find the other Lys-Karalis. I have seen things that they need to be aware of; threats to the vampire race."

"I am a Lys-Karalis; tell me, I will deal with these threats. It is my job as ruler of the vampires."

"No offence Muzbeth, but for this we'll need more than one Lys-Karalis. You will meet the others one day, and you and I shall certainly meet again. But know that we must now part. I do not wish for you to follow me, and from what I have seen, you will not. So I thank you, for it has truly been an honour to serve you."

"I would say the pleasure was mine, but that'd be a lie," I say with an honest smile.

Together we share a chuckle, which dies out far too quickly, and both of us fall into the silence of our thoughts.

A mid-hour later, we are about to enter the coastal city, Kellum's voice penetrates the gentle crashing of the waves.

"It is time I left you, my good friend," Kellum says, showing his teeth to me once more.

"Indeed, you have served me well," I say, resisting the odd urge to engage in a manly embrace. Instead I merely clap him on the shoulder.

The tall odd accented gentleman turns and walks away toward the dull lights of early morning in Midiar. I stand and watch until he disappears between the buildings, gone to hide from the sun.

He never answered my question about Calcia. Damn.

\- Holste -

The pews are hard and a cold draft is blowing on the back of my neck, making it stiff and achy. My team and I are in the Lighthouse chapel, up on the eleventh floor. Penk, Sin, and Iniar are lit up with excitement. Lorien and I are not so thrilled.

Every seat is taken; even the isle is filled with bodies crouching shoulder to shoulder, so that more can have a decent view. We are all here to listen to the words of our leader; Grandfather Kestaris. Obviously some would rather be here than those that have to be.

The ancient, wizened old man is stood on the podium at the head of the room, leaning heavily on the lectern in front of him. Surrounding him is his four-strong honour guard, staring impassively out at the faces staring intently back. Kestaris' dark hair is the only thing that contradicts his age; it is well known that Calcia has blessed him with an unnaturally long life. His hair, by all rights, given his age, should be as white as snow. Grandfather Kestaris has a deeply lined but oddly youthful face, but his body has been crippled by so many years.

There is a slight murmur of hushed voices, but the majority of us are silent, waiting for the words from the Grandfather.

The heat in the room is oppressive; it is the heat given by the sheer weight of bodies in the vast room. An eerie silence falls as Grandfather Kestaris clears his throat. Even the sound of breathing seems to stop.

"My children, I thank you all for gathering here on this ChurchDay. Calcia smiles down upon you. Today I will relate to you a tale of joy. But it is not my joy. It is the joy of our Lady, Calcia. Her joy comes not from watching our lives and the joy therein. Her greatest joy is that of the repentant sinner; for there will be more joy in Heaven over one sinner who repents, than over ten that need no repentance. And so I ask all of you, here before me, to take this with you when you stride out into the lands of Gatheck. To tell this to every sinner you come across. For even if only one person repents..."

And so on and so forth. I know Calcia must hate me for ignoring our Grandfather, but I cannot stand sermons like this; when I have to give them I prefer to orate upon the older times of Calcia; the stories of brimstone and ash; the good stuff that puts the fear of Calcia into you, not this namby-pamby stuff of forgiveness and repentance. I shuffle in my seat and try to gain an ounce of extra comfort.

I massage my neck; I could be here a while.

\- Satch -

Meth stands on the makeshift podium, surrounded by the people from the village. None of them knew Thack, but still they are here to give their thanks and respect to a good man who helped to save their village. I will thank them for that later.

Meth clears his throat, drawing the accumulated attention, and speaks his peace.

"Thank you all for coming to give your respects to our dear brother Thack. Next year will be the first year I spend with only one brother by my side, and so when spring comes again, a year from now, I'll be holding on to anything I can. I'll be waiting for the rains to wash away the pain and the bad memories of the coming year."

I'm surprised at how touching Meth is being. For the most part of their lives my older and younger brothers hated each other. But I guess they still loved each other too. Family is family, after all is said and done. 'Family'; how are we going to tell father? Can we even afford to do it in person while the vampire is on the loose? I return my attention to my brother.

"An angel got his wings at last, and we all should know that he's fine and in the embrace of Calcia and those that he has loved and lost. We will be in his embrace one day, when Calcia cares for our souls. When we cease to grieve, does that mean we do not care for him anymore? I think not. In my heart he will be with me forever, and I hope he will live on that way in yours. Thack's death makes me think about the life I've had, of all the things I've done and said; of the regrets that will always haunt me. But the winter snow melts even now and the spring showers fill rivers that will flow on for years to come. The winter comes to an end, and the spring will make life easier on everyone as it brings new life with it. Friends, you will only ever have each other, do not forget that; your family is as much the people around you as it is your siblings and parents. Thack will always mean so much to me, even if he didn't know it. All I ask is that you all give a thought for Thack-Rayva on this day, as he gave his life for yours."

As my only surviving brother talks to the few that have gathered for my dead brother's funeral, I whisper to ears that cannot hear, and a soul that will wait.

"There will be no blinding light for us, nor a tunnel lit so brightly that it is all we can see. There will be just you and I, our hands clasped tight. You'll lead me to wherever we need to go. I'll never look back. I've lost you and that scares me, but we'll be together again soon. You and I saw so much during the years that we grew. The time for you to rest is now; and it is nothing to fear, Thack. There was nobody beside you when your soul departed for the Summerland, but I will follow you into the darkness. I will find my way to the Summerland, and to you. Soon brother."

A tear pricks at my eye and depression flows over me, hitting me in an instant. I will never see my little brother again. Never get to see him smile, hear him and Meth argue, or tell him that I love him. My brother is gone, and a part of me left with him.

I look down into the pit, in which his broken body now lays covered in a white sheet. There is no coffin available for the brave man that I couldn't save. It is an unfitting burial for someone who should not be dead at all. I will follow him into the dark. And I will not follow Calcia anymore.

\- Muzbeth -

68 days until the birth of a god

The 3rd day of Spring-Rise, 1538

I've been here for two days now, still waiting to meet whoever it is I'm supposed to meet. 'Forthcoming', Kellum had said she would be.

It is incredibly boring here in Midiar, I'm keeping my presence in the city low key so that I don't get driven out. Not that I think they could, but I've got to keep people here if I am to meet my new accomplice. Hopefully that day will come soon.

\- Satch -

61 days until the birth of a god

The 10th day of Spring-Rise, 1538

"What the fuck was that all about Meth? 'An angel got his wings'? You know he's a Pagan!" I shout. Meth looks at me, his eyes weary. Behind his dark pupils I can see the fire of righteousness rising.

"WHAT!" I scream, as the pent up anger finally breaks out in a torrent of conflicting emotions.

"Satch! He was a Pagan. He's dead!" Meth hisses back at me, severely.

"I know, Meth, I know. But why did you have to say those things? I am loathe to believe most of it," I spit back, my heart driving my words.

"Thack and I may have argued a lot, we may have even hated each other from time to time, but I never stopped loving him. He is my brother too. Just because we believed in different things didn't stop us being brothers!" Meth shouts back.

I hate to admit it, but he has a point. The fire and rage in my belly dies down as I see the distress showing upon his face.

"I'm sorry. I just assumed that you were still getting at him," I confess.

"It doesn't matter; all we can do now is stick together. We've got to help each other get through this, and when we find that fucking vampire, Calcia help it, even the deepest pit of Abadon will not match what we will put him through."

This argument was long in coming. Seven days passed before I even spoke to Meth properly. Now we continue walking in silence. We're heading north.

Even though we only worked together briefly as a trio, I feel like Thack's always been here.

"I miss him you know. It's only been ten nights and already I miss him terribly. Meth, will it get easier?" I ask, afraid of the answer.

"I'm afraid not. Not yet anyway. It was different with mum, we couldn't do anything then. This time we can, and I don't think it will get any easier until we can avenge him. Calcia will make us her avenging angels."

Oh no, she won't. She abandoned me. I have no idea how I'm going to tell him that, but I can't cast with him anymore, not until he finds out. I'll tell him I've reverted to Paganism again soon. Thack, make me tell him soon.

"Thack's killer will get what is coming to him," I say, looking ahead to the horizon. "We'll find him soon Meth, and then he'll regret ever rising from the grave."

The Tenth Chapter

\- Muzbeth -

32 days until the birth of a god

The 1st day of Spring-Fall, 1538

As long as I've been here I've been living in Hell. I can smell all of the little people in this disgusting city. Oh how I wish I could just burst out into the street and massacre them all.

I've hardly eaten, only one vagrant every two nights; people that nobody will miss. I've been cooped up in a small room too, as I'm only able to pay with what I find on the bodies I feed from. That is why I'm in a tiny room which stinks of piss and stale ale. In normal circumstances I would just kill and take, as is the way of the vampire, but this fucking stupid sense of duty I feel for Kellum is keeping me from doing just that. What the hell am I thinking? I am a Lys-Karalis, I cannot be stopped. I will not be stopped by anyone, let alone the words of a frightened vampire.

I get up and prowl the room, pacing back and forth, trying to decide whether I should fulfil my desires or not. What if they can defeat me? Kellum wouldn't have warned me if they couldn't, would he?

Fuck it. I snatch up my coat and slip it on, doing up the first few buttons as I head to the door. I pull it open and stride out into the corridor, allowing it to slam shut behind me. I head to the end of the corridor and take the wide steps down to the bar level two at a time; a new vigour in my step. My senses fill with the promise of death and destruction, filling my mind with joy. The barman catches my eye and nods at me, a human gesture. I spit at him in return, the saliva hitting the table next to the poorly kept bar, he shouts some faint curse which I ignore as I walk to the door. My attention need not be pricked by the likes of him. He will die later, when I return. I kick the front door open hard enough to make the wood splinter and the hinges buckle; the door half falls off. The barkeep shouts more rowdily at this and the rest of the mostly empty bar quietens.

I step out into the cobbled street as the setting sun begins its final descent behind a large domed building. I look about; all eyes are staring at me and my grand appearance. I let out a bestial roar, my voice cracking under the pressure and returning to its disturbing sound.

I had healed myself so as to pass for human, but I need not keep up pretences anymore. Further up the street I hear the sound of breaking glass and turn my head quickly enough to see a figure plummet from a second floor window, land feet first and then topple sideways. Heads poke out of the window temporarily and retract instants later. I am intrigued, but there is now a sizeable group of people between myself and the person who had fallen.

Growing my nails and hardening them I latch onto the stone lower wall of the tavern, climbing up the side of the building a good six feet to reach its wooden upper floor. The people that have seen me are screaming and running now, but there are still many who have not seen or realised what I am and what is happening. Foolishly they now come for a closer look.

I tense my muscles and launch myself at the area where the person landed. I sail over the crowd and hear the shouts of the people in it; those that have noticed the man flying through the air above them. I land, skidding slightly, and nearly trip on the cobbles, as the momentum is too much for even one such as I to counter.

Straightening up I look at the person who fell. It is a woman, in her early- to mid-twenties. She has curly mousey brown hair, and most noticeable of all, she is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. I feel the magic course through my veins and I get 'half-stocked', magic dragging the blood with it, at the mere sight of her. She looks up at me and smiles, in both a sensual and a warm way. I want her now.

Two men rush into the street from the building to my side. The building she jumped from.

"Are you okay?" I ask of her. She does not answer, but brushes herself off and stands up, favouring one leg over the other. Evidently the fall injured her. She gives me that smile again and turns to the two men. I follow her gaze; the men are big and burly, dressed in cheap clothes I would expect to find manual labour workers wearing. They are blatantly poor. They are unshaven and the uglier of the two, a man with a hooknose and beady dark eyes, has a red hand-shaped mark on his cheek.

"Your abilities as a lover are somewhat lacking," she says brazenly, "and as for your... companion, shall we say? He is hardly noticeable at all in that area." She turns to me and mouths the words 'very small', before turning back to the two men. "I have to wonder about the somewhat dubious relationship the two of you share. I'm sure even a sodomite would turn his head know of the things the two of you do together. And in future, do not ask your other friends around if they are only willing to take and not pay." She turns to look at me once again, and simply says "I am not okay."

She spoke with passion and pace, moving me to anger beyond my usual level. I retract my nails. These two will pay for sullying this girl, and they will pay in pain. I will beat them to death with my bare hands.

"Then I am not okay either. These... I shan't say gentlemen... these... whatever they are, will die. Okay?" I say, not requiring an answer.

"Fine by me, vampire" she says. I take a step forwards, while the men, unsure, take a step backward.

I realise what she'd said and whip my head around to look at her so quickly. She said 'vampire'. How can she know that I'm a vampire? I've been keeping a suitably low profile... until now. I've been an idiot. It looks like I won't be staying here much longer. I beckon the men to me, putting up my fists as an invite to trading blows. They come forward, their hands mirroring mine.

There is caution on their faces and in their movements. They split to flank, one to either side of me. The least ugly man throws the first heavy punch, one that I dodge all too easily, which sends him off balance. Ignoring him for the moment I turn to the hook-nosed man; he swings with his left fist, so I take a step back, he follows forward and swings on the backhand with his left again and follows up quickly with the right hook; all of his power in the punch. Ducking under his left backhand I step into the quick followed right hook, breaking his defence and rendering the punch useless. Up close and personal I touch my forehead to his nose at great speed. A crack and a spray of hot blood covers my eyes. The man drops like a stone, both hands clutching at his further ruined face.

I round on the once unbalanced man, who has now retreated a few paces, fists still up. I close the distance in an instant, looking into his face, eye to eye, I see his pupils narrow as he focuses on me. I jab forward with my clenched fists, both sets of knuckles finding their way through the man's pathetic defence to smash into his chest. My dual blows lift him up clear off his feet to land a good ten feet away, tossed like a rag doll. The man slowly gets to his feet, clutching his ribs, wincing with pain at every movement. He looks ready to bolt.

I wipe the blood from my eyes and hold up my hands, a gesture to say I brook no harm. The man sees through my lie and turns, attempting to put as much distance between him and me as he can. But he can't run with his ribs broken, so he slowly hobbles away. It's just too little too late for him. He should have run the instant he'd seen me. I leap after him, bringing him to the ground when I land on him, his cry of pain cut short as I rip out his throat.

Then the panic comes. The viewers must have been mesmerised by the swiftness of the fight, but now their senses return and the remaining people who had not seen my earlier exertions are running for their lives too. The people scream and a mad rush to get away from the marauding vampire before them encompasses all. Some people get trampled to death. I know because I feel it happen.

The resounding fear emanating from the crowd is feeding me more than any amount of blood ever could. But I still take his; it tastes nice, like a good vintage wine. I stand and see the pitiful excuse of a man that I head-butted trying to crawl away, the people running around him are hindering his progress. Their footfalls break his fingers and cause him more pain with every moment. I ignore him and turn to the beautiful woman I just saved. I get the feeling she owes me something now. And I'm going to take it.

I stride up to her, grab her by the hair and kiss her violently. The blood on my lips and in my mouth is licked off by her tongue. She's reciprocating. She wants this too. I grab her around the waist, pulling her in close, feeling her breasts press against my chest. I slide my hand up her back, lifting her with my other arm under her knees.

I walk, carrying the beautiful girl, out of the city of Midiar. The mayhem in my wake is truly heart lifting.

\- Holste -

Sneaking through the catacombs at night is incredibly risky, more so for doing it alone without any light source. I'm relying on my memories to guide me in the right direction through all of the twisting turns and narrow passageways that connect all of the main stations. I think I know where I am. I hope I know where I am. I've managed to get this far without being seen. I'm not far, theoretically, from my destination; Legion's station. I need to find out who he really is, there's just something wrong about him, his reflection and footfalls. It just doesn't fit together.

For nearly half a season I have been waiting for this chance to come; to be left alone. It had come a mid-hour ago, when the latest 'subject' we were studying managed to break loose of her cell somehow. The five of us split up in order to find her more quickly. Except that I didn't begin to track her. I stayed down here to attend to my own agenda. I'm sure they will find her on their own.

I turn left at a junction, and continue to head silently to my destination; ahead of me in the corridor I hear voices. I stop and press myself against the wall. Calcia please let me not be seen. I wait. I cannot make out what the voices are saying, but they are not moving any closer, which is a relief. I slowly edge towards the voices. Both are male and they are engaged in conversation. As I near, and the voices become audible, I stop to listen.

"What do you mean? Surely not!" a deep voice says, with disbelief.

"I'm telling you, there's a war coming," announces a fractionally higher pitched voice.

"Somehow, Finna, I don't believe you. You couldn't possibly know something like that."

"Believe what you will, but I know I'm right. I know," says Finna, the man with the higher voice.

"Are you sure you didn't take a blow to the head at any point today?" the deep voice asks.

"Of course not!" Finna replies, with what I assume is good humour.

"Yesterday? A month? Were you dropped on your head at birth? A war indeed." The deep voice emits a quick snicker.

"You know what, fuck you," Finna says, obviously becoming irritated with his counterpart.

Who are these people? They speak too intimately to just be Fathers meeting in passing. They almost sound like... us; the new Legion. But the other six squads don't have anybody called Finna in them. And what is this war? Finna and the other man continue.

"Ooh, testy aren't you? That time of the month is it? Got your beard on?"

"Why can't you take anything I say seriously?" asks Finna.

"Mainly," the deep voice says, "because you talk a load of old bollocks." That makes Finna chuckle.

"I'll admit it, I've been wrong about things in the past, but this time..." Finna confesses.

"So what exactly makes you sure about this?"

"I don't know. But that's why I know."

"What?" the deep voice asks.

I can understand his scepticism of Finna's beliefs if he comes out with things like that.

"The vampires are massing; the demons in Hell are sprung for an attack. I think that sooner rather than later they'll attack us. And we will not be prepared when they do," Finna explains.

"I think you're a loon," the deep voices responds.

"Fucking hell, Yanick, why can't you just trust me?" Finna asks.

"Okay, I believe you," Yanick says, "now what do you want me to do about it? Go and tell Legion? Hmm, yeah, I'm sure he'd welcome me with open arms, hug me and thank me and my informant for passing him such valuable information."

"Fine, if you're going to be like that."

"Be like what? How am I supposed to be?" Yanick asks.

This is not what I came here for, but at least it seems that I've found out that everyone else sees Legion as some sort of figure to be feared.

I have no idea who Yanick and Finna are, I can only assume that they must be catacomb staff, otherwise I'd know them. I'm the leader of the new Legion after all. Above me there is only one.

I turn to return to my station, my investigation ruined by the two men barring my path ahead, and feel hot breath fire into my face. A man is stood in the shadows behind me. I see no face but feel the powerful aura. It is the only man above me; Legion himself.

\- Muzbeth -

I lay her down in the hayloft of a barn on the outskirts of the town. The owners of the barn are now dead in their farmhouse. Outside, the spring rains have come hard, dampening the air and thus keeping the dust down inside the barn.

