"I do not want a mare. I want a stallion! Do not think that just because I am a girl that means I have to ride an old nag," Clara seethed to the groom in front of her. The human servant, a young man dressed in the livery of the Zephonim Clan, nodded hastily and brought the brown mare back to her stall, the sound of the iron shod hooves ringing loudly on the stable floor. Row upon row of finely bred horses filled the stalls, the animals' heads leaning out over the boards to munch the straw and oats handed to them by the attendants.

"Temper, dear Clara, temper," Zephon chided beside her. Pulling tailored riding gloves over his talons the Clan Lord looked at his niece and gave a frown. "While the servants here are stupid, you must remember that yelling at them will frighten the horses. I worry more for my animals' livelihood than that of the grooms. A good horse is so hard to replace. And their temperament can change suddenly."

Clara gave a dutiful nod; her uncle was right. The horses were worth much more than the servants. Humans could be acquired on a raid or from the undefended villages. Horses had to bought from the caravans or bred to produce the finest racers. It took time, and if there was anything Zephon hated it was unnecessarily waiting or wasting time that could have been spend doing more productive things. "Sorry, uncle Zephon. We would not be waiting as long if I still had my own horse."

"The one Raziel had given to you?" Clara nodded, pulling at her black riding boots. "Why did you just not take a mount from your father's stables? He has horses as well."

"Because," Zephon's niece answered, "you still have the most beautiful horses around."

Zephon gave an arrogant smile at those words. It was true; he did have some of the best mounts around. And why shouldn't he? After all, it was the Zephonim Clan that supplied the scouts and spies in times of war, and to ensure the arrival of the latest war news, fast horses were always needed. The groom came back quickly, this time leading behind him a gray stallion that tossed its head about imperiously. Clara nodded for the groom to prepare her horse. As the groom led the horse outside to place the saddle on, Zephon walked down the stalls to find his own mount.

Taking a black stallion out of its enclosure, the Clan Lord waited with a bored expression on his face as the grooms saddled the horse. They worked quickly; a slow servant was a dead one in the Zephonim Clan and the Clan Lord was known well for his capricious and sadistic nature. "So where shall we be riding today?" Clara asked as the two mounted their horses. Quickly she drew on her riding gloves as Zephon tightened the clasp securing his cloak.

"You will see soon enough," he answered back. Spurring his horse forwards, the vampire lord quickly rode down the winding road leading into the Nosgoth Mountains. Glancing back to make sure that Clara was following behind, Zephon mentally approved that the girl did not ride sidesaddle as her father had taught her to. Obviously whatever Dumah had been teaching Clara about riding had stuck in her mind more than the words of her father. As Clara came alongside her uncle, Zephon slowed down the pace of his horse. It would not be any good to have the animal tire quickly and he had no wish to run his prized stallion into the ground.

The mountains rose up menacingly, blocking the already weak sunlight and casting long shadows over the two riders. Zephon tipped his head backwards to see how far up the jagged earth pierced the sky. Even with his excellent vision the clouds themselves hid the peaks of the mountains, showing him nothing. Once the vampire lord had heard from one of his many children that in the olden days, when Nosgoth had been much younger and many other things had walked the land before the vampires and even humans, angels had lived in the mountains, building awe-inspiring palaces made from crystals and diamonds. Fools' stories, Zephon considered practically, the notions of dreamers and nothing else. The barren path that he and Clara took slanted up and to the right ever so slightly; no one would think they were making any progress unless they looked at the path behind them, where the slope was more evident.

Clara coughed, the sound coming from deep inside her chest. Hiding the sound behind her hand, it still managed to echo along the mountain walls. The only noise on the otherwise silent pathway, it attracted Zephon's attention. She wiped her lips, coughed once more, and then quickly looked over at her uncle who was watching her in the same way that a snake watches a mouse before attacking. "What?" Her voice was defensive, instantly waiting for him to say something.

