The sun was setting, painting the cloud laden sky in pale orange and red, when Kerril stepped out of the cottage. It had taken nearly twice as long as he had expected to reinforce the base enchantment on Aithwen's back. His passable well of magic felt drained from the slow but steady stream he had to feed into the ink as he went. The thing looked simple, felt it in places too, but it was the most intricate bit of spellwork he had ever seen let alone touched. Sighing heavily he pressed his hands into the small of his back just above his hip and arced backward, cracking his spine.

Looking around the clearing he noted his daughter picking ripe apples and pears with a large snowy owl perched on her shoulder. She was laughing as the owl playfully pecked at her hair and nibbled at her ears. He knew the thing had a name, but he didn't have the energy to recall it. Everytime she came home for a visit she left the bird in the elder druidess' care. Despite his assurances to the safety of her pet, she didn't fully trust the spawn at the castle to leave the pretty thing be. After arguing about it a few times he let the matter drop. If she didn't want her pet at the castle that was fine. Perhaps the creature itself didn't appreciate the smell of so many vampires in one place.

Thinking of vampires… where is the boy? I would like to speak with him before supper. Make things a little less tense for Aithwen's sake once she wakes. Kerril strode to the treeline and began walking the circumference of the glade in the opposite direction of his daughter. As he walked, he marveled at the scope of the magic surrounding the druid's glade. Outside the perimeter of her magic the wind raged and pellets of ice sliced through tender summer foliage. Within the circle of empowered trees, however, the sky was lovely and the wind blew gentle. No sign of the storm whipped into existence by the frustrated and angry dragon to be found.

Making his way toward an artfully shaped outcropping of rock near the mountain's base he admired the carefully cultivated patch of flowers. Arctic crocus, snowdrops, flowering moss and poppy flowers clung to the top and side of the gracefully sloping blue-gray stone. His mind reminded him idly that Aithwen referred to the stone as 'jiren' and that her family, centuries ago, had been the lording family over a mining settlement related to that specific strand of stone. It truly was a lovely color. Somewhere between azurite and lapis lazuli swathed in the chiffon gray of a stormy dawn. She remained the main benefactor of the remaining mines, both providing for and profiting from their operation. Her family name was still one that carried weight in the elven courts despite the terrible fall from grace of her parents and brother as the stone was still well prized for its use in elven masonry. Granted, that weight was miniscule in comparison to some older and richer families, but it was far more than so many vied for day in and day out in those deceptively perfect courts.

It amazed him to no end how little value she placed on that aspect of her power. He had spent decades of his life before becoming a vampire, and even more after his transformation, striving for the very power she cared nothing for and came by through the simple happenstance of her birth. There was far more to the story of her family and her place in it, of course, but she never spoke of it beyond stating her family perished in disgrace leaving the city and all they ruled over in her hands when she was barely a century old. Getting to know her as he had over the decades she had sheltered and taught his beloved daughter, he knew that political power meant nothing to her but she would use it as the weapon it could be if she found it necessary to do so and thus hung onto it with deceptively loose fingers. Fingers ready to snap shut around its haft at a moment's notice.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Kerril could faintly make out the scent of Aithwen's visitor in the shadows of the flowering stone. Clever, using the flowers to muddle his scent. This boy is smart, despite being stupid enough to be caught in a rabbit's snare.

Stopping on the far side of the stone he could feel the tension in the spawn's body escalate to a point it was nearly palpable. Kerril was certain that if the boy had a heartbeat he would be bordering on having the muscle explode in his chest from the anxiety.

"I will not hurt you, boy. I have no need to, so long as you do not intend any harm to the druidess or to my daughter." Kerril plucked a delicate snowdrop from the stone and admired the way the smooth white petals yawned open to reveal even smaller petals ribbed with green, looking much like a miniature rose in bloom. "Have you come to harm them, boy? Or are you sent for a darker| purpose?" The vampire lord gently drew a sharp nail along the edge of a delicate petal and waited. He could be patient, and would be, until the boy finally answered.

