The Ritual of Purification Enacted

Novanus had been forced to take shelter within a small cave for the day which had given him important time to rest and prepare for the ritual that he would have to perform when night fell. The ritual of Izcarnir would infuse the Pillar which it was performed on with the same magical energy that the Ancients had originally created them with. By doing the rite upon the Pillar of Dimension, Novanus hoped to reduce the chance of the wall between the Nerayan and this realm weakening.
As soon as the sun set over the horizon he set out from the cave. When he finally reached the Pillars, Novanus stopped within the shadows and swore. The area was full of Sarafan knights. It appeared they were traveling towards Meridian and were just securing the area to camp for the night. There were five warriors in glyph armor and a further nine without. The nine ordinary knights would be easy to dispatch without even laying a finger upon any of them. The glyph armor would be a problem; all of those knights apart from one wore their helmets, which would block Novanus' mental attacks. He would have to kill them by hand. It was just his luck that this group of accursed Sarafan would decide to camp here.
Novanus wasted no time. With concentration, he managed to fix each of the nine knights in normal armor in his mind. Their thoughts filled his head. Just as suddenly as he had reached into their minds they fell to the ground, each of their brains dead. He ran into the pillar clearing and before the Sarafan had time to attack, picked up a fallen sword and decapitated two of the glyph knights. The other three began to circle him, their armor casting a sickening yellow glow upon the area. Novanus telekinetically drew another sword into his free hand just in time to block an overhead blow from one of the warriors.
"You have no hope, Vampire," spat one of the knights. Novanus laughed and launched into an attack which sliced the Sarafan in two. The two remaining combatants both came at him at once. They were not a match for Novanus, not even together. Novanus began to see a great deal of humor in their futile attacks and he let out a blood curdling laugh. He began to move faster and the Sarafan struggled to keep up with him. The swords' metallic ringing filled the area before Novanus spoke out, "So sorry, boys, but I have business to attend to." Novanus ducked down and speared both of the knights through the chest. Novanus had begun to walk away before their corpses had even touched the ground.
As he walked up to the Pillars, Novanus began to feel the sense of awe which always filled him when in the presence of the nine enormous obelisks. To think that his masters had constructed these…They stood as an eternal monument to their immeasurable power.
The ritual itself would, Novanus hoped, not take to long. The vampire walked into the center of the semi-circular formation of the Pillars. He knelt down and began to chant in the language of the Ancients. After fifteen minutes or so, the air began to feel alive, filled with the sound of humming which was now being emitted from the Pillars. Novanus extracted his ritual blade. The previous ceremony had imbued the blade with the magic of the ancients, all Novanus now had to do was transfer that mystical energy into the Pillar of Dimension. Novanus approached the Pillar of Dimension and raised the knife. With a tremendous amount of effort, Novanus thrust the knife into the pillar. Novanus had not expected the lack of resistance which the pillar offered and nearly lost his balance as the blade sank up to its hilt. Beads of blood began to run down from the top of the handle and run into the pillar, where it was absorbed, leaving no trace. Slowly the blade began to remove itself from the pillar and as it left, a brilliant white spread from the blade's point and began to eradicate the grey color which had slowly demonstrated the degradation of the Pillars over the millennia. This was how Novanus remembered the pillars from his mortality - pure and clean. The white from the Dimension Pillar spread and soon all nine pillars stood bright and shining.
Novanus stood up holding the ritual blade knife. The ritual was done and the Pillars were temporarily cleansed. They would still degrade, that was inevitable until Kain worked out a means to heal them. However Novanus hoped he had bought some time and sealed the Nerayan away, until Izael could fulfill his destiny. Novanus turned and incinerated the bodies of the Sarafan he had killed. It wouldn't do to have bodies rotting in the presence of the greatest monument to his ancient masters. The vampire then sailed into the air and headed straight back to the Temple of the Ancients, avoiding both Meridian and forest.