"Sick?" Zephon pulled back on the reins, causing his horse to slow its pace and made its stride with Clara's. He had heard some of his servants cough the same way and then watch them fall ill with a disease that made the lungs sicken; the blood and tissue inside to come vomiting out. Clara could not be coming down with such a thing, could she?

The animals were content to trot along, knowing the pathway held no dangers for them, ears perked forwards and listening intently to their riders speak even if they could not distinguish the words.

"I am not sick, just feeling a little under the weather is all." Clara pulled the hood of her blue cloak over her head, indicating in her own way that the conversation was closed and no amount of harassing or empty threats from Zephon would get her to speak otherwise. That was one of the things about Clara that Zephon found so endearing with her. What a shame, he realized, it would have been if Clara had never been found on Melchiah's doorstep. She would have been another slave in a mass of pale faces and unwashed bodies, in all probability Clara would have been nothing more than fodder for one of the Clans and their voracious appetites.

The horses' shoes rang against the hard ground as they bore their riders up the mountain paths. The air, while warmer at the bottom, had now taken on a more obvious chill. Clara's breath came out in a plume of white smoke, her hands gripping the reins tightly. Zephon took advantage of the silence to begin talking, this time on a conversation that Clara would quickly fall into.

"And how was your birthday, dear child? The one day of the year where greed can go unbound and you can have whatever you please." He smirked at his own words, knowing them to be true. What child did not like receiving gifts from others?

"My birthday?" Clara ran a hand through the mane of her horse and feeling bold enough to ride without the reins in her hands, to trust the stallion, she began to absently braid the hair while she talked. "It was good enough. Father always makes them special, just for me. There were acrobats there from the gypsy camp and a bard that had so many songs to sing. Oh, it was wonderful to hear her, uncle Zephon. She had such a lovely voice; really she sang more like one of those mythical angels than anything else. I wish I could be a bard. To travel all of Nosgoth and sing songs that would make me famous."

Zephon typically did not hear anyone's dreams, nor did he indulge in his own, but Clara was his niece and he allowed her to say what she wished. She could never become a bard; Melchiah would throw a righteous fit before he allowed his own daughter to become some wandering minstrel. Clara could still dream in her youth. "And presents," Zephon persisted. "Were you given mine that I sent to you, or did the servant never arrive?" The Clan Lord knew the servant had delivered the gift. He had after all returned back to the Cathedral. But Zephon wanted to know what his adored niece thought of his gift, to steer the conversation his way.

"Oh, there were many presents. From my friends, from my father, and yes, even from my many uncles." The muscles along Zephon's back flexed in agitation; he had hoped foolishly that this year the other Clan Lords would forget to send Clara presents, that he would have been the only one to have remembered and for remembering Clara would have declared him to be the greatest uncle.

"And what were those gifts?" He had to know the competition, to make sure that if his gift had been surpassed in any way that he would have to think of something better. Yes, Zephon plotted, he would make sure that Clara would acquire a priceless artifact that no one else could possibly own. Then she would look to him as the uncle that she could trust, to pour her whole heart out to, who would be like a second father! Zephon gave a small cackle at the sheer cleverness of the scheme.

Clara gave another deep cough before speaking. "Uncle Raziel gave to me a miniature castle, created from mother-of-pearl. I have it on my windowsill and when the sun hits it right, the castle seems to have some magical quality to it. Uncle Turel's present was a large candle that, when I melt it down, there will be small trinkets inside," she checked off the presents on her fingers, "and uncle Dumah has given me one of his battle axes, now saying that I am old enough to have a proper weapon." Zephon would have given a condescending smile to the rest of his brethren had they been riding with them. He had nothing to fear for his gift was still the finest. "And uncle Rahab personally collected all of my favorite fairy tales and placed them in one book for me. The cover is done in black leather with father's clan symbol on the face, but my name written underneath it in gold edging. Father also gave to me new dresses since he believes that I wear out my old ones much too quickly." She motioned to the simple riding clothing she, made of cotton and leather.

"And my gift?" Zephon pressed.

His niece gave a sweet smile. "Where did you find the artist who did my portrait for me without me knowing, uncle Zephon?"

