A delicate shaft of light penetrated the thick darkness and softly slid across his face.

Yellow irises contracted, eyes narrowed. A gust of wind swept down the street, bearing scents of the city...a scent of warm skin, life, blood...an odor of a human.

A green lantern light fell on his face bringing it momentarily out of darkness.

A shadow in shadow.

Raziel, Kain's first born son was finally free of the exhausting drill of training his master and maker had devised for him. Having had completed nearly all the trials, he was free to explore new face of Nosgoth. Raziel was eager to see how it had changed through the millenium of his absence. From Nosgoth's lore he learnt that the city of Meridian was now Nosgoth's capital - its heart and home of the largest human community.

Inexplicably, the night in Meridian stirred his deepest emotions. He was among humans once again, as he had been before, but this time as a nightbred creature -a dangerous predator that came to destroy. The young vampire still could not become free of self-loathing for what he had become. This deeply rooted emotion accompanied him, as he walked down a crowded street in Meridian, in his dark plain cloak and a hood pulled low over his eyes. He did not wish to inspire panic by revealing his vampiric features. Not yet, anyway…

Meridian, Raziel discovered, was not only the living heart of humanity, but also the very cancer that corrupted it, for it was the very heart of crime and sin. His presence only added to the dark splendor of the city.

Meridian was an impressive sight -lit by thousands of torches and enveloped in an atmosphere of celebration. Streets were crowded with gaudy processions, theatre troupes and scantily clad dancers, that seemed like red spirits inhabiting the human river that poured down the streets. Raziel inhaled the evening air- it bore a scent of decadence and sin...

His gaze shifted across the starlit sky. He raised his hand to his neck, his fingers closing around 

an amulet -a blood red stone that Kain had given him. Kain's words echoed in his mind. 

"Remember your immortality." The stone was a reminder of his eternal obligation of gratitude to Kain.

A girl clad in a red dress whirled around him -a blur of red. Flinging her arms around his neck, she kissed him passionately and danced away into the crowd. ...A touch of her warm skin sent a strong impulse through his body.
 
 

Skin.

The thin, delicate layer that could be torn so easily... He felt the revulsion from the heat of life that fiercely emanated from her.... She probably hadn't realized how cold his dead skin was. A sensation of upcoming thirst reeled in a corner of his mind. The city was intoxicating.

............................................................................................................................................................

Vorador. A legend incarnate. Demon and god.

Raziel waited outside the house where the meeting was to take place. Nothing more than just a dilapidated building, but for the sake of security both Kain and Vorador agreed to lower their standards...

The night's chill currents run down the street and touched his skin, making him tremble. He smiled slightly. Kain and Vorador. It was worth it to wait in damp cold weather he naturally abhorred, and endure a while of boredom just to see them together.. Raziel recalled the story of Vorador...the irritating debauchee who found the world no longer a mystery, so great was his knowledge. The conflict between Kain and Vorador was escalating...It was now a matter of time when the two "clans" started fighting each other. But it was Vorador who expressed a wish to "negotiate". Was he perhaps afraid that a war with Kain's sons would spoil the looks of his brides?

Raziel went back into the building, following Kain's orders.

Kain was stationed in a long hall flanked with wide brick pillars. Only Raziel was allowed to stand beside Kain during the meeting. The pillars cast long deep shadows, and he took his position behind one of them, completely hidden from view.

And then, Vorador arrived accompanied by his escort, the vampiress Damaris.

"So you have come, old friend, to beg me for mercy..." 

Kain's voice vibrated with irony. Vorador, however, didn't follow the provocation.

"This is a matter of utmost importance and I would rather you gave it more serious thought, Kain. I have come to discuss peace."

Raziel's attention was caught by a metallic glint at Damaris's hand. He strained his eyes to see what it was. Stealthily, he moved from behind the pillar and crept up to the vampiress. With one swift movement, he snatched at the object she was holding. She whirled to see him hold up her long, lavishly ornamented dagger. Laying the dagger before his master, he bowed and took his place at his side.

