Ertonport, One Year BeforeLogan had driven to pick her up and his car was parked on the other side of the street, so they dodged the traffic to get to it. He slid into the car without holding the passenger door for her, and as she rounded the bonnet and opened the door herself, she told herself that she was clinging to old fashioned ideas of courtesy and she couldn’t expect Logan, who been born only decades before, to behave like Thaelen.Logan pulled out into the traffic in a squeal of wheels and honking horns from the drivers he caused to brake abruptly, and he didn’t seem to care or notice, his attention on the road before him. It seemed out of character for him, and she wondered precisely how long they had before he lost control to the Lycan.He ignored the speed limits, racing through the busy city streets, and into the industrial area, heading towards the airport, pausing in order to swipe a card at a gate, tapping his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel as the gate

Concordia, Nine Hundred and Fifty Years BeforeThe humans did not wake as Thaelen bathed and dressed, pausing to admire his new piercings with an arch of an eyebrow. The things that he did in seeking enlightenment, he thought with amusement. There were aches and raw spots that twinged and complained as he had bathed, and he did not think that he would come for a week within wincing in as much pain as pleasure, but there were quite a few new skills that he had learnt and the new pleasured pain experience was intriguing.He wondered if Gera would enjoy being the recipient of such attention but dismissed the idea. No, not Gera. He would find an acolyte who enjoyed such things to practise on and with.He made his way through the temple, taking the secret passages to the private section of the temple used by acolytes, priests and priestesses and their families. He smiled as he pressed himself against the cold stone wall to allow a swarm of laughing children to run by in a game of chase, be

The Coast of Alden, Nine Hundred and Fifty Years BeforeThe new slaves improved, and they resumed with their raids, taking ten more small coastal villages and towns until their ships rode low in the water, the cargo holds overflowing with new treasures and slaves.Gera had selected two young women from the holds to serve as Thaelen’s blood slaves, and Thaelen was amused, as Gera’s selection betrayed his jealous ownership of his vampire as clearly as if he had branded it on the women. Whilst both women were beautiful, they were both very much not of Thaelen’s preference, being long limbed, and lean - lacking the lush curves of the goddess.It was difficult to communicate to the terrified women that his drinking from them would not hurt them, and they trembled and begged and shied away from him each time they were brought to him, but they seemed to trust Gera, and gradually, with begrudging dignity, would hold out their wrist to Thaelen, whilst looking away, unwilling to meet his eyes.

Concordia, Nine Hundred and Fifty Years BeforeThe plague spread with frightening speed amongst any human that had any contact with the new slaves. Meguitte tried desperately to contain it to the harbour and the stronghold, but it leaked out into the city, seeping through the streets and to neighboring strongholds. They did not understand how it did so, how it passed so efficiently between person and person.At some stage, the new slaves also sickened.“I have seen this spoken of before in my mother’s grimoire,” Meguitte said grimly. “I wish that I had it still, but it was long ago burnt. In my mother’s village, there was an illness, a pox. Every year, with the change of season it would return and kill almost everyone who sickened with it, but it grew weaker or the survivors stronger, and soon it was no longer something to be feared, but just a minor inconvenience.“It would have been the same for these new people, Thaelen,” she continued. “Whatever wakes these illnesses would occur,

The Coast of Alden, Nine Hundred and Forty Five Years Before An army approached the village, but not the army that Thaelen sought. This one came from inland, not from the sea. He watched from the shelter of the trees, squatting in the tangled roots, using his flint-knife to skin the rabbit that had been his breakfast. He had been intending to take the brace of rabbits that he had caught that morning to the little fishing village where he was currently staying. The rabbit’s meat had no value to him. It’s guts and skin, however, were another matter. He would stretch the guts into string and use it to sew the hides into clothing and boots, such as he wore. A brace of rabbits could be traded for many things of value in the village – from clothing made from cloth woven by the village women, blades made of metal, or even coins which, eventually, might buy him a night in a tavern, a glass of wine, a warm bath, and a bed. The arrival of an army from inland disrupted his plans, and he watche