The vampire gave a mysterious look towards the sky. "I have my ways, Clara. Do not forget, I control the spies for all the Clans. We have our ways of finding only the best of anything for anyone. And as my only niece, I feel that you only deserve the best. Now you have a portrait of yourself that my dear brother can hang in his gallery; he never got around to summoning an artist and I decided to get that done for him." Zephon waited for the praise he was about to be given from Clara, to bask in the adoration that she would undoubtedly give him.

Instead it was cut short when Clara quickly added "But I think grandfather's gift was the greatest of them all."

Zephon jerked quickly on the horse's reins. The animal reared back, pawing the air with its massive hooves before settling back down. Clara's stallion was already moving around another bend in the pathway that curved leftwards, unaware that her uncle was not beside her. The fifth-born gritted his teeth and snarled to himself. Trust Kain to outdo them all, giving Clara a gift that could not be surpassed, that would never be surpassed. Most likely the emperor of Nosgoth was aware that his sons would be bickering for Clara's attentions, and Zephon was sure that just out of pure spite and malice he had found what gifts they were to give her, then had gone even further.

Kicking his horse's flanks Zephon rounded the curve and galloped after Clara, riding ahead of her and blocking her route. He had to know exactly what Kain had given Clara; otherwise it would gnaw away at his mind until he went insane. "Uncle Zephon," Clara asked carefully, "are you all right?" No, he was not. Zephon knew he had that look in his eyes, which could have meant anything. Raziel had once noted that when Zephon's face bore that expression it was either because something had not gone the way he had planned it, or he looked like he had lost his mind.

Giving a half smile, repressing the anger he felt towards his sire, Zephon waved a talon in the air. "Oh, I was just concerned about you. One should not ride ahead in these mountains alone. There are wild cats that enjoy eating horseflesh and even human flesh. I would not want to return a corpse to Melchiah. So tell me what did Lord Kain give to you, Clara?" He changed the subject quickly, catching the young girl off balance for a moment. Clara cupped her hands to her mouth and gave another throat-racking cough, then looked at her uncle. She knew that her uncle was slightly touched in the head; maybe uncle Dumah had hit him one too many times or Zephon had fallen down a flight of stairs when he was a fledgling. It was better off to tell him; Clara had seen that gaze he had given to servants before and even his own vampires.

It was never a good sign.

"Grandfather gave me as a present some land up north, just pass the swamps. Near a small lake that has a waterfall beside it. He will be taking me to go and see it in a few days. My father says that if I even want to, I can perhaps have a small castle built for me," Clara added hopefully. "Isn't that a fine gift, uncle Zephon?"

The vampire felt his temples pulsing; grounding his teeth together to keep from screaming Zephon felt them cut into his gums. So now Clara would be looking at her grandfather not only as the emperor of all Nosgoth or as a god, but also as something even more. Zephon could hear the respect and admiration in Clara's voice for Kain, something that he felt only he should have had. It should have rightfully been mine, Zephon thought. Only mine. I worked for it!

Suddenly the vampire lord wished that a mountain lion would come crashing down from the peaks above. It would be a very good way to get rid of the unhealthy anger he was feeling towards his sire at this moment in time.

"But I still like riding with you, uncle Zephon." Clara's voice cut through the haze of irrational thinking of the Clan Lord. Blinking his yellow eyes quickly, Zephon narrowed them and looked at his niece. His stallion anxiously pawed the ground, feeling its master's mood.

"Really? And why is that?"

Clara gave a slight smile as she continued to ride on. To their left the mountains dropped away with only the air before them and a view of the landscape below. It was a drop, Zephon knew, that even a vampire could not hope to survive. It was a long way to the bottom, and the Clan Lord's stomach heaved involuntarily. He was not afraid of heights, he was just...nervous. Instinctively the horses hugged the mountains, staying as far away from the steep drop as they could. Zephon was ready to call out a warning to Clara about the loose rocks ahead, but the girl saw them before her uncle did and avoided it with ease. "Because uncle Zephon, you do not baby me as some other people would. You respect my age and you even treat me like I am already an adult. Ah," she sighed, "my back hurts. It must be the saddle. But I should not complain. Young adults do not do that."