Things were not looking very good. Lessa was wounded, Lent had been missing for far too long, and Novanus had yet to return. The only ones left were Gadorian and two humans, one of whom was a merchant. Soon, Gadorian was calmed, but only slightly. Novanus' voice filled his mind, "The ritual is complete. I am returning."
Hours later he came in, walking with a psuedo-regal strut worthy of a king. Gadorian told him all that had happened regarding Lessa and Admar. Izael stood off to the side, listening. "What worries me most is Lent. He left a few days ago, as is his nature, with no explanation. But he's never stayed out this long before." Novanus pondered the situation for a few seconds before spitting out his reply, "Let the filthy human rot, wherever he is. It's his own fault for getting into such a predicament." Gadorian responded with only a glare. "Oh surely you know I was kidding. What have the ages done to your sense of humor, Gadorian?"
Gadorian snorted back, and then resumed speaking, "Who, or what, -ever happened to him, it's not to be taken lightly. He may only be a human, but there are none fiercer than a vampire worshipper. If he's been captured, he is surely being closely guarded." Gadorian was anxious, about to burst. Rescuing Lent struck him as something more than a one person job. But who could go with him? Would he and Novanus be able to cooperate well enough to pull it off? Izael seemed too valuable to take along, for the cost of losing him would be great indeed, but then was it just as large a risk leaving him to guard Lessa? The answer eluded him.

uzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz... What... what was that? Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz He sat up straight with a startled yelp, batting away the buzzing insect that hovered on swift wings around his pointed ear. There was a long pause as he listened to the animal flee, just as startled, before pressing his hands to his still-tired face. His fingers, they felt hard, like claws. He drew his hands away from his face, running one over the other. Cloven, only three fingers... now he remembered. The soil of the forest must have shifted and roused him from his cyclic slumber. He wondered what had changed on him this time. Inspecting carefully, his new hands glided up and along each limb; there, his feet. The toes were a little longer, so he would have to walk on the ball of each foot now, and that would take some getting used to. Over his robed chest and trunk, face, over the shoulders to his back... what was this?
It felt soft and light, attached near his shoulder blade. He nearly pricked his lower lip on his sharp canine biting down upon it quizzically, crossing his arms to flex the muscles in his back. Sure enough, the new appendages shifted almost suddenly, a sound like unfurling fabric erupting from the fanning feathers. Oh dear, he had been warned of this, but so soon? Wings were far too difficult to hide, how was he going to travel now? The vampire mumbled ideas to himself as he rummaged around beside him for the staff he had laid down prior to himself, then he began plucking twigs and natural debris from the long locks of raven hair as he concocted a plan. Travel was already difficult with blind eyes and now he had two more hurdles to cross.
Smoothing back the blackened locks from his sickly ivory face, he took the staff in hand and hoisted himself up to his new feet, pulling on the handsomely decorated pole to rise up on the balls of his feet. Hmm, this wasn't so bad, a little practice and things would be balanced. But for now he needed a safer place to test and plan out hiding these new-fangled wings. He wasn't flying, that was for sure, he thought to himself as he began walking toward the sounds of flocked birds. Where a flock was there were no humanoids, logic had always told him. Birds...he wondered if there were any birds that feared heights as he did...

After hearing of Lessa's attack, Novanus went to see the injured vampire only to find her sleeping. Novanus looked down at her slumbering form. For all her bravado, Lessa still seemed like a child to Novanus. She was young and impetuous and occasionally far too rash for her own good.
Novanus turned on his cloven foot and walked to Gadorian. "I can sense Lent's mind but I am only picking it up very faintly. He's still alive. He's..." Novanus' eyes widened. "He's in the Sarafan Keep!" Gadorian's face looked like it had been slapped, the shock in his eyes all to apparent. "We can't abandon him!" he said. "You're right, of course, but we will have to work out some way to reach him." Novanus sat down next to Gadorian and began to think.

"Ouch," Lent said in the voice of a young boy. "Papa, that hurts!" "It's alright, Lent," his father said while finishing up his son's new tattoo. "There, all done. Now any vampire who sees you will know you are kin to Vorador. Remember, this should protect you against most vampires, not the Sarafan." "I know, papa, but Vorador died when you were my age. Our family is no longer under the protection of him, why wouldn't they eat us?" His father laughed a little. "Most vampires have a sense of honor. If they value their heritage, they shall not harm you. And vampires don't eat humans, they drink our life's blood. Sit down, Lent, let me tell you a story."
Lent sat next to his father, looking up at him with admiration. "Well, I must have been thirteen, just as you are now. My father had taken me to Vorador's mansion to meet our ancient ancestor. I was very nervous, but Vorador welcomed me to his home. We sat, and ate dinner. After dinner Vorador gave me a gift." "What was the gift, papa?" "The blood of a vampire. We Loki have had a pact with the vampires we served, and were blessed by their bloods. Should you but taste the blood of a vampire and you'll have the strength of three men, your wounds will heal faster without the risk of infection, your life will be drawn out longer, and you'll be able to do other things you had not thought possible. Even though you've never been given the gift, the blood still flows inside of you. All you need is a little bit to awaken it."