Bane ran up to Malek, Moebius, and Azimuth, who were impatiently awaiting his return.
        "So druid," Malek said lowly. "What news do you have?"
        "Trisen, that witch, is staying with Vorador," Bane explained. "But it would also seem that she has...," Bane paused, searching for the correct words.
        "She has what?" Azimuth demanded. "What has she done?"
        "It would seem that Trisen has Vorador wrapped around her finger," Bane said, making the three Circle Members instantly perk up. "After only three days of staying with the vampire, Trisen disobeyed Vorador’s orders. Any guesses as to what Vorador did to punish her?"
        "He wounded her?" Malek suggested.
        "He hardly touched her," Bane answered. "All Vorador did was yell at her and grab her arm, but other than that, he did nothing, not even lock her in his mansion. Afterwards, I got the impression that Vorador wanted to take back the vicious words that he had roared at Trisen. He joked with her and gave Trisen a slight smile!"
        "Hmm," Moebius noted. "It would seem that by kidnapping Trisen, not only would we have the ability to restore Balance, but we could draw that damned vampire out of hiding as well."
        "I want his head," Malek snarled, slicing the air with his spear. "I want Vorador’s head."

        Trisen hopped over another puddle of swamp bog, while Vorador waited patiently. Trisen landed and slipped, starting to fall backwards.
        "Eep!" she cried, flailing her arms.
        Vorador quickly grabbed Trisen’s shirt and pulled her forward. Trisen regained her balance and grinned at Vorador.
        "Thanks," she said.
        Vorador nodded his head slightly.
        "Why did you choose a swamp as a place to live?" Trisen asked, leaping over another puddle.
        "To ensure that I would not be bothered by other beings," Vorador answered shortly.
        Trisen paused, cocked her head to the side in thought, then quickly ran forward, trying to catch up with Vorador.
        "Wait a minute!" Trisen cried, sprinting forward. "Wait a minute!"
        Vorador turned around once more and watched Trisen hop around wildly from path to path. She finally caught up, wheezing.
        "You’re going too fast!" Trisen gasped. "How can you move so quickly through this swampland?!"
        "I could navigate this place with my eyes closed," Vorador declared proudly. "It’s my home, and I know it as well as I know myself."
        "Well, either way, you’re going too fast!" Trisen stated.
        Trisen then paused and rose. She transformed into a large anaconda, golden scales glinting in the dim light. Vorador slightly widened his eyes in surprise.
        "I’m impressed," he said, crossing his arms.
        Trisen bobbed her head and dove into the swamp muck, easily gliding through the thick liquid. Vorador smiled slightly, partially glad to be on their way at a faster speed. He quickly followed Trisen, who would occasionally dive down and swim underwater for a few moments.
        When the two reached Vorador’s mansion, Trisen looked around it, narrowing her eyes.
        "What is it?" Vorador asked.
        "Something," Trisen replied softly. "I don’t know what it is… The entire mansion seems so...quiet. Something’s wrong."
        Vorador narrowed his eyes and readied his sword. Trisen braced herself, a powerful lash of magic at hand. Vorador yanked open the doors and a half-mutilated body of a vampire fell out, making Trisen shriek and fall back. Vorador knelt down and studied the vampire’s face.
        "A fledgling," he said, noticeable bitterness in his tone. "Pity, he proved promising."
        Trisen held her nose and studied the vicious wounds on the vampires body. Her eyes widened as she looked up at Vorador.
        "These marks...they’re magic-based," she whispered hoarsely.
        Vorador looked at Trisen and she immediately backed away.
        "I didn’t do it!" she cried. "I’ve been with you the entire time."
        "I know," Vorador said emotionlessly. "But are you positive your race died out, except for you?"
        Trisen nodded, then her head froze. Vorador narrowed his eyes.
        "You just remembered someone?" he inquired.
        "Half-breeds," Trisen said breathlessly.
        "Half-breeds?" Vorador asked.
        "Yes, half human, half witch," Trisen explained. "They’re not as lethal as a pure witch and I should be able to easily lock onto one if that’s what’s inside the mansion."
        Trisen closed her eyes and they seemed to flutter for a few seconds before she opened them again.
        "He’s still inside," she said. "His name’s Tieraon and he’s a half-breed. He’s working for the Sarafan and he’s after you."
        "Then he shall find me," Vorador snarled, charging into his house.
