The day started bad, and it didn’t get any better. He woke from a terrible nightmare, the worst he ever had. He wasn’t supposed to have nightmares; one of the priest books was about controlling dreams. He wasn’t an expert, but he was good enough to prevent nightmares, and yet, he hadn’t got a good night sleep in the last seven days. He wasn’t the only one, the entire village suffered from bad dreams. Some of the more elder’s people in the village never woke up. Something was defiantly wrong. 

        And then Liandru disappeared. His mother was near complete collapse. Liandru start to go to disappear into the forest in the last year. She never told why, and it wasn’t to play her vampire hunting game because she stopped playing it, 

        In about the same time she started this disappearing act. Vorador thought to himself. The hell with it, I should have suspected something wasn’t right!
 

         Liandru never explain why she stopped playing her favorite game. She even seemed to be angry when other kids offer her to play it with them. Her mother always feared that one day she would not come back. Liandru always came back after two or three hours, but now she was gone for more than four, after disappearing in the morning instead of the afternoon. She always convinced her mother that she will be fine, and now her mother blamed herself for everything that might have happened to her. If something happened to her…

         He was about to leave with his brother and sister to find Liandru when the priest showed up. He wanted to talk with Vorador about something, but Vorador was more concern about his sister. When the priest insist and grab his hand it caused Vorador to erupted. The priest became much more demanding in the last year, and when refused to tell Vorador why. Vorador shouted at the priest, something he never done before, telling that he and his studies can go to the Abyss as far as he cared, and left in rage. Things haven’t gotten any better. Liandru trial was clear, leading them into the depths of the forest, until a point where her track simple, stopped. It was as if Liandru just took it to the air.

         What’s that?

        A few moments later he was in the cave, keeping his head low from the roof. The cave continues to expand into a larger aura. As he moved into it, his eyes on the ground, he saw it. Two broken pieces of what used to be a wooden stake. He kneeled near them. It was the gift Liandru got for her ninth day of life. It was a favorite toy until 

        Until she stopped playing that game and start disappearing. I should have notice that something was wrong damn it!He thought in anger. How could he be so blind? He simple assumed that Liandru got board from her old game, which was what everybody else thought. 

        Vorador looked at the two broken parts. Liandru wasn’t strong enough to do this. An adult could, but why? He moved carefully into the inside of the cave. The roof was about two feet taller then he, the cave small but big enough as a resting place. It was empty except a wooden box on the ground. He opened it. The first thing he notice was a small dagger, which was put on a small book. Vorador hesitated for a moment then took them both, discovering a third item under the book. 

        A small wolf toy, Liandru's wolf toy. Vorador didn’t bother to wonder what it was doing there. There were too many strange things now then to start thinking about them. He took the items and left the cave. The sun was gone, but there still enough light to check the items. 

        The dagger was small and beautiful, made of pure silver. Beauty and death fuse together. 

        The book was a diary. The writer name was unclear, it seem he didn’t bother to write it. The first pages were about some experiment he was doing, a way to reach immortality. For some reason, most of the pages were cut, large parts of them gone. Vorador moved on until he found a page that was without damaged. 

        I did it! Bless the stars moon and sun, I did it! The formula worked and the transformation succeeded! I am immortal now, how can I even begin to describe my joy? The possibilities are endlessly! I must go and start to learn my new powers, oh what a glories day!

        The next pages were full with the author dirges, asking for forgiveness. It seem that his mind drivited into long madness as time pass by, since near the end of the diary his writing wasn’t understandable. Then the writing suddenly returned to normal.

        Mortanius gave me a way to redeem my self. I will help him by giving my knowledge of vampire’s powers and weakness to him, and then I will lead the attack with him. He told the peasant that I am under his control, and it’s not a complete lie, but I can still save those vampires that are not evil and twisted like Janos, I must save them. It was I who gave them their new lives; I made them with my own blood. I must save them and tell them to be careful, not to do the same mistake I did, not to share the gift until they are sure the human deserve it. I must also tell them about the Elder, about Mortanius words about the wheel of fate. I don’t think he lied, but with all the darkness around him, I can’t see the truth, but I will tell them, so those who wish to rest will know of him. 

        And then, I will go to Mortanius, and I will let him take my soul, to do with it has he see feet. It is all I can do to pay for all the innocents I harmed, for all the children. 

        Forgive me.

        What’s happening here? The thought came to Vorador mind. He was too confused. He put the items into his backpack and starts running back to the village. The priest will know what to do. The thought came to his mind over and over.  He will understand. He moved out of the forest and froze.