I run my hands over the warm body beneath me; I slide the straps off of her shoulders and pull the long slender dress down her torso to reveal her perfect breasts, her white flesh is almost luminescent in the darkness. She sits up, forcing me to back off a little, and removes the dress completely. She traces a finger along my jaw line, which brings back unpleasant flashes of memory of Witch, while her other hand unbuttons my shirt. I untie my trousers and pull them off, allowing my magic to pump my heart hard.

Silently, with the rain beating onto the roof above us, we make love, never uttering a single word.

\- Holste -

There are four of us. I was first in, and the other three all entered within the following few moments. We're all stood in a line, to attention, facing an empty desk; Legion is not in here. He left after he ushered me silently inside. I am at the far left of the line, being first to arrive. None of us have dared utter a word. From my brief glances around me, I do not recognise the other three men, and I'd bet my bottom coin that they don't know each other either.

Sweat beads on my forehead, but I dare not move a hand to wipe it away. It runs over the top of my eyebrow and drops down between my eyes, rolling down to collect at the tip of my nose.

My eyes scan the room, taking in what little stimulus there is. The dark wood desk is unadorned and looks unused. A high backed leather chair is pushed under it. Like everywhere in the catacombs there are no real windows, only the observation glass walls, but in here there is not a single sheet of glass. The dark wood panelled walls are also unadorned and the usual bookshelves associated with offices are nowhere to be seen.

The door behind us creaks open, and then shuts. I hear no one enter but know that he is here. I can feel him. He does not come in front of us, preferring to talk to the backs of our heads. I know I don't have the brass to turn and look at him, and I suspect the other three do not either. When he dropped me off here he walked behind me the whole way, never allowing me to see him.

"Gentlemen, I have brought you all here because one of your number was looking too deeply where he should not have been. He was getting close to something he had no right to. Not yet. Now I am forced to bring to light the situation. Any questions thus far?" Legion asks.

Nobody even moves a muscle. I can't even hear the other people breathing. I know they can't hear my breath as I'm holding it. Nobody says anything, so Legion continues.

"As you know, there is a new Legion being formed. What you do not know is that each of you is raising a quarter of it."

Ah, so that is why Finna and Yanick were talking like they were in the new Legion. They actually are. But why keep us separate for all this time?

"When the training and magical learning is complete only one hundred men will remain. That means that each of you will lose ten men from your quarters. I will call you back once we are down to the correct number of men. Now, as each of you knows, I have let you choose most of your targets, and the directions in which your magical enhancements have taken. Father Holste has perfected certain aspects of BodyShifting. Father Quixin has mastered Shimmering and Shifting. Father Oryon has Glamours under his complete control. And Father Tyllard, most impressively, has developed Gateways. You may well be wondering about that last one. Farther Tyllard, would you care to explain?"

Shimmering and Shifting? Glamours? Gateways? The directions of our magical enhancements? Is that why we were split? Father Tyllard clears his throat.

"Certainly Legion. The main strategic advantage of Gateways is that we can now transport troops instantly across Gatheck to any location we need. This is far advanced from Shifting, for as you know, even the most accomplished Shifting caster can only transport up to three other people. With Gateways we can take as many as we need, and keep the Gateway open until we return. Legion."

"Thank you Father Tyllard. Any questions?"

To my right I see a hand rise. There is no indication the he should speak, but he does so anyway.

"Legion, I must protest. I have worked many seasons enhancing the Shifting casting, as you know. You also know what we have achieved in doing so."

"Yes, you managed to make someone vanish completely. That poor soul no longer walks Gatheck."

"Then, Legion, why did you not stop us?" Quixin asks, the sound of desperation beginning to creep into his voice. "Why did you not direct us to another form? Why have you let us waste our time on a dangerous and unnecessary casting?"

"Father Quixin. I did not stop you because, although your intentions were to aide our forces strategically, you have created an extremely powerful weapon," Legion informs Father Quixin.

"I'm sorry Legion, I do not follow. We killed a single person using a team of thirty five. How is that a powerful weapon? Surely a single man armed with a sword is more effective."

"Quixin, you should know that I have tracked that poor soul you lost, expending much of my magical power and losing precious time in doing so. But I found him. He is in Hell."

The muscles in my body stiffen. I let out a breath too long held and take a deep breath. Hell. He said Hell. Before anyone can say anything through the shock statement, Legion begins again.

"Imagine if you will, an army of demons attacking the vampires. If we can get the armies of Hell under our thrall, we would be able to wipe out any resistance to the Calcian way of life," Legion announces.

I have to speak now. That was a major flaw in his belief structure, admitting to wanting to use demons.

"Surely that goes against Calcia's will. Should She wish us such power she would grant us her angels. From my understanding and suspicions you desire nothing but power," I say. The thrall of fear breaks finally and my courage bursts through, causing me to turn and face Legion. I look upon the man that inspires nightmares in so many. "Power to rule all..." I trail off as my words fail me.

A humanoid shape stands in front of the door, illuminated at the edges by the ambient light in the room. It is transparent and has one red glowing eye set into the side of its head. It looks two dimensional, almost. It has no definition apart from the eye; its body, limbs, and face are nothing but translucent grey matter.

I take a pace back and my legs come up against the desk. As I'm staring at the monster before me, it advances.

### The Eleventh Chapter

\- Holste -

32 days until the birth of a god

The 1st day of Spring-Fall, 1538

"Quixin! Shift now. Take Oryon and Tyllard with you. Go!" I command.

In my mind I am preparing to cast, calling on my belief in Calcia to protect me. Quixin, tall and muscled with long dark hair, casts quickly and the three of them Shift out, like two pictures passing through one and other, one with them in the room, and the other without them.

When they have gone, Legion takes a few steps closer and stops. He stands there and just glares at me with his single red glowing eye. Now that we're so close I can see it pulsing ever so slightly.

As he pauses I take my chance, letting the most powerful magic I can muster lash out at him, hoping to rip his insubstantial body to shreds. There is a shimmer in front of him and my Malice has no effect whatsoever. He smiles. His face, if you can call it that, softens, gaining more definition, and when he speaks, it is not with his usual deep menacing voice; it is a voice of song and pleasure, of love and yet power. It is a woman's voice; one that inspires adoration and trust in me.

"Young Father Holste, I am proud of you. You felt threatened and tried to defend yourself. Both just then and before when you though me not to be a follower of Calcia. You have done the right thing."

"So you do follow Calcia?"

I'm already drawing upon the magic for my next attack. I only hope that I can break through his shield this time.

"No, I do not," the female-voiced Legion tells me.

"So what are you doing here in a temple to her?" I ask.

"Young man, I am Calcia."

What the fuck? I'm in the presence of a goddess! What have I done? I've just attacked Calcia! I try to form a sentence but the shock revelation is just too overwhelming. The spell I was forming unravels and fritters away to nothing.

"Do not worry, Father. You would have found out about me before the final Legion formed anyway, now you have proved to me that you will be capable of leading the new Legion. And as you will be leading it, I must tell you something. This will not just be some 'New Legion', I have reformed the Raven Legion."

"What!" My mind positively reels. I can barely comprehend what I've just learned.

The Raven Legion were a band of extremely competent Hunters that fought in the Calcian Wars fifteen hundred years ago. They were veterans of the Enlil army. And now they're reformed and I'm to be their leader? This is just crazy, it must be a dream! But then if I'm thinking this could be a dream then I can't be dreaming. Besides, this won't be 'The' Raven Legion, it'll just share their name, surely.

"Look, Legion, Calcia... I'm not sure I understand. What is the point in reforming the Raven Legion? There is no war."

"Do you believe that? Given the conversation you heard but not an hour ago?"

"There's a war coming between Calcians and vampires?"

"Unfortunately so. A new power has risen to guide the vampires. It must be stopped at any cost. I have contacted the other gods. It seems this new power has made a deal with the fallen angel Samael to be brought back from the dead. I'm not sure to what end for the erstwhile angel, but we can be sure it is not going to be pleasant.

"So you've reformed just us to destroy a master vampire? Isn't that a little overkill?" I ask, though I instantly regret it; it can't be a good thing to doubt your god whilst in the presence of your god.

"And to protect all of Gatheck," Legion-Calcia tells me. "No doubt you'll now understand why I wish to turn the demon hordes to my own will. They used to serve me once. I would like them to do so again."

My head is reeling. Vampires, demons, the Devil! Is anyone evil not involved in this? Bar the Legion and Calcia of course.

"So when can we expect this war to start?"

"The Raven Legion will be ready to move before it begins. You will command them, and we will prevail. Now, young Father Holste, I suggest you go back to your section and get some sleep. Legion will be back tomorrow. Do not mention this conversation. You have been severely punished for facing me. Understand?"

"Yes Calcia."

I stumble towards the door, somewhat dazed, open it and step into the doorway. I look back over my shoulder at Calcia.

"Thank you."

"May the light of Calcia hold you and keep you warm."

It was Legion that spoke, the deep menacing voice that terrifies so many. Now, with the recollection of Her real voice, I find it oddly comforting.

"Go to the other leaders first and tell them that you were wrong to act the way you did. They are in Seraph station."

I smile and nod and then head back to my section, via Seraph, closing the door behind me.

\- Muzbeth -

31 days until the birth of a god

The 2nd day of Spring-Fall, 1538

The morning sun is shining in through the minute gaps in the barn roof; its shafts pick out the dust in the air. I look at the naked girl lying asleep in my arms.

She had fallen asleep last night shortly after we had stopped having sex. Being a vampire I don't need to sleep, so I've just lay here thinking. I'm going to turn her when she wakes up, take her with me wherever I go. I get the feeling that this is who Kellum meant when he said I would meet someone more 'forthcoming'.

While I wait for her to wake, I find myself playing with her breast, entertaining myself. She stirs in my arms, probably due to my groping, and snuggles closer to me for extra warmth. She will find none in my dead body. Her eyes open and she smiles up at me, a wondrous smile that sends the magic coursing though me to a tingling high. I find myself smiling back. She moans a little as I continue to stimulate her nipple between my fingers.

I lever myself out from underneath her and position myself above her, leaning down to kiss her tender lips, biting the bottom one ever so gently. I enter the woman beneath me, gently thrusting as I kiss her neck, moving slowly towards her shoulder. She leans up, a slight moan leaving her mouth as she does, and her teeth nip the cold flesh on my neck. I bare my teeth and bite down, sinking my sharp teeth into her beautiful white flesh; suddenly she's kicking and pulling away, hands on my shoulders trying to push me off. I hold on, both with hands and jaws, letting the blood pump into my mouth.

"Stop! Don't turn me!"

Her voice is soft and gentle, it plays over my mind and her words sink in. I reconsider my actions. I take my mouth away from the bloody bite mark on her neck. I kneel up, the woman still beneath me, though now she has stopped trying to wrestle herself free.

"You know what I am; you knew this would happen."

"Yes, I do. But that does not mean I wanted it to happen. I am quite happy being alive, thank you," she says.

"But if you join me you will live forever," I reason.

"What you offer is not eternal life, and even if it was, I do not want to live forever. I want to keep my memories intact; if I were to live forever those memories would become marred over time. Everything ends at some point. Everything has to."

"Including your life," I tell her.

"Yes, and when I do die I want to stay dead. That said I have nothing against vampires, obviously. Why is it that you wish to turn me so badly?"

"I want you to come with me, to travel as my companion," I say, before adding, "I want us to be together."

"And you think I need to be dead to do that?" She questions.

She smiles again, sending a shoot of phantom heat through my body. I smile back, continuing where we left off before our brief conversation. I don't know whether it is the fresh blood or the knowledge that I will have this warm body at my beck and call, but the passion in our love-making is overwhelming. A question pops into my mind, I ask it without even breaking my stride.

"What's your name?"

"Summer," she answers quickly, "you?"

"Muzbeth."

That over with, we continue with what we started last night.

27 days until the birth of a god

The 6th day of Spring-Fall, 1538

We're heading North up the coastline, travelling by day, ravaging each other by night. We aim to hit the Wyd Estuary in an hour or two. Once we're past there and up to the northern point of the Covess Mountains, we'll have to make a decision; either travel to Rebium or to Tomam, to see what havoc we can cause there. Personally I want to go to Tomam, the sunlight in the sky at night draws me in like a beacon. Last night I asked Summer if she knew what it was.

"It is said to be the eye of Calcia. Supposedly it casts eternal light on the Heart. It's been there as long as the Heart has," she told me.

"Is that all it does? Just keeps the shadow and night from the Heart?"

"Pretty much, so far as I gather anyway," she confessed.

"Why? What's the point?"

"Well, honey, you'd have to ask Calcia about that one, and I'm quite sure she wouldn't want to see you, let alone give you the secrets of her faith."

"Oh, I'm sure too."

I'm still trying to figure out why it is there. There's no point in talking about it, neither of us know for sure, so it would all be speculation. But something about it is certainly captivating. Every time I see it I want to be closer to it than I am. Maybe that's what it is, a trap for the vampires. Maybe it draws them into its light and sends the demon back to Hell. That's what Kellum said happened when a normal vampire walked in the daytime. I'm sure I'll find out one day. One day soon.

***

In the end we decided to head for Tomam, so it looks like I got my wish after all. Summer said she hadn't been to Tomam before, so it had been fairly easy to win her over. Apparently Rebium holds no secrets for my lover. Still, we've only made two thirds of the journey so far, and on the distant horizon I can make out the incredible height of the canopy of the Brangaine Woods.

The rains that have attacked the past week have lifted, and the sun has poked its bright face through the clouds, albeit not for long. We've had brief sunny spells for the entire day, thanks to the very rare breaks in the thick cloud that promises rain for tomorrow. If we're lucky we'll make the city by the fourteenth. If not we'll get very wet again. It doesn't bother me, but, when wet, Summer isn't in a passionate mood and that puts me on the offside. Still, I wouldn't give her up for anything.

Since I met her I feel like I have a purpose now, even if it is only to survive and be with her. Before, with Kellum, I was alive just because I was, now I'm alive because I have something to live for. Love. If a dead being can be alive at all, that is.

I've never been in love like this before, but occasionally I get flashes of a memory, probably from my life, of a woman. I have no idea who she is and nor do I really care. But they distract me sometimes. I just wish someone could tell me what they mean. Still, I have Summer, and she is all I need.

20 days until the birth of a god

The 13th day of Spring-Fall, 1538

We travelled fast; the weather spurring us, at least in part, on. During the hours of dark I'd carry Summer, while stopping for enough time so that she could get some proper sleep. Thus we have arrived, a day ahead of schedule, in this massive city.

Tomam's trees and houses mingle perfectly. Some are standard buildings, with their foundations firmly set into the ground and bound to the roots of the trees that tower above them. Some of the homes are built around the trees, either at their base of high up their trunks. The higher homes are linked by corridors where the trees are closest, joining the massive structures that climb high toward the canopy. Other homes, the most magnificent, are the trees themselves; they're cut into the thickest of the trees, built onto the sides and lodged into the gaps between the branches.

But as Summer and I walk the streets of once packed, now muddy, earth, with the heavy rain hammering down from above where the canopy is open to the skies, we are the only people that do. This is a big city that should be full of people, especially at a time of year when cities, towns, and villages are alive with activity.

My senses tingle with the sound of pounding hearts. I can feel the people hiding in their houses, too afraid to come out, though there are nowhere near as many people as there should be. I can smell death on the air too, more than usual; they must have buried a lot of the dead recently. These people worry me, it is daytime, and yet they hide, with no evidence to suggest why. Summer and I share a cautionary glance.

"Wait here. I'm going to find some answers," I tell her.

"I have no problem with that, honey."

I walk off the beaten road and over to a blacksmiths cottage which is not attached to any trees. The main entrance to the house is partly obscured from view by a large, yet cold, furnace; its fires long dead. Stacked next to the furnace, lumber is piled neatly, though now it is sodden through; the heavy and pretty much constant rain seeing to that. As I pass the furnace, piles of tin and copper ore attract my attention, they are low stocked. I can smell the person inside the house. It is a man full of fear, too afraid to do anything but hide.

With a swift kick the front door slams open. Its latch breaks with little resistance. I enter the threshold of the house, looking about for the terrified smithy. I hear whimpering. I listen more intently. It sounds as though it is coming from beneath me, of all places. Maybe this place has a basement? But my senses tell me the living body is directly beneath me. Looking down I see a rough-hewn rug, and my muddy feet planted firmly on it. I can feel, sense, and even taste the fear coming up through the floorboards beneath the matting; it is so pungent.

I step off and kick the rug aside. There is a small hole in the wood, only a little larger than a ring. It really can only be one thing. My questing eyes find the edges where the floorboards have been cut. I crouch and hook my finger in and lift away a section of wood about a foot and a half square; built purposely to hide the small underground chamber, probably only six by six feet in size. I would guess it has a good two and a half feet of muddy water collecting in the bottom, which has to be the runoff from the rain filling it more quickly that it can drain. Inside the hole, barely stood – more clinging onto a long timber reaching from, I assume, the submerged floor to the top of the small room – is the man I could smell, and now the fear is rolling off him. It is battering my senses. I can hear his heart thumping loudly in his chest. It disrupts my thoughts.

His dark eyes are glaring up at me, trying to figure out whether I'm friend or foe. I jump down into the hole, quickly grab hold of the man, and then leap back out. The short jump is made harder by the presence of such cloying water. I throw him to the floor, which creaks a little under the force of the impact. He does nothing but whimper on the floor.

I bend and grab him by the ankle, turn and march out into the street, dragging the blacksmith behind me. He puts up no resistance.

I can only assume that he has lost the will to live; he is essentially dead inside. Now he will physically die by my hand, but I will not drink from him. Dead blood has no power and carries a vile taste.

I deposit him at Summer's feet, who looks at him with something like sorrow mixed with disdain.

"Speak smith, tell us why you were hiding!" I demand.

The smith does not reply. He barely even seems to recognise that I've spoken. And so, he just lies there, in the mud, quivering in the cold. Summer steps up to ask, her feminine charms giving her an edge over my 'to the point' interrogation.

"I'm sorry to have to ask this of you sir, but we must. We need to know what happened here. Why is everyone hiding?"

Again the man says nothing, either too scared or too stubborn to talk. I step in to give him a little painful incentive; I will loosen his jaw. As I kneel Summer holds out a hand to keep me at bay. Her eyes narrow as I look up at her and my attention is snapped back to the man as he screams.

The man is thrashing about on the floor. His limbs are bending and cracking, contorting into horrible shapes, impossible to achieve for anybody with unbroken bone inside. I stare back up at Summer, who has a look of concentration pressed onto her wet face. She blinks a few times and looks up at me. The smithy stops screaming any just lays there, on the ground, twitching and moaning.