"Especially, that you have found a way to recruit fledglings." observed Vorador, his eyes evaluating Raziel.

"You are even more a threat to us since your...unfortunate behavior towards Umah." Vorador's lips twisted in a grimace of disdain, as he uttered the euphemism.

"You simply fear for the life of your children, Vorador. Regardless of my respect for your fatherly instincts, I cannot accept the proposition of truce."

Vorador's eyes narrowed into two glinting slits.

"Your courtesy is redundant, Kain, as it cannot veil your true feelings towards me. Your hatred for anything that endangers your planned supremacy over Nosgoth has become paranoid."

Kain laughed softly.

"I appreciate your concern, old friend, but I have no interest in your diagnoses."

"Don't you understand, Kain? Vampire immortal lives are at stake!" an outburst of rage from Vorador was indeed a rare show. Raziel's lips curved slightly in a smile as he noted an expression of disapproval on Damaris' face.

"I am glad, Vorador, that you are finally sincere with me. I can understand your concern for your children, but you are clearly being overdramatic. My children are far weaker than yours, and it is a fact you are well aware of."

Kain's answer produced silence. Vorador seemed to consider something, before he replied.

"Very well, Kain. If you wish for war, then you shall have it. I hope neither of us will have to regret this decision. I repeat, Kain, we can live together in Nosgoth."

Kain nodded his head, his expression still indifferent.

"I accept your decision, Vorador. It is a worthy choice."

Vorador gazed thoughtfully at Kain.

"I shall give you time to ready yourself to war. Five years, no more, no less. You have created your children only to have them slaughtered by mine. I pity you, Kain."

............................................................................................................................................................

"I have been watching you" 

A whisper in his mind -a female voice- soft and melodious, yet with a metallic edge to it. Raziel surveyed his surroundings but there was no one in sight. Confused, he proceeded down the hall, his gaze shifting from one ancient weapon to another. He stopped at an array of shields bearing rusted Sarafan emblems.

"The abomination of the vampire race has finally arrived..." 

The voice echoed derisively in is mind, alerting him. Raziel tried to pierce the shadows with his gaze but the shadow he searched for did not appear. His sensitive hearing picked up a short quiet sound. He turned in that direction but there was only empty space mocking him...

"Your origin is a blasphemy to us, the Cabal, stranger." 

The voice was deep, reverberating with sweet female tones, but dulled by suppressed hatred. She was somewhere among the shadows, Raziel could almost smell her -a tempting, fascinating sensation. He hadn't expected that a resurrected corpse like his was able to provide him with such. Raziel quickly shook off his reverie and slowly pulled out his broadsword. The Sarafan in him was taking over.

The vampire saw a shadow drop from a gallery above. Instantly, he followed. Before him, a dark-robed, tall woman was standing, her hands on her hips.

The haughty, proud, aristocratic Damaris. His kind.

"Begone, hell-child, or I 'll have to dispatch you myself!", she called provocatively. Raziel steeled himself, putting on his best air of self-confidence.

"Mind your blasphemous tongue, or I shall tear it out from your mouth. I have nothing to fear from a Vorador's pet!". He shot back, weaving a strand of irony into the sentence.

A wave of anger swept through him. He would love to see her writhe in agony in Kain's claws...

"Presumptuous, but charming." she returned the irony." I am here to destroy you, filthy fledgling, make no mistake, though." She grimaced with anger.

Raziel straightened and threw his shoulders back, posing self-confidence. The stage of taunting and insults was almost over. What next?, he kept asking himself.

"Try me then, milady. But I must warn you. This is not going to be an easy kill."

Raziel -merely a fledgling and she an experienced vampiress -a trained assassin sent by Vorador to simply get rid of him, lord Kain's firstborn, and in her eyes -the filth that Kain's dark magic had created. How sad and humiliating, Raziel grimaced.

