Prologue
The dark figure stood upon the overlook, a small frown flitting across the cruel angles of his face as he surveyed the dreary, mist shrouded town a thousand feet below him. He had long since grown bored of toying with its inhabitants, but tonight, he felt something different, almost as if it might be worth his while to visit the town. The blood of the commoners was full of dirt and sweat, but there was still noble blood hidden within the town's cowering people, and it had been too long, years, since he had indulged.
Very well. It was decided. Without hesitation, he gracefully leapt off of the overlook, free falling through the freezing drizzle of rain. In the time it took for lightning to slash through the air, he had completed the now familiar transformation, and he now soared towards the town on leathery wings. Any unlucky person who happened to be walking the streets would only see a large bat flapping through the air, but even that sight would send them cowering for the illusion of safety in their homes.
He alighted on the steeple of the old, run-down church, already planning tonight's hunt. He would start with the mansion of the burgomeister, he decided. He returned to human form and dropped from the steeple, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. He walked confidently through the old, narrow streets, his cloak spreading behind him like the wings of a monstrous bat. Twice, he saw terrified faces peeking out from behind drawn curtains, which quickly disappeared as he passed, looks of horror on their faces. He smiled sadistically. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed this.
Presently, he reached the burgomeister's mansion, if one could even call it that. It had once been a fine building, but now it squatted tiredly among the weeds that had forced their way up to the walls of the building. The wrought-iron fence was caked with rust, and the roof was missing half its tiles. He pushed aside the gate with a creak of rusted hinges, and began to prowl around the house, planning out a ruse to trick the inhabitants into allowing him in. As he rounded the corner of the house, a light in one of the windows caught his attention. In the room, a young woman sat with her back to the window, evidently reading something by the light of a tallow candle. She had long, auburn hair, almost like… No, it couldn't be.
Almost as if she sensed his presence, she turned around and looked out the window, clutching an old holy symbol to her chest. But it was not the sight of the holy symbol that made the vampire recoil. It was her face, as familiar to him as his own, that made him stumble back. He stared at her, mouth slightly open, a look that was almost love softening his face. A single tear made of blood slid down his cheek, dropping onto the hard ground. It was her.
She had been reborn.