"Did you do that?" I ask, a little surprised.

"...Yes," Summer says, somewhat out of breath. Her breathlessness would indicate that she'd done much more that just used a little magic.

"How? Was that magic? Are you a witch?" I ask, dreading that this might turn into something like the Witch debacle.

"No sugar, it's an innate power only I possess. I can move things just by thinking about it," Summer tells me.

This is just like Kellum, and Witch to an extent.

"Does everyone I travel with have special powers?" I ask of the world.

"What?" Summer asks, a sense of urgency in her voice.

"I said: Does-" I begin to repeat, before she cuts me off.

"I know what you said. Why did you say it?"

"My last companion, Kellum, could see the future. He told me that I would meet you."

"When did you last see him?" She asks, standing and moving close to me.

The smith on the floor finally stops his twitching and moaning; lying still in the mud now. I feel his soul escape.

"Just outside of Midiar, about a half-season before I met you. I'm sorry, but what has Kellum got to do with anything?" I ask. No doubt there will be more things that confuse me now.

"Let's just say that he's an old friend of mine. He and I go back a long way."

"Look, Summer, you're going to have to-" It is a scream of rage which interrupts me now.

The scream fills the air, carried by a hundred voices. I look around and my eyes are drawn up to the sky; dark clouds bubble and roil overhead, increasing in volume far too quickly to be natural. My eyes are everywhere, trying to figure out what is happening. The cloud blots out the faint filtered sunlight from above, casting a false night about us.

The sounds of running feet, branches snapping, and brush and scrub being crushed underfoot, combine to create a cacophony of noise, all overlaid by the screams of rage coming from the trees.

Whatever is happening, it is coming from the direction of the forest, and as such, pretty much all around us. The first of them bursts through the tree line, quickly followed by a few dozen more. They surround us completely.

But the demon inside me gives us an advantage. It lets me know what they are. It was obvious really, I should have figured it out earlier.

I know why the people of Tomam hide, and now I know why they are so scared.

Summer and I are surrounded by vampires.

The Twelfth Chapter

\- Holste -

20 days until the birth of a god

The 13th day of Spring-Fall, 1538

Thirty-three men are stood in formation before me, in three lines of eleven. All are stood to attention. Penk is stood just behind and to the left of me. My second is also at rigid attention. I have gathered my men to explain the situation we are in.

"Stand at ease."

As one, the formation moves their left feet out so that they are a shoulders width apart, their hands, once held tightly down by their sides, slide around to be held clasped at their backs. The formation relaxes, and I continue. While they are still Fathers within the church of Calcia, they are now soldiers too. We may be religious, but we're still a military unit.

"I have brought you here today to give you some news," I tell them, pacing up and down before the ranks. "I am to grade you all on your work and abilities. The fifteen men with the lowest score will be taken from us. Those men will enter a combat arena along with another forty-five men. Of all of those me that go in, only fifteen will emerge. The rest will be lost."

Some of the faces watching betray awkward feelings, while others remain blank and impassive.

"As you may well be wondering, the other forty-five men will come from other wings within the new Legion. Yes, we are not the entirety; we are merely a quarter. We are strong, and I have every confidence that all of our men that go in will come out. We are the best and most efficient of the four wings. One day, when our long training is complete, we will be part of the most prestigious force on Gatheck. We, my friends and brothers, will be the Raven Legion!"

With that revelation, the formation in front of me does not even flinch. No eyes seek others to exchange excited glances. We are well disciplined. We will all make it through. Calcia watches over us. That is something I should say; a though that should be spoken.

"Calcia watches over us. I know this, and I am confident that we will succeed. If you have any questions, please inform your team Leader, who will pass them on. I will answer them if I can. Formation, fall out!"

Leather boots stamp down and my men flood through the door at the side of the room, heading toward the mess; obviously going to talk about what they've just heard. I turn to Penk.

"So now you know. There is one other thing. It is not only my scores that count; Legion has been scoring people himself. It will be the average of the two values that determines who goes in."

"By Calcia's tears, doesn't all that seem a bit harsh? Why do they have to fight each other?"

"Isn't that obvious? When we fight the strongest come out alive," I tell him. That's much more like the church of Calcia should be; harsh. We don't need the 'fairness and understanding' bent that has become popular in recent centuries.

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger?"

I incline my head.

"I'm not sure I like that ethos," Penk says, scratching his head.

Golthor-Penk was a good choice to replace Iniar; maybe I will not have to replace him with someone of stronger character at all. He knows of my affinity for the older ways, yet he still openly expresses his personal opinions.

"You don't have to, Golthor. It may not be nice but it is a fact of nature."

He raises his eyebrows at me, leaving me with no response. He does seem mighty calm for saying that he'll be in there too. Shit. I'd better do some backtracking, and a little damage control.

"Oh, I forgot to say, there'll be an extra eight men in there too."

"Why does that worry me?" asks Penk, as he smiles awkwardly and brow furrows.

"The main squad's leader and his second in command from every wing will be in there also. Penk, you and I will be fighting for our lives soon enough. I'm sorry."

I can see it in his eyes. I've never seen Penk this worried before. But I know that when the time comes he'll be a rock, unshakable in his belief. It's the way he is, but until then, he'll be a wreck.

\- Muzbeth -

"What is this?" I bellow at the thirty or so vampires that surround Summer and I. They all brandish weapons and I can sense a bloodlust about them. They are so close to attacking us.

A solitary vampire steps forward, he is dressed in a long coat, similar to Kellum's, but less extravagant and a little shorter. He is barefoot, though his feet are caked in mud. There are several scars on the dead man's head. The coat is pulled tightly around his slender frame, and buttoned up the front. In his hands he clutches a long curved blade, which is covered in streaks of blood and mud. His is the only blade of the group, as the others carry nothing more than crude cudgels. He addresses me with confidence.

"State your business in Tomam."

I scowl at this sudden and new threat.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" I ask, advancing upon whom I assume is their leader.

In agitation his grip tightens on the sword handle, turning his already pale skin bone white.

"Answer our questions or we will kill you right here, right now," he says through his tightly gritted teeth. His canines are much larger than they should be, just like mine and Kellum's. He switches his grip on the weapon.

"I am Lys-Karalis, so just try it, and then we'll see how far you get!"

At that little piece of news the entire group encircling us visibly wilts and their leader takes a comforting step away from me, and one step closer to his allies. Now I will ask my questions.

"Now, what are you doing here? What is your purpose?"

"We, my Lys-Karalis, are bleeding this city dry. I apologise for our confrontation."

Now his confidence is gone, he looks at my feet rather than looking at me in the eye.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask, but instantly wish I hadn't. It makes me look like I actually care about the humans here.

"It is what we wanted to do. We have banded together so that we can claim Gatheck as our own. We have had no contact with the Lys-Karalis for some seasons now. All we wanted was to take our place as the dominant species of Gatheck."

Did they think for one moment that they could dominate their Lys-Karalis, let alone me? How stupid of them. They are even more foolish for taking my word alone that I'm a Lys-Karalis. They are bloody fools. They should be more careful.

"How long have you been here?" I ask.

"Just coming up to a half-season," he says as his head drops a little further.

"If you have been here so long, why is this place not burned to the ground?"

"We planned on taking this city my 'Karalis; we were killing off its inhabitants so that we could take it for our own."

"And what will you eat once all of the 'civilians' are dead?" Summer asks. Her point is a valid one. A murmur passes through the vampires, and it takes an instant for me to figure out that they are objecting to Summer.

The vampire with the scarred head wrinkles his nose and once again speaks through his gritted teeth. I can tell he wants to say or do something, but he schools himself.

"I am sorry my 'Karalis, we have failed you. My name is Sczeran, and I, and those that follow me, are yours to command as you see fit."

"It is good to find that you know your place. I am the Lys-Karalis Muzbeth, and I will lead you to victory over this city!"

***

"Niman, left! Zinne, centre! Haydra, right! Orren, up! Take three with you each. Search every building. I want everyone else searching the perimeter, encircle this sodden shit-hole of a city. Any living that approaches should be herded in, and any that try to escape should be killed. You all understand. Go! Sczeran, to me."

Far less than an hour has passed since the vampires revealed themselves to us, but they seem to be happy enough to go along with my plans for this place. The only one among them that I am worried about is Sczeran. He has ideas above his post, I think.

With the orders now given, the pack of vampires assembled in front of me splits, twelve into the city, four above it, and the rest to the trees around this once great city. Sczeran lopes up to me, eyes down, face glum. He bows to me. Somehow it seems as though it is a sarcastic bow; almost as if he does not really wish to recognise my authority.

"Sczeran, my mistress is here also."

"She is alive, my 'Karalis. The dead never kneel before the living," he informs me. I catch him shoot a glance at her, before his gaze returns to the ground.

"You do," I tell him. "Kneel."

"My 'Karalis?"

"Exactly. I am your 'Karalis. She is therefore your Queen. Kneel. Now."

And with that he drops to one knee, head down, both hands on the higher knee, in front of Summer. Her arm snakes its way around my waist, and she plants a kiss upon my cheek.

"Get up Sczeran."

"My 'Karalis. What do you wish of me?"

"Summer and I are going to the blacksmith's house; it is already empty. You are to make sure none disturb us. We shall leave this place at wanemoon. Make sure none of the city folk are living when we do. In fact, you should have them turned. We need to bolster our numbers."

"We are abandoning everything we have worked for here? Why?" Sczeran asks, indignantly, his eyes coming up to meet mine once more.

I stare him back down, needing to say nothing.

"Very good my 'Karalis, though I see no reason for me to stand guard outside the smithy. None shall disturb you."

"True, and you will be there to make sure. Understand."

That wasn't a question. Without waiting for a sarcastic answer, I lead Summer into the house, past the cold and dead furnace.

Once we are inside and I have replaced the hallway floor, I force the front door back into its rightful position, shutting the world out. Summer immediately shoves me against the door and begins to kiss me, her tongue massaging mine, flicking across my pointed teeth. She makes the magic flow instantly.

I lift her into my arms and carry her deeper into the house, searching for the blacksmith's bed.

19 days until the birth of a god

The 14th day of Spring-Fall, 1538

It is just past wanemoon, and naturally it is dark outside. The sky is clouded still from the vampires' weather casting from earlier, and the glow of the full moon can barely be seen through the thick bank in this first hour of the day.

Summer and I leave the dead man's house. We've redressed ourselves with the clothing found within. Now I'm sporting a waxed frock coat, leather jerkin, black trousers and boots to match. I'm also wearing a black waxed rain hat, wide brimmed to keep water from the blacksmith's face.

Summer now dons a long gown, probably worn by the blacksmith's wife on very special occasions. It isn't tailored to fit Summer and so her bosom is tightly packed in. My claws had let the stitching out at the sides in order to give her more breathing room. The dress is black and deep red, but has a multi-layered skirt, keeping her warm. Around her shoulders she has a bright red shawl, and in her long curly brown hair she has tied a thick deep red ribbon.

Sczeran turns to look at us as we leave the house, his frustration at being posted as guard evident in his stance and face. He marches over to us as we walk slowly back to the main street, avoiding the stacks of ore and timber.

"Muzbeth, what are your wishes?" he asks when we reach him.

"Have all the survivors been added to our number?"

"Yes my 'Karalis. I have had a team cast. We found no living humans within the city. None," he says, looking poignantly at Summer. Is he summing her up?

"Have you something to say Sczeran?"

"No my Lord, it is just that you led me to believe that... my 'Lady' was human. I was merely trying to figure out what species she is. My apologies."

"Sczeran, she is human. What makes you think otherwise?" I ask.

"The casting team, my 'Karalis, they found no living humans. None at all," he explains.

"Then there was a mistake. Search the city once more; make sure none are left alive. Quickly!"

With that Sczeran sprints off into the tree line to organise a second search. I turn to Summer.

"I wonder what that was all about."

"Probably just mere incompetence," Summer says with a smile. "Listen, honey, I've been thinking..." She pauses, evidently unsure as to whether or not she really wants to tell me. I want her to.

"Go on, I'm intrigued," I encourage.

"What would you say to Godhood? I mean proper Godhood, not just being a Lys-Karalis. I'm talking servants, unlimited power, and me by your side forever and all eternity."

Where did that come from? Not that I wouldn't like the power. I was born to it, if that's the right word.

"I'll admit that it would be an interesting scenario."

"Think on it, sweet, but in the meantime I have some suggestions for our immediate future."

I smile, indicating she should keep talking.

***

I cast my magic again and the flames lick out from my hands, though they do not cause me any pain. My magic keeps the flames from burning me.

I launch the small globes of fire sat at my outfacing palms at a building which is wedged in between the branches of two trees. They streak across the roofs and set the tree-house alight.

There is a lot of smoke and steam due to everything being so wet, but as I do not need to breathe that is not a problem. Summer however found the heat and cloying smoke too much and headed north toward the edge of the woods. We'll meet her there shortly, once our job here is complete. More fire flashes past me, leaping from the hands of the vampires around me.

The city is burning violently and beautifully. It will be visible from miles away; a vast column of black smoke rising into the night sky, illuminated from beneath by the flickering red light of flame. I know that people will soon be coming. The sight reminds me of the village we burned back on the Cracked Isles.

The city-folk we turned haven't risen yet, so I've sent a party of ten to go and meet Summer, taking the corpses with them.

There are vampires up in the trees, ripping the buildings down, they crash to the floor every few moments or so, shaking the ground beneath my feet.

Less than a mid-hour later and not a single building still stands. All have been ripped asunder by flame and vampire. The heat emanating from the city is astounding, though unfortunately I lost one of the climbing vampires to it. She managed to drop down into the town and got cut off by the fast spreading flame. She died quickly as her dead body caught fire. Her demon would have been delivered back to Hell by the flames. Now there is one less able body to do my bidding, and that is all that bothers me.

So far I've managed to keep the fire from spreading to the woods that surround the erstwhile city.

'Erstwhile'. I think I learned that word from Kellum. I wonder if he found the other Lys-Karalis. I wonder how he and Summer knew each other.

But now is the time to put an end to the raging inferno before me. I call the twenty or so remaining vampires to my side, while moving away from the city and into the relative protection of the northern tree front.

We all link hands in a large circle, innately knowing how to generate a Link-Shell; the demons within us all working in tandem. I feel the power of twenty-three demons, not including my own, flow into me. The power now welling within me is tangible, and it takes me less than instant to cast, as so much power is at my disposal. Suddenly a crack of lightning splits the sky, followed almost immediately by the deep growl of thunder.

As suddenly as the storm appears it begins to pour down with rain. 'Torrential' is the best way to describe it. The streams around here will swell and break their tiny banks. The trees will grow faster, from both the excess of magic and water. These woods will thrive now, no longer hindered by the city that would have been constantly drawing from it.

I return to my previous location within the city to make sure the fires are dying out. The monsoon-like rains are dousing everything thoroughly. Satisfied that the fire will die out soon, I lead the remaining vampires north, to the meeting place where I will find Summer. The ground is wet and muddy already, but my heightened senses stop me slipping and falling. I do not run, though I do wish to get to Summer more hastily, so I up the pace slightly, weaving a way through the trees and mud and sludge, forging my way to the northern-most trees.

With just a few miles left to cover, a smell reaches my nostrils. It is something on the air that sets my naturally still heart racing with magic; it is like the smell of roses, of sweet wine, or of fresh blood. I smell Summer, my love.

I up the increase our speed again, knowing that the vampires following me will be able to keep up. Soon the canopy above my head begins to lighten, despite night having fallen. The lightening effect is the work of the beam of light that shines on the Heart directly from the Lighthouse. I know I'll soon be out of the woods and into the warm arms of my woman.

Eventually I break from the trees and glance about, my eyes locking on Summer straight away. I rush over to her and kiss her passionately; a long lingering kiss. We've only been apart for just over an hour and a mid-, but that time was too long. I pull away, hug her and look into her sparkling green eyes. I can see that she loves me too.

I turn to look at the fifty or so vampires around us. Those that got turned in Tomam have awoken and are now looking to the person with the most power for direction. I notice that there are two mangled corpses on the floor, once vampires no doubt. I look to Summer for the answer. She obliges.

"They were the freshly turned, they wanted living blood, and as the only living thing here, and looking fairly fragile and defenceless as I do, they attacked. I killed two before the rest of them figured out that it was not a good idea to attack me."

"You make me so proud, love," I say with what I hope is a warm smile.

I turn to the vampires that are arrayed before us, they are not arranged in any kind of order. I divide the group into roughly two halves, and pick out two leaders for them.

"Everyone in the left group, you will be under the command of Zinne, everyone in the right, Sczeran will command you. Now Zinne, Sczeran, a word."

Though I do not necessarily trust Sczeran, he is the most powerful vampire here. If I did not make him the leader of one of the groups he'd just kill his way to the top, and then probably take the group to do whatever he wanted.

We lead the two vampires away from the crowd, so that Summer and I can outline our plans.

"Why have we been split?" Sczeran asks before we have even stopped to talk properly. There is a long pause while I wait for him to finish his sentence; soon enough he realises, adding "my Lord and Lady?"

"Because, if you'd have some damn patience you'd know that you're to head up to Scathack. I want you, Sczeran, to go via Enlil; cause some chaos there and draw as much Calcian attention as you can. Then, and only then, are you to head across the Gatheck Range to take Scathack. There you will set up the beginnings of my new Vampiric Empire. The reason for the split is to force Calcian forces to split also. They'll split into more than two groups however, weakening their defence. Do you understand?"

I pose my last question as if talking to an infant. Sczeran does not answer, though both vampires nod. I cannot help but notice that Sczeran does not look happy, and I cannot help but feel endeared by that.

"Now, go, you only have about an hour until dawn, and I don't want my little soldiers to get sunburn."

With that, both the vampires nod once again and turn to their respective groups, walking towards them to redistribute the orders.

Summer smiles and slips her hand into mine.

\- Zinne -

I can't help but smile as I return to my group of vampires.

This is fantastic! He does not know the power he holds over us. I just can't believe he never gave me an order! Not that I'm stupid enough to disobey him; I certainly don't want a Lys-Karalis as an enemy. But still, this gives me license to do as I please. Though I'll bet that Sczeran is pretty pissed off; I still can't believe that he was the only one to get orders from the Lys-Karalis; binding him to do Muzbeth's bidding.

Fuck Enlil, that sounds a little too dangerous for my liking; I think I'll take my charges up to Nuima, then further north to the coast, follow that around until we've just got to drop south a bit into Scathack. That'll be far easier than going through the mountains.

Oh, the fun I could have with twenty five vampires at my disposal.

I reach the vampires whom I am to command; the majority are men, though most of the newly turned are female. I think it is time to address my troops.

