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Chapter 1

Tears of Blood
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When one imagines what has been it is always simple to remember the most poignant marks within life, or within existence at the very least. Throughout scenes memories are recalled, those that are firm, those that are fixed, and those that bring emotion to the strongest points…

The forest stretched through unwinding valleys, it was fresh, lush, green, whilst nimble threads of moonlight picked their way through emerald leaves that hung limply in a forgotten breeze. A vast landscape of forever changing times, molded and shifted to the movement of the land, wrought around Mortal life.

Nothing stirred, and those on watch found it quite easy to forget of the 'dangers' that supposedly went on around them.

Leaning against his pike one watchman closed his eyes, it was all to easy to fall asleep within such circumstances, here, this silence, this stillness, and the warm atmosphere of what was a humid night.

Abruptly he was elbowed in his ribs, and with a groan he realized that it was all too ironic to find peace easily like that.

"Don't get falling asleep idiot." His companion on watch hissed, straightening himself up and re-griping his swords hilt whilst giving the blade a look over.

In response the weary guard snorted whilst he fumbled in one of his garment pockets. "This is idiotic, nothing is going to happen." He made a gesture. "Too quiet for there to be any ruckus tonight, trust me." And with this he smirked. "I know of these things, besides I am too spent to go after anything even if something did happen."

It was a foolish remark, his companion knew this, never underestimate the night, especially when it remained silent.

"Easy pickings you are then… fool."

The weary guard rolled his eyes and glanced away, his companion was well known for over reacting.

Silence. Silence is quite the fragmented creature, on one side silence can be quite soothing and endearing on the other it can bring nothing but danger. It lulls all those unknowing into a false sense of security, it leads them astray, and then it captures them. Like a spider's web, how captivating and how unseen it is to the fly. Unknown to it, a predator waits and then finally advances.

The night was like that, especially at these times and when in the midst of the night when there is silence and silence is broken only Chaos follows.

At such a moment so the silence was defeated, in the hub of the darkness came a sudden cry, words shouted in a females voice, a sudden scream, a warning, a call for help and the words that followed, Vampire…

"Vampire!" Her voice ignited the whole forest, vocals shrill to the oncoming creature, this Vampire who leered at her with a smile and slight chuckle that was set deep within his own voice.
"Quite right." He added closing in where it was he had entrapped her on his own accord. But she wasn't easily distilled, fierce was the soul that burnt deep within, and yet on all accounts this made the challenge that every bit more fun. Her hands held tightly onto a branch that she had found on the floor when peril first appeared, not the most ideal weapon but it was useful enough to help keep her life intact until help came, that's if help was coming. A sudden thought was soon to paralyze her body; perhaps she hadn't shouted loud enough, panic twisted her opinions and perception, should she shout again?

The situation was all too fear provoking, she had been stupid to leave the safety of the town, this she knew and yet there was no way out now… No way… Realization was quick to set in, and when it did it set in deep, scaring her senses and motivating her to flee and yet that was easier said then done.

When he advanced she would back away, bringing up the pathetic stick in defense, which he found nothing but amusing and yet he had patience to allow this battle waltz to sing itself the duet.

Then again, endurance was discharged when it was he took another stride closer and she swiped the stick across his claws. It hadn't been painful, and in all truth he had hardly felt it, however, in a natural reaction he retaliated, his movement quick, one strike and the stick fell from her hands.

In such a deed no reply was made, the young woman stood still looking at the one who had pursued her. Inside her heartbeat was unfaltering and strong, and yet it remained unsteady in sudden terror, whilst within her lungs fought for air all in the sudden rush to keep adrenalin going and her blood flow flowing.

With such a corollary it only made the situation even more poignant, for the smell of her blood only became stronger. And yet even though the situation was highly tempting this Vampire remained well focused and composed, this made the young woman shudder inside.

There was a lingering pause, the forest as silent as ever, it was as if the scenery waited for something to happen, with upheld breath Nature awaited for someone to move. Nature, it awaited for an outcome, it waited for the final conclusion with baited breath, putting a hold on all functions of natural reaction bringing all attention to be focused upon this one moment.

The Mortal didn't move because she knew he would be quick to respond, if she attempted to run he would no doubtfully bring her down without hesitation.

Still the pause, the ever waiting, the lingering, the whole moment was painful, as if to wait for a death sentence to be passed.