Raziel avoided her blow and made a counterattack, finding out even more about her abilities. Thus far, somehow he was able to keep up with her pace- even though her speed and agility outmatched his.

"You are like dogs howling at the moon, fledgling. And have as much chances of gaining your prize...absolute power, isn't it what you wish for?"

Damaris raised her hand palm up. Delicate tendrils of scarlet light issued from her palm, weaving into a intricate pattern. Raziel watched, fascinated, as the delicate rays grew brighter, more intense. Her hand closed into a fist and before Raziel realized the danger, a shaft of energy hit him, forcing him off his feet, throwing him into the air. As he crashed into a stone wall behind him, he felt the delicate tendrils crawl around his body, leaving every area of contact numb and paralyzed. Raziel struggled hysterically to stand up, but his body gave way to the magical surge. He closed his eyes, and to his horror he felt the hostile light forcing his mind... He felt her presence hammer at the doors of his mind...a magical siege of infernal intensity. The first assault shook him inwardly and he heard himself groan with pain. Dimly, he heard her voice.

"Yield, weakling.", an order issued with such power of will that Raziel trembled.

Kain, he called in a whisper, my God...

Damaris drew back, surprised, shaken by the sheer violence and vicious force with which he responded. The psychic wave she sent at him was instinctively returned. Doubled in strength and intensity. The wave caused her to drop to her knees and hold her head to collect her shattered mind.

Such hatred, bestial fury, such inherently violent and cruel nature...Involuntarily, Damaris smiled with satisfaction at her "charge". And as she smiled a drop of blood fell from her lips.

She saw him stand up slowly, weakly groping for support, drained after the outburst of violent emotions. He had to pay a high price for that violent answer he gave her.

Raziel gazed up at the ceiling, looking for a passage outside. Black metal, spiral stairway led up to the roof...

Down, beneath their feet the market square shone like a brilliant jewel. Large fires burnt in the corners, spitting showers of sparks into the dark sky. Gas lanterns oozed out green ethereal haze. Processions with torches snaked around the colorful multitude that gathered at the feet of the ancient cathedral. The dark enormous building, glorious in its gloom, was adorned with roses. At its feet great furnaces lighted the walls with a twitching, dancing flame.

A crowd of humans came roaring like a seawave, flooding the market square. The wave crooked at the feet of a stage set up under the fiery walls of the cathedral. Suddenly, the stage was crawling with strange figures clad in red billowing robes, in white masks that reflected the red light. The figures dove down upon the unwary spectators, dragging some of them from the crowd, feigning to drink their blood.

That reminded Raziel of the thirst that silently throbbed inside him, sending him warnings of awaiting weakness.

Damaris was standing in a distance, stricken with the beauty of the sight below, enveloped in the red blaze, inhaling the scent of excitement that rose from the crowd. Finally, she tore her eyes away from the hellish sight and looked at Raziel, her cold eyes examining him, evaluating him. Her dark lips curved in a malicious smile.

"This world belongs to the Cabal, Kain-spawn. You have no place here. This is not you territory."

Narrowing his eyes, Raziel shot her his "superiority look".

"And who gave you the right to claim Nosgoth your territory? Vorador? Did he ever lead you to a significant victory? Could he protect you from humans?" he smiled derisively. "You know all the answers, Damaris."

"We do not seek war with humans nor conquest." She shot back, anger coloring her irises. Raziel laughed a cold, emotionless laughter.

"And so you shall wait and stay idle until the humans will hunt you down to the very last child of Vorador. Your aristocratic heritage won't save you. Humans are to be despised and persecuted- as pitiful and pathetic as they are. Haven't you felt a desire to punish them for centuries of persecution that you beloved father Vorador had to suffer?"

She bit at her lip, sensing Raziel's deep hatred for humans that he inherited from Kain and personally accepted. She was genuinely startled and surprised by the depth of it.