"Vampires, I call to you. I am Zinne, many of you know this already, but for those of you that have recently joined our calling, welcome. I will be commanding you. I realise that some of you have never fed before, and that you are hungry. We will find a village on our travels north and we will school you in the way of the vampire. But now, we move. Follow the North Point; it will guide us to our destination."

And with that my group begins to head north, with surprisingly little disgruntlement. When we're out of sight we'll veer off west a little, bringing us into line with Nuima. We'll have fun there, but first things first; we need to find food and shelter. We've only got an hour before the death of us all will rise once more.

\- Muzbeth -

Summer and I turn and walk away, hand in hand, long before Sczeran and his men have left for Enlil. Zinne left practically straight away, evidently wanting to get underway as soon as possible.

We are heading toward that beacon that calls to me so; the Lighthouse. There we will strike a severe blow against the Calcians, allowing us one step closer to our real Godhood.

One day the woman I love and I will rule over all of Gatheck together, but before we can do that we have several fairly large obstacles to overcome. The first being the Calcians, the second being the forging of an empire and a basis of worship, and the third being the gods themselves. In order to set ourselves up as gods we'll need to get rid of them. And for some reason I have a little feeling that suggests that that could be quite difficult. Quite difficult, indeed.

### The Thirteenth Chapter

\- Satch -

18 days until the birth of a god

The 15th day of Spring-Fall, 1538

"Look, there on the horizon. Just left and down a bit from the Light."

"Fucking hell, Satch, that's a lot of smoke. You don't think..."

"I've a pretty good idea; remember what he did to that village where we found Thack."

At the mention of his name we both fall silent. We continue walking. Memories of our lives flash through my mind; as the middle child I don't remember our mother too well, but I remember growing up with Meth and Thack. My two brothers always looked out for me, as I did for them. Our father was never the same after mother died, or so Meth says.

We all used to get on in those days. But then one day Thack and I started to believe in the Pagan gods, though Meth never did. He, having seen our mother's death, always believed and followed Calcia. Thack and I didn't, and often refused to. I came around to Meth's way of thinking when the Church offered to take me in and train me as a priest. They offered me a real job; one where I could help people. How foolish of me.

I look to my left at Meth, and his now unkempt and unclean beard. His once pristine robes are now torn and filthy, covered in mud up to the knees.

"We're getting closer Meth, we'll have him soon," I tell him, hoping to soothe him a little.

All he does is nod at me and continue walking. His face is set with passion and concentration. He wants this more than anything in the world. He wants revenge.

Obviously now is not the time to mention my return to the Pagan gods.

\- Holste -

"It is not that I think you are any worse than the others, know that much. You are the twenty men that received the lowest marks from me, do not worry though, they were still all very high. I will not explain why you had lower marks than the others; you will have to consider that for yourselves. But you should also use it to fuel your reason for survival. You will need it; there will be sixty men in that arena all desperate for survival, which is why I have brought you here to train. In the battle you will form into three teams of five; the fifteen of you that do have to fight. Use the things you have learned, be inventive, and show no fear. Do what you feel you must. There will be no reproach for any that die in the arena, kill as if your life depended on it; for as you well know, in there it is kill or be killed."

I look hard at the men assembled before me. I still find it hard to believe they're going to have to kill other Calcians. I still find it crazy that I'll be fighting there too, though when I asked Calcia about it she gave a perfectly reasonable answer; "Do not ask your men to do something you are not willing to do yourself". And then she said that she too would be involved in the combat. That had shocked me more than anything.

The men stood in front of me, all at attention, do not move a muscle. They are still waiting to be dismissed, but I'm not done with them yet.

"Once you have formed your team, make sure you cast some hefty defences, committing at least three to the casting and one to continue feeding power into it. Don't use flood offensive spells; a focused casting will be more effective at breaching enemy defences. If you see a priest casting constantly within a shield, I would suggest trying to eliminate him. But make sure that you protect your own shields while you do. A good way to do this is to create a wall casting in front of the main shield; this will stop any heavily focussed attacks hitting the main shield by causing them to fracture and dissipate on contact with the wall. If and when your shield does fail, you will know that you should commit another member to maintaining a new one. Any attacks should be as fast as lightning strikes; quickly out of the shield, cast, and quickly back in. Try to randomise time differences between attacks. Do anything you can to keep them on their toes. Any questions?"

A hand shoots up. It belongs to a young man by the name of Redlin. I motion for him to speak.

"Sir, why not just commit all priests to defence? A fifteen strong shield would be impenetrable."

"That is true, but it would fail in the long run. You are in there to prove that you can cut it as a Raven Legionnaire; hiding under cover and not attempting to attack would be classed as a failure and would result in your removal from the arena."

"Removal, sir?" he asks.

"Violent removal. There shall be one person who could break even a seemingly impenetrable shield. Legion will oversee the arena from within. Any more questions, no. Good. Begin the aforementioned training regime at once, and report to the mess hall in an hour. Formation, fall out!"

Redlin's question worries me. I know now for a fact that he will end up in the arena, he fears too much. And I fear more that he will not come out. Meaning that the rest of the squad he ends up in will suffer the same consequences also. Still, Penk and I will be able to lend our aide, much to Penk's disappointment.

\- Muzbeth -

We head east as fast as we can. We both walk by day, and by night I carry Summer, moving as smoothly as I can in an attempt to not wake the sleeping beauty in my arms.

We can't be more than one day from our destination, provided we keep travelling constantly. I've not killed anything lately, and I can feel the effects beginning to tell on my body; my limbs are stiffer, my speed is reduced slightly, and my physical appeal is reduced. I'm beginning to resemble the dead again. I probably look like I've been dead for a day or so, and that'll get steadily worse until I feed again.

I'd like to feed before we arrive at the home of the vampire race's greatest enemy, but I'm not sure if I'll find anything this close. If I'd have been thinking straight, and not about Summer, I'd have eaten in Tomam and none of this would be a problem.

In the distance I can see the source of the light overhead; the Lighthouse in which the prized relic of the Calcians sits. It is at the Lighthouse that I will find the High Calcian Priest, or so Summer says. To dine upon him would be divine, and it would serve well to disrupt the Calcian order. But to turn him, to set him to our cause, that would be perfect. He'd be a vampire that knows everything of the Calcian faith.

Admittedly all vampires know quite a lot. The demons within us see to that. They used to be angels, after all. I wonder if they regret following Samael? It was that act that got them all cast out of Heaven. It was following Samael that meant they had to have their souls ripped from them. It is because they thought they were above their posting that they got thrown to the pits of Abadon.

In my eyes, Calcia was in the wrong, but that may just be the demon within. Calcia sent her own creations to Hell for doing something that they believed in. Samael thought he could do a better job of running the world, and, if Calcia hadn't cast him down, it would have been better. There would be no demons, and the angels would still have their souls and free will. But she did what she wanted and helped us vampires into existence.

How the gods are fickle and foolish. Summer and I shall not be so foolhardy.

By killing and turning the High Priest of the Lighthouse I'll gain much reverence from who should be my equals; the other Lys-Karalis.

\- Satch -

The thick black smoke has cleared mostly, and now only lingering patches remain, holding out against the rain that pours down from the heavens to rescue the forest around what was once Tomam. Meth and I had passed through here on our pilgrimage to The Dirigir Oak, and the city had been beautiful; it was seamlessly integrated with the forest, living in harmony with the trees and the animals therein.

Now Tomam is naught but grey ash, black soot, and charred wood. The trees within the city itself had succumbed to the raging fire that must have been, leaving black jagged stumps protruding from the ground. The trunks of the trees on the periphery of the city sized clearing are even scorched black by flame.

I come to a stop on the outskirts of the city's core; the flames still burn there. Though the rain keeps it from spreading, it has not yet completely doused the inferno. I try to muster the words to talk to Meth but they just will not come.

This place was teeming with life when we passed through it, but now it is barren and dead; even the magic of the ground beneath its foundations has been stripped, taken by some unnatural force. Beside me Meth walks forward a few paces and drops down to his haunches. There is only one person, one thing, that could have caused this; Calcia. She will never again receive my worship. She stopped me from saving Thack, and in doing so let the master vampire escape. And he is one of her creations.

"Satch."

"What?"

I ask, looking down on Meth, he turns his head to look at me over his shoulder. The memory of us at The Dirigir Oak flashes in my mind. That was a time when we still had a younger brother, when we were happy. It was a time when I was an oblivious Calcian.

"What?" he asks.

"What do you want?" I ask in return, now frowning.

"Nothing. What do you want?" He asks, confusion marring his face.

"You said my name, which usually means you want something." That said, Meth jumps to his feet, scanning the burned and broken city around us.

"Who's out there? Show yourself!" he shouts.

There is no answer. But I can see a figure out in the darkness, standing, waiting for me. My eyes didn't have to look, it was more like wherever I'd have looked, the figure would have been there.

"Stay here Meth, I've some business to attend to," I say absently.

"What? I'm not going to leave you alone," he says, stepping closer to me.

"Meth, you will stay here," I tell him, more forceful than I've ever been with him. "This has nothing to do with you."

"Fine, but if you get yourself killed and I'm not there to back you up, who's going to feel guilty? Who Satch?"

I turn from my older brother and head off to the scorched tree line, heading for the figure.

"Me! That's who!" Meth shouts after me.

I keep my pace up, and the figure comes into focus. I pick out the details I knew would be there; voluminous black cowl, face hidden in deep shadow, hand clasping a dark scythe. The ones I used to follow wish to speak to me, and the Harvest King has come with whatever message they collectively send.

***

"Meth!"

I shout as I stride out from the trees, towards the burned city. He turns and faces me, displeased that I'd left him, no matter how briefly.

"Back are we?"

"Look, we've no reason to stay here, and the way I see it, from his direction he can only be heading for one place."

"The Lighthouse. Yeah, that's what I'd figured, too. There's a small farm just north east of here, we can get horses there," Meth says.

"So what are we waiting for? That's our best chance of beating him." I say, beginning to head back to where we'd left our packs.

"So you're not going to tell me what your little journey into the woods was about?" Meth asks, keeping up with me.

"Nope," I say as I glance back at my brother. Meth's face is dark and unhappy, even under the dirt and soot.

"Fine, but don't blame me when you die and Calcia sends you to Hell," he says.

Oh, the irony.

\- Holste -

We are beneath the Lighthouse in an area I have never visited before. All sixty-nine of us are arrayed down here in the massive arena, which is a giant dome cut out of the rock that hosts the catacombs.

Legion stands at the very centre of the dome, with me and Penk, and the other leaders and their seconds - Quixin and Shrike, Oryon and Trife, and Tyllard and Caribb – all facing him in an eight person circle. Now I think about it, we're stood in the formation of a Sircless, each person forming one of the points that create the centre; in which Legion is stood. I suppose it makes sense, he is Calcia... She is Calcia... I don't know.

Legion has changed since last time I saw him, now he dons fearful black armour, completely covering him from head to foot, his face hidden behind a glassy red visor, that single red eye invisible behind its mirrored front. He carries no weapons, but the armour would probably work better than any weapon. The gothic design of it incorporates sharp spikes, and coupled with the weight of the armour, would produce an effect similar to that of a spiked mace to the head..

So far all that has happened is that we have entered, with Legion standing where his is now, and deployed our men in their groups of five. Now we are just waiting for a sign from Legion.

We stand for a few more moments, just glaring at the other leaders arranged in the Sircless formation, Oryon seems to have some grievance with me, staring hard and unblinkingly. He'll be the first to go, if I get the chance.

Suddenly Legion leaps high into the air. I feel the powerful magic that aids the jump. At the same time I crouch down, getting the drop on the others. I cast as Legion does, indicating the start of the battle. Now it is every man for himself.

Purple spears rain down from above, aimed for the sixty men arrayed about us, behind Oryon I see them raise their shields, two men are too slow though, and one man's shield fails, his casting unable to stand up to the power of Legion.

Legion's deep voice booms out about the dome, amplified and echoing. It seemingly comes from the dome itself, but it is probably more to do with acoustics than magic.

"Thebb, deceased, Kakapo wing research."

"Plex, deceased, Cassowary wing tactical."

"Syne, deceased, Kakapo wing offensive."

The three names are spoken disjointedly, as if spoken by three separate voices that sound the same. There is no emotion in Legions voice.

I cast with my offence, aiming it towards the chest of my first target; he rather stupidly has glanced around at the mayhem surrounding him, leaving him open to my attack.

"Redlin, deceased, Vireo wing research."

He's gone, I knew he would. No time to think more on it, I must live in the now. My Malice attack slashes into Oryon's torso, sending him tumbling backwards.

Suddenly Penk casts a magical shield about us as a barrage of passionate attacks is launched at us, clattering off the shield which is only just erected in time. The power of Trife's attack is impressive, and his passion is his strength, but Oryon is still alive, unfortunately.

"Rocci, deceased, Kiwi wing defensive."

"Giannemn, deceased, Kiwi wing defensive."

When the barrage from Trife has stopped I glance up and notice that Legion has stopped his purple spear attack. I presume that this is to let the inter-wing fighting take place.

I reach out and grab the ankle of Penk, seeking his bare skin for flesh to flesh contact. He knows this is the sign to drop the shield, and he does so, only long enough for me to cast again. Using the power of both of us, I cast and the fireball leaps out of my palm, streaking towards the downed Oryon.

"Teok, deceased, Cassowary wing offensive."

Before the fireball strikes the twitching Oryon, something gets in the way. A shield dashes the flame from its course, spraying small drops of fire in all directions bar that of Oryon. Trife, his sudden shield long gone, casts again. I can feel him drawing in as much power as he can for a killing blow. I have no doubt that it will be aimed at me.

"Hyomney, deceased, Vireo wing tactical."

"Johun, deceased, Cassowary wing offensive."

"Xoigh, deceased, Kiwi wing offensive."

I'm still holding Penk's ankle when he drops down to his knees, his shield no longer in effect. I'm going to die. Trife will kill me. I look to Penk to find out why he's giving up.

With a sudden shock of horror I see why; a spear of ice has smashed its way through his torso, puncturing at least one of his lungs, maybe both. It came from behind. I can tell by the cold blood on the ice that erupts from his breast. I nearly panic, but manage to school myself. I need to stay calm.

Forgetting about Trife I set to work on Penk, he of all people does not deserve to die down here.

"Maro, deceased, Cassowary wing tactical."

"Oryon, deceased, Kiwi wing command."

"Trife, removed, Kiwi wing command."

"Dinss, deceased, Vireo wing defensive."

I only hope I can heal Penk enough before I die.

Dragging in ambient magic from my surrounding to augment my own, I cast my healing spells. I place my hands on his chest around the spear. The ice begins to crack, and the flesh around it starts to freeze, trying to heal and regenerate while the flesh is frozen is not working, it is only making it worse.

I see my error and make amends.

The Fourteenth Chapter

\- Muzbeth -

13 days until the birth of a god

The 20th day of Spring-Fall, 1538

I'm sneaking along a cleft in the hills, so to be hidden from any prying eyes. The wall surrounding the Lighthouse looms large, towering above my crouched, decaying form.

As I reach the bottom of the wall I turn to face out and press my back up against its solid brickwork. The rough texture against my back is reassuringly mundane.

Summer slinks gracefully towards me. She reminds me of a dark shadow closing on its prey. When she is within ten feet I turn and jab my hands into the mortar around the bricks. Doing so does not hurt, but my rotting fingers crunch and break, making it much harder to pull myself up. I continue, despite the small difficulty. When I get to the top I'll have to cast, using up the last of my magical reserves to heal my body as much as possible.

Fortunately being a Lys-Karalis I do not need to feed, thus I cannot die by starvation, but without blood I can't fuel my magic. I need to feed as soon as is possible.

Without thinking I've soon reached the top of the forty-foot tall boundary. I pull myself upright and once balanced perfectly atop it I glance down either side. Within the walls there are no guards that I can see, and without, Summer is rising up the side of the wall. She is just floating serenely upwards. When she reaches the top she simply steps off the nothing she wasn't standing on and onto the top of the wall beside me.

"I'd have given you a lift if you'd just waited, sweetheart."

I'm sure she would, but her little display has rekindled a memory.

"Remind me after this that we've got to finish the conversation that so briefly started in Tomam," I say, before leaning in to quickly kiss her. I notice that she's slightly out of breath. I should ask her about that too, at some point.

"Will do, love. Now, are you going to jump down or can I help this time?"

"Very well, show me what you've got."

She steps off the side of the wall. I half expect her to plummet down, but instead she merely stands on some kind of invisible platform. I step out next to her hesitantly, unsure of how all this works.

As soon as I've got my unsteady balance, we begin to descend into the torch lit courtyard. To take my mind from the slow descent I cast my magic, healing my broken hands and sharpening and hardening my nails, preparing them for another climb.

Soon we are at the bottom of the wall and I'm happy to feel that I still have a small reserve of magical power to call upon if necessary. I step off whatever I'd been standing on and feel the equally solid ground beneath my feet. It is such a nice feeling after standing on something you can't see. A quick glance around to take in anything I might have missed. The walls are washed white, both the exceedingly tall Lighthouse itself, and the wall that marks its boundary. All around the wall are placed burning torches in sconces. Above and to the right a little, the Light burns brightly from the top of the Lighthouse, forging its brutal way across the sky.

I turn my attention back to the lack of guards; I find that a little odd. No sooner than I think that, a guard rounds the corner of the Lighthouse. Within an instant Summer and I are pressed against the Lighthouse, out of sight of the guard. He didn't see us.

We've made it to the Lighthouse undetected...

\- Holste -

"Efoke, deceased, Vireo wing research."

Changing my casting I deliver a strong heat to the ice with my left hand, and healing to Penk with my right. This time the flesh begins to grow, finding its way through the fast-becoming-water ice.

"Vijh, deceased, Kiwi wing leading."

Suddenly, now things are going well with Penk and I think he might survive, I glance up, realisation that I should have been dead a moment ago.

Trife is nowhere in sight. Only the unmoving corpse of Oryon, with the rents cut into his flesh by my Malice, is left of the Kiwi wing command.

"Ehko, deceased, Cassowary wing research."

"Henret, deceased, Kakapo wing research."

I glance up again at Legion and the death and destruction he has organised only to see that he isn't there. I look over my shoulder, instinctively throwing up a shield when a stray casting skitters my way. Legion is not here! He's left the Arena!

I stand up, with Penk lying on his side at my feet, still protected by my shield.

An alarm sounds. A screeching, violent, wail of a noise that cuts to the bone and makes my teeth ache. The fighting stops immediately. That must be all twenty, meaning that only the strongest remain.

Almost as quickly as it came on the alarm shuts off. A flare of power assails the dome and Legion appears, standing in the centre of the dome, mere feet from Penk and myself. He isn't wearing his armour, and as a result, this will be the first time the vast majority of legionnaires will have seen him. I feel the magic being prepared and cast, targeted on the translucent, glowing red-eyed figure in front of me.

