Six Months Later. Twenty miles south of the vampire havens…

To many humans, the sharp, ominous blurs that flashed across the nearby mountains appeared simply as a flock of ravens, or perhaps some kind of storm way off in the distance. Unfortunately for them, it wasn't.

Raziel was under strict orders to instruct and train Santarinus as he would train any other. Kain himself had issued the instructions, and was in bad sentiments after the changes in his claws had caused unpleasant side effects.

Santarinus was a fast learner and his intellect quicker than before, due to the potion that stayed his hand from making another attempt on Raziel's life. Agile, and strong, Santarinus could have made a good lieutenant, but for now, he was firmly under Raziel's sharp and cold wing.

Today, he learnt to feed. For weeks he had drank from vials, as his body rejected vampirism at first. Yet now, that had passed, and Raziel decided that his student's prey should be no other than a villager from his hometown. Santarinus, of course, was completely unaware of this, owing again to the potion. When he did remember his past, in that fateful year, blood would be spilt, and it would flow freely.

As they leapt from one mountain to another, Santarinus would often use the Whisper to ask Raziel questions about the vampire ways. Due to the speed at which they were travelling, there was no other way to communicate, and, ironically, most of Santarinus' knowledge of the Dark Gifts had been passed on through a dark gift.

For a good few minutes they danced along the summits of colossal mountains, simply revelling in their own power, discussing various aspects of vampirism. Although daytime, clouds blocked out all but a few of the suns burning rays, patches of pain that the two vampires avoided with ease.

They soon came to mountain stood directly above the gates to Wyrum, Santarinus' hometown. Santarinus approached, slowly, but Raziel stopped dead in his tracks.

'Wait,' he whispered, 'Kain brings us news by the whisper,'

He knelt down and focused his thoughts on the noise in his mind that turned slowly to sounds, then to words..

'Raziel. Do not slay any human that does not bear an amulet of solid gold. She is the optimum victim for your apprentice. Slay no others, and allow only Santarinus' lips to meet with her pale flesh…'

'As you wish, Kain,' Raziel replied, and stood up.

'Trouble?' Santarinus asked.

'None. Just….further instructions, so bear witness with care. You must only slay one of this village, a woman with an amulet of gold. Kain demands it,'

Santarinus nodded. 'I will do anything that my master wishes,'

'Good. Now, get going. Remember to the use the mist for cover,'

Before he left, Raziel's apprentince glanced at his master's hands, then at his own.

'Master…' He rasped, 'I have no claws to kill with, and my own sword goes blunt. Could I…?' He looked down at the spear attached to a piece of cloth tightly wrapped around Raziel's waist.

'Very Well,' he handed over the sword, and then turned to leave. 'Use the whisper to contact me when it is done. Kill no others than the target,'

'Yes master,' Santarinus turned, and adopted the guise of a beggar, slowly limping towards the town where a certain young woman would soon meet her doom. Years later, Raziel would reflect on the few minutes that stood between Santarinus' discreet departure and what would be his glorious return. Had he taken a moment to ponder who the victim was, Nosgoth's history would have been rewritten completely….