"Vorador is wise. As long as he stands we will fight for our place in Nosgoth." she replied reluctantly, his words apparently had wrought an impression on her.

"You only wish to cower, to stay safely in the shadows. Vampires should conquer Nosgoth and take what is rightfully theirs- power!" Raziel let his voice flood with emotions. She shook her head, as if warding off what she's heard.

"You and your filthy brethren are like beasts of Dark Eden...always hungry, never sated. I would like to see you less a slave to Kain." She smiled sadly.

" And I would like to see you less a slave to Vorador."

"At least..."she whispered "I regret that you and I have to be enemies...". Her gaze shifted up and down his body, her dark lips curving in a malicious smile.

"I guess we have to pay for mistakes that are not ours" Raziel's answer produced sparks of anger in her eyes.

"The conflicts of our masters are our conflicts, you devil." Raziel almost smiled at that declaration of blind loyalty.

She was far more fanatic than he had ever been. Besides, technically, she was right.

"True," he admitted, glancing down at the scene of the vampire raid. An actor was carrying a child in his arms, abducting it from a raided village.

‘How sensitive I sometimes can get,’ he smiled to himself, ‘when unwelcome memories come irreversibly back.’

Forgotten and buried along with his corpse over a millennium ago... perpetuated in his soul... still vivid and terrible. He would pray for a gift of memory loss sometimes, if in his position praying wouldn't be ludicrous. With a corner of his eye, he saw her ready to leap. She sprang up, twisting in mid-air. He foot hit Raziel in his chest, knocking him back. Her legs wrapped around him as he fell onto the metal tiles.

"Now, child of Kain" she whispered, her claws digging into his neck, pinning him down " you will die."

Raziel saw the curved blade rise and glisten with flame. He twitched violently and rolled aside. The blade struck the metal surface of the roof. Her expression was that of a child denied the pleasure of playing. Raziel laughed in spite of himself, provoking her with his derision. This time, she brought the blade in a wide arc, whirling, intending to slice him in two...Raziel brought up his broadsword in the very last moment, causing her saber slide down the blade. Damaris drew back and crouched, watching him intently. She was apparently furious at him- an insubordinate fledgling that refused to be punished.

A soft, poignant melody rose from the crowd below. A choir was singing a mourning song. Not a bad omen, Raziel hoped.

"A requiem for a pretty vampire", she sang, her teeth clenched, her lips twisted in an evil smile.

"Fate chooses for herself. She is right to have chosen you!" 

With that, she suddenly leaped, hitting Raziel, the violence of the blow forced him back....onto the edge of the roof.

A sensation of numbness radiated in his chest, as his feet lost support and he felt empty space open underneath him.

One, two, three...it seemed like eternity. 

A moment of silence-his lips didn't open to scream. Raziel felt the impact as he fell onto a carriage roof. He froze motionless, unable to move. The numbness radiated from his spine. If his vampiric nature allowed it, he would have reddened with shame - falling off the roof and losing his weapon in the process was a pitiful failure. Damaris landed lightly next to him, cocked her head and laughed loudly. That startled the horses, who smelled them -the smell of death that inspires fear in every animal. In panic, they reared and started pulling the carriage with the two vampires on top. Damaris smiled appreciatively when she saw Raziel get up. She was apparently enjoying the ride.

The empty street was a blur of darkness. A strong gust of wind blew into Raziel's face, refreshing him slightly, helping him recover his concentration. Again, he miscalculated her speed. She slashed at his face, tearing the skin open, cracking a bone in his left cheek. Ducking down, Raziel managed to avoid her next blow, which would have shattered his skull, and he felt her falling forward onto him, as she lost her footing. Hastily, Raziel tried to rub the blood off his eyes, squinting and seeing her draw away from him abruptly as if his skin burnt.