Torrents of attacks rush past me, thundering about my ears. A few crash into my shield, but it holds. Legion does not move and they all dissipate upon crashing into his shield. His voice booms out around the dome, the way it had done while the fighting was taking place, but this time it is smoother.

"I AM LEGION. This combat is over; you have all made it into the Raven Legion! There is no time for congratulations. The Lighthouse has been attacked by the master vampires and the Seasons. We are evacuating. All Kakapo wing are to report to the Arena for an imminent casting. The target destination is Enlil. This combat has allowed me to assess who shall lead the Raven Legion; he will have all the authority and respect I have. Simet-Holste, appoint a new Vireo wing commander. You are now Raven Knight."

And with that speech, he vanishes. There is a slight pause before everyone moves, bar the still breathing Penk at my feet and me. When Penk is immobile due to injury, I am too shocked to move. I have to prioritize.

The Lighthouse has been invaded, but that is not the great surprise, it has happened before. The mystery is why we are leaving it and not fighting for it.

Soon the doors at the four compass points are opened and the glamour spells hiding them are shattered, finally showing the arched double doors that admitted all of us. Barely have the doors opened when in rush all of the remaining Kakapo wing, joining up with their survivors who are inside the arena already.

I absurdly recall when Legion had called the four of us in to give our wings their names. It was a surreal moment, having to avert my eyes from his presence, when I had grown used to looking at him.

Forcing my concentration back, I call over Baru, a tall, thin, gangly man, and a researcher in my wing... my old wing. I guess they're all my wings now. When he arrives he nods at me, unsure of how to act in my presence now that I've been promoted to Legion's status.

"Penk has been injured, take him to one side and offer as much healing as you can to him. Use others if you need to. I want him walking within moments. Go."

He nods again and calls out to a couple of men milling about. They hurry to Baru's side and help him carry Penk away.

I turn to observe Kakapo's combined effort. They stand in a large circle, all hands linked to offer combined power, in the form of a Network, for much heightened strength. Suddenly I feel as though the air in my lungs is being pulled out. It feels like my lungs are being crushed by some unseen force. I quickly realise that the thirty or so Kakapo priests are drawing in ambient magical energy. To do so they are taking it from whatever source they can. I am one of those sources.

After a couple of moments the feeling eases and I feel somewhat drained but still with my magical levels okay; I'm not in danger of being spent magically.

There is a thunderous crack and a flash of pure white light. I blink away the coloured blurs that hang in front of my eyes. In the centre of the circle of men, there now hangs a heat haze, about ten feet across, the same high. From where I am standing it looks to be two-dimensional, but I'm guessing that it is a sphere.

"Raven Knight."

Somebody speaks into my ear and I spin to look at them but there is nobody there. I look about confused. That was a female voice. Calcia?

"Yes, it is I, Calcia. Simet-Holste, I have to tell you that I am leaving this world for the time being, for I need to commune with my brother. The reason we are abandoning the Lighthouse, as I know you are wondering, is that we will take it back eventually. Go to Enlil, and recruit more men to form an army to support the Raven Legion. There you will have to fight a war. Vampires are going to attack Enlil, and after that, the rest of Gatheck. Do not worry though, the Raven Legion is strong enough to prevail."

Why does she have to leave us now? Can't she tell that this is when we need her support most?

"I have prepared you well, Holste. You can do this without my help. Do not waste the other wings' talents. They will be instrumental in the Raven Legion's success. Be strong my Raven Knight. I will watch over you. Should the need arise, call out to me and I will send you The Silence. Only if you absolutely need him though. I will keep in touch. Goodbye, Raven Knight."

And then she is gone, the voice ending with finality. Who the hell is 'The Silence'?

"Commander Holste?"

Surely she doesn't mean her avatar? He hasn't been seen since the Calcian Wars. Surely it could not be.

"Commander Holste? Commander?"

There's no chance... but then she is a goddess...

"Commander Holste?"

"What?" I snap. The voice finally breaking through my thoughts, snapping me back to reality. A young face peers at me from a short stumpy body. I do not recognise him. "I was thinking. What do you want?"

"The Gateway is up and safe, though there was a complication during casting."

"And this complication?"

"There was a massive influx of power at the crux point of the casting. It is a permanent Gateway. For some reason the power it is generating is being fed back into the Gateway."

"That was Legion. Do not worry; he has made it so. We will either close or defend it from the other side; I assume it is fully functional?"

"Sir," he affirms with a sort of half-nod, half-bow.

"Then we march."

I turn to address the gathering wings. There are so many of them. I scan the faces and pick out Iniar, who is still scowling for some reason, and Lorien, who seems happier. He will make a good replacement for me. Iniar still lets his emotion run too freely.

A cough and a whining wheeze from the side of the dome grabs my attention. I want to go over and check on Penk, but I need to address my men before I can.

"Form up! Cassowary, Vireo, Kiwi, and Kakapo, through the Gateway in that order. Cassowary, defend the drop off point, Vireo defend the Gateway, Kiwi scout the surrounding area. I want Kakapo finding out if the Gateway can be closed or blocked somehow. Move!"

A chorus of affirmatives greets my ears, at the same time as a much closer and individually audible voice.

"Yes, commander Holste," the short pudgy Kakapo man says, before turning on his heel.

Unable to control myself, I stop him and I whisper into his ear before letting him go.

"Yes, Raven Knight. Remember."

### The Fifteenth Chapter

\- Angel-Mexis -

13 days until the birth of a god

The 20th day of Spring-Fall, 1538

I'm running hard and my heart is pounding hard in my chest. What have I done? I've been with them for too long. I've killed people with them, innocent people. Why do I even deserve a shot to redeem myself? I chance a glance behind me; Kellum is at the door to the tavern. Within a moment he's upon me. His hand on my shoulder forces me to my knees.

"I do not want to hurt you, Witch, but that does not mean I won't," he says loudly.

He's smiling, but it is not the usual evil smile; it's as if he knows something that no one else does.

"Then let me go Kellum," I ask. My heart is beating so hard that I can barely take it.

"Sorry, did I say I didn't want to hurt you? I lied," Kellum says, still smiling that knowing smile. He puts his index finger to his lips, and gives me a look as if to say "trust me". He's just playing with me. He's trying to make me think that I might survive this. I'll not fall for that, though I may be able to angle this to my benefit.

"Kellum, please. There is no need to kill me, your master will never know. Just tell him you killed me."

"Unfortunately for you, my loyalties are strong and will not be tested so easily."

"But... Please, I don't want to die. I... You could come with me, we could go together, and we never have to see him again." Tears are streaming down my face now. I'll die soon and I know that it will not be the Summerland I go to. I'll go to the other place, where the Fey rule; the Winterland.

"Witch, I do like you, but now you must scream; for me, for all the vampire Lys-Karalis, and for your master, Muzbeth."

Then a terrific scream, one of fear, pain, and desperation, fills the air. But it comes not from me, though it was my voice. The scream came from Kellum, his magic mimicking the sound of my death.

He takes my hand and pulls me back to my feet and begins to take me further away from the tavern. A few moments of running later, and we come to a stop in the middle of a small copse of fir trees. I speak in the faintest whisper I can manage.

"Kellum, what is going on?"

"I am sick and tired of that idiot attempting to control me. I intend on assuming his demon and becoming a Lys-Karalis myself."

"So why am I still alive? Not that I'm complaining," I say, a weak smile coming to my cheeks.

"I can see the future, I know what is going to happen and there is nothing I can do to stop it. So I'm going to tell you this. You know my name is Kellum, and that I am a vampire. But I am a demon too. I am going back to Hell, and this body will return to its rightful owner."

There is a strange desperation about his features. His eyes have a fervour about them, shining more brightly now than I have ever seen. He continues to say his peace and I unable to stop his narration of the future. I simply cannot say anything.

"The sun will devour me. However, this body will survive to become a Lys-Karalis, and he will be instrumental in defeating those that need to be defeated. I do not know who they are. This is what I need you to do; go to the dimension of the Third Empire, it is a long time since I travelled there, but you will be safe there until your destiny finds you."

"What? My destiny? I don't understand? Dimensions? What are you on about?"

"Please believe me! We have to be quick. He will be growing suspicious."

"How is it even possible to go to another dimension?"

"You must go to The Heart. Underneath the lake is a stone circle that can be used with your magic. You will understand with time." He smiles again.

I sit bolt upright, covered in sweat. My hair is plastered to my face and neck. My chest is heaving and my mind is reeling. I've had that dream every night since Kellum spared me, and now, as I near my destination, the Heart, it is lasting longer.

In reality he had just touched my forehead while his magic had screamed, and then he'd told me to run. Perhaps the dreams are telling me what he would have said if he could. That seems to be the only conclusion I can draw.

I get up and stuff the scabby furs back into the sac I managed to procure while passing quickly through Dinscuth. I've travelled constantly since we parted, keeping away from the big cities, and passing fleetingly through the small towns I have crossed. I've done my best to avoid people. I don't want to hurt anymore people. My recent history hasn't been great, and I know how ashamed I should be of it.

My stomach growls ravenously, reminding me that I've not eaten in three days. The tough ball in my tummy is growing stronger, and I am losing far too much weight. I can keep my strength up with my magic, but that does not stop the hunger or the weight loss.

Sighing, I shoulder the sac and begin to walk again, ever drawing closer to the Heart. I'm heading North East so as to join the River Wyd, and then I'll be heading North East along its banks up to the Heart. By doing so I'm avoiding any difficult mountainous terrain, and hopefully any people.

I'm close to our goal.

\- Muzbeth -

I scramble up the white washed walls of the Lighthouse, digging my hardened nails into the stone bricks and the mortar holding them. Thousands of millions of flakes of white paint slowly fall to the ground beneath me. The building, though a conical structure, is effectively vertical thanks to its size. I've come up about a thousand feet, and I'm only about halfway. It is a wonder how this thing was ever built.

I glance down, enhancing my vision with a tiny mote of magic. Summer is in the shadows, stalking an unsuspecting guard who has no idea either of us are here.

Returning my attention to the wall, I continue climbing, steadily gaining height. The higher I climb the colder it gets. I'm sure that if I kept climbing I would be able to touch the blue sparks.

The Light grows steadily bigger and more encompassing as I approach its edge. Now I'm so close I can see that it is actually set inside the Lighthouse. Part of the wall has been knocked away and the Light shines out from within.

I climb a little further, and onto a stone floor. I guess technically I'm now inside the Lighthouse.

The Light itself is actually a sphere, but surprisingly not that bright to look at. When it is seen in the sky at night it seems brighter because of the darkness surrounding it, but being inside the beam is exactly the same as normal daylight. The cavity in which the Light is situated is three floors deep, and inside that area it is constant daytime. I wonder if there is a giant shadow of me cast upon the Heart? That would be an impressive sight.

I quickly leap up and out of the broad beam of light, latching once again onto the outside wall, and head the much shorter distance to the roof.

I make the top of the tower with agility far beyond any human ability, swinging from a ledge to land silently on the rim of the smooth tiling, balanced perfectly. I take a step forward, approaching a small skylight that leads down into a dark chamber of the topmost floor, but something stops me.

I smell an odour on the air; a recognised smell, pleasant, warming, familiar. A friend; Kellum! I reach out into the darkness with my senses. I locate my one time mentor; he is on the other side of the roof to me. But more noticeable is the fact that there are at least two-dozen vampires between him and myself.

What is going on here? Is he going to tell me what he told the other Lys-Karalis? As I stand pondering, a voice drifts out from a shadowed recess. At first it is one voice, then as that voice finishes speaking, another takes up the reins of the speech. This method continues until my opponent steps out into the moon- and spark-light to face me, silvery blue and evidently angry.

He is attempting to remove from me my status as a Lys-Karalis! Kellum stands against me! I think over what has just been said;

"You are a monster,"

"Unfit to be a vampire Lys-Karalis,"

"Kellum-Herbst wishes to assume the title,"

"We have allowed him to challenge you."

Kellum charges silently forward, his footfalls light on the tiles between us. He smoothly draws a pair of daggers as he runs. I do not move to intercept or to avoid; I am unthreatened by the fast approaching vampire who is intent on killing me.

"The victor will remain hidden from the eye of Calcia,"

"The defeated will be cast back into Hell when the sun rises."

"Born to lead the race of vampires to greatness,"

"As all Lys-Karalis are, you have chosen damnation for us, and our kind, instead."

"Should Kellum-Herbst fail, we six Lys-Karalis will have no choice but to hunt you down and destroy you ourselves."

So there are seven of us, including myself, as Kellum said there were. Do they expect me, the true leader of the vampiric race, and founder of the Capital, to share my rule? If they do they are fools, and I will show that to them. But first I must teach old Kellum a lesson.

Once he taught me, but now I am the master; this will be his first and last lesson. I duck back quickly as one of Kellum's daggers skims my brow. Cold thick blood runs ever so slowly down my face. The second dagger is aimed at my gut, and a quick side-step avoids the contact. Kellum, not expecting the swift evasion, stumbles under the weight of his own thrust and in the moment of instability that catches him, I make my move. It will be the only one I need.

I raise a fist and bring it down into Kellum's back; it crunches through bone and crushes his insides. The cold of his internal organs feels glorious on my hand. He screams with frustration at his defeat and falls to the tiled rooftop, dark thick dead blood pools slowly beneath him.

Victorious, I cast my gaze to the hidden Lys-Karalis that surround me, willing them to try and take me on! Nothing. There would be silence, if it were not for the howl of the wind.

Then a single clap breaks the stillness, and then another, until a chorus of clapping hands fills the night. Turning on the spot, I see ten, twenty, maybe thirty vampires step out of the shadows. All clapping and cheering my victory over the wretch that tried to overthrow me! Finally they recognise me as their master and champion!

Something strikes at my back, and an inch of bloodied bronze thrusts out of my breast. Kellum is still alive, and now I have a dagger through this dry and black heart of mine. Blood meets my lips, not the fresh human blood I love, but the bitter vampiric blood that I find the taste of so vile.

Long forgotten memories flash through my mind; images of the woman I used to love, Elyse. The many faces of the many people I've killed or known. Pictures of Summer and the things we've done together. Still frames of when I first met Kellum deep in the sea to the north of Khorale.

But of all those things, only one gives me the hatred to continue, to destroy those that have hurt me. Kellum is the reason, or more technically his betrayal is the reason.

Kellum has set me up; made me a creature of the night, taught me to be the cold blooded killer that my very nature dictates. And for all the trouble he went to, to set the other Lys-Karalis against me, revenge is all that plays on my mind. He will regret the day he found me.

Turning my head, I see Kellum grinning at me. It is usual toothy smile, but it is soon to be broken. I step forward and slide painlessly off the blade, turn to face Kellum, and make a grab for the bloodied blade. I twist it easily from Kellum's grip. His grin fades so quickly and a stunned look appears in its place. Is he surprised at the defiance of death in my eye, or that a single blow didn't to kill me? He's an idiot if it is the latter.

A lightning fast jab to his stomach brings Kellum to his knees, and sends his second dagger skittering across the rooftop. I look down into his face and let out a roar of anger and hatred; it serves only to empower me and diminish his confidence. I throw the dagger to one side and do not hear it land.

Gripping his mouth I force it open, shoving the fingers of my other hand into the dark chasm that houses his sharp teeth. Using my inhuman strength, I pry his jaw away from his skull; a dull crack sounds as the bone breaks.

He begins to scream, showing his weakness. He is a vampire, he should not even feel pain. A second crack tells me the jawbone is completely free. I pull and hear his flesh tearing as the skin is ripped free of his face. I rip his jaw off completely, taking tongue, cheeks and a large chunk of throat with it. His screams become undecipherable.

I lift the jawless Kellum up, looking into his eyes. I drop him and his jaw to the tiles and he just lies there, bloodied, and close to death. So close.

I stand where he lies, covered in his dead blood. In the far distance, over the Gatheck Range, the sun begins its slow morning rise.

Moments later dozens of vampires leave the rooftop, each leaping to the safety of the shadows by the walls; to the safety of darkness.

Now only the seven Lys-Karalis remain, and one soon to be dead vampire.

Now the real battle comes. I draw upon my remaining magic and prepare a spell to destroy demons, using the erstwhile angelic magic granted to me. I unleash it upon myself.

My hands swarm with fire; engulfed by the flame I magically abjure. They catch fire quickly and the caressing flames begin to spread up my arms at an alarming rate. Instantly I cast again. The flesh of my arms starts to regenerate so fast it looks like my skin is living, black and undulating. It writhes between fire and fresh flesh. Soon, only my hands are on fire; the flames kept from spreading by my healing magic.

I look up and react instantly as the other Lys-Karalis charge at me. One of them is just about to reach me. I lash out with my clawed and flaming hand at neck height. My decapitating blow sends his head falling to the roof. It lands, bounces, and rolls off the side to plummet the drop to the cobbles below, trailing bright flame all the while.

My simple plan works perfectly; stop them being able to use their magic and burn them once they cannot heal themselves. I know this works because I just felt that Lys-Karalis die by my hand; he was my equal and I killed him without a thought. It was so easy. I never even knew his name. Not that I care. The rest will follow him to their deaths.

Barely an instant after my first scything cut, I'm ducking a powerful left to right swing by a massive vampire. The muscles beneath his dead skin ripple in the moonlight as he flails his arms. I duck under his left arm and scythe my hand up into his ribs, pushing them aside, and letting the fire consume his insides. I grab a handful of anything and, while ripping it out, my other hand finds its way to his shocked face.

I gouge an eye, hook his skull and drag his head down to smash his cranium on my knee. His caved in skull becomes engulfed by the flame quickly. Its ash begins to blow away in the wind as the two bodies burn hot and bright. I feel this one die too; one more of their number down. There are just the five of us now.

Oddly enough, Kellum did a better job than they are doing. The third and fourth Lys-Karalis will attack me together. Both reach me ahead of the last two. They split and flank me. I turn to the largest of the pair and fend off a clawed hand, which was intended for my face, whilst I draw back my right arm to deliver a counter-strike.

The Lys-Karalis behind me stabs, twists, and pulls free some sort of blade. I get the taste of vampiric blood in my mouth once again as my heart and lungs are further damaged. It is a good job I have no need of my insides.

The Sixteenth Chapter

\- Alleil -

13 days until the birth of a god

The 20th day of Spring-Fall, 1538

All I can do is watch and try and get there more quickly to help the others. All the while the demon in the back of my mind is laughing as the twisted and sick individual murders the people I care about. The deranged Lys-Karalis before me moves faster and more viciously that any I've ever seen, horribly dispatching Callic with a single blow, only then to take Morren in an even more callous and violent way.