        There was smoke in the air. He could smell it. The wind came directly from the location of his village. Terror filled his heart as resumed his run; he ignored anything in his way. He ran, ran thru the forest, the broken houses but didn’t stop until he reached the village square. 

        Then he froze again. 

        People were laying there, dead people, his people. Their bodies were lying on the ground, wounds covering them. 

        He kneeled near one of them. It was Tom, a man about is age, who was also a favorite man among the women thank to his blue eyes and blond hair. Vorador didn’t liked him much, but 

        But he wasn’t deserved to die. His mind refused to understand. Images of his family lying dead on the ground flashed throw his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to block them, his nail almost cutting his flesh as he pushed them on his temple, trying to make order in the chaos he was thrown to. 

        This is not happening, it can’t happen, how could it happen? The thought ran threw his mind like lightning jumping from cloud to cloud. 

        “Vorador…”

        “Priest?”his mind welcomed the familiar voice, a small piece of sanity in the madness he found himself in. 

        “Vorador…”

        He moved after the voice, his mind too confused to focus on anything. He walked over bodies of people he lived with. At some point he found his brother and sister, holding their bows, their throat cut open. His mind simple rejected it. To find the priest, that was the important thing. He can explain… 

        He found him, lying near his temple, his hands holding a book strap in black leather. 

        “The book!” 

        He reached and took the book, releasing it from the cold hands that grabbed it, and then he just sat there, his mind slowly consuming all that was around him. 

[Even when I heard about the birth of the Sarafan, about the destruction they did to the Snake clan, I was never is such confusion like I was when I came home to find it dead, my reality broken to pieces, everything I knew was gone, and my mind refuse to understand it. Even now, I still can’t remember the corpses, what wound killed them, what was the state of the houses, how many of them were burned and how much were still intact, my mind refused to see it. I barely notice when the soldiers arrived, I don’t even remember how they took me from there to their camp. My mind slowly drifted to reality while the tall, dark haired man start talking to me. It took me a few seconds to understand he was asking me a question. He wanted to know who I was, when was I when the attack occurred, if I knew where were the people who did it, and with every question my anger, still stun by my shock, woke up like an erupting volcano, so I demanded to know, in the name of every demon in hell, who he was, and what happened to my village. 

        He said his name was Raziel.] 

        “Second in command to general Malek. I’m afraid traitors destroyed your village. Those soldiers,” he pointed to a long line of beheaded men, “belonged to a baron who was discover as a traitor. We found it too late, only after they were sent to raid small villages, so we can’t buy food supplies to help us in the war. 

        “The war?” 

        “The war against Zedru Kur.” Raziel answered with impatient in his voice “don’t you know anything?” 

        Vorador felt the confusion inside him burn away by the flame of hate. His families, his friends, were all dead, and this man is not even slightly bother by that? 

        “Raziel,” 

        The voice came from the man who walked out from the shadows. At least, he seemed to be a man. His skin hanged on him like a sack someone throws and tighten over a skeleton. His faced looked like a skull, his eyes like two white orbs. He wore a red long shirt and a hooded black caftan. Looking at him, Raziel wondered if he was alive or a corpse that risen from the grave. 

        “What are you, the angel of death?” The words came from Vorador mouth without thinking, his rage still controlling him. A moment later he was on his back on the ground, Raziel sword touching his throat. 

        “You will show respect when you appeal to one of the Circle of Nine!” 

        “Enough Raziel, return to your troops.” 

        “Of course Mortanius, just let me take this peasant from here.” 

        “Leave him to me.” 

        “With all due respect, Protector of the pillar of Death, general Malek gave me direct orders to protect you from any harm, I can’t just leave you with him alone, I am not sure, but he might be a traitor who helped the baron soldiers. 

        “Do you think I am so weak that I can’t take care of myself against one un-armed peasant?” 

        “Of course not, but..." 

        “Then go, now. There are better things for you and your men to do than to escort me. I will return to the Circle when my work here is done.” 

        “By your command.”

        Raziel didn’t seem to be please with it, but his voice was still full with honor to the necromancer as he left and started to shout orders to his men. 

        “Rise, Vorador.” 

        Vorador rose slowly, his face still beaming with pain due to Raziel hit, the man was strong. Mortanius stood before him, holding in is right hand a red orb made from glass. 

        “I can see your confusion, I will try to answer your question. First, touch the orb.”

        “Why?”

        “To say goodbye.”