Rhyldan had felt it when the vampire lord had begun to approach him. How could he not? The man had a heavy presence, heavier than his bitch mistress even. He was shocked, and more than a little terrified, when the vampiric lord came strolling through the treeline barely an hour after Aithwen had retreated to her cabin's interior accompanied by a younger female. The young woman smelled like a vampire, but he could clearly hear her heartbeat. She made a line directly for the cabin with a look of concern on her face before he had more than a moment to consider who or what they were. So he retreated into the mountain shadow and did his best to keep his distance from the visitors as he had no idea of their purpose in the druidess' grove and he thought it best not to draw undue attention to himself. The lord strode unerringly and unhurriedly to the far side of the cabin, settling himself down near the base of a large ash tree in a way that showed a casual familiarity with the glade that he figured boded well for his future survival. If a vampire of such strength strode about comfortably, he figured he could assume Aithwen was not a druid that sought to kill any and all varieties of the undead. But what kind she really was was still a mystery, as all druids truly were.

Rhyldan's attention slid back to the vampire lord now standing barely a stone's toss away. He didn't feel like the man was threatening him, not in any physical way at least. A glance around gave notice of Isot laying in a spot of sun not far away, resting peacefully even in the presence of a predator just as dangerous as herself.

Is it safe to answer him? Afterall, I do not mean harm to either the druidess or his daughter. As long as I don't let any clues about the bitch slip it may be alright… He groaned and let his head fall forward into the folded arms over his knees. Sodding hells. First I run across a powerful she-druid then a vampire lord. All I want is my bloody freedom! To disappear. Gods, is that too much to ask, to hope for? I did not ask for this sorry excuse for a life…

Kerril could sense the turmoil rolling off the young spawn in waves. He smelt of anxiety and fear, both fresh and days old. Exhaustion and hunger also clouded his scent. Plucking another flower, the vampire lord began weaving the thin stems together, intending to braid a bracelet of blooms for his daughter as he waited for the boy to decide to speak. He was nearly finished when the spawn's whispered voice reached his ears.

"I mean no harm to the birds, but why should I sodding trust you?" Rhyldan whispered.

Kerril paused only momentarily in his task before responding. "As long as you intend them no harm, you can trust me. I can tell you are a spawn, likely from far from here as I do not recognize the scent in your blood. The true question is: how can I trust you to be around my daughter and the Lady Aithwen? I do not know your intentions, afterall, young one." Finishing with the last bloom he began tucking and weaving the ends of the stems into the chain to finish out the illusion of the entire thing being a single strand.

Rhyldan scoffed, his head turning to look toward the unseen figure of the nearby vampire lord. "Then we are at a bloody fucking impasse. My lord." He sneered.

Kerril chuckled and set the bracelet on the stone before stepping out and crouching down to be closer Rhyldan's level. His head tilted as he took in the spawn's tense body language. The creature nearly vibrated with anxiety. "You have a cruel master, don't you, vampling?" He observed.

Rhyldan's red eyes snapped up to meet the vampire lord's, pupils nearly eclipsing the iris in his fear. "What? How would you know? You just said you didn't recognize my scent so what do you mean?"

Kerril lowered himself to sit cross legged on the ground. "Experience." Kerril leaned back on his hands to stare up at the deceptive expanse of clear sky above them. "It is an… unfortunate, and rather archetypal characteristic among nearly all vampire kin. That desperate, nearly instinctual need to control everything and everyone around ourselves. Far too often done through sadistic violence and pure cruelty." Kerril carefully plucked a stem of long grass and began slicing hair thin pieces from the wide leaf with his nail as he spoke. "I believe that there is something that happens to each of us in whatever process alters us into these unliving beings that fundamentally affects our very souls. Something innately dark about this condition of ours that drains away better qualities and disguises those kinder impulses as weakness. Something that both highlights and strengthens our darker character flaws beyond what they could ever have been while we were still mortal.'' Kerril smiled wanly and let the slivers of grass blow away on the deceptively warm wind. "Whatever it is that created the first vampires was a dark thing. A truly evil thing. This is what dooms us all in the end to walk the shadows and fear the very light of day, eschewing all that is truly good while dreaming of it with every fiber of our dead hearts. Or so I have come to believe." The vampire lord tilted his head back and let the warmth of the fading sunlight wash over his pale face without fear.