No, Zephon thought to himself. I want to still treat you as a little child but you want to grow up on your own. If it is so hard for me to realize this, then what must Melchiah your father be thinking? He must be in such pain to watch you grow older, to become more independent. And even when you are a young lady Clara, you will still be his little girl.

The leader of the Zephonim Clan had never felt this melancholy before. It was one thing to raise a human from the dead again, to have them reborn as a vampire; quite another to raise a human from an infant into what they were now. Zephon was attached to his children, to a certain extent, but he had not known them personally from birth, watching over their entire lives and knowing them implicitly.

Clara was different. Melchiah had completely dedicated himself to his human daughter and the other Clan Lords had done the same in their own fashion, watching Clara grow and learn as they did themselves sequentially. But all they had with her were fleeting moments; Melchiah would only be the only light in Clara's life, to see everything with his daughter. She loved her father so purely that Zephon at times wondered if everything had not been a dream for the past fourteen years. Clara had made such a mark on their lives that when she did go, everyone would feel her absence.

Shaking these depressing thought from his mind and finding them unwholesome to even dwell upon, Zephon finally realized that they had arrived at their destination. "Clara, hold." The young girl pressed her booted feet gently into her mount's sides and the horse came to a slow stop. Zephon easily jumped out of his saddle and watched Clara get down from hers without any difficulty. The Clan Lord had come to this secluded location in the mountains before when he wished to leave the rest of the world behind for a few moments. Yes, he knew it was selfish, but even if he was a lord he was still entitled to having time set aside for himself. Now he wished to share the same thing with Clara.

Standing on a flat plateau that hung, seemingly precariously, on the edge of the mountains, one could look down and see the land of Nosgoth in all its glory. To the west Zephon could make out the rising spires of his Cathedral and to the north, see where Turel dwelt in Dark Eden. The lakes and mountains where Dumah and Rahab's clans made their homes were too far to be seen even with vampiric eyes. The dominating feature that ensnared the viewer's eye was that of the Sanctuary of the Clans; the grand structure with its domed roofs and stain glass windows could be seen with almost crystal clarity. Zephon wondered for a short time if Kain was holding council or was on one of his long retreats again. Beyond the Sanctuary and towards the south were the Razielim Clan holdings; the Melchiahim were not visible at all.

"This is where I come Clara, when I wish to be alone and think over a few of my problems. I gather that since you are old enough to have perhaps a few troubles of your own, you are welcomed to come here any time, to just think or pass the time by looking at the world below." Zephon gazed at his niece, gauging her reaction. Clara was moved by what she saw. It was as if a living and breathing map had been rolled open before her, to be looked upon at any time and to simply marvel at the beauty on display.

"I have to go to the washroom," she said suddenly, the moment broken. Zephon gave a frown and tapped one cloven foot against the ground to display his annoyance. "Is there anywhere where I can go?"

The Clan Lord pointed absently behind him. "There are some boulders over there where you can do your business," he spoke, flustered. Clara nodded and raced off quickly in the direction that Zephon had indicated. Well, wasn't this what always happened to him? Zephon would try and give a heartfelt moment to his niece; yes he did indeed have a heart, and it ended up being spoiled by nature decreeing that Clara had to go to the washroom. "Twisted joke," he muttered, "just a twisted-"

"UNCLE ZEPHON!" The horses bolted as the scream tore through the air, kicking their hind legs out and neighing shrilly. "UNCLE ZEPHON!"

"Clara, I'm coming!" Before he had even spoken those words the vampire was already sprinting towards the boulders, frantically thinking what could have befallen Clara. Was it one of those mountain lions? Had she accidentally lost her footing and nearly plummeted off the edge, clinging to the rock with all her strength in that frail body? Skirting the edge of the massive boulders, three times the vampire lord's size, he found Clara alone. Huddled up against the rocks with her legs tucked underneath her, Clara was gripping the hem of her dress and staring off into the distance.

