Havermouth, Present Time As the room cleared around them Rhett pushed to his feet. “The gym, you said?” He asked Aislen as he returned to the bedroom and searched frantically amongst the table-top cluttered with belongings before kicking through the pile of discarded clothing that had been shoved into a corner, until something jangled. He traced it down, exclaiming his success as he found a set of keys. He returned to the workspace. Aislen still sat within the circle of salt, her blood-smeared eyes closed, and her expression scrunched as she concentrated. He hesitated, not wanting to leave her alone, but also unable to stay and wait whilst his mates were in trouble. She did not seem to know that he was there, deep in her magic, and he feared to cross the salt circle in case he did something that would harm her, finally trotting down the stairs and banging with the heel of his hands against the closed doors where he knew, from listening to the talk of his mates, that the witches were

Concordia, Eleven Hundred Years BeforeThe sixty Lords and Ladies who had originally settled Concordia had done so after a series of tragic losses, choosing isolation from the rest of their species in exchange for safety, and deciding to blindly follow the vision of a Seer that had foretold that they would find their safe home on the other side of the mountain range that humans had long declared to be impassable.They had gathered their blood slaves and begun a convoy through the mountains, driving ahead of them goats and rugged mountain sheep, the passage of which cut a path for the vampires and humans to follow. So long had their convoy been that it was said that they had spanned the entire range, with the tail still at the starting point as the first goats made their way down onto the plains at the foot of the mountains in Concordia.The ancestors had no knowledge of the land that would greet them – efforts to explore had been thwarted by the rocky coast and the rough waters on the

Concordia, Eleven Hundred Years BeforeThe ornate armour of Thaelen’s ancestors creaked and clanked, the extra weight on his body making each footstep heavy on the ground, but its appearance was a visual reminder of his heritage as Thaelen fronted the approach of his army to the war camp of Lord Kellen, Aeri and Nothran, the vampire soldiers leaving their tasks to line up behind the three Lords as they moved to greet him.“This is close enough, my king,” Hod murmured.“Hmm,” Thaelen took three more steps. “My advisor, Lord Hod, would recommend me to stop,” he called out to the Lords. “This is an era where friends and family ally with the enemy and slip poison into the welcome drink, so his advice is sound and I should consider every vampire Lord in Concordia a potential enemy, however, I like to believe that you find the actions of Inora and Yeric just as detestable as I do, and that you are here to assist me in bathing Gyrd’s fields in human blood, and seeking justice from the traito

Concordia, Eleven Hundred Years Before Thorarin looked out from the top of the sand dune. “A kings worth is measured not by his success on the battlefield during times of war, but in his daily judgements. It is too easy, my son, for a man to overlook the day-to-day in seeking glory, but the true glory of a ruler lies not in the battles won, but in the actions that he takes during peace time.” “Father,” Thaelen’s voice caught in his throat as he watched the wind string out Thorarin’s hair, the colored beads arranged in a pattern that only Abara had ever mastered and had taken to the grave with her. “How did you die? I must… I need to know. Were you…” He closed his eyes on the tears that burnt there, but they escaped anyway, sliding down his cheeks and into his beard. “Was it peaceful?” “Is death ever peaceful, Thaelen?” Thorarin replied without looking at him. “Especially for immortals such as we are? But, yes, perhaps. I recall little of it. We drank… and slept, and there was no mor

Havermouth, Two Weeks BeforeJules leaned against the fence and wiped his brow on the back of his sleeve. “That’s done then,” he decided his eyes on the indignant wet sheep in the holding pen. They’d spent the day putting this part of the herd through the dip – a process that Rhett always found comical when he was drafted in to help, enjoying the complaints of the sheep as they treaded dosed water before being drained and released into the pen.Cameron had left him in bed that morning, however, as Rhett wasn’t himself. The sex the night before had been… strange. It had held shadows of the early part of the last five years, when sex between the Triquetra had been about hurting each other as much as getting off. Rhett hadn’t hurt Cameron precisely, but Cameron had known that the sex hadn’t been about him, although he was the recipient, but about Aislen.“Yeah,” Cameron agreed. “I’ll grab a shower, change and head home.” He headed towards the house.Jules checked the gate before followin