_'They both deserved it. Neither of them could cut it. They were both weaker than us; we should have done what he is doing long ago. We should have ruled the vampires together,'_ the demon inside my says, ever attempting to corrupt me. Thankfully the demons that inhabit we Lys-Karalis cannot vocalise via our physical bodies, so only I can hear Fel, just as only Liesl can hear his demon, and only Callic can... could hear his.

But now is not the time, Fel. Just not now, I need to concentrate.

Luc and I will be the next to tackle him, taking him on in tandem. I only hope that together we can take him out, and if not, I hope to the gods that we can at least hold him off for long enough for Revner and Liesl to join us.

_'Run away Alleil, this vampire will kill you,'_ Fel tells me, breaking what little concentration I have.

And if you keep distracting me we'll both die.

'I'll go back to Hell. You'll die.'

You'll go back to Hell. I'll move on, I still have a soul. You Fel, you lost yours long ago when you fell from Heaven, I think at the demon that grants me my power.

I head to the corrupt Lys-Karalis' left hand side while Luc heads to its right. Muzbeth turns to face Luc, exposing his back to me.

'Lucky you, you may survive this after all. Provided Luc dies. You could even turn against the others...'

Fuck off Fel! I think, hoping to silence the insistent distraction.

Luc lashes a clawed fist at the face of our enemy only to have it batted away by the vampire. I see Muzbeth's arm pull back for a powerful blow and instinctively draw my knife and stick him with a twisting jab.

But it has no effect on the creature before me, which punches out with his drawn back arm wreathed in flame. The blow was so powerful it must have been too fast to even dodge.

A massive chunk of dead flesh, bone and brain matter is sheared from the side of Luc's head, as the contents of his skull catch light.

Those flames spread quickly over his falling corpse. Revner and Liesl won't be able to help me now. The Lys-Karalis known as Muzbeth starts to turn to face me; all I can do is strike again with my knife. I feel Luc's soul flit away from his body, moving swiftly onto the next place.

_'Feel that?'_ Fel asks, though I know he does not mean the death of my fellow Lys-Karalis.

Suddenly Muzbeth's flames gutter out and the flesh of his hands and arms become blackened. The flesh practically drops from his bones and he enters an advanced stage of decay. His lips draw back to expose the vampire's sharp yellowed teeth, while his nose shrinks to little more than two flat slits. His eyes whiten, though he will still see perfectly. This Lys-Karalis has run out of magic. Maybe I do stand a chance of surviving.

I stab up into his side, sliding the knife under his bottom rib to connect sharply with his spine, which it cuts through, thanks to my vampiric strength.

_'My strength,'_ Fel adds.

Whatever.

He turns his head to look directly at me; my attack has stopped him mid-turn. Muzbeth, obviously angered by his loss, roars into my face. His putrid rotting breath rolls over me, before he quickly backhands me in the chest with a fist. It was so quick I didn't even have a chance to avoid it.

The blow has broken many ribs and launched me from the roof to fall the long distance to the cobbled floor at the base of the Lighthouse.

As I fall I pass through the Light and cast my falling shadow across half of Gatheck. I have a seventeen hundred foot drop ahead of me. Manoeuvring my limbs I steer my body toward the slightly sloped wall of the Lighthouse; I crash into it and slow myself down dramatically.

Seeing a chimney pot, I push away from the wall with my feet and cause myself to pirouette wildly, though I miss the out-jutting chimney. Steadying myself, I crash into the wall again, slowing my speed once more. As I impact against the white painted stone I feel and hear some of my bones break. I hit the wall once more before the ground rushes up to meet me after what can only have been little more than a moment of falling; ninety instants gone so quickly.

I land heavily with a painful sounding crunch. I did not bother to cast anything protect from the landing; preferring to save my casting power for healing when I need it. I cast out with a tiny mite of magic, assessing my body and the state it is in. Information floods into my mind, and I immediately know what it all means.

About thirty percent of the bones in my body have been broken, about fifty percent shattered, and the rest fractured. One of my eyes no longer works due to part of it being severed by a bone fragment. And all of my teeth are either broken or no longer attached.

Not good, to say the least.

'Too fucking right! I guess I'll have to sort us out?'

Yes, as per usual. I reach down into my magic, drawing it from the demon within me, who in turn gets his from Samael, his god.

Being dead I do not feel pain, but the feeling of a severely broken body being repaired is truly an amazing feeling. To feel bones re-graft and click back into blissful harmony with the rest of your skeletal structure is simply divine. Not that my skeletal structure matters; I have no need for one. My body is powered by magic, allowing me to not depend too much on the physical aspect of my body. Also not being capable of dying from natural causes has its bonuses.

The sight in my left eye clears and the magical energy spent keeping it working gets diverted elsewhere. I doubt Fel was responsible for keeping me working when my body was broken; it would have been more like a natural reaction. Within instants the casting is complete, and my body is back in prime condition.

_'You could just leave now. That'd be easiest,'_ Fel says, _'and you'd survive which is a bonus for you. You know you're scared of him; that's why you didn't cast wings to return immediately to help Liesl and Revner. You got lucky, Alleil.'_

"Shut up Fel. It is sunrise soon so go back into your little dark box and leave me in peace," I say aloud, albeit in a hushed tone.

A scream comes from off to my right, around the other side of the Lighthouse. I do not recognise the voice. I sharpen and harden my fingernails, and latch onto the wall.

I am once again hauling myself up the white walls of the Lighthouse. My freshly repaired body feels strong and new, which makes scaling the steep tower seem so easy.

As I clamber onto the tiled rooftop the sun breaks the horizon. I feel Fel return to the place from whence he came, which leaves my mind with a distinctive peace. I get to my feet and look for Muzbeth.

A shaft of brilliant white light erupts from the sun and strikes the severely wounded Kellum, whose demonic soul is ripped out and cast back into the depths of Hell, leaving only the dried, yet mangled, corpse. I've seen this happen only a few times before, when a newly turned vampire hasn't been able to get into cover from the sun in time. It is the most painful way to go for a vampire. Kellum will have suffered far more than he should have.

I glance around at the battleground. My eyes survey the devastating scene arrayed upon the early-morning yellow washed roof. Muzbeth is gone and Luc is dead. He, Callic, and Morren are now nothing but dust in the wind.

Only three of the vampire Lys-Karalis can fight for their race. As I look into Liesl and Revner's sad eyes I know that not all of us will make it out of this alive. Three have fallen back into death already. More of us will surely follow. Either that or the monster that started all of this will wipe us all out.

Something moves on the ground in front of me.

\- Muzbeth -

I pull out the knife imbedded in my side and wield it, assessing its weight and balance, and then fling it, deciding that it's useless. The dagger sails from my grasp and disappears between two chimneystacks, and over the edge to fall down into the courtyard thousands of feet below.

I leap toward the lip of the roof, away from the remaining two Lys-Karalis who at this moment are racing at me.

I've over judged the jump; that realisation comes too late. Suddenly I'm plummeting the huge distance to the hard cobbled floor below, just like the dagger I just threw. I struggle to move my body to the wall, but I manage to do so. I slide down the wall, which slows me a little, but nowhere near enough. The flesh on the rear side of my body is being worn or torn away by the friction.

A chimneystack, which protrudes out of the side of the Lighthouse, rushes up. I bend my knees and kick down into it, destroying the stack, and cracking the bones in my legs at the same time. I continue without control down the wall.

About twenty feet from the floor, a pressure forces me hard into the wall, slowing me dramatically. But I do not slow enough.

I land with a sickening crunch; my brittle, dry, dead bones break from the pressure of the landing. I stumble and fall, my leg bones broken and useless. I manage to stand and take a few steps around the Lighthouse when Summer runs to me. Sweat and blood stain her dress, and she is severely out of breath. She puts her arm around my waist, and uses her telekinesis to lift us quickly up into the air and over the wall. She seems to be holding her breath as she does.

Once we are over the wall, she lowers us to the ground. About ten feet before the sodden grassy mud, her telekinesis fails and we drop like stones onto the soft ground.

Summer lies quite still. I can feel her heart beat though, so I know she is not dead. Her hands are caked in blood. I locate the freshest blood on her and lick, trying to absorb some of the magical power within it; it is a useless effort. I take her hand, pull it close to my mouth and kiss it. I then turn it over and sink my teeth into the flesh of her wrist.

The blood is delicious, far better than the taste of my own. I feel its power well up inside of me; I long to drink more, to feast upon the woman I love so that we can be together forever. But I stop myself. She would hate me for it. What am I thinking, she would come around to my way of thinking eventually. I bite down harder, and feel a fresh wave of hot sweet blood.

"Stop it."

At the sound of her voice I drop her hand and kiss her. Using the magical power I just took from her I heal my broken body and her wrist. I gently pick her up in my arms and begin to run, speeding us away over the ground. It rushes beneath me, faster than I have ever run before; so fast that the greens and browns blur together. The rain from the Tomam casting splashes into my face as my newly repaired legs pound upon the soaked ground.

Now we have to wait. Soon I'll feed again and then we'll go back to the Lighthouse. They do not get off that easily. The Lighthouse will fall to me. And once the remaining Lys-Karalis leave, I will put into practice part one of our Godhood; the Becoming.

\- Zinne -

My dear kings, what has happened? I pause momentarily during our march, the feeling of the deaths of the Lys-Karalis shaking me to my core. I look around at my men to see that they have reacted also. How could so many of the Lys-Karalis die without another taking up their reign?

Only four of our leaders survive now. I felt three die, as every vampire across the world must have done.

It is terrible when one of our 'Karalis dies. Now is not the time for war, so we will abandon the attack on Scathack. I will lead the small army down to the town of Vecen, our capital, which is located just east of Rebium. There we will mourn the loss of so many of our leaders. Many of the vampires travelling under my command have never even met the Lys-Karalis, and to mourn them whilst never having met them will certainly be an odd occurrence; they cannot begin to understand the link we normal vampires have to them, nor the respect we have for them.

Originally my group was fairly small but, when we entered Lowan, a town to the south of Nuima, our numbers grew dramatically. We managed to stay in Lowan for three nights. On the first night we turned nearly twenty people. We fed the freshly turned first, and taught them how to feed, and more importantly how to turn. Every night we would turn more. By the end of our short stay, my men numbered almost one hundred and fifty. The village hardly even noticed we were there until it was too late. We were so careful; never once did we encounter military or priestly opposition. Now that village is empty.

But now, as we travel north, I am going to have to change my plans. Initially I was not willing to travel through the Gatheck Range, though now we must travel down them; only coming out of their dark crevices when we are near Vecen. I'm thankful of the difficult terrain in the mountains, though it will be hard to make it to Vecen, as it will be dark all of the way, bar for a scant few hours at noon. That means we should get there fairly quickly. We owe our Lys-Karalis that much.

I wonder which of them have passed, and which still live?

Whatever the result, they deserve to be mourned for they have led us well. They will be missed.

\- Sczeran -

So Muzbeth is still alive, that is a pity. The ignorant bastard should be dead. But at least, even though I cannot disobey him, I can twist his words. He never said I shouldn't defend Scathack against invaders. So when he comes, I'll be sure that he can never get close enough to speak to me, or to the vampires underneath me.

Zinne, that lazy bastard, will feel my wrath one day too, for skirting Enlil to save his own skin.

I'm currently leading one hundred and forty-two vampires across the Gatheck Range. Oh, won't he be surprised when he sees how big my army is compared to his pitiful twenty-five strong strike force.

Many of the original twenty-seven of my squad were lost in Enlil. The Calcian Hunter teams proving very impressive, but eventually we overcame them and now that town is defenceless.

And Calcian forces will inevitably be rushing to Enlil, attempting to help by undoubtedly leaving Scathack practically defenceless.

The Macer of Scathack, who is a skinny wraith of a man named Pelicis, will submit his city to me without much encouragement. Even if he is not still in charge there, as it is a good few years since I've been there, his successor is will suffer the same fate. The lucky people of Scathack will be my army, and they will be free of the rule of Lys-Karalis.

Soon my dream will become reality.

\- Alleil -

A few feet in front of me the prone form of Kellum lies upon the floor, stirring slowly. How is he moving? I've never seen anything like it before. I rush over and roll him onto his back, he tries to scream but it comes out as nothing more than a dry and cracked gurgle.

How can he still be alive? It's just crazy! Just to my left I can see his fingers twitching, as though he's trying to tell me something. Unfortunately his wounds are stopping him annunciating anything.

'Bite him, devour him, we need more power.'

I thought you'd fucked off? I think at Fel.

But still, I suppose Kellum has to survive.

I slash my claws across my wrist, letting the thick vampiric blood drip into the gaping wound that was once his mouth. Instead of biting him I simply suck the fresh blood away from his wounds, exchanging my vampiric blood for his somehow human blood. It is truly odd turning someone, it feels like you are being washed with them, and in the moment of exchange you can see their thoughts and feel their pain. The latter is the pleasurable part for vampires; usually we do not feel pain, especially not the Lys-Karalis.

This time it is different; it is his thoughts that capture my attention while the two of us are one blood sharing being. He is a Season, whatever that is, and he is running from something. He has a plan for that something. It is a plan that will make him safe from those he runs from. Still he plans to become a Lys-Karalis.

As soon as the thoughts are shared the connection is sheared. Kellum has passed away, his recently life-filled body falling limp. I'd used a lot of magic on healing after the fall earlier, but this is just as important. I look about the tiles for the discarded mandible, and spot it a few feet away from Liesl.

"Liesl, chuck us that bit of Kellum will you? And I think you'd better come and help me with this cast."

The two Lys-Karalis both head my way to lend their magical strength. Liesl hands me the jaw and I put the detached body part where it should naturally go.

I feel Liesl's hands on my neck, and my body reacts immediately. The magic is suddenly coursing inside me, warming me at his touch.

Their power flushes through me, filling me with magic. Our Link-Shell comes into being, our magics feeding off each other and becoming greater than the sum of each individually.

Liesl's fingers play across the scar on my neck from where I was bitten and turned. That is the only thing I will never be able to heal with my magic. His soft touch sends spears of lust through my mind, firing my nerve endings with magical heat. My entire body is teased by it.

I clear my head and lift my mind from somewhere near the gutter. I've never tried to heal a corpse before. Well, not an uninhabited one, anyway. But this man, this 'Autumn' as he calls himself in his head, will need as much strength as he can get for the coming ordeal.

I let the magic flow from my hands, much stronger that I have felt it in a long time, into his neck and jaw, choosing to reattach his old one rather that grow him one anew. To do that would take considerably more magical power. I let my hands contact all of his wounds. I feel the flesh knitting together, both magically, and beneath my hands, but it heals much more slowly that the flesh of the living or the vampires.

Soon the casting is complete and I stand with Kellum's dead body in perfect condition at my feet. As I rise, the two hands on my neck fall away and I feel a pang of loss due to the ending contact with Liesl. I turn to look at Revner.

"We need to get him out of here, somewhere safe. Somewhere away from any Calcians."

"The only suitable place around here will be villages," Revner says, looking to the edge of the roof.

"Do not worry about getting into cover; he won't need it," I tell my counterparts, recalling the plan I learned of during the connection between Autumn and myself

"What? How can you be sure that he'll become a Lys-Karalis?" Revner asks, with a little more than concern.

"I'm not sure at all, but he can survive having the demon ripped from him, so eventually he's bound to get a subservient one." Revner nods his head as I explain a tiny fraction of Kellum's plan to him.

"Cunning. We should head out into the wilderness then?" He asks.

"Yes, please hurry. I can only imagine how little time we have before the Calcians get up here."

Revner nods again and stoops to pick up the dead body. My eyes glide to Liesl's. He has dark hazel eyes. There is such depth and anguish in them. He struggles so much with his demon, and there is nothing we can do to help him. He can only bear the burden. I smile at him, and he smiles back.

Given what has just happened to the other Lys-Karalis it feels so surreal that I might find happiness in such a simple thing.

_'You disgust me,'_ Fel informs me.

### The Seventeenth Chapter

\- Alleil -

12 days until the birth of a god

The 21st day of Spring-Fall, 1538

Revner and Liesl stand to either side of me. The farmlands we're stood upon are sodden and un-growing; the heavy and practically constant rain since winter ended has stunted the growth of the crops, which would have been near fully grown by now. Though, now the rain has finally broken and the sun is pouring down upon the land, the climate has become so hot and muggy it is even unpleasant for us dead.

Whoever, Kellum or Autumn, is staked to the ground in front of us, not yet wakened from his death to embrace the vampiric way once more. It should only be a few moments until he wakes.

The sun is high in the sky and it is beating down upon my face. It is about two hours since we lost Callic, Morren, and Luc. We'll need to travel to Vecen once we have dealt with Kellum... Autumn... whoever...

"So what did you see that made you want to torture this poor man?"

The sudden voice interrupting the quiet and gentle wind startles me a little. It is Revner, he knows what will happen when the 'poor man' wakes.

"I saw what he wanted," I say to Revner, not taking my eyes from the sky.

"And that was to be tortured, was it?" he asks. It is a fair question.

"No, he wants to be in control of his body, but still needs to be a vampire."

"But..." Revner starts, before he stops himself. There is a lengthy pause while Revner mulls it over.

I consider explaining it to him, but I think I like the peace and quiet. Before long, Rev's voice breaks the silence again.

"I see now. How can you be sure he'll survive this time?"

"Well, given his physical state last time, and his physical state now, I'd hope he'd be able to deal perfectly well. He is evidently very resilient."

Silence falls over us once more. The only sound now is the distant lowing of cattle and the wind touching on our hair and clothes. Come to think of it, I have no idea how he does survive. The fact that he can become human is amazing; once he is a Lys-Karalis he will have to explain how he managed it.

"How long do you think?" Liesl asks, breaking the silence once more.

"Only a few more moments," I reply, hoping I'm right.

"I can see a problem here. It's taken him nearly a quarter of a day already; it's going to take a long time if we don't manage to get him what he wants straight away."

"Usually it takes about three hours for a turned to wake," Revner answers for me. "We healed him during his time of turning, perhaps doing that again would speed up the process more next time; if we healed more?"

"You may have a point there, Revner, what do you think Liesl?" I ask of our eldest member.

"I think it's worth..."

I catch the movement of the body twitching out of the corner of my eye.

"He moved!"

My observation makes us forget the conversation as all of our attention is drawn to the stirring body, bound spread eagle to the wet earth beneath our feet.

He's moving in the sunlight. Perhaps, just perhaps we've succeeded first time. I take a step forward, but both Liesl and Revner hold me back, stopping me from getting any closer. Within seconds there is a shaft of brilliant white light, this time angled from high in the sky, lancing down onto the defenceless vampire.

He screams with an agony that is so evident. It cuts through to my bones, and chills my already cold blood. As soon as the shaft of light comes, it seems to be gone, nothing more than a few instants of brightness.