        Vorador was too weak in mind to think to ask more. His hate screaming for blood, his sorrow for tears, his spirit broken and without any will, he put his hand over the orb.

        [It was like nothing I ever felt or heard before. The death orb had coldness beyond the grave, and this coldness went into my body and into my soul, chilling all emotions, all feelings, leaving them frozen to the cold logic of the mind to test them.]

        Vorador looked at his soul. He felt anger, hate, or more correctly, he knew he felt them, but they had very little control over him. As he looked into his heart, seeing the black hate that burned inside him he knew he wouldn’t rest until he will find the man behind this. The story wasn’t likely, why to raze such a small village? 

        “This wasn’t an act of traitors?” his voice was completely calm. “If they were traitors they would have given a more important mission, not something likes to slay one meaningless village. What really happened?”

        “Dameon and Kiru forces are attacking. We weren’t ready, and now Malek is our only hope. The Circle gave Malek permission to do as he see fit. I don’t understand it completely, but he used the baron soldiers to banish peasants from their villages. Malek need the refugees for some trap he’s planning. Your village people resist, unlike the other, and were slain. 

        “The baron was a traitor?”

        “Yes, Malek threaten his soldiers that they should share their master fate if they won’t obey his every word, and then sent Raizel after them so they will be killed before they could tell anyone about this.”

        As they talked the orb started to glow with green light. The souls of the dead appeared, moving into it. One by one they left into the green light. Vorador watched with apathy as his family and friends left to the great beyond. With every soul that passes came a moment when the soul feeling thrower him was revel to him. If it weren’t for the orb he would have been overwhelmed by the love he felt from them. ”Goodbye” they whisper one by one, and then they were gone, moving to the afterlife, leaving him alone in the world.

        Alone with the hate that only the orb kept from exploding in his heart.

        “And what about Raziel, won’t he suspect the truth?”

        “No, Raziel idealizes Malek, he see him as the great leader of good this world has ever had, and he believe in him with all of his heart and soul. He believes that those soldiers were under the baron orders.”

        “And the Circle will do nothing. You need Malek to defeat Dameon and Kiru because of his fighting skill and military knowledge. Why can’t you stop them with your powers?”

        “Kiru found something, a spell or an artifact that can dispel our powers. Our powers demand more energy from us, we are too weak. Malek is the only hope, for us and for the world. 

        “I will kill him.”

        “And you will let the enemy win?”
        
        “It seem we have become the enemy.”

        “You have a right to demand revenge, but doing it now will bring a terrible fate to all who live in the land.”

        “So when I should seek it, when the war is over and Malek is a hero?”

        “Fate will choose the time.” 
       
        “Priest?” Vorador looked at the priest ghost, floating near the orb, but making sure not to touch it. The ghost looked at him with sadness in his eyes.

        “I wish I could explain this to you, Vorador, I wish I could help you understand, but fate is not always as we wish it to be. Read the book, Vorador, and learned from the mistakes of the past.” He lifted his hand, and a bright light surrounded Vorador. A moment after it he was gone.

        “He hasn’t got a chance, and if he will succeed, it will leave the world for Dameon, and Kiru. I suppose you still remember her.” Mortanius stopped for a second to see if his words brought any reaction from the ghost. Nothing. The necromancer nodded his head in distaste.

        “I lost Kiru to her distractive ambition of power, and you to a dead pair of goddess. When all of this is over, I think I will stop interfering in this world anymore.” He took another glance at the ghost. “You know that I can force you to tall me to where you sent him?”

        “You can, but in what price? If your power was at is fully armies of undead would have risen against Kiru. I can sense that you are weaker than before, and what about the rest of the protectors of hope?”

        “Not better than me,” Mortanius admitted. “Rodur summoned hordes of demons, but they appeared only for a few minutes. Deru is unable to look into the time stream and the storms Edor have summoned faded into a summer weather.” 

        “What gave Kiru such a power?”

        “We don’t know, and that is our problem. I don’t suppose,” he said with derisive voice “the the twin goddess will tell us?” 

        The ghost didn’t answer.

        “Hmm, maybe because they are dead, like the rest of the gods for more than a millennium. The only different between them and your twin goddess is that their death convulsion took longer.”

        “Don’t you anything better to do than to annoy an old man?”

        “An old dead man,” Mortanius corrected, “and one who refuse to died completely. But yes, you are right,” he said and looked at the bodies of the dead soldiers and lifted his arms “I do have better things to do.” And with these words the corpses started to rise. 