Zephon knelt in front of her and shook Clara's shoulders. "Clara, what is the matter?" From Zephon's standpoint she seemed to be perfectly fine, though frightened. Her face was nearly white and her breath came quickly. Turning her blue eyes up to her uncle, Clara grabbed his talons.

"I'm bleeding," she choked out in a small voice.

"Where did you cut yourself then?" Taking her head in one hand, Zephon turned told her to turn it one way and then the other. The flesh was unmarred, just as it was along her hands and arms. He could also not see any blood along Clara's backside. So what, Zephon puzzled, did she mean by bleeding? "Clara, I do not see any blood."

"No," she whispered, "I'm bleeding." Clara's eyes quickly darted downwards towards her legs, then back up again to her uncle's line of vision. She was petrified...but there was a note in her voice that indicated embarrassment as well. "I want my daddy, I want Matron," Clara began to cry.

Zephon was confused. He could not smell any blood and could not detect even the slightest cut on Clara's body. And then it hit him, a feeling of being smashed up against the wall. Some of Zephon's females servants at certain times of the month seemed to act far more moody than they usually did, complaining of pain around their waists and – Clara had complained about the same pain only a while beforehand.

"Oh," Zephon said shakily, getting up to his feet slowly. He looked down at Clara, scratched the back of his head and tried to admire the rocks that jutted up from the mountains. Well, this was certainly something Zephon had never expected. Shifting uncomfortably, listening to Clara wailing that she was going to bleed to death out in the mountains, the Clan Lord gave a sharp whistle. Instantly the two horses appeared, still spooked from the young girl's cries.

"Clara, let me help you up," Zephon offered his talon gingerly to his niece. She took it quickly and was pulled up and off the ground by him and into her saddle. "Now look, we will get back to the Cathedral in no time and then I will go and fetch your father, do you understand? You will be fine Clara." He uncertainly patted her knee, thoughts filling Zephon's head on just how old Clara was and now how much older she would soon be.

Clara wiped her nose with the edge of her cape and gave another deep cough. "But I'm going to die, uncle Zephon! I don't want to die; I'm too young to die! My father will kill me if I die here!"

"Shush Clara, you will not die here. I assure you." Quickly climbing into his saddle, Zephon took his reins in one talon and Clara's in the other and with a quick order; the horses began to ride down the treacherous mountainside. "It is only a little bit of blood, Clara." In truth Zephon did not know how much blood, but he did not want to know the facts, just as certainly as he did not wish to dwell on those matters as well. Leave it up to Melchiah; he was the parent. In one of Zephon's more rare moments, he was not envious of what Melchiah would soon learn.

His mind, troubled by Clara's plight, did not even have time to bicker at Zephon that he should be afraid of the dizzying height of the mountain path they were on. Some things were far more important than others. The ride back down to the Silent Cathedral was faster than the ride up the mountainside. Leaving Clara in the care of two vampiresses', Zephon raced off again to report the news to Melchiah.

It started off slowly, the laugh. At first it was a slight tugging at the side of Zephon's mouth, then it tickled the inside of his throat. Soon it became a chuckle and then a cry in the air. As he rode up to the gates leading to Melchiah's palace underground, Zephon was practically rolling on the ground with laughter, much to the confusion of the guards. The worst thing was, Zephon could not even understand why he was laughing, and only that he was.

* * * *

Zephon was still laughing, a shrill and high sound in the confines of Clara's bedchamber. Melchiah could only shake his head in disbelief and something akin to repugnance at his sibling. "She was scared, Zephon. I do not know what Matron told her but Clara refused to see even me for the next two days. And when one of her friends from the Rahabim Clan came over to inquire about her health, Clara stomped out of her room and screamed shrilly at him 'I don't want to see you for the next week' and then tossed him outside. I felt sorry for the young vampire. He was just as confused as everyone else was."

"But it was...just so...funny," Zephon gasped for breath, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. The smile he wore was not as contagious as he thought and he quickly wiped it from his face. "Obviously you do not think the same, Melchiah."

