The Wall

Concordia, Seven Hundred Years Before

The human sentries were bored and napping against their spears, easily taken, and killed, their cries muffled against vampire palms, their ribs popping their lungs as their last breath was squeezed from them and their bodies left discarded in the grasses.

Thaelen’s soldiers made their way to the tents and Thaelen caught Harithen against his side as a human staggered out to urinate not far from where they stood, the acrid stink of warm piss rising to the air as he farted and scratched his pubic hair before tucking his c-ck away.

“Don’t stand in that,” Harithen wrinkled his nose. “Disgusting.”

“Mhm,” Thaelen’s cheeks felt hot and his body heavy, still fighting off the effects of the dead blood. Walking through some piss was the least of his concerns, he thought. All of them would be covered in blood, soot and worse by the end of the night, and he had to hope that his reaction times and strength were up to the battle that lay ahead of them. “How many