1. Rebirth

Darkness filled the chamber, a cold and gripping darkness like that of a tomb, and within that darkness a creature stirred. A creature whose like the

world had never witnessed before, a creature which had once been a man and was now so much more. Opening his eyes he realized he could see.

Where am I? he thought. The only light in the room came from underneath a large iron bound door but the light had an odd quality as if it had no color

at all. He could see everything in the room as if lit by daylight but all in shades of grey. Peering around he saw that he lay on a bed of straw in a dank

room little taller than it was wide and standing he would nearly brush his head on the ceiling. The smell of urine, feces, rust, and dried blood permeated

the room. The decaying blood smell made him sick to his stomach. He thought that he might vomit but his stomach was filled with a gnawing hunger

that clawed at his insides, and an unfathomable thirst. I feel as though I have not eaten for days. I can't remember the last time I ate. Frantically he

sought to remember...anything, it made his head hurt. A question struck him. Who am I? I don't remember who I am! He thought he should be

frightened but he only felt strange. Like he should remember everything but his memories just were not where they belonged. "Hello?" He ventured to

the darkness, much too soft to carry beyond the door. "Hello!" he said again much louder, urgency creeping into his tone. Pausing he waited for some

answer, none came. Moving to the door he tugged briefly on the handle. It was locked. With out much hope of escaping what he decided was likely his

prison cell, he tugged more firmly on the door. With a great screeching sound the door moved, the rust smell in the room redoubled, and the sound was

so loud he pressed his palms over his ears, to stifle the noise. The hinges must be nearly rusted solid. With renewed hope, now that it seemed the door

wasn't actually locked only stuck, he grasped the handle with both hands and heaved with a greater measure of his strength. Prepared for the squeak

of the hinges he was wholly unprepared for a cacophony like some great piece of metal shattering into a thousand tiny door swung

wide. Light and color flooded into the room bright enough for ten suns, blinding him momentarily. His eyes adjusted quickly however and what he saw

made him gape. Outside, bits of chain dangled from loops on the door and frame. A large iron lock hung from the end of a broken length of chain. The

chain must be rusted. Of course it was I can smell it easily enough. But what his eyes saw was very different, the chain looked sturdy and shiny as if

newly made, and despite what his nose told him there was no rust he could see on the chain. Glancing at the hinges he saw very little rust there

either. Shivering he thought, I have gone mad, I can smell rust, but there is no rust to smell. The hollow thought did not make the smell go away.

Outside the door there was a stone walkway over looking a courtyard in what appeared to be an old abandoned prison. He walked away from his cell

along the pathway to the right. He identified all sorts of smells as he walked, and he could not imagine why everything smelled so strongly, he could

smell the dried autumn leaves on the ground as if he were pressing them to his nose. His eyes too seemed to pick out an unimaginable amount

of detail. He could make out each separate pebble in the stones beneath his feet. The cracks in the mortar were as detailed as caverns viewed closely.

The soft sound of a woman weeping drew him out of his study of the sights and smells of the stone walkway. It was coming from cell at the far end of

the court yard. She must be sobbing terribly. But as he approached he noticed that the sound did not hold the muffled quality one would expect for

hearing crying through such a heavy door. This door was not chained and locked merely latched, lifting the iron latch and opening the door he entered.

What he saw fascinated him. A young woman sat on the floor. She was clutching an infant in her arms, weeping softly and rocking back and forth. The

infant's skin had turned a bluish gray. It had likely been dead for many hours if not days. But the infants body was not what held his interest, the

woman was…beautiful, alive, she smelled of grime, dried blood, urine, and a myriad of other odors. But on top of it all the sweetest thing he had ever

smelled pervaded her scent. It smelt like all the best meats, deserts, and wines rolled into one aroma more delicious than anything he could ever

imagine tasting in his whole existence. It was the smell of fresh blood.

