A/N: I do not have the words to express my gratitude to all of you for the outpouring of support I have received. Your understanding and encouragement means so much to me, I simply cannot thank you enough. Things have calmed down considerably, and so I will keep posting to this site unless that changes. I promise that if I do end up moving the story, I will provide a means for all of you to obtain invites.

This chapter isn't terribly long because it's a lot of revelation for Eric, and I didn't want to bog it down with anything extraneous. I also wanted to get a chapter out for all of you have been so patient with me. I hope the reassurance of me continuing will make up for the short chapter. Again - thank you, thank you, thank you. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or stories from The Southern Vampire series. I can only hope that Ms. Harris does not mind me taking them out to play with.

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Eric rose silently from the large bed in his hotel room, pulling his black silk boxers back on. He glanced down at the two sleeping whores still lying there, enticing brunettes gifted to him for the evening by King Bianchi after their brief meeting. He'd gone straight there after leaving the café, wanting to get it over with. Since Eric would be staying in Venice for an indefinite period of time, he'd had no choice but to inform Antonio, saying only that he wanted respite. It was not unusual for Kings and Queens to take vacations every decade or so, and luckily Bianchi was a vampire far more interested in carnal indulgence than politics, and gladly extended Eric the hospitality of his kingdom.

He wandered out to the balcony, leaning on his forearms against the railing, and taking in the calm of the Piazza in these last few hours before dawn. A gentle, cool breeze rustled through his hair. Though his tension and lust had been temporarily sated, a weariness now weighed heavily upon him. He was tired, tired in a way only the eldest of his kind could understand. It was in moments of solitude such as this that he felt it most.

He attempted to occupy his mind by running down the next moves he'd need to make, ticking down his mental checklist, only to find himself once again frustrated by the missing pieces. Eric knew there was some essential piece of information he lacked, and until he discovered it, the puzzle would not come together. As he'd told the Gypsy, he was not a believer in coincidences. The seemingly random series of events that lead up to this point were, most likely, not random at all. There was something beneath the apparent chaos, a method... a reason. Why couldn't he see it?

"You have already seen it, you just refuse to acknowledge it."

The world stilled, the breeze ceasing and all sounds falling silent. Eric's head snapped toward the voice behind him; a voice he knew all too well. Lounging languidly on the outdoor chaise, hands folded behind his head, a pair of glowing green eyes met the Viking's. Eric turned his body, leaning back against the railing, arms folding across his chest. He narrowed his eyes at the daemon, who had traded his disguise as Victor for one Eric did not recognize – tall, muscular, somewhat pale skin, long dark hair, dressed in blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Eric would have relished nothing more than to strike him down then and there, but he stilled his instinct to fight. Avel held the missing pieces.

The daemon made no move toward him, looking for all the world like he was just enjoying a relaxing evening in Venice. Eric waited silently, refusing to play his game of cryptic banter. He locked his mind down, knowing Avel could easily pluck his thoughts.

"I am not your enemy, Viking," the daemon said with a sigh, sounding almost as weary as Eric felt.

Eric studied him intently, "That remains to be seen." He paused a moment, taking in the smug, yet tired expression on Avel's face. "What poor schmuck are you impersonating now?" he asked with a smirk of his own.

Avel chuckled, "Preston's the name. Preston Pardloe. I'd shake your hand, but I know how you bloodsuckers are."

The name held no meaning for Eric, but he was certain there was some point to the daemon's latest ruse. Another few moments of silence ticked by before he spoke again. "So, why now?"

Avel uncrossed his ankles, lithely rising to his feet, slowly pacing the balcony. The daemon flicked his eyes randomly about his surroundings before turning a pointed gaze to Eric. "I'm not the one who determined this timeline."

Eric nodded a bit, sighing and turning to face the railing, leaning heavily back on his forearms. "The bond," he conceded, acknowledging that Avel had confirmed his suspicions.

Avel snorted, "Is that what you still think of it as? I am surprised at you, Viking. I have never known you to be so willfully blind. Still clinging to that vampire superiority complex, I see."

Eric growled, but it was half-hearted. The weariness that weighed on him grew heavier with each passing moment, though time was once again frozen by Avel's hand. He was tired of this fight, and his soul longed more and more for relief from it... for peace. Eric sensed he was not alone in that desire; that Avel too had grown weary. He was waiting... waiting for Eric to accept something he had been fighting. Eric began the process of moving the pieces in his mind.

"You had no intentions of impregnating her, did you." It was a statement, not a question.