When one of them finally moved it was he, for now she seemed completely still. Many times he had seen this reaction, many times whilst hunting, in final moments the prey would remain immobile, like they were finally accepting what was happening, as if they had given up anyway because their death was immanent. Those that did struggle would finally give up as well, normally growing limp in the arms that held them still, slowly closing their eyes, fear dispelled, a final breath…

But this situation was different; he had searched this one out as she had been leaving her town. Inside he smiled, perhaps that had been his doing, for some Mortals were known to come if he beckoned, this method had always proved to be an easy way of feeding on nights when he was too tired to hunt.

Nonetheless, something about her unsettled him; the look within her eyes contained fear and yet even more so was the strong hue of hatred.

And yet wasn't he used to that? That look of hatred, he had seen it quite often since his first breath, many times, yes… Hatred was nothing but a natural reaction to Mortals, and it was steamed from the very threads of fear. As his Sire had stated many times, Mortals feared everything they didn't understand. It was true, that was why many of them feared death, because death was unknown to them, something they couldn't comprehend and so they feared it… and some even despised it. As for him, well he wasn't sure of how he looked upon death, such an element wasn't really that known to him.

It would have been foolish if he had stated that he was far from Death's reach, for inside he knew that that wasn't all that true. Death could come to him, yet he knew how to avoid it.

He went to approach her again and she was quick in attempting to recoil and yet got nowhere fast as his claws were soon tightly secured around her wrist and with that he mercilessly dragged her to him.

His captive flayed to her knees in hope of deterring him and in spite of that was pulled back up, mouth opened as if to give out a silent scream, no sound came out, her vocals seized to function properly as did her muscles and no protest was made, her entire movement or fight she would have made had been silenced. Tightly in the grasp of trepidation and secured in the hold of a Vampire it seemed that this was where her lifeline ran out, ended, finalized and all to sustain another's life such as this creature. It was irony.

The young woman felt her head turned to one side; a claw touched her neck that was now vulnerable to his hunger and his acknowledgement of power that had been proved to be brutal at a majority of times.

It was these moments that he savored highly; so close was one whimsical life which he could crush all too easily if he so desired, with a simple movement, one that wouldn't take much effort he could break her neck… 'And then feast upon what remained.' His mind was quick to reply in wit.

But none of such brutality was done; instead he used his claw to brush away the parts of her hair that fell gently upon her skin, satisfying himself that he could see the blood pulsate underneath her membrane of skin.

Yet the moment wasn't to last, and it was she who gave her 'rescuers' away. Her eyes swiftly darting from where they had remained fixed upon her captor to behind him, and the snap of the branch under foot only certified the suspicion that someone was going to launch an attack from behind.

Devoid of caveat the Vampire turned, his own blade was drawn with irregular fleetness that the hunter who came forth didn't even foresee the impeding danger.

The sharp bite of the blade running through his chest was the last thing he felt, a flourish of crimson liquid, his eyes rolled back into his head before he dropped to the floor.

From where the hunter had attacked came a curse as others made themselves seen, six of them all together, or their had been, subsequently their were now only five that remained, the horror on their faces meant nothing to the Vampire. Their horror was of loathing different to how hers had been.

And now she was being hauled closer to him, her heart, which had settled moments before, was once again racing within her chest, her eyes wide, looking to the hunters in hope of some solace.

"Release her evil filth!" A typical insult from someone of a lower town, the Vampire scoffed and glanced around. What was this, no Sarafan? How disappointing… Instead all that there was were these dilapidated hunters, makeshift protectors of their towns, those not quite cut out to be of the Sarafan, lacking in discipline or lacking in skill. Whatever it was the Vampire was only insulted by their mere presence here.

Vampire and young woman took a step back her being secured in the grip of this figure that dominated the area with a subtle and yet viscous power that remained unseen. His sword clinched in one hand whilst his other encircled around the woman's waste.

Another step backwards, slowly the Vampire began to sheath his sword, and yet he didn't remain weaponless, his claws were perfect should he need to use them.

"Release her." The hunter who had spoken before advanced forwards, bent in waiting anticipation, his sword waiting to respond. Young and foolish, he was of no threat.

In retort the Vampire lifted his now free hand and ran a claw down his captives face, slight blood was drawn which made way, running down the side of her cheek almost as if it was meant to be a watery tear.

A reaction was quick, "Bastard!" His sword came up, arching and progressing an attack. But it didn't worry the Vampire, everything the Vampire did was set to mock them, every gesture, every movement, everything, it was done in teasing intimation, on conclusion he was so far from their grasps, they couldn't harm him, and yet he was careful not to become too foolish.