He stared at her entranced. The woman glanced up at him as if just seeing him enter. She began to speak but it seemed to come out of her too slowly

to understand. He focused harder on her words and she seemed to come up to normal speed. "Blaine?" she asked her voice trembling. Sudden hope

sparked in her eyes. "Blaine, can it really be you?" He only continued his unblinking stare, considering her. She seems to know me. Trying to remember,

made his head start hurting again so he stopped, but he decided it was as good a name as any. "Blain I can't believe you're alive. I thought they killed

all the men. Are you here to rescue us? Please say you've come to help me. Please!" Tears welled in her eyes. Gasping between sobs she said "My

Dana is not well, the cold in this cell…" her voice trailed off into hysterical sobbing. Blaine merely watched her tears drinking all of her in, his senses so

acute. She stood up and ran to Blaine, he enveloped her in his arms the smell of the dead infant made his mouth twist with distaste, the woman

trembled severely. After a moment she looked up at him. She spoke in a shaky voice "Come Blaine we must find others, I must find help for my Dana.

Right now there are more survivors to free." Blaine still did not move or speak. That smell! This thirst! It's like I'm dying of thirst, of hunger, of longing.

She seemed to see something in his eyes. "Blaine, are you alright? We have to go. We have to find others. We have to escape!" She tried to push

away from him, but he held her like Iron. Fear sparked in her eyes then. "Blaine what are you doing?" but the last word leaving her lips had slowed to

that unintelligible pace. Blaine moved her head to one side and opened his mouth. The sweet aroma filling his nostrils made his head spin. With razor

sharp teeth he had not known were there, he bit her neck. A torrent of sweetness gushed into his mouth. Ecstasy flooded him like life itself, it flowed

out from her and into him. His consciousness whirled, swept away on river rapids of sensation. He clutched the woman's small form to his chest, she

was gasping and twitching, the infant toppled to the stone floor. Drinking the sweetness of life itself Blaine clutched at her. After what seemed an

eternity her feeble stirrings ceased, and the flow subsided losing its flavor, quickly becoming bitter and vile. Blaine stopped and spat. Coming to himself

Blaine looked at the woman. Her eyes held the glazed stare of death. With a loud curse Blaine shoved the corpse away from himself, sprawling and

tumbling her body came to rest on the bed. Her form was twisted and contorted while her neck bent at an odd angle. Confusion, shock and horror

suffused Blaine to his very soul. "What… what have I done!?" Looking at her staring face a flash of memory boiled up from the turmoil of his damaged

mind. If felt like someone drawing a dull knife across his brain.

He was standing in the market square looking at some ripe and plump apples from Paul's orchard. Paul's lovely wife Olivia gazed at him from across the

table, "How many will it be Master Blaine?" "Oh I think six will do for today," he said placing them in his basket. "How much do I owe you?" "Twelve

copper pennies." She replied. As she reached out to take the coins he offered she gasped and a hand flew to her belly. "Is the little one being restless

this morning?" Blaine ventured. "Yes," she said with a pained smile, "although not usually so rough, that was quite a kick." "Well Olivia it's a beautiful

thing having a child, the rewards are worth it." "That is easy for you to say. You're not the one bringing a child into this world!" She prodded him in the

shoulder. But she was smiling widely. The memory faded bringing him back to the present. Olivia's eyes stared at him accusingly. Blaine fell to his knees

and bellowed a mourning cry. Guilt and sorrow welled up in him overwhelming him. He screamed and pounded his fists on the floor, he beat against his

head too but he felt almost no pain. The scrapes on his hands healed almost as quickly as he made them. A voice came from the doorway. "So you are

awake." Blaine Looked up.

A tall handsome young man stood in the doorway, although his appearance was decidedly odd. He had shoulder length white hair and two different

colored eyes. One Red the other blue, they glittered cruelly. He was richly dressed in a fine black cloak covered in strange symbols that meant nothing

to Blaine. The man glanced at the bodies, a look of distaste crossing his face. "It seems my endeavor to cure you of your blood thirst was unsuccessful,

but at least you are able to walk in sunlight unharmed. Tell me, how sharp are your senses?" Blaine stared that the man uncomprehending. "Sight,

smell, hearing." Blaine decided to ignore the question. "Who are you? What is happening to me?" The White haired man scowled briefly but continued.

"I am your maker; I am he who has given you this second chance at life. Now tell me about your senses, if you please." Blain felt wary, something told

him that angering this man would be perilous, something else told him he didn't really care, and he decided to err on the side of caution. "Sharp," he

answered "frighteningly so, I hear small noises as if they were great booms and I can see tiny details as if my eye were pressed close to everything.