The ground where he lay no longer sodden but now dry and cracked, the body is charred, and unsurprisingly to me, still alive, though only just. We have work to do.

***

"Alleil, this is the last one before sundown. We won't get another chance until the morning."

"Not necessarily true, we can use the Light," I explain to Revner.

"The Light?"

I understand his scepticism, for even I have been there; but I have already thought it through.

"Admittedly it will be difficult to get him up there, especially as we're so drained, but I think we can do it. A couple of times at least, and we'll even have a good rest at that."

Liesl is away to my right with the dead, yet currently turning for the eighth time, body of Kellum. Revner and I are discussing what we can do. We're sat in one of the two scorched but dry patches of earth. Autumn is in the other, where he has been for all but his first attempt.

"We can't keep this up forever, you know. What if he never joins us? What if you have to meet certain criteria? We just don't know enough to be able to do this!"

I'm about to unleash my counter argument about Kellum's memories, and the fact that he knew he would become a Lys-Karalis, when Revner continues.

"And what's more, Alleil, we should be making our way to Vecen, we've funerals to prepare. Callic, Morren, and Luc deserve that much."

I hope Autumn knew that he would become a Lys-Karalis, and not just that he could.

"Okay, I agree, this may be something we can't win, but he has answers and I have the corresponding questions. And for some reason I don't think any demon will be willing to divulge those answers to any of us."

"So you expect-"

"Here we go!" Liesl yells, dragging both of our attentions to Kellum, and mercifully away from the lively 'debate'.

Liesl, using the palm of his hand, drives the stakes holding Kellum in place further into the dry and cracked ground. Once done he retreats to our position. The three of us can only wait for it to happen again.

With only a few instants of sunlight left, Kellum begins to stir; his body protesting against the bonds driven through it.

From our recent experiences and observations, we have come to understand that there should be a few instants of immunity from sunlight at the start of a vampire's life. The sun goes down past the horizon and we're cast into the darkness of twilight; brightened only by the Light above our heads, the blue sparks and the crescent moon in the sky, and the distant city lights. These provide more than ample illumination to our once our very human eyes.

A cascade of knowledge peals through me, targeting every receptor in my body, triggering memories of the only other birth I have witnessed.

I am the second youngest of the Lys-Karalis, or I was at least until Luc died. In fact I guess I still am, now there is another to take his place. But there is also Muzbeth as well, though Lys-Karalis is not a befitting title. I remember this feeling from when Luc was turned, I knew exactly what had happened; I had gained a new brother.

"Did you two feel that?"

Liesl asks us; Revner and I both nod in response. My face is cracked with a smile. The silence between us is only broken by a voice not belonging to any of the three of us.

"Hey, ah, hello? Could I get up now? I feel kind of normal."

I approach the body of Kellum, as his body struggles harder against the restraints we had abjured, and bend down in front of him. Liesl and Revner stand back, wary in case of attack from the erstwhile vampire.

"Kellum? Is that you?"

"Of course it's me, sort of! I put this plan in your head. And I know that you know that my name is Autumn. I've no reason to hide now."

_'He's lying; you can't trust him! Kill him! NOW!'_ Fel screams from within.

Fel, when will you learn that I never have, and never will heed your words? I think back, as calmly as possible.

"I'm sorry, I'm sure you'll understand. We have to be sure."

He sighs and stops testing the stakes holding him in place.

"I know. Do what you must," Autumn says, closing his eyes.

With that necessary conversation over, I return to Liesl and Revner. The former and I clasp hands and interlock our fingers; I hide our hands down by my side, out of Revner's view so that he can't see. I merely hold onto the exposed skin of Revner's wrist.

The reason I am performing this casting, instead of Liesl, is that it is my mind that holds Kellum's thoughts and memories, and most importantly, his plan. Therefore Liesl has allowed me to take charge of the situation.

Magical flushes race throughout my body as a result of the skin to skin contact with Liesl. His cold hand pressed into mine and his magical power flowing into me; they only serve only to intensify the feeling inside.

'Just imagine what he would think if he knew how you felt about him? He'd be as disgusted as I am. But at least he'd be able to get away from you; to distance himself from you and your illness.'

Fel, this is not the time to try me, I think at the demon inside.

'Very well, but mark my words, when he and the others find out, there will be nowhere safe for us. Don't think for a second that the Lys-Karalis will accept you. Never even hope that Liesl will.'

Ignoring Fel, I cast and our three magics are combined into one. Instantly the bindings that hold Autumn to the ground are ripped free and he slowly rises toward the bright column of Light emanating from the Calcian stronghold to the west.

As he enters the Light I half expect a scream of pain, but it never comes; he merely floats amidst the Light that would once have been fatal to him. He is a tiny speck of Lys-Karalis in the midst of a wash of godliness. We have done it!

"I don't believe it! This is amazing," Revner says, stunned.

"Well, we'd better get our new brother down from there hadn't we? He does have an inauguration to attend," Liesl adds.

Within a moment Autumn is on the floor.

The three of us rush towards him to make sure he is okay, and to welcome him to our calling.

I can't stop myself from smiling. Autumn's plan will soon come to fruition.

\- Muzbeth -

How do I know that: is it instinct? Well, whatever, it was quick, I'll give them that much. Now there's a brand new Lys-Karalis running loose, especially for me to have my wicked way with. How nice of them, how thoughtful. They've managed to breed me an extra special kill.

"Honey?" Summer asks, looking at me. I can see the questions in her eyes and hear them in her voice.

"And then there were four," I say simply, smiling.

She cocks her head to one side inquisitorially.

\- Autumn -

11 days until the birth of a god

The 22nd day of Spring-Fall, 1538

The other three Lys-Karalis are a good twenty yards behind me, giving me the space I need at the moment. We're heading to a town called Vecen to mourn the loss of the other Lys-Karalis, and to inaugurate me as one of their own. I'm sure that will be fun.

We've been travelling for over two hours, and it is well past wanemoon now, not that there is much moon to see.

Since we first spoke they've been keeping their distance, allowing me to gather my thoughts and feelings; to find myself, as it were.

'And your name is?'

I turn to face the three following three 'Karalis. I wonder why they're asking. What's the point? They already know my name's Autumn.

_'A little seasonal, wouldn't you say? What's wrong with good wholesome Jehovan names?'_ the voice says again, though it comes not from any of the Lys-Karalis following me.

I'm crouched, hands reaching for weapons that aren't there. My vampiric eyes pierce the darkness as if it were day, searching for who can only be Spring, Summer, or Winter. I'm in trouble. We're all in trouble.

Alleil, Revner, and Liesl have stopped and are stood watching me, I gesture them to get down. They don't; apparently they think Lys-Karalis are above such things.

'Who are you looking for?'

They seem completely unfazed! Can't they hear him? Him – male voice; it must be Winter.

'Of course they can't hear me! And I don't have a poncey name like Winter. My name is Azel.'

Either Winter is lying, or Spring has possessed someone else. That's the only explanation of how she can read my mind.

'Are you real? I can read your mind because I'm in it, part of it. We share the same body. C'mon, it's not hard to grasp. You've shared bodies before.'

"Show yourself!" I shout out into the dark night.

This is becoming unbelievable; I can't sense any living thing anywhere near us, but there has to be someone.

_'Get with it. There's nothing to show, I'm a demon. It is my job to tempt you to do 'naughty things'. You do still know what a demon is, don't you? Getting cooked that many times hasn't buggered up your memory, has it?'_ the voice, Azel, says chidingly.

What's going on? This doesn't make sense! Why can only I hear the voice? What the fuck is happening? What have I done? I'm hearing voices. I'm hearing... hearing...

_'Calm down. Relax.'_ The voice says again.

Voice... Blackness comes. Sound fades.

'Bugger.'

\- Alleil -

The Brangaine Woods to the south of us are dark and brooding; the trees are mourning the loss of their great city. The smoke has long gone though the rains are somewhat more recently gone. The funeral pyre of the city's buildings served as a beacon to all, passing out the knowledge that Tomam is gone. The column of black smoke was all that was needed to be said. It was visible for miles and miles around.

We are talking to Autumn now he's done with his demon, for the time being anyway. That sort of thing usually happens when they go from normal vampire to Lys-Karalis; they expect the demon to be quiet – but it's exactly the same, both can hear each other in both circumstances. It's just that demons tend to ignore the people inside the body with them. Autumn's still quite shocked at being in control of his own body.

The conversation is teetering on the verge of his plans, his ability to survive, and his history.

"I became a vampire to hide from my sister, Spring," he tells us.

"What is all that about? And what's a Season? I saw when I turned you the first time." I ask. This was one of the many things that confused me when I gained a sample of his memories.

"We'll I guess it can't hurt for you to know, not now that I'm one of you. I am a Season. It was my job to govern each of the four dimensions for my particular season: Autumn, obviously."

I suppose he could be delirious, dying and being turned so many times...

"Okay, ah, A: four dimensions? And B: how could you even be in four places at once?" I ask again, trying to clear up some of the new questions he's just created.

"It's pretty simple once you get your head around it. There are four dimensions; trust me on that. All you need to know is that it is very difficult for someone to get from one dimension to another. Of the four dimensions, one is steeped in magic and had undertones of science. One is steeped in science and had undertones of magic. One is steeped in both magic and science, and one has only undertones of both. Gatheck is the first."

Pretty simple? I'll bet.

"So we are magic and science? Okay?" Revner asks.

"To an extent, Gatheck is magic with undertones of science. The key word being 'undertones'," Autumn informs us.

"What about the seasons?"

"As for the seasons on the four worlds, they are all offset; one dimension always has a different season to the other three."

"Four seasons for four dimensions?" I surmise.

"Exactly," Autumn says with a nod.

It is all beginning to fall together now. But what of Spring, his apparent sister. And why is he hiding from her? Why isn't he in a different dimension at the moment; it is spring here after all.

"Right, so why are you hiding from your sister?"

"Well, in order to facilitate our governing we each have individual 'powers'. Spring can communicate using her mind, Summer can move things with her mind, Winter can conjure fire, and I can see the future. My talent allowed me to see that Spring would learn to enforce her mind upon another being, effectively possessing them. I also saw what she'd do with that power. I got myself turned so that I would be safe; by entering my mind she would also enter the demons, creating a buffer against her power; she'd be able to see the demon but not me."

"This is getting a mite complicated," Revner adds, and I have to agree.

I really need to get to Vecen. Once we've crossed the River Wyd, going will be easier. I just can't have all of this playing upon my mind at the moment. But then I can't let him keep it all pent up; he obviously needs an outlet. I guess that's me.

"It gets worse, trust me," Autumn tells us, a dire look on his face, "Muzbeth is currently with one of the Seasons, Summer I think. Well, her body, it is Spring's mind in there. Spring wants to become a goddess so that she can rule the dimensions. She believes it's her right. I'm worried that if she's with Muzbeth, then she'll have a much greater chance of doing so. I just wish I could have done something before, while Muzbeth was with Kellum. My demon, prior to Azel, didn't understand what he was turning Muzbeth into until it was too late." Autumn pauses, and closes his eyes for a moment, before he continues. "But at least then Kellum made a massive step forward for demon-kind and sacrificed himself for the greater good. Whoever said they don't have souls?"

"It doesn't matter about what has happened, what's done is done, Autumn, you of all people should know that. But I still don't understand why Spring wants to possess you," I ask, trying to understand one more little mystery.

"True, but what can we do to him now? He's invincible; especially now he's found Summer. And if Spring gets her hands on him no dimension will be safe. She wants to possess me because with my ability at her disposal she'll be much more capable of achieving her goals."

"Okay, I think I've got that," I say. The beginning of a solution comes to mind. "So to stop Muzbeth we'll have to distract Summer somehow..."

How is another matter. This is going to take some careful planning; but there are so many things that need to be done too. If Autumn is right, we need to stop Muzbeth, Summer, and Spring, as well as dealing with the loss of many Lys-Karalis.

"I can do it," Autumn says, rising to his feet, "they want me, so I'll do it. I'll be able to get them to release Muzbeth, and then you'll be capable of defeating him."

"Yeah, and you'll get yourself killed in the process!" I point out.

Autumn begins to think; I can practically see the cogs in his head whirring. He quickly comes to a conclusion.

"Not necessarily... I might be under Spring's control for a while, and they might know what you're going to do, but maybe, just maybe, there'll be time to get to Spring as well. We can only hope."

"Okay, you may be able to see the future, but if you don't tell me, you'll be fucked," I point out again. He still has so much to explain.

"Don't worry about it, to win, we'll have to wing it on the day, but until then we've got a lot of preparation to do. Alleil, we do have hope," Autumn says, sinking back to his position on the floor.

I do hope he knows what he's talking about. We need all of the Lys-Karalis' we can get our hands on at the moment. Callic, Morren, and Luc would be happy that we've found one so quickly. Hopefully together we can avenge their deaths.

My other questions will have to wait it seems. Autumn is completely focussed for the first time since he became a Lys-Karalis, and I can't see that changing until he's done what he thinks he needs to do.

We'll be moving on again soon, and I imagine we'll be picking up the pace a lot.

The Eighteenth Chapter

\- Muzbeth -

10 days until the birth of a god

The 23rd day of Spring-Fall, 1538

"So, Summer, now we're in the company of the dead, what is going on here? First Kellum has special powers, and then you do. How many others have got these kinds of secret abilities?"

The small farmyard barn we are in is littered with my spent meals. The corpses are strewn all over the place, their spilt blood mixing with the straw.

The location harkens back to our first night together, and the passion therein. My thoughts of past pleasures remind me how much I love this woman.

"I don't want to feel this small," Summer admits, "I can hear practically everything in my head, all trapped inside one mind. I need more space. That's why I need to become a goddess. And I love you so much that I need you as my god, not just my Lys-Karalis. That's all you need to know."

She hasn't answered a single thing, but merely added more questions to my stack. What does she mean when she says 'I can hear practically everything in my head'? What can she hear? I have to press harder; I need to know.

"No it isn't. Summer, please, you know I love you, and that's why you've got to tell me everything. How can I protect you when I don't know what you're facing?"

"I can protect myself," she snaps.

I move closer to the beauty, putting my arm around her waist and pulling her into my embrace. I press my cold body against her hot, blood-pumping, nerve-tingling, form; crushing her breasts into my chest and my groin into hers. We share a lingering brush of the lips that reminds me yet again just how much I love her. The magic within me begins to move my blood.

"I know you can, but I love you, I like to think you need protecting. And I like to think I'm the only one who can," I say, gently rubbing my hardening genitals against her body.

"Then think that."

"Then let me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you..."

"That means a lot."

Her jibe hurts me and I feel like swatting her human form to the ground, to put her into her place; give her a little perspective. She gets her hands on my chest and pushes me away from her, my arms release her a little and I let them come to rest on her hips, holding her tight so that I don't strike her. She still has me at an arm's length.

I'm not sure how to say this. I still my mind and bring calmness to my being; my arms relax a little.

"Summer, I've not been dead long, and I don't remember much of my life when I was alive, but since I've been with you I feel like I can do anything. And that's all because of you," I say, looking deep into her eyes, telling her that I need this with my own. "I want to know about you. At the moment your life is just a big mystery to me."

Oddly it is my own words that make the anger come back. I want to hurt her, to make her feel small and insignificant.

"In fact, I can sum up all I know about you right now, if you'd like?" I suggest with a sneer.

"Muzbeth, stop it."

I want to but I can't stop myself. I want her to know how much it hurts to be kept in the dark. To only know the bare essentials about someone you love.

"Well, I know your body very well. I know your name is Summer. I know you knew Kellum. And I know you can move things. That's it, 'love'. I need more."

"The time isn't right."

"IT'S NEVER FUCKING RIGHT!" I scream at her, losing control completely for an instant. I need to control myself. This is a sure fire way to lose her. "When will it be time, Summer? We've been together for ages. We slept together before I even knew your name."

I cannot bear to look at her any longer. I need a break. I look around at barn we are in, and the flashes of the first night we spent together come back to me a second time in as many moments. The tenderness and care of that night, but still with that fiery passion. My eyes drift back to Summers. She's looking at me, smiling her dazzling smile.

"I can see it in your eyes, you know," I tell her, "the love and the memories. Before you came into my life I just wanted to destroy everything. You changed that. You made me better."

She hugs me hard, her head upon my chest, my heart not making any noise in her ear. I want to say something but I don't think I can. Interrupting now could stop her opening up to me. I open my mouth to speak, but no noise comes out. I don't know whether I can't, I don't want to, or if I haven't the words. She finally speaks instead.

"I'm sorry. That's all I can say at the moment, you know I want to tell you, but you know I can't."

I know better than to push any further, after all I want to have some fun tonight. I place my left hand upon her head, and turn her so that she's looking up into my face. I bend down to kiss her, my tongue meeting hers, exploring the inside of her mouth, feeling the points on her canines. They are much smaller than mine.

I run my right hand down the length of her spine exactly the way she likes me to. Her body quivers next to mine and her arms squeeze me ever so slightly tighter. It puts her in the mood. It is my job to cheer her up as well. And of course I'll enjoy it.

\- Holste -

'Raven Knight', 'commander Holste', 'sir?' Those are practically all I hear nowadays.

Since we arrived here in this dark and dingy basement, all of the boxes have been moved out. Those giant crates full of props and costumes, covered in a thick layer of dust, are now thankfully gone from my sight.

The dressing rooms that once housed the famous players of the above open-air theatre now house the Raven Legion at rest. The mirror system that lights the basement during the day has been cleaned and magically enhanced. During the night, SphereLights are cast by my men.

Defensively, I have both the Cassowary and Kiwi wings patrolling the wall that surrounds the ancient arena theatre. The wall is a simplified and miniature version of Enlil's own great wall. The gates that would have let the audience in are now closed up tight, magically sealed and guarded by at least two men at all times.

Around me stand at least twenty men. They were once of my own wing, and they are standing in loose knots around the chalk circle on the ground that roughly marks out the boundaries of the troublesome Gateway. They may look uninterested and slacking, but I know that each and every one of them is ready to receive any intruder that might find its way through; I cannot ask them to stand stock still as if on parade for the entire time of their watch.

Kneeling in smaller still knots, and closer still to the chalk line are the few casting priests of Kakapo wing. They are desperately trying to find a way to close the Gateway for me. They are the hardest hit by this; their magical energies are consumed at a very high rate, and by now they do not have time to fully regenerate their magical stocks before having to go on shift again. They simply kneel and feed their power to a single caster. He is bare backed so that he can easily receive the magic passed by hands. All the Kakapo groups are trying to fathom out a way of shutting it down.

To be perfectly honest I am getting sick and tired of being trapped here; I should be out recruiting the army Calcia wished me to gather. I have no idea when these vampires are going to attack and I want to be ready for them when they do.