"Is that why you come to no harm under the sun, then? Your belief?" Rhyldan asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

Kerril chuckled. "Sadly, no. If belief were all it took, our species would become even more of a terror than we already are. Can you imagine?" The lord laughed. "It would be a nightmare come true! Faerun would become another hell circle before anyone could move to stop it." Kerril smiled over at the younger vampire, a look of tenderness spreading to his eyes despite noting the younger man's visage still tight and distrustful. "My resistance to the sun is a gift given to me by my beloved wife, a bit of essence shared through a very old vampiric ritual, one left behind to be forgotten by most of our kin. And what of you, young one? I doubt your disregard of the sun comes from such a bond. Is your maker one of those elusive sunwalkers I have heard tale of? Or are they one of those who have partnered with fiends and devils to skirt such fundamental flaws in their greedy pursuit of power?"

Rhyldan flinched and turned his scowling face away from the smiling vampire lord. "Dunno, really. Wasn't even aware of this little skill of mine until 'bout a month ago. Figured it out by accident. Spent the night getting pissed beyond my 'allowed' limit and passed out in an alleyway not far from our plush little prison. Beyond surprised when I didn't wake up a pile o' ash. Such a special skill isn't really something the bitch would freely advertise to her slaves now, innit?" Contempt dripped from the younger vampire's words, hatred and fear seething through every syllable.

Kerril studied the younger vampire who had begun sullenly plucking at the grass near his feet. The little hints that had slipped his way were more than enough to confirm his suspicions: the boy had spent a great many years beneath the cruelty of another vindictive member of the vampire family. He knew that no matter how many years passed, the boy would always suffer his memory. A desire for vengeance and revenge would tear his heart apart as surely as a wooden stake. But perhaps Aithwen could help him learn to live again, and he could help her in return.

Silence reigned between the vampires as the evening insects began singing to the stars. Eventually Kerril felt Rhyldan's eyes studying him, though each time he glanced over the boy was busy examining the grass.

Isot yawned and stood, stretched lazily and padded over to the vampires. Her large head butted into the vampire lord with enough force to ruin his balance and topple him. Chuffing she turned to the younger vampire as the lord began to chuckle.

'Get on with it, old one. The night has come and the mistress will need us all before dawn. Your pup cooks your meal. Say what you feel you must. Aithwen will not begrudge you your choice.' The she-wolf spoke softly, her deep blue eyes passing smoothly between sets of red before she turned and loped away toward the far side of the glade where her mate sat keeping guard. Rhyldan starred after the white form in amazement.

"Winter wolves are truly beautiful, aren't they?" Kerril whispered, his own eyes tracking the wolf's movement as well.

"Yes." Rhyldan responded quietly.

"Beauty and terrifying power in one creature. Winter in flesh and blood. Much like the Rime herself." The lord continued. "It seems the time for probing questions and vague answers is past. I shall speak frankly and quickly: none here mean you harm and you are safe so long as you remain within the boundary of the glade. Your maker cannot and will not find you while you rest under Aithwen's magic. Unfortunately, the druid is ill and cannot reassure you of this fact herself." Kerril shook his head. "It is a strange happenstance, isn't it? Of all the thousands of druids throughout Faerun, you stumbled across one of the rare few who would not attempt to kill you the very moment they discovered you to be undead. To come across the only druid I know to have parlayed with Strahd and returned stronger and wiser from the encounter. The only one to truly view vampire-kin as creatures of nature instead of abominations. You ran at random to seek your freedom, and somehow find the only druid likely to help you win it. The gods have something in mind for you and her, I am sure of it." He stood and brushed away clinging bits of grass and dirt. "You can believe me or not, it is your choice. Take time and think through your next steps carefully. Either way, I will soon be leaving for the night. There is nothing more I can do for Aithwen than what I have done already. My daughter will look after her until dawn, but she may need your help. Aid her if she does? Please?"

Ryldan studied the face of the older vampire, searching for lies. Long moments passed before the younger man found himself accepting the lord's sincerity. "Why? What help could I be for…?"

"Someone like her?" Kerril interjected. He looked down into Rhyldan's face, his own face kept carefully still. "You may be no help at all. Or you may save her life. I do not know. All I know is that tonight will be terrible for Aithwen and Sefa cannot care for her alone. Her illness is not of the natural world and it will burn through her with a fever like the very air of the hells. Tonight will be worse than any she has had in over two centuries. It is likely all you will be able to do is help my daughter cool her skin and keep both company when Aithwen is most lucid." He sighed and turned his face to the sky. "It may not seem like much at all, but it will be more to her than you know. It may likely be enough to win her to your side completely." The vampire lord began to slowly walk away toward the cabin, leaving Rhyldan to himself.

