Repercussions

Izael cried after her, "LESSA? LESSA! LESSA! By the Saints, I never thought vampires could be as stubborn and foolish as humans! LESSA, listen to me! You didn't only save me, you saved the sword. You revived US. You brought back lost hope!" Izael turned to Gadorian for support, but the vampire only shook his head. "Dammit people, we can't just let her go! You gotta stop her!" But not even Izael moved. He watched Lessa mount Seth and ride out from the temple. As much he tried to tell himself otherwise, he felt guilty for all this. Suddenly Novanus entered the room, having heard the conversation. Izael walked between Novanus and Gadorian. "I understand your anger, ancient one. However, I am the one to be blamed. I insisted to go to the Keep. My foolishness nearly cost you everything. BECAUSE OF ME, AND ONLY ME, LESSA HAS LEFT. So, if you want someone to blame, confront me."

Lent threw the chalice against the wall as Lessa left. Lent didn't want her cheap offering. He was furious, Gadorian could tell, but he couldn't tell why. Lent kept a tight mind, and an even tighter lip. "What?" Gadorian asked. "Get Out!" Lent shouted. He couldn't take it anymore. He hated being pushed around by these vampires, and for a brief moment, he saw them no different from the Sarafan. "I'm not your child that you have to look after. I'm not your servant that you can just order around. You say I'm your ally, but you push me like a doll. I watch you over the daylight, provide food for you, saved Lessa from death, and you all aren't even my master. How do you thank me? By desecrating the sanctuary I've secured for your savior." Lent was full of emotions, and tried to fight back the blood tears. "All of you have lost your sight, your sense of honor. You let yourself be led around by a vampire who can't see past his own vanity. Lessa can't get past her own guilt and blames herself for Vorador's death." Lent couldn't help but smirk a little. "But Vorador died for the cause, he died with honor. Let him stay dead so that we can say one vampire died with honor." \

"And me?" Gadorian prompted. "You're just as bad for following them. It's your responsibility for Izael, not Novanus." Neither of them spoke, but there was nothing left to say. Gadorian hung around for a moment, trying to find the words to get Lent to stay, but everything had been said. Gadorian left the room, and Lent began to pack.

Lent's words lingered in Gadorian's heart. Never before had a human wounded him so. Were it anything but truth, Gadorian would have been able to shrug it off. But the ramifications ran deeper than just what had been said. Gadorian was meant, was created, was engineered by Nosgoth's greatest architects to be the bridge that would span human and vampire. And here he had failed them both. Why had he come? Why had the sword still compelled him, in the hands of the young Sarafan? He had failed it once before. His destiny was not to be any ambassador, but history's greatest prodigal.
He envied Abel, wondering how deep the vampire's blindness ran. The malice surrounding him was an affront to Gadorian's very senses; but without sight, shutting it out might be made easier. He stared into those dead eyes and wondered what horrors they had saved Abel from. Surely one ancient and strong enough to grow wings would be long mad from the wickedness he had experienced, were he unable to escape into the solitude of his own mind. Yes, Gadorian envied him very much.
Why had he come? What purpose was he fulfilling? He had concluded to forsake centuries of waste and hedonism, and now his goal was slipping through his uncloven hands. Fate had cast him as the unremarkable only to exalt the heroes by contrast, and was now punishing him for acting out of character.
Gadorian walked out to the balcony and watched Lessa ride down the mountainside. He was jealous of her, as well, able to run away, for she was without obligation. Gadorian turned around and looked at Izael, his final tether to whatever meaning may have been prescribed for him, and wondered how long it would take before that rope, too, would break.

"THAT IS ENOUGH" Novanus bellowed out loud as he stormed into the room. His sapphire blue eyes flared as if on fire as he glared at Lent. Lent rose as if to argue with the vampire only to find himself telekinetically thrown against the wall as recompense. "A Vampire's blood is the most sacred thing we can give to anyone. Lessa offered you her life's blood and you, a vampire worshipper, throw it against the wall!" Novanus' rage filled the room. "How dare you," Novanus attempted to regain a degree of composure. "Lent," Novanus smiled as he said the name but there was a hint of malice in the voice. "I do wish you would stop your own personal problems interfering with what is occurring. Your judgments are clouded by your visions of the past, do not let them dominate you. Lessa was not," Novanus spat out the word, "Grave digging, she was simply looking at an object that belonged to her sire. Surely you feel some compassion for the girl. She has just sacrificed her only chance of resurrecting him in order to see that Izael did not die. Your position is as a vampire worshipper. You have sworn to protect your lord. The actions we intend to take will do exactly that. If you have not accepted that by now, you are free to leave and none of us will stop you. However, if you intend to carry out your duties and set your personal problems aside, aid us."
Novanus turned and walked to where the broken blood chalice lay. He bent down and began picking up the blood stained pieces. "By some bizarre twist of fate we have been brought together. We owe it to ourselves to show each other respect and some semblance of civilized behavior. Otherwise our cause is useless." Novanus walked over to Lent and looked into his eyes. "Please."
Sensing that Lent was still in no mood to talk, Novanus left the chamber and walked to his private chambers. He couldn't stand this bickering between all of the others. He needed to get out, to leave for a short time in order to distract himself. Lessa grieved; he could still sense her sorrow as she rode away. He would have to find her, but not until she had had time to deal with her issues. Novanus walked back to the main hall trying to find a lighter side of the day's events. He could find none and thus fell to remembering days before when he had traveled with Kain and stayed with Vorador.
"A vampire cleric," said Novanus as he approached Abel. "An interesting path to take, and you are a child of Janos Audron? Interesting. I begin to understand why you resemble an ancient so much. His blood in your veins must in some way direct your vampiric evolution. Excuse me. I allow my inquisitiveness to replace my manners. I am Novanus. Once seer of the Serioli and leader of the tribe's worship of the Ancients. Now just a servant of fate, burdened with a task which I do not want, but I digress. You are seated in the High Temple of the Ancients hidden in the mountains above Meridian. This place has become a base camp of sorts." Noticing the Vampire's seeming awkwardness with his wings, Novanus shifted in his seat. It was obvious they were newly formed.
"Can I offer you anything?" Novanus passed over one of the Blood Chalices. "It is strange that you have awoken from your metamorphosis at this time. The world has become a very perilous place, especially for one such as your self. Our race have been hunted to the brink of extinction, you will need to be careful with no eyes to see. Forgive me that our introduction has been so brief but I have to leave for a short time. If you should need anything, please don't hesitate to ask my mortal friend Admar. He will be more than happy to help." Novanus turned on his cloven foot, walked to the balcony, and sailed into the air. Novanus' silhouette passed over the night sky.

'Genius negotiator. He coerces Lent by throwing him against the wall. That'll prove he's more than a puppet to us, wont it Nova?' thought Gadorian. The temple was growing closer and closer to vacancy. Gadorian walked back inside. He passed Lent, and shot him a quick glance, but could not bear to see him for long. It was a truly humbling thing for him to feel shame towards a human, and at that, a vampire worshipper, though it seemed that Lent may have been considering a conversion.