None Will Mourn

The Human Enemy’s Land, Eleven Hundred Years Before

As they passed through the hallway, Thaelen stopped to tear the gates from the cells, releasing the prisoners within. Two gates down from the one where he had been contained, a young woman wrapped her bony, broken nailed fingers around the bars of her cell.

“Do not forget me, vampire,” she whispered.

“Meguitte,” Thaelen broke open the cell and caught the girl as she tumbled into his arms. She was as light and frail as tumbleweed. “What have they done to you?” He murmured, deeply disturbed by her condition. He could smell the blood on her in layers, old and new – many days of bleeding.

“I want to die under the sky,” she pleaded.

“Hmm. You will not die if I can prevent it,” he replied and turned to set her into Gera’s arms, but the human danced back in protest.

“If she dies in my arms, I will be cursed!” Gera told him, eyes wide and head shaking.

“If you do not carry her, we will all die, as I need to fight,” Thaelen growled, for he co