Kerril closed the cabin door softly and strode over to brush a kiss on his daughter's head. "How is our friend, dearheart?" He asked the young dhampir.

Sefa sighed wearily. "Sleeping. Peacefully, ish. Her temperature is holding stable for now, your bolstering of the tattoo has helped, but if this time behaves as it has in the past, we have until moonrise at least before her fever returns."

Kerril nodded. "Well then, we should have our supper and get to preparing what we can to provide whatever comfort will be possible to give."

Sefa rubbed her face with both hands before crossing them over her chest. "I know. I know." A tear ran down her cheek as she looked over to her father's sympathetic face. "I just… Why isn't my magic enough? I've studied so hard, so long. And found nothing!" More tears joined the first. "I thought after pledging to the stars I would find answers for her. But despite everything, every constellation and spark of knowledge I gain I am no closer to ridding her of this curse nor divining its source." A ragged breath turned into a sob. "What kind of apprentice, what friend am I, that I am so… useless!"

Kerril wrapped his now weeping daughter in his arms, letting her cry her frustration and fear onto his shirt. "You are not useless, daughter. Aithwen's curse is an ancient, elemental thing. She has bore it for over two centuries and has not found the answer. You should not expect that you could find it in a tenth of that time." He kissed her pale hair. "Whatever it is that has caused the curse to flare may lead to a clue that will lead you to the answer. Patience, my darling. Answers will come. And we both know Aithwen is strong. Far stronger than any other Rime, Gale, Branch, Root or Tide."

Sefa gave a watery chuckle at her father's reassurances. "She'd be angry with you if she heard you, you know."

"Yes, well." Kerril shrugged, his grip on his daughter moving her shoulders with his own. "Is that anything new? She is often angry with me."

"That is true. You are very good at angering her." Sefa rose on her toes to plant a kiss on her father's cheek. Tucking her head back under his chin she smiled.

Kerril chuckled, "A man must be good at something."

The cabin door creaked open. "Oi, I… uh, sorry." Rhyldan muttered from the darkened doorway. "Didn't mean to interrupt…"

Sefa and Kerril smiled at each other. "You haven't interrupted. We were just sharing our worries for Lady Aithwen." Sefa spoke and moved from her father's arms back to the fragrant stew simmering over the fire. "I am Sefa Embershadow, Aithwen's apprentice. A pleasure to meet you."

Rhyldan nodded toward the young woman. "I partly assumed you were, considering the depth of worry in your eyes when you arrived."

Sefa stirred the stew and smirked at the elf. "And you're the poor fool that got caught up in a rabbit trap. And who forgets his manners."

Rhyldan paused as he shut the door, his red eyes darting to the amused looks of father and daughter. Deciding to play along with their jest he finished latching the door and spun around into a deep bow. "Forgive me, dear lady. I am but a mere spawn, and far below notice. Rhyldan Sirannon, at your service." He gave a flourishing wave and mimed blowing a kiss at the dhampir before straightening with an answering smirk.

Sefa continued smiling and stirring the stew. "Father, is this young spawn what you would call a rake? I seem to remember some warnings about charming smiles and false manners."

"Hn. You may be right, Sefa. I do believe the boy is a rake. Whatever shall we do about it?" Kerril asked, his laughter growing with the look of false affront on Rhyldan's face.

"A rake? Why, I've never been called such in my life!" Rhyldan crossed his arms and his face morphed into something smug and pleased as well as amused. "I am far more charming than that. Down right gorgeous, I am."

Sefa snorted. "Humble, too, it seems."

"So you agree I'm gorgeous, then, pet?" Rhyldan stalked forward a few steps further into the flickering firelight.

Kerril rolled his eyes and groaned dramatically, drawing a resonant laugh from Sefa. "Relax, father. Just having a bit of fun with our new friend. Now sit, supper is ready. And no biting. Either of you." The dhampir scolded with false sternness. Lord and spawn playfully lifted their hands in surrender, glancing at the other before heading to the table.