Sorin moved through the heavy winds of the storm in several minutes, and emerged at the edge of the dead plains. He stood on the edge of a steep precipice, one that led into a great bowl shaped dip in the land, where lay a human village. Small, wooden cottages predominantly made up the establishment, with a good sized church at the center of the town. Sorin paused for a moment to take it in. Such simple, short, and yet happy lives these humans lived. He could not remember a time when he lived such a life, and he did not have time to dwell on a past that he not so much as call to mind. The scream was repeated, this time louder, and the vampire felt a blast of red mana from a cottage at the other end of the town.
He sprinted down the narrow lanes at a supernatural pace, clearing half the village in a minute. As he ran, he looked out at the villagers who stared at his long, white fangs and grey skin in terror. They knew his kind, and they rightly feared him.
He reached the cottage to find it surrounded by various soldiers and clerics, who denied him access. In the darkness, they mistook him for another human, and it was not until he pushed past them and opened the door, from which shone candlelight, that they saw his true lineage.
"Vampire! Kill the vam-" but his screams were cut short by Sorin whipping out his sword and running the man through. Three others soon fell, and the rest of the watch ran away. The lord of Innistrad fed on the fallen men and stepped through the door.
Slumped against the wall was a man in a white robe with a pendant around his neck. The pendant had the symbol of Avacyn engraved into it, a straight line that curved out to make half of a circle, and then shot out in both directions. The man was frightened by Sorin's presence, but alas he could not move. He was covered in his own blood, and was dying. The vampire's knowledge told him that the human would die in less than a minute.
"What did you see? Who did this?" asked Sorin hurriedly.
The man did not, could not reply, but rolled his hand over so that it pointed towards the back of the room. There Sorin saw a cloud of Aether, a portal between planes, closing rapidly. He heard the cackling of devils on the other side, but did not have time to contemplate what it would mean for him to go towards that danger. He had only the time to lick the blood from his blade, sheath it, and follow whatever had killed the cleric to Zendikar.