Before long he took the blood from her. But such only created chaos, an angry snarl from the hunter fortified his feelings as he lurched forwards eager for his blade to touch Vampiric flesh, brusquely the others held him back, knowing how foolish it would be if he suddenly attacked like that. Hadn't he leant from the others advancement, the one who was now lying dead on the floor? Obviously not because he was quick to struggle in hope of getting free so that he could put an end to that creatures life. And yet they remained rigid in their hold upon him and quick to remind him that it was not wise to suddenly attack like that.

"The Bastard is tainting her!"

"Wait Mathye, wait!"

"I will not!" Their grasps were loosened, he slid free, conceited in his young age to lay claim on a Vampire's life, and one such as this one in particular, such a trophy this one would be. Anyone who brought this one down would been seen as quite the hero, his heart was eager for such a title, yet it was more eager to bring an end to this situation.

The whole state of affairs was one of disarray, splashed on an uneven canvas of nothing more then bloodlust and pure hatred. Such emotions were quick to set and radiate from both sides. On one side the Vampire that lusted for blood, on the other those that lay claim upon it. In either case a question was emitted to who was the one to blame, perhaps in either accounts they were as bad as each other.

Tension was ripe nonetheless, the scuffle which had emanated to hold the younger hunter back was now pushed aside as this young one, Mathye, was tempting the very factor of fate as if symbolized by the Vampire.

It was almost like a kiss, gently lapping up the blood that had descended down her face, but he took no more. It was tempting to, alluring to wrap her in an embrace like he had done many times before and draw upon the very essence that her life worked upon.

The Vampire looked up and reverted his gaze upon the very kind that had hunted his own, it was hard not to despise them. And all that remained now of the blood from the wound he had afflicted was a smudge that ran down the one side of her face; in this moonlight she could have been Vampiric herself.

Satisfaction written on the Vampire's face, Mathye snarled with disdain. He was working against the very factors that the Vampire laid down, the torment the creature of the night added, and Mathye was responding exactly how he wanted him to.

Yet the other hunters stood firm, their faces composed, the youngest and the one who had spoken the most out of the group, Mathye, was still ahead of them, wielding his weapon and yet he could advance no more, not whilst this creature had a hold of his sister.

These circumstances were annoying, caught up deep within limbo, and at that moment the Vampire had the upper hand, and he wasn't afraid to show it either.

Mathye let out another warning, just so the Vampire knew that they were still there.

It was all to easy to destroy her, but he wanted to see their reactions, he wanted to see their horror as he took the little blood that he did, it was those reactions within them that made him reside in satisfaction. Cattle, here to provide him with the substance he needed.

His grip was tight upon her arm and with this the Vampire pulled her even closer, his breath upon her cheek, as he took in the scent of her blood, and then into her ear he whispered, "We shall meet again… soon…" Mockery, satisfaction, or acknowledgement?

This battle had not been won and yet a triumphant look was soon to gleam within the ancient Vampire's eyes, he looked up in a capricious manner, the slight smile parted his lips, and a flicker of humor played throughout his whole mannerism.

Devoid of forewarning he thrust the young woman forwards into the approaching hunters arms. It was met as Mathye gripped her tightly and glared a head of him with contempt written deep, with a gruff shout the others readied themselves, now was the time, preparing to silence this monstrosity and yet the Vampire was swift to exit.

With a gesture and mock bow his image disappeared into emptiness leaving nothing but the echo of his harsh and mocking threads of vocals emitted in laughter to remain.

"Vorador!" Mathye hissed, the Vampire's name spoken like a venomous curse, but all was still. Inside his senses were rigid in a sudden back wave of oncoming anger.

"Search the forest, I want that Bastard found!" He added, retracing his steps and nearly staggering over a tree route, his lips twisted in an utmost display of his own hatred lingering within.

"Pah, no chance." An older and more weathered hunter spoke whilst sheathing his sword, he found Mathye's annoyance quite amusing, it was displayed normally within the younger hunters and it showed lack of experience. "Vorador was created long before you were even born, and he will outlive you too my lad."

A disgruntled look crossed Mathye's face, that is what all of them thought, if there was one Vampire that was impossible to capture it was Vorador, that and Janos Audron. In speaking such names he made a holy sign, and despite himself he shuddered only to receive a comradely thump on the back from the older hunter.