It is too dank and depressing down here. I will walk under the bright sparks for a while. I will observe the moon as I walk the stage, taking in its calming and soothing rays.

I turn and head toward the stone staircase that will lead me away from the harsh magical light that surrounds all of us, bar the sleeping encased in their dark dressing rooms. As I pass the men under my command I receive a few nods of recognition and even a touch to the forelock.

As I ascend the stairs I feel the lowly wind brush against my face; it seems to bustle around the circular seating, whipping itself up into frenzied fervour, before disappearing above the wall when enough momentum has been achieved.

I close the trapdoor behind me, not through necessity but because it had been left open. I head across to the stage and take the five steps up to the stage two at a time, waiting until I am upon the platform before casting my gaze to the heavens to see what view Calcia will have blessed me with.

The moon is bright, though it is more than half hidden. There are clouds rolling across the panorama above me. They are carried swiftly by a wind much stronger than the breeze down here.

Oh how I long to cast my wings, and thrash my way up into that sky; to get away from all of this pressure just for a while and to be free amongst the birds and leaves carried aloft in that heavenly space.

Before I realise it I notice that my face has twisted into a mischievous grin of pleasure. I am going to fly away tonight, not forever, but for a mid-hour or so; just to clear my mind. Blow the cobwebs out, so to speak.

I reach down into the dormant supplies of magic within me and pull out the necessary amount to transform my body.

I hear the crack of wood on stone behind me. I twist my head and torso to look at the trapdoor, letting the magic flutter away on the wind, carried to the distant edges of the world. A man is rising from the trapdoor, bare-chested. He strides boldly forward, in body if not in mind. I know he lacks this true confidence of mind because his eyes never connect with mine. He approaches with his eyes downcast.

At the foot of the steps he comes to a stop, only then do his eyes glide up to mine.

"Raven Knight. The Gateway cannot be closed. Not by us at least."

I do not turn to face him fully as I am pained by this news; I just continue to look at him over my shoulder.

"Then by whom?"

"By my estimation it would take roughly three thousand fully rested, fully proficient casters to generate enough power to force the gateway shut."

I smile to myself. Though it is not what I wanted to hear, it is at least something. Finally, we will be free.

"Then I see only one other option," I say, letting my eyes return to the sky.

"Collapse the theatre, sir?"

His thoughts obviously were only marginally behind mine; or perhaps everyone else wanted to be rid of the basement too.

"Indeed, we will leave this place at first light. Take this news to Tyllard, have him see to it personally. Also, make sure that none disturb me. I wish to be alone for a while."

"Yes, Raven Knight."

And then he turns and hurries back to the trapdoor and to the warmth of below the ground. A 'below the ground' that merely will not exist by noon.

\- Satch -

9 days until the birth of a god

The 24th day of Spring-Fall, 1538

This is not what I want to think about at the moment, but I guess it will keep Meth happy. I really don't understand how he can be so nonchalant about what we're heading to do. We're both probably going to die.

I search my memories for the facts, long ago learned from books, and arrange them in my mind so that they will relate more coherently than mere memories of learned studies.

"Well, according to the records, which in truth aren't complete, Tomam and Rebium had priests stationed on the Isle of Ages. They were keeping it safe from the 'Circle heathens'. Somehow one of those priests died and the Descendants claimed that he was murdered by Circle infiltrators. Naturally, the Circle claimed no knowledge."

Meth walks at my side. We're both keeping up a steady pace and sweat beads on both of our brows. My brother walks with a fixed stare, desperate to get to Muzbeth so that we can put an end to this.

He had wanted to use magic to get there more quickly, but I couldn't let him find out about my change, not yet at least. I eased him into walking, instead of magically rushing headlong, by planting the seed that we will need all of our magical power when we finally fight Muzbeth.

Suddenly he talks, though his eyes never turn to look at me. They are still fixed on some invisible point far ahead of us; something that only he can see.

"So we struck out at you guys?"

Heh, 'you guys', if only.

"Yes, and you killed hundreds of the Circle men occupying the next islands. But the Circle forces had allies in Midiar, and so only the Circle got reinforcements. The Descendant priests were eventually wiped out."

"And so The Dirigir Oak fell into Circle hands."

"Yes, exactly. So then, hearing of what had happened on the Peninsula Archipelago between Circle and Descendant, Enlil and the other DC cities instigated the Hub systems, though they didn't go by that name until General Vigrath coined it. And so the Calcian Wars began properly; a terrible blight on the history of Gatheck."

"And all to no avail in the end; there are still Circle around, and though we don't war anymore, and though you still pilgrimage, we work together. We may not like it at times, but we will never be rid of each other. I think that is what the war was about; Calcia making us see that."

I keep my silence, holding my tongue, and I keep my magic locked away. If he were to find out that I have lost my faith in Calcia, it would be devastating, for me, him and our quest. But by returning to my Pagan roots, I have become stronger and more capable of dealing with Muzbeth. And that is what I must console myself with.

At least he is buying the 'conserving our magic for the battle' story. I am so sorry to have to lie to you Meth.

\- Angel-Mexis -

The mountains surrounding me slowly lumber apart as I pass though them. The river at my feet gradually slows as it becomes more lake and less river; its current dying as the span from bank to bank increases.

Soon I'll be able to see the Heart, thought I still don't understand how I'm supposed to do whatever Kellum wanted me to do.

The ground is starting to level off, and soon it should become a slightly sloping valley. Back in the days after the Calcian Wars, it was this valley that was said to have caught Calcia's tears. She wept one for each of her followers that had died as a result of the infighting. Those tears collected together and thus formed the Heart. I'm not inclined to believe anything of Calcia.

I crest the rise and come to a stop to survey the scene about me. Directly ahead is the massive expanse of rose-tinted water known to all Calcians. The lake is surrounded by the high peaks of the Gatheck Range. Dozens of feet below me, at the bottom of a steep drop cut into the rock, the river flows away from the lake, trailing its way to the ocean near the Peninsula Archipelago. The deep cleft in which it runs has been cut by many years of travelling the same route. Behind me lies the track I came up, which wound its way along the riverside and switched from side to side occasionally. The side swapping was for more purchase on the rocky slopes, making use of the early stepping stones jutting out of the water, and recently, the simple wooden bridges. Ahead and to the left I can see the end of the path that the Calcian pilgrims use. It ends at the side of the Heart after winding its weary way through the mountains to begin southeast of Enlil.

Finally, after seemingly endless days of travel interspersed with hiding, I head down the slight but long slope towards the lakeside. Now I've just got to wait for what I've got to do. I still don't know.

### The Nineteenth Chapter

\- Angel-Mexis -

8 days until the birth of a god

The 25th day of Spring-Fall, 1538

At the lakeside the water is even more pinkish, though it is perfectly clear. The crystalline waters allow my sight to penetrate far into the depths. I kneel down at its edge and dip my hand in, trailing my fingers through the shallow water. From here it looks like the ripples cast by my hands go on forever, slowly spreading across the top of the Heart.

That's it! The ripples cast by my hand. Withdrawing my hand from the rose-tinted water I release a little magical energy to get a sense of ambient levels, and what comes back is truly astonishing. There are massive amounts of natural magical energy here.

Perhaps this truly is a lake of the goddess' tears. I know that rural areas have higher levels than urban areas, and this is as far away from civilisation as you can get, but still, it shouldn't be this powerful. Not naturally. Here, nature and magic rule absolute, and as such, magical levels are much higher.

I probe the water, sending my magic lancing through its deepest areas. There is something down there, and it is something solid.

A wave of something magical breaks over me, though it feels more like it broke out. I blink and rub my eyes. I shouldn't be this tired. I wasn't tired, but I'll just rest my eyes for a while. I lean back and rest my head on the lakeside grasses. My feet slip into the lake and the cool water slowly seeps into my boots, cooling my travel-wearied feet. I'll just have a short rest...

"...You know my name is Kellum, and that I am a vampire. But I am a demon too. I am going back to Hell, and this body will return to its rightful owner. The sun will devour me. However, this body will survive to become a Lys-Karalis, and he will be instrumental in defeating those that need to be defeated. I do not know who they are. This is what I need you to do; go to the dimension of the Third Empire, it is a long time since I travelled there, but you will be safe there until your destiny finds you."

"What? My destiny? I don't understand? Dimensions? What are you on about?"

"Please believe me! We have to be quick. He will be growing suspicious."

"How is it even possible to go to another dimension?"

"You must go to The Heart. Underneath the lake is a stone circle that can be used with your magic. You will understand with time. Tap into the magic there. Raise the Circle, go to the Third Empire," Kellum tells me.

"How? I understand raising the Circle, but how do I use it?"

"You'll need to infuse each stone with a little magic; that will awaken the gate. Then you'll need to find the most northern Marker Stone outside of the Circle. Pour your power into that and then step inside the stone circle. I am sorry for everything. Goodbye. I fear we will never meet again. I am sorry to have had to interrupt you during your waking hours," he says.

My focus comes back and the sounds of the birds are loud in my ears. I'm still at the side of the lake. That dream was distinctly different, in the past it had carried on from when I'd been running from Muzbeth, but that time it started halfway through and was just a voice in a sea of blackness and silence. I hope Kellum is okay.

I sit up and brush the loose stones and earth from off my back. I stand and mark a circle around me in the ground with my foot, a magical circle that will keep magical power bound within; I infuse the circle with magic as I draw it.

I use myself as a conduit, drawing magical energy into me and then releasing it inside the circle, continuing until my body, and the column of air around it, is saturated with magic. I draw as much of that raised power into myself as I physically can, and I push the rest of the magic deep into the water; towards what must be the stone circle at the bottom.

Now that the column is empty of magic, I walk forward slowly, breaking the barrier of the circle and letting it fall.

I step out onto the water, slowly walking across its surface to the centre of the lake; I feel as though I will fall in, but after a few steps the water, and my magic, still holds me and that fear dies.

I begin my journey to the middle of the lake. My earlier magical scouting has told me that I've got at least ten miles to walk, twelve at most. And walking on the slightly undulating, yet perfectly solid water, makes moving all that much slower.

I hope I arrive before nightfall.

***

I am nearing the centre of the vast lake, and by now I must be obscured from vision by mere distance, though I imagine magically enhanced eyes might be able to see me. I guess it does not matter now though; I doubt that the Descendants or the Circle are still looking for me.

As I have been walking, feelings of elation have been coursing through me, thanks to the immense amounts of magic contained within my body.

At the centre of the Heart, I let the magic leech out of me and down through my feet and into the water to pulse downwards. I let it happen slowly at first, but each time I increase the pulse slightly. With each and every pulse I sink a little lower into the water. Maybe I am going to drown. What if this is really what the gods had planned for me all along, maybe they really did turn from me! The sickening thoughts escape my head when I begin to rise again. I never even got up to my knees in the cold lake, and I was ready to abandon everything.

No longer needing to release magic to keep myself atop the water, I relax and watch as around me the water is rising too. But it does not rise as a whole, rather just columns of pink water, slowly towering their way above the lake's surface.

They come to a stop at about eight feet tall each. Every two water-stones support a lintel between them, and each and every one is positively glowing with magical energy.

I turn on the spot, counting the 'stones' in the Circle, thirty two in all, not including the lintels. Around the outside of the Circle are three stones, about half the height of the Circle itself, set exactly the same distance apart, and exactly the same distance from the Circle, a northern one, the second at roughly east-south-east, if I were the centre of the compass, and the third on the opposite side at roughly west-south-west. I head over to the latter to examine the rock sculpted out of water.

With each step I take I can hear the little splash of water, so loud in the silence. The Silence. Hah! The Silence, Calcia's avatar, what a waste. She had to turn it on her own followers apparently.

But my mind wanders and I struggle to focus it. I could hear birds earlier, those in the trees and the few that flew about. I find it strange that now I cannot, though they must not come this far out over the water.

As I reach the jut of water that Kellum described as a Marker Stone, I can make out signs and symbols inscribed on it, carved clearly out of the water. There are what look like giant winged wolves with long necks and tails, and a world on fire. I move quickly in the silence to the easternmost one, this has similar markings; men riding in the stomach's of behemoths, though, a world of peace and prosperity, surrounded by hundreds of Blue Sparks and what look like suns. And finally I move to the northern one; this has pictures of war and strife, but the markings are tinted with resolution, people in temporary peace. In each water-etching there is something to enforce the peaceful nature; a mother nestles her child in front of warring armies; two children at play while two fathers fight and reconcile.

It looks like this is my destination and so I place my hands on the surface; it is wet, yet solid like the water underfoot. I begin to channel my energy in, at first all I yield is a slow trickle, unwilling to give away all of my power. Soon the trickle becomes a steady flow and that in turn becomes a headlong rush of magic. It is out of my control; I am unable to stop and unable to move my hands away from the stone.

I'm going to die. I'll pour all of my life into a casting that I can't control. I can feel my death coming. The tiredness of having nothing left seems to paralyse me. I felt like this once before in Brangaine those many years ago. Back then, Herne had saved me... no, I don't believe that. The Harvest King saved me, that dull and dead voice is now so obvious to me. I can't die here. I have a destiny to fulfil, the gods steered me onto this path, and though it has been difficult, I'm sure it isn't over. I cannot give up now.

I close the flow of magic a little, forcing control over the outpour. The geyser of my power into the water slows. My concentration is perfect; focussed only on stopping the flow of my magic.

Something pulls at my clothes and my sight darkens. Water cascades over me, sending a chill to my body, which is accentuated by the wind. With one last push I force the connection closed. The flow stops instantly, as though a sluice gate had been slammed across a river.

I fall back and instinct kicks in. I try to grab onto the Marker Stone to save myself from falling into the lake, but my arms glide through it and I gain no purchase whatsoever. I tumble back, expecting to plunge into the cold water I'm standing on, but it catches me softly, warping around me and cushioning the fall; keeping me from going under.

As I lie there, looking up at the fresh thick storm cloud above me, flashes of lighting and rumbles of thunder coming from within it, I realise what was tugging at my clothes, why my vision darkened, and why the water was pouring over me. An amazing mass of solid black-grey cloud has formed directly above the water-stone circle, perfectly circular and only wide enough to cover the outer destination stones. The severe wind that has whipped up pulls at the thick cloud, dragging wisps down the invisible wall that keeps the cloud circular. Drops of rain the size of my thumb lash down at tremendous speeds from above, and now splash across my face and water drenched body.

I need to get up and into the centre of the Stone Circle. As I'm getting testily to my feet, a bolt of lightning cracks into the northern Marker Stone, shattering it, and sending a surge of electricity through the water all around me.

A massive amount of pain spears up my legs and into my chest, then on to my extremities. The charring of flesh and cooking of internal organs, frying my brain; the heat sizzling my eyes.

But what I expect does not come; instead I get a jolt of power, which recharges my magical resources so completely that I can't ever remember having so much power within me before.

Now standing tall upon the Heart, its surface dancing and splashing with the force of the rain, I turn to look at the Circle. It is silent and still in the tumult of the storm-worthy weather. In the arches made by the stones with lintels, I can feel, more than see, shimmers of power, reverberating between the would-be stones.

With every step I take toward the inter-dimensional gateway, the magic-fuelled weather grows in intensity, making it more difficult to reach my intended trilithon.

With less than four steps to go the rain is literally vertical, battering at my senses and my body, reducing my sight to practically nothing. The howling wind chills my wet body to the bone and covers any sounds with its incessant rushing. The lightning, its thunder cracks obliterated by the wind, strikes the water every few instants, sending jolts of power through me that no longer work as top ups, but caress my body with their electric touch, bringing me to highs of pleasure; far more effective than any man has ever been.

Two steps. The two columns of water ahead are dark and blurry, but they positively vibrate with the rain and the wind. Another flash of light and I drop to my hands and knees, a scream of utter ecstasy escaping my lips. My legs have given way under the constant stimulation of my nether regions.

Having dropped I now only need to claw my way forward a little to enter the gateway. I pause to gather my breath and wait for the next bolt of sexual bliss to come. It does, but much more powerfully than I expected. My back arches instinctively as I climax, barely even conscious thanks to the paradise I'm experiencing. I pull myself together, panting hard from exertion not of my doing, reach out an arm and grasp the semi solid water I am lying in.

With all the strength I can muster from my limbs, drained of energy by orgasm after orgasm, I drag my thrilled body toward the gateway scant inches before me.

The 20th day of July, 1983

I enter its warmth and everything goes suddenly silent. My stomach lurches, but settles only when the bright light of day falls upon me. The sunlight and location are totally alien to me. My soaking body is too tired to move and my mind is too alive to sleep. So I lie in the sun, unknowing when or where I am.

But I am not on Gatheck; that is for sure.

\- The Mother -

8 days until the birth of a god

The 25th day of Spring-Fall, 1538

From our high vantage point, upon the slopes of Mount Sevilt, we view the small, but ultimately world changing, event unfold. The young woman, who is so strong, is barely overcoming the simple test of strength to allow herself access to a new world.

In the instant the woman in the valley enters through the gate everything stops. The wind blows away the dark cloud and runs out of clout itself. The rain is taken along with the cloud. The magically risen columns of water, which represented the stones, fall back to the lake, returning to their once serene ways.

Not half a moment ago there was a raging storm above that lake, which would have threatened the life of any weak minded person. Now the scene is as peaceful as ever. It is somewhat hard to believe that is the same place. If I were not me, I might not believe.

"Why did you do that?" I ask the Harvest King, who is stood at my side. He, just as silent as usual, is dressed in his long black robes. His entire body hidden is beneath the many layers of black cloth. As usual his gleaming scythe is grasped by a hidden hand. He is utterly unmoving.

"She needed it," he replies of his ignorance of the Lore.

Impregnating a mortal goes against all that we Olympians have decided is for the best.

"She was already powerful, both with the magic of her father and of her own belief in us. Plus, the Lore forbids it."

"It's a little late to be mentioning it now, do you not think?" His dead and cold voice never changes pitch, yet he still manages to carry sarcasm.

He makes his point well, though. I knew what he was doing and I did nothing to stop him. He knows I disagree with that part of the Lore. How could I not? I am the Mother, and the Lore practically stops me from having any more children, both half-mortal or Olympian.

"True, but what will happen when the other Olympians find out?"

"It will be a long time until they do, and before then I'm sure that Calcia will be trying something on. She is getting too-"

"Overconfident?" I finish, for my fellow god.

The Harvest King turns to face me. The black shadows in the cowl hide his face. I hear bone scrape on wood as he adjusts his grasp on his scythe.

"Indeed. I fear that before long there will be war once more; and I fear it amongst us Olympians, not just the peoples of the three Giving Worlds."

"A dark omen to be sure."

"An omen suitable for the times ahead."

Sadly, I can do naught but nod in agreement.

### THE LEGION LEGACY

continues in

### PART TWO

### DARKNESS RISING