Getting onto his feet, Raziel risked an attack, but her hand snatched at his forearm and twisted it violently. He screamed with pain, as he tried to wring it free out of her grasp. His effort only made her laugh. Her amusement irritated him to a point of losing control over his anger. Raziel turned and almost twisting his arm out of its joints, he forced his opponent down with his weight. Letting go of Raziel's arm, she struggled underneath him, as he pinned her down with his knee. The glory and excitement of a Sarafan victory overwhelmed the young vampire. To his surprise, she smiled at him through stains of dark blood.

"I do not " she choked on the scarlet liquid, "accept a defeat, you devil."

Suddenly, she twisted underneath him, tearing away from his grasp. As she turned, her hand flew up and tore at his face. He was forced to draw back, startled, and let her slip away. They were on their feet again, tense, poised to strike. Raziel saw a glint of red appear momentarily in her eyes- a mischievous and dangerous gleam. She laughed, drew close to him and embraced him, her hands caressing his back. Raziel could feel her muscles flex delightfully as her arms closed around him. He felt a wave of strange, but familiar sense of longing when he looked down at her. And suddenly, a thought crept from the darkest corner of his mind. A strange sense of premonition took over him. Slowly, twisting his neck, Raziel looked back.

Hell.

Looming in the dim moonlight an enormous shape of a gate appeared. The gate, its massive doors swung open, led to the less respectable part of the city... From the arch above the wooden doors protruded large metal spikes, glinting with the yellow lantern light...They were speeding directly onto one of them...

"Portis mortae..."she whispered, a smiling incarnation of malice.

A brief, but vivid image of himself impaled on the spike flashed before his eyes, and Raziel tried to wring himself from her embrace...she held on to him, feet planted firmly apart, balancing his efforts.

A truly intense attachment, Raziel smiled to himself as he fell backward, pulling her with him, rolling onto the empty driver's seat. Raziel watched the underside of the arch pass over them. Scowling with pain, as his spine took the weight of their bodies when they fell, he struggled to get up. Looking up, he discovered another danger. Recovering faster, he grabbed a whip from the seat and sprang into the air, as the carriage crushed with incredible speed into a corner of a building, bits of wood and metal flew into the air. As he landed, he saw her dark form on the other side of the street.

"How quaint" she teased. Raziel steadied himself, but his preparations proved useless. She was running 

away from him and now Raziel had to assume the role of the pursuer. The very thought of her playing games with him made him furious. Reluctantly, he followed her, clutching at the whip- his only weapon.

A white late night haze was settling down on the street. It gave way like ethereal water under his feet. She sped down the empty street that led to the less reputable pleasure sector of Meridian.

Raziel's concern now, however, was not search for pleasure. As it was, he was already bored with the excursion and wished for a quick ending of the confrontation. His ambition told him that eliminating Damaris would be a notable achievement, but some kind of reluctance lingered within him. Was he under her feminine spell or was he merely exhausted and blinded by upwelling bloodthirst? The unmistakable symptoms of it were beginning to appear- a thickening pain that slowly crawled from his stomach, paralyzing internal organs, blurring his mind. Preserving his own pride was his priority. . .

The smell of blood teased at his hunger, a sensation of throbbing pain that clutched at his throat, a terrible grip of steel talons. He choked, blood tears filled his eyes. One crimson tear drew a wavering line on his pale cheek. Damaris was offering him blood...the human she had ensnared weakly fought for release. Burning shame overpowered Raziel. He had showed evident signs of weakness...and now he nearly accepted her gift. He swayed and leaned against a wall. She observed him darkly for a moment, then seeing his refusal began her meal. Raziel surveyed the street-a dirty back route to Meridian Docks. A fit of panic seized him as he watched a path of blood sneak from the human onto the stones...He turned away, dismayed.

Such a waste.

Not paying heed to her, he walked wearily down the street.