        Vorador closed the book, looking at the black leather cover. The last part of his reality was torn apart from him.

[He knew, all this time, he knew. The man who I loved like my father allowed my family and my friendns to die. He could wanred them years before it happened, but is faith told him not to. 

        It took long time to forgive him for that.

        Now there was only one living person that was left to me to take my revenge, and I knew it was possible to me, that I could kill Malek. Mortanius sensed that in me. He tried to convince me to abandon my claim for Malek head in the name of greater good. But my anger was too great. Malek had to die, and I knew the way to do it. 

        Mortanius' orb of death showed it to me.]

        He took his anger and froze it. He took his hate and froze it has well. He pulled out the silver dagger he found in the cave. He rested the blade on his left arm, and then, slowly, moved the blade over his flesh, cutting through it, feeling his blood, his pain, yes, the pain was good, relaxing, feeding his hate, which was frozen but still alive, still screaming to be satisfied.

        Satisfied with blood.

        “You took everything away from me, Malek. My day of life had become the day of death to everyone I ever loved, to everyone I ever cared about. I will kill you for that.” He looked at the black sky, no moon, no stars, only darkness, just like his soul. 

        “I swear, this day, before the dark moon, that I will repeat this blood ceremony in every one of my day of life that become my day of death to remind me of the pain you caused me, until the day I kill you, and I will kill you!”

        He stood there, his hands closed into tight fists, his mind in a cold state. He could think now, could plan his next move. First he would find a safe place to rest and sleep, then he will start looking for the near city, and then he will start to look for the way to get to Malek.

        “One day Malek, one day.”

        Mortanius looked at the legion of the undead. They once living soldiers became ghouls, creatures that can be consider as a relative to vampires. He looked at the rooting face, at the eyes glowing in red, their nails, now talons, and the hunger he could sense in them.

        A distance relative, but a relative nonetheless. The ghouls hungered for the flesh of the living, like a vampire hunger for blood, but they were still very different. The ghouls kept very little from their intelligence. All that was matter to them was to eat.

        And to obey their master.

        The magic power I had to use was much more than the usual, he thought to himself, Kiru is getting stronger. Damn that accursed witch.If it wasn’t for her Dameon was on his knees by now, and I wouldn’t have to let Malek do as he wish. 

        He looked again at the ghouls. But since when life are the way they suppose to be? If they were, there would be no need to the protectors of hope. 

        Enough with this, there’s a war to win. 

  And beside, Malek is immortal now. If one day he’ll slip…

        And as for you Kiru, my traitorous apprentice, I will give you the same treat I gave Janos. 

        Deep in the huge dark fortress of king Dameon and queen Kiru, a jewel shaped like a long sharp crimson claw rested on a small table. Four figures stood near every corner of the table, their hands open and touching the hand of the one near them while their lips move as they murmured words of power. They were four of Kiru dark mages, people with great potential for magic who came from all across Nosgoth, answering Kiru call, the call that promised to give them power beyond dreams. On that table was the key for that dream. The mystical artifact origin was unknown, but is power was great. Focusing their magical energies into the red claw the four mages sent a wave of magic dispel. All the normal magic collapsed. The Protectors of hope were too late to discover this fact, too late to realize that their powers were fading with each passing moment.

        Kalad was one of the mages, a young man with high ability to sense, things. An ability that saved his life more than once, when one of the other mages thought to promote himself over Kalad corpse. Now, this ability caused him to be nervous. There was something in the claw, but he couldn’t point his finger on it. He tried to keep his mind on the focusing of the energies, but that disturbing feeling refused to leave him. Why was he so sure he could hear a tiny, malicious laugh?

        Hash’ak’gik laughed in delight. These petty mortals and their petty life, he thought to himself Foolish creatures with such a narrow vision, unable to see the grand picture, unable to comprehend even the hundred part of his plan, unable to see its geniuses beauty. 

        “Come Vorador,” the demon whispered in his crimson prison, that wasn’t really a prison to him. “Every hero needs a mentor, even a tragic one. Come forward, and embrace your destiny!”

        The demon laughed as he thought again about all of those little mortals with their little lifes and dreams, little ambitions and little hopes, they were like bugs to him. They were still unaware of him, for now, but one day they will learn about him.

        One day they will!

        In a small cave in the unknown aura that he found himself in, Vorador slept. His face a cold mask of pain and determination even in his sleep, he slept without dreams, without nightmares, the way he will sleep for the ext six years, with cold hate has his only companion.