He looked upon the fight helplessly, surrounded by them. He hated him, he hated her. Both as cold but only one with a heart. And Viktor wasn't the one. He watched two former sister twirl and spin, somersaulting over each other, back flipping to dodge each others strikes. One wearing only leather, one wearing full plate armor. The moves they pulled off against each other was something akin to a dream, a vision with two women moving faster then the human eye can see.

But he saw it, he cursed his eyes because he saw it, Sonja's attacks causing not even dents on the breast plate of her older stepsister. Her blond locks flaring with her green cloak. Two swords in hands as she executed her deadly strikes. Two poles opposite to each other. Sonja, passion and emotion, fighting using her love and anger. And her stepsister, that accursed commander of them, what was her name again? A small whisper in a corner of his mind answered while he tried not to listen, he heard non the less. . . . . Amilia

"Enough!" Viktor's sword. How he hated the man, give Sonja a fair fight! He wanted to shout but there were no words that came over his lips as the blond commander removed her helmet and silently approached him, a single tear escaped her eye as she leaned in to whisper her last words. Though he didn't want to, he heard it anyway.

"Vengeance is a lonely road to travel."

What did she know of vengeance? What could she possibly know of torture and pain? He asked himself these questions as he turned the words over in his head. Though even that part screamed when the roof opened and Sonja was stripped from him, only when she was gone did he understand, only death can explain and give such harsh lessons. She had known. She had known all along. He lay there biting back his tears as he felt his heart break.

Footsteps, no doorway opening, just footsteps. He looked up. 'I must be hallucinating.' blond locks cascaded down the green jeweled cloak of exceptional quality. A pale hand silently trailed the medallion. The only thing that survived the relentless sun. She had entered, how he did not know but he instinctively moved forwards, causing the pale hand to be withdrawn from the medallion. She slipped her glove back on and turned to face him, her eyes holding unspoken pain.

She knew, she knew torture, she knew slavery. He saw it in her eyes, and he hated Viktor more then ever. He swore revenge that day, no matter the cost, he swore it before Viktor entered, whispering at the only vampire whom truly understood. Sonja believed and cared for him... But only Amilia knew his suffering, she had used a facade, always hiding herself from the world. And in time that facade became her only reality.

He understood. As did she, when the moon showed she merely smiled as she spoke her last words before the storm, bringing him a focus he didn't know he possessed, he devoured her words. He would kill Viktor.

"Good luck."

Luck... She wished him well before disappearing, giving him the chance he needed. He would kill him for Sonja, for his beloved whom was executed for loving him. And a small part was for Amilia, for the remains of her, the destroyed daughter of Viktor.

He howled into the night despite the harpoons in his skin, he roared in anger. He would get his revenge, even if it took six hundred years.