Almost unconsciously, he followed his instinct. It led his hand to open a door and his feet to cross the threshold of the house. Slowly, his mind plunged into a trancelike state when he only dimly discerned outlines of human forms which moved about frantically. His hands reached out as if of their own volition and tore at the living flesh. When he felt a warm stream of blood in his mouth, his mind became clouded with an insane frenzy. Dimly, he heard anguished screams of his victims, the sound of skin being ripped apart, the sound of bodies hitting ground.

The scarlet wine of life.

The Divine drink that restored the artificial circulation in his veins.

Gradually, his consciousness returned. He was kneeling in a pool of blood, his hands still clutching at a twitching body, the victim's head hung loosely on few strands of muscle. Bewildered, he gazed around. Bloodied, mutilated human forms littered the red-stained carpet. His gaze went up to inspect his surroundings.

Red heavy curtains, soft, comfortable sofas, the scant clothing of his victims. And the oppressive odor that troubled his sense of smell proved to be incense burning in a large brazier. Getting to his feet, Raziel smiled to himself. To each their own, he mused, but he preferred the vampiric pleasures.

Feeling restored and gradually stronger, he walked up to a tall window that overlooked the dark, seamy recesses of the Docks.

A faint sound of laughter.

He heard the unmistakable sound of her voice. Insolent wench.

Raziel dropped from the window, following the high- pitched laughter that echoed maddeningly in the empty streets. He stopped abruptly, as a shaft of moonlight penetrated the heavy clouds and descended onto the Docks.

A solitary, motionless figure was standing on a metal bridge. The entrance was quarded by two stone, horned gargoyles, their snouts frozen in grimaces of fury. A touch of wind tugged at her black cloak which spread around her like huge wings.

Damaris was still laughing, the stinging malice drove him insane.

"Come, vampire." she called as he advanced. "Let Goddess Fate choose."

Locking his gaze on her, he stopped and unwound the whip, concentrating, preparing himself for the final confrontation.

In silence, she nodded, as if accepting the challenge. Raziel leapt forward.

The leather, snakelike string cracked and coiled itself around her neck. A strong pull at the whip forced her to her knees. Receiving a terrible blow that shook her, she yielded to the force that was dragging her slowly towards the edge of the bridge.

She looked up and saw his face. His lips set in a firm line, eyes glinting with red fire.

"Raziel".

The sound of his name surprised him. He released the whip slightly to allow her to speak. A faint but disturbing smile curved her lips. And she unleashed a storm. 

The scarlet tendrils of magic shot up and entangled Raziel. If she was to die, then he was going with her. She held him close in a magical embrace. Raziel’s mind strove to free itself of the terrible grip of her will. They were gazing intently at each other through the storm, frozen in time. As Raziel tried to wring himself out of her grip, his mind touched hers. 

It felt like burning flakes of fading memories, delicate, warm, torn by the wind that howled in the crevices of the bridge. An immortal soul essence so different from his and so intriguing. But Raziel saw her the refusal to continue. And recovered first. Pushed her away violently, seeing his chance...
 
 

"Vorador..."

"failed...

failed...I ...failed...you."
 
 

"I failed..." the words echoed incessantly in his mind.

A splash of blood. A sound of multitude of beating wings, as a cloud of birds rose into the dawn. Hoarse cries of drunken humans shot through the street.

Looking down, Raziel saw his hands glisten with still liquid blood. His memory made a rapid search back into time. He drew away from the twitching body . Her black cloak wound itself around her like a shroud. Raziel rested, breathing heavily. His memory brought him shreds of images -a chaos of color and movement...and yes, a smell. The intoxicating smell of her dark blood that sent his senses into madness...

Raziel felt the skin rip apart under his claws. He slashed again and again rhythmically, letting himself become lost in the sheer pleasure of violence, in the smell of fear, in the pulsing intoxication of her pain. His consciousness suddenly shifted back in time, and he was back in a human body of a Sarafan boy delivering the punishment upon the sinful. His hands rose and fell, opening her throat, her chest. He moved as if in a trance- feeling the first excitement of an initiation. For the first time, he had realized what a tragedy death constituted to a vampire and what he was truly bringing her. His body became flooded with the sensation of the death that hovered above them. It was almost a sexual pleasure. His sight became blurred as he dealt the coup de grace- her head jerked back sharply, and her torn face became still.