The youngest of the siblings folded his arms across his chest. "There is nothing comical in this story for me, Zephon. She was scared. Yes, granted you brought her back to your palace and summoned me, but from the way you made it sound it was as if she had only suffered a scratch. If I had realized that it was something that monumental that had happened to Clara, something that she needed to know about from Matron, then I would have arrived faster."

"Well it was nothing to be worked up about," Zephon defensively spoke. Melchiah pounded the headboard of the bed, making Zephon jump up from his chair, the piece of furniture clattering to the floor.

"You are not her father so you have no say. Try and place yourself in my position for a moment if you could, Zephon, and then you just might realize that some people can care for others. But you are just selfish and-"

The fifth-born leveled his gaze with Melchiah's. "Is that a challenge, brother?" His voice had become completely emotionless and Zephon flexed his talons. The youngest stared at his brother. At any other time he might have cowed before Zephon, but he had two distinct advantages here. One, Melchiah was in his territory and surrounded by his Clan. Two, Melchiah would suffer to never have Clara's name slighted or her memory to be laughed at in any way. It had been Turel first and now Zephon. Melchiah wished he had not heard such things from his brethren, but he had and as such, his notions about his brothers had all changed. Some for the better and some for the worst.

A fight could have broken out then and there; the Clan Lords rarely fought but when it did come to blows neither would back down. Thankfully someone intervened, someone that no one would dare raise a claw against or even trade a harsh word to.

Kain roughly grabbed Zephon by the shoulder, pulling him backwards and sending him reeling into the wall. For a few moments the Clan Lord was in shock, and then closing his gaping mouth, stared up at his sire. The emperor of Nosgoth stood over Zephon, Melchiah hidden behind Kain, and looked down at the fifth-born.

"Leave," was all he said.

And Zephon obeyed.

Placing the overturned chair back to its rightful place, Kain nodded to his youngest Lieutenant who was standing there dumbfounded. Obviously Melchiah had not expected help, least of all from his father. "I interrupted at a good time, otherwise this room would have been reduced to nothing less than kindling," Kain began. "And it would have been a shame, Melchiah, not just for you but for the rest of us as well."

"Sire, I-"

Kain raised a hand to quiet Melchiah. "No explanations are necessary. Zephon was simply looking for trouble, and he found out. I will deal with him later." A lengthy silence followed as the elder vampire surveyed the room, his inquisitive eyes not missing anything. Finally when he spoke, it was in a less commanding tone and one more considerate. "How long has it been since that day, Melchiah?"

"Over eight years," he answered softly, hunching his shoulders instinctively. "Eight years ago, about a week back to this day if I can remember. But it is not like I wish to," he gave a humourless chuckle. "Clara did leave so much grief behind." Melchiah once again picked up the rag doll he had made for her when she had been a baby, turning it over gently in his talons with a wistful smile.

Sitting down beside his youngest son, Kain glanced over at the doll. "Do you remember it all?"

"All too clearly," Melchiah sighed, his voice once again becoming thick with grief. "It was as if it happened yesterday. The passing of years does nothing to dispel the grief. No one can forget her. My little Clara."

Kain knew Melchiah was the most emotional sensitive of the six brothers; the one who was the weakest in strength was the strongest emotionally. It was burden that Kain knew Melchiah would have to bear, as well as other burdens that would come to him as the centuries rolled by. It was more for his own sake than Melchiah's that Kain began to talk. The vampire's memories of late had become muddled; new ones that had never existed beforehand replacing the older ones, unreliable thoughts that had never been his were now. Changes made, sacrificed memories and all for what? Clara's memory, Kain realized, was one that he hoped to never lose with all the monumental changes that would soon take place. And when Kain did speak, it was as if he was far away and trying to see the memories though a heavy mist.

Ghostly images in a fog that might consume them.

"She was about seventeen if I recall. Was she? Yes, Clara was that old, and for all of the world, there was nothing sweeter than her smile, Melchiah."