"Aye lad, we all feel the same, but she's safe… unlike Edward."

"For now." His vocals shook a little, those words remained firm to truth, his sister was lucky, they all were, except the fallen Hunter. For stories were told often, in the safety of your home such stories were enjoyable, whilst the winds echoed outside your door one could tell nightmarish tales of those that took your blood. And tucked into bed at night those that heard such things felt the chill that descended down their spine as they thought over what had been told. But what did it matter? Here in your home, warm, safe… Of course such ignorance was apparent, tales of those who had been taken in their sleep remained devoid of them.

Mathye's hand was gripped tightly around his sister as if to reassure himself that she was still here and raucously he whispered, "For now…"

From where he had retreated Vorador watched them leave, taking the fallen Mortal with them with saddened looks, how easy it would have been to destroy them all, but such mannerism was far from him tonight, for some reason he felt uneasy, restless and yet he still remained to looking composed. Of course that was the key to everything, looking calm, in control, such an act in front of your enemies only wound them up more, which was perfect, it was the result he was looking for… make their lives hell.

A couple of nights ago he had lost some of his own, just children in Vampiric reckoning, newly made, they hadn't stood a chance. He had heard their calls, brought to him through mind and through Zephyr, which was ever present, catching the leaves and rustling the foliage on the forest floor.

When he had got to them the most enduring lament was present, the lingering of loss, the more apparent of emotion was anger and then the overall benefactor of sorrow which he hid until he found rest.

It of course had been too late; he found their bodies descended upon high, hanging lifeless, impaled and left for all to see, a warning, a threat, done in the gesture of the Sarafan's favorite way of 'disposal' or 'purification' as they put it. They saw their mascaras of a way of 'purifying' ones soul, one who had once been Mortal and now warped into something that should have been long dead. Vorador scoffed at such remarks, and longed for the night when he could 'purify' those that said such things.

The breeze stirred again, the voices of the Mortals were dying down as they headed back to their own town near by, heads down, Mathye, holding firmly onto his sister who remained silenced, expression blank... shock? And with them the body of the other Mortal, and thoughts of how they were to gently let his father know.

Obviously they had decided against a pursuit, not that would have found him, because in honesty they would have not. Vorador smiled with such reassurance, perhaps in a couple of night's time he would return to the town and claim what was his. For now though there were other things to settle, hunger being one of them.

No more thoughts were spent on those that had just attempted to advance an attack; such an evolvement could happen many times, it wasn't worth the consideration. Still throughout his years of existence he now knew how to avoid such confrontations lest be caught up in the pillage of the Sarafan's 'Holy Wars', their sanction of purification.

He had seen much, a witness to such things and the Sarafan had proved to be as of yet the biggest ailment to infect Nosgoth, it sickened him. More so it sickened him that those that stood by such carnage were those with power over the land. The Circle, a sordid gathering of hypocrites in Vorador's eyes, for they were the supporters of the Sarafan's ways. The so-called 'Protectors of Hope' were the patrons of pillage and the cohorts of unnecessary butchery. Having been witness of their ways many times his view of them was one of a low opinion.

The forest began to dwindle as he passed through it, trees becoming less and less as the boarder of a town appeared and along with it the scent of Mortal blood and the overall swell of his hunger once more.

Idealistic was the watch post that came into view, standing lonely against the backdrop of night. The watchman's companion had been right; it wasn't wise to fall asleep whilst on duty, so easily one could be taken and without a struggle.

Moments later he sat with the knowledge of another's as he had taken their life.

And even though he had had his fill Vorador still felt at unease, yet he couldn't place where it was coming from, he couldn't pinpoint it.

He discovered that the feeling of unease had nothing to do with blood lust, although it was linked to blood. This feeling he had, he had felt moments before when facing the young woman, and furthermore, it was more apparent now then it had been prior to it resurfacing.

The Vampire stood and left the watch post, wiping the remains of his feed from his mouth. He retreated to the darkness and the silhouettes of the trees. This feeling was one of uncertainty and it wasn't easily pushed aside either, in all accounts it was disturbing.

And then it happened, an element that was to push everything into motion.

In Vorador's mind his senses picked out one of the most piercing screams he had ever heard. It was knife-like, cutting through his senses in an overall grating manner, nauseating to an extent.

The Vampire frowned, massaging his temples and trying to sooth the sudden pain his mind felt.

The call he had heard had been Vampiric, and from such strong vocals, nothing but pain radiated…