And as for smell I never new there were so many things to smell everywhere. Your self even, you smell like…" He wasn't sure how the man smelled.

Dana's body had smelled of death and decay, Olivia of sweet life in motion. This man smelled like neither. He smelled alive but… twisted, like he had no

place in either life or death.

"Good, it seems your abilities are growing quickly, you nearly tore that door of its hinges before the chain broke. What of speed? Do you find the world

seeming to slow around you?" Blaine realized that what must have been happening to Olivia's voice. Oh god Olivia I barely remember you. I should have

helped you. I killed you. Oh for the love the good spirits, I've become some sort of monster. I'm so sorry. Blaine sank down to the floor again. "There is

much to discuss and little time." Sudden anger flared in Blaine, The two voices warring in his mind, one saying the man was dangerous the other,

saying that it did not matter. Blaine moved like lightning. The man's eyes barely had time to widen before Blain had him by the cloak lifting him off the

ground. "Little time! I killed her! Does that mean nothing to you I killed her and I drank her blood. You call your self my maker, well you have made a

monster! I slaughtered this poor woman and you speak of how little time you have!" The man raised an eyebrow a picture of calm. "I am called

Athanasius, I gave you a new life." "New life!" snapped Blaine. "What good is that if I must exist on the lives of others?" "Vengeance," he replied.

"Vengeance on those who destroyed your home and your family," Athanasius looked him in the eye, and asked "What can you remember?" Thinking of

the pain of remembrance Blaine responded quickly. "Almost nothing, it pains me to remember anything." He glanced at the still from on the bed. "Olivia,

I remembered her right after I killed her. I remember nothing else." Athanasius touched Blaine's forehead. Blain dropped the man to clutch at his head.

It felt like his mind was on fire. Images flooded him, his wife Sandra a wonderful woman with green eyes and long golden brown hair, her laughter like

music her slow smile that made him feel truly alive she had been with child. In flashes blain saw a gray haired man in well worn armor wielding a

greatsword and speaking of the art of battle. It was his father, he remembered his father teaching him the sword. Flashes of Olivia and her husband

Paul. He had Flashes of Thomas the butcher, Daniel the fletcher, and many others. Lastly he remembered an army sweeping down a hill to kill them all.

"Now what do you remember?" Blaine found him self lying on the floor. Getting to his feet he said "My family, my town, and an army." Blaine clutched at

Athanasius' cloak and asked pleadingly, "What happened to us?" Drawing himself up Athanasius spoke. "I came on your village after the army had

already left, almost none had survived you and your family were already dead. I saw the sword in your hands and the amount of damage you had done

with it and I thought to offer you a chance for revenge, I brought you back." Blaine could hardly believe it. It sounded mad, but he couldn't remember

one way or another. "Why was I locked up? Why was Olivia locked up? Why was she clutching her dead child!?" "You were locked up for your own

safety, I was not certain that sunlight would not harm you. As for the woman." "Her name was Olivia!" Blaine interjected. Athanasius continued

without pause. "she was the only survivor, the horrors she witnessed, including the infant's death left her quite mad. I could not convince her to part

with it and she behaved violently so I put her in there because it was convenient. I even brought her food once or twice but she didn't eat it." "She told

me there were others that needed rescue." "Well as I said she had gone quite mad, perhaps she thought that the battle still raged." "Let us say for

the moment that I believe you what is it to you if I have my revenge." Athanasius considered before responding, "I require your service for a time, and

for your service to me I offer you a chance at avenging your self and your family. Serve me in my battle for the sake of this world and I shall help you

find those that did this to you and yours." Blaine looked at Olivia's body again, "I was better off when I was dead. And so was she." "Fool! Don't you

see this is your one chance to repay those who destroyed your life! To throw away the chance I have given you is madness!" Blaine pictured his wife,

pictured the smile that she had only for him. He felt like tears should well in his eyes but there were none. He wondered if his eyes were still capable of

tears. Thinking of what he would to those responsible for whatever had happened to her stiffened his will. He stood. His expression looked carved from

granite, his eyes cold as ice. "I will serve you." He said his tone emotionless. Athanasius smiled widely. "Good. Yes, that is good. Well for you that you

chose to serve. Come, I have things to show you." Athanasius led a path swiftly out of the prison through a maze of dark and disheveled corridors,

Blaine followed.