Author's Notes: I own neither of these series.

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Epilogue:

Summer was good to Wallachia this year.

A warm sun with frequent and gentle rains had nurtured the fields and orchards for a prosperous harvest, and the flocks had grown fat in the pastures. No storms had flooded the rivers this season nor did any form of pestilence infect the cities. No monsters came in the night to snatch away children and maidens, and the peasants gave thanks for it at church.

However, hunters from Gresit and all the surrounding villages had for months reported sightings of an impossibly large she-wolf loping through the mountains. No, it's true, they'd say over drinks with the farmers and village men. A great wolf, larger than a draft horse, with silver-white fur and dark red eyes. They'd seen her dashing along the Argeș River. Another had spotted her heading north toward Transylvania. Someone else claimed they'd sighted the creature by the old Belmont Estate, pawing at ashes and nosing gravestones. Villagers would whisper fearfully that the monstrous specter was surely a hellhound, a demonic familiar to the devil-worshiping lords, wandering about in search of her dead masters. Or mayhaps 'tis the ghost of the Lady Integra herself, a barmaid says, back to seek vengeance on those who burned her family. Was her fine hair not the same silver hue, even before age made it so? Hellhound, witch's familiar, ghost, demon, a servant of black mages—right we were to do away with the heretics, say these gossips. And may God protect us from vengeful beasts. Hear, hear.

Seras paused on the road and lifted her head to the ruined, once revered house, now eerie in its silence and shadows. For years, she'd always been able to hear the voices of the family, even from this far away. The adults chatting in various rooms throughout the manor, the clatter of kitchenware against the singing cook and his assistants, and the laughter of the children as they rushed about the halls. Now, the empty house felt lonely and wrong and unrecognizable in the summer light. Though it had only been a few years since the mob came, ivy and moss had already reclaimed the walls and the place no longer smelled of burnt timbers and scorched stone.

And the gravestones that had always been so well tended were now overgrown with weeds. No flowers for the dead.

How she despised this good summer. How dare the weather show itself in such a way the priests could interpret as God's approval for this slaughter? What sin did the children who saw their parents die commit?

The she-wolf heaved a sigh and turned her head as Adrian came tumbling out of the brush behind her, mud and leaves caught in what used to be pure white fur. Messy child. An admonishing snort left her, and she dragged her rough, pink tongue across the pup's head. Your mother is not going to be pleased when I bring you back. With you or me. As though hearing her thoughts, Adrian scampered between her forepaws and tumbled over himself, landing on his back in his human guise and giggling up at her.

Seras rolled her eyes as best she could with wolf eyes and stepped over him, making sure she gave the boy a good thump with her tail as she went.

"Seras!" Adrian cried in protest. She heard him climb back to his feet and scurry after her, only for his footsteps to stop again some paces later. "Wow, is that a ruined castle!"

"Oh, yes," Seras turned about and nuzzled his face. "A great, big ruin. Abandoned for centuries I would think."

"Let's play here!" He beamed up at her. "Can we? I can hide and you'll find me! Can we, Seras, please?"

She looked out across the crumbling walls and the dormant fountain, at the creeping ivy and moss and the garden Old Man Belmont had been so proud of now grown wild in its neglect. Seras lowered her head. "No, little one. We should go."

"Why?"

"Because…" The vampiress trailed off as she stalked away, Adrian chasing after her and catching up her hand as she let her wolf form give way to her human one. "Because that's where…the Sleeping Soldier lies."

"Who's the Sleeping Soldier?"

"Oh, you know." She waved her free hand carelessly. "Some mighty warrior that always appears in stories to slay a dragon and save a princess or something like that with a happy ending for all. There's a clever scholar, too, that helps him along the way. And a hunter, I think. So say the Speaker tribes."

Adrian tugged at her hand. "Come on, Seras, quit teasing. Tell me the whole story."

The vampire lady tossed her head back as she laughed. "Gracious, no, pet! Daylight is no time for stories. Stories are for when the sun goes down and we have only fires to keep us warm." Kneeling, she added. "If you behave, I shall tell you the tale tonight. That means no whining, no wheedling, and certainly no tears when I say it's time to go home."

The boy pursed his lips in a stubborn pout, but he nodded. "Yes, Sister."

Seras smiled and brushed her hand against his dirt-smudged cheek. "Now then. Shall we go down to the river and look for meadowsweet?"

Adrian nodded. "Irises too. And sheep laurels."

"Of course," she said as her brother pulled away and he again became a wolf cub, bounding into the undergrowth. As she rose to her feet, a flicker of movement caught her eye, and she turned, startled, in the direction of the Belmont Estate. Her red eyes flicked up to the towers, across the forecourt, through the empty windows. What had she seen? Had it been just a bird?

"Seras!" Adrian called.

She took a step back, hesitated, then raised her hand as though in farewell before she too disappeared back into the forest.

And wind shook the ivy.

The End