Silence. A shrill cry. A tremor of triumph. An inward laughter- something inside him found his actions amusing...And the taste of her blood, as the stream of the dark holy liquid spurted up in a jet from her open throat. The blood washed over his tongue and he moaned with pleasure...Raziel smiled at the sprawled form, his lips curving with effort.

How inexperienced and young he had been then...But the communion was a cure that healed the silent upwelling pain that Kain had left within him along with his gift. He had never complained about it, in fact, for a long time he didn't associate the growing tumor of suffering with the gift itself. But they were related, intertwined firmly, entangling his heart and his mind...

She had been his cure and his teacher, bringing him far beyond the state of a fledgling. Was she aware of all that?, he asked himself. If she was, she would have been amused.

"Raziel." The tired, rugged voice of his master awoke him. Surprised, Raziel wondered at the intonation. Kain rarely chose to use soft tones when he addressed his son. Realizing that with his position he was offending his superior, Raziel tried to rise from the bed, but his body refused to obey. Raziel saw Kain stoop over him and he felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"You should rest, my son."

Raziel allowed himself to lay back. Kain's face showed deep concern, but his eyes remained cold and focused as always. Raziel allowed his master's scrutinizing attention to slip into my mind, to read the memory of what had happened. That night, Raziel didn't offer resistance against his intrusion. Normally, Kain would have had to pin him down with his claws and force his mind open. Now, Raziel let him read his mind willingly, too exhausted to speak. The young vampire saw a disturbing little smile crawl onto Kain's face as he finished. Raziel closed his eyes, shivering, the presence of Kain's overwhelming will still lingered within him.

Kain had always stirred contradictory feelings within his son, emotions unintelligible to any mortal. Raziel was irresistibly drawn to his father, and yet, inexplicably repelled from him. It was a love that sprung phoenixlike from the ashes and subsided again and a hidden hatred that lurked somewhere deep in his soul.

"So it is yet another reminder from fate that our destinies are drifting towards one outcome...," Kain murmured, as he turned away from his child, relieving him from the discomfort of his closeness. All that he had to communicate to his son was already done: at that time, Raziel could not comprehend Kain's alienation and coldness... Ironic, Raziel, the ruthless first lieutenant longed for a glimpse of his father's love. Only after centuries did he learn that he had to pick those glimpses from among Kain's shifts of moods, elaborate speeches and feigned indifference.

Raziel turned his head to see Kain's dark silhouette against the moonlight-filled tall window.

"The war has already begun, and the first kill is on your hands, Raziel. We are here, at the dawn of a new era, of great conquests, glorious victories and magnificent prizes. But first-" he paused, "we have to shed blood of our own kind. Alas, but we have no choice. And you" he turned to face his son." and your brethren will fight and win this war...

for me."

Motionless, void of emotions, Raziel smiled weakly to himself.

"We shall shape this world to our will." he whispered. A phrase so typical of Kain.

The greed for power -to wrestle with the whole living world and bring it to one's feet, to make it one's servant. This was what Kain wanted. This was what Vorador craved for. A secret of every human and vampire heart alike.

Such a shame that Damaris represented the opposing force that was to be defeated and destroyed. But Raziel understood the rules well and so did not rebel against them.

Finally, he could close his eyes and fall asleep, savoring a gift he had received with her blood...A gift of much greater importance than any magical ability...

Blessed peace.
 
 
 
 
 
 

Submitted by the humble scribe of the Razielim court, Silmuen.

on the 50th year of his Holiness Emperor Kain's reign, may his immortal power bestow graces upon us.
 
 

E-mails welcome at silmuen@interia.pl

My thanks to Ravenwing and Rosebutt