Avel moved toward him, assuming a similar position to his against the railing, "Of course not. She was chosen, just as you were. There is no replacement for what she is... and none for what you are." He paused, allowing Eric time to process before handing him another piece. "There are those that believe otherwise... those that are selfish, and those who revel in chaos."

Eric continued to grab hold of the bits and pieces of random, fitting them together with the innuendo being handed to him. The selfish. Niall. He seeks only to keep his realm as it is, hidden from the mortal world. He does not want Sookie to play her part in the gods' plan, this much Eric knows.

However, Niall is not powerful enough to keep her hidden on his own. He has had help. Someone on par with Avel or greater. Those who revel in chaos... those who would be in opposition to a harmonious existence between the mortals and the supernatural. Other gods... gods of destruction and discord.

"It was a ruse," Eric gave voice to his first conclusion. "You wanted the other side to believe... what? That you'd gone mad?"

Avel chuckled, "Not exactly. Another child would mean the prophecy had yet to be fulfilled; that Sookie was not the last in line."

Eric nodded. "A red herring."

"We were being watched," Avel replied.

Another piece fell into place. All gods had their own servants and creatures, just as Amun had Avel... and Phemonoe was the daughter of one of them, no doubt forever watched. She was a product of the union of one from each side... a god who would seek harmony... and a creature of destruction. Amun and Lamia. Phemonoe had characteristics of both... the breath of life, immortality, bestowed by Amun; the need for blood passed on from Lamia. She spoke the words of a god, making her connected to the divine; yet she wrought destruction by her very nature. She was almost a physical manifestation of the eternal war.

Eric recalled the legend he told to Sookie on the Temple rooftop, having seen it as nothing more than mere metaphor at the time, about two halves forever seeking each other in hopes of returning to their natural state as one being. They'd been separated by Zeus in the Greek myth, but Zeus was simply the current incarnation of Amun at the time the legend was spoken. Indeed the gods were not even individuals, but simply representations of an aspect of the divine energy, which is made up of all things. Many Pagans referred to this eternal energy as the Goddess, who encompasses all, and cycles infinitely through creation, destruction, and rebirth. The need for balance is paramount – neither side of this eternal war can exist without the other. Yet they are always fighting for the upper hand.

As 'children' of Phemonoe, Eric and Sookie represented this dual nature torn asunder. Sookie; the descendant of the divine harmony. Eric; the vampire child of divine destruction. Both were unique in their creation and make up, the mixture of their blood holding the keys to almost every creature that does, or has ever existed. They were, indeed, two halves of a universal whole.

"It is not a bond... it is the beginnings of a merge," Eric finally replied.

Avel nodded tiredly, "One you and the girl have been fighting with your entire beings."

"So why keep her from me, if you are so desperate for us to rejoin?" Eric hissed.

Avel snarled in return, "You kept her from you, Viking. Your reluctance and arrogance has cost us dearly. The sun in the desert burned you because you refused to believe. You have your mind so set to your bloodsucker ways of thinking, you cannot see the forest for the trees. I tried to shelter the girl, protect her while you indulged in your time to choose a path," he spat in disgust.

"Apparently you failed utterly in protecting her," Eric growled.

Avel's voice calmed, growing resolute. "Yes. I went so far as to shutter Phemonoe from her own realm to conceal Sookie from the prying eyes of Lamia, but it was in vain. I am not sure who Niall is getting assistance from, but they managed to snatch her from my and Rachal's care. Now, for the second time in her life, I have lost her and been forced to track her through you."

Eric's eyes grew wide. He knew the first time... when Sookie was a child. When Niall and Fintan killed her parents and hid her with the Grandmother. Avel and Phemonoe hadn't known of Sookie's existence... but they knew Eric was eternally connected to the child they sought.

"Hallow," Eric almost whispered. "The curse... the reason I was running down the road toward Sookie's house." His voice was resigned, "And this time? I do not recall being cursed."

"Of course you were. You cursed yourself with that ridiculous 'give me time' stunt, or have you forgotten? You're here now because you're ready to be."

Eric closed his eyes, leaning heavier against the railing. He could not deny that he was ready for this to end... by whatever means necessary. This weariness that plagued his mind was becoming crushing in its weight. Endgame for him was fast approaching, he could feel it in every sense. The last battle of Eric Northman's existence, as he had known it, was just over the horizon. There was only one question.

"Will we find rebirth?"

Avel turned to him then, and Eric was struck by how his own tired state reflected back at him through the daemon's eyes. "For some of us."

TBC