        Trisen widened her eyes and promptly followed, following Vorador as best she could. She lost sight of him, but, knowing where the half-breed was, she knew where to go. Trisen arrived to see the half-breed Tieraon on his knees, begging for mercy, and Vorador baring down on him, sword raised.
        Vorador, ignoring Tieraon’s pleas, brought his sword down in a swift and powerful arc, knocking the man down. Trisen watched, her heartbeat quickening. She flinched as Vorador drained the man of his blood, as though his pain was transferring to her.
        Eliza, who had been watching and wearing a sadistic grin on her face, looked over to Triesn, and her grin instantly faded. Trisen watched on, a look of horror and shock etched on her features. Eliza realized, grimly, that Vorador killing this half-breed, was like Vorador killing one of Trisen’s own kind.
        Trisen felt her knees go weak and she looked down at the floor, a sense of loss eating at her. It wasn’t right, even if the man was a half-breed, he was still like her in a sense. It just wasn’t right. He had begged for mercy, yet received none. It wasn’t right.
        Vorador finished feeding and looked up at Eliza, who looked from Vorador to Trisen and slightly pointed at the young witch. Vorador looked over and it broke Trisen from her trance. She immediately averted her gaze, but Vorador had seen it. That look of terror in realizing the grotesque drama that had just unfolded. Vorador had seen it justice to kill the man that had killed a vampire, but Trisen apparently felt otherwise. And yet, for all his apparent coldness to another’s feelings, Vorador felt a slight twinge of remorse in seeing Trisen’s expression.
        Trisen trotted up to Vorador and looked down at Tieraon’s white body.
        "You killed him," she said. "Good job."
        "What of the body?" Eliza asked, hoping to erase the traces of Tieraon from Trisen’s vision.
        "Don’t worry about it," Trisen said, pointing to Tieraon’s corpse The half-breed was slowly turning to ash, then into nothing. "See. It’s that easy. Creature’s with witch’s blood in them do that."
        Trisen bit her tongue and walked to her room, the vision of Tieraon begging for mercy replaying over and over in her mind.
        Trisen closed the door behind her quietly, then turned to the picture above the fireplace.
        "You’ve listened to me in the past," she said. "So listen to me now, why must we be persecuted? Why must we suffer? What is it about being different that every creature abhors? Not just to what happened a few minutes ago, but to every time a Sarafan has killed a vampire, or a vampire killed a human, or a witch killed a Sarafan, or something killed something just because the other was different. Is it so impossible to speak of peaceable actions? Is there an unspoken law that forbids peace?"
        The lady in the picture stared out blankly from the picture.
        "Answer me!" Trisen howled, slamming her fists against the mantle walls. "Damn it! Not even you speak! And you say you can teach me something! You say you’re important! You are nothing if you cannot answer those questions!"
        "Some questions are better left unanswered."
        Trisen turned around and saw Vorador standing in her room.
        "He begged you for mercy," Trisen said, shaking her head slightly.
        "Do you believe that the fledgling did not?" Vorador retorted.
        Trisen sighed and slumped down.
        "You’re right," she murmured. "It’s just. Maybe it’s because I’m a child and I cannot handle the subject of death well, but to see another of my kind die, even if it’s a half-breed, it....hurts."
        "I apologize for your hurt," Vorador stated softly. "But, I’m afraid I cannot apologize for killing the half-breed. Centuries of persecution and seeing my children die by the hands of Sarafan, and other creatures as well, have taught me that the only way to deal with death is to make it a point to show that you will not just curl up and accept whatever foul hand is dealt to you."
        Trisen stared at Vorador for a few moments before blinking slowly, two crystalline tears coursing from her eyes.
        "My father told me that," she whispered tightly. "I didn’t want to believe that it was true. That to survive, you had to be cold and heartless and stand on the carcasses of others to reach the top. But then, I was oblivious to hurt and death. Both of them seemed too far away and impossible to touch me. I was sadly mistaken."
        Vorador walked forward and lightly placed a hand on Trisen’s left shoulder. She breathed in heavily and rose, wiping away her two, lone tears. She turned to face Vorador.
        "You had every right to kill the half-breed. I just remembered a phrase in our code of living, ‘If a creature with even a drop of witch blood in his or her veins kills another creature out of malice, the other creatures of the same race have every right to retaliate and kill the witch being.’," Trisen stated tonelessly.
        "Whether it is a law or not," Vorador replied. "Think of this as a small taste of what revenge is. Revenge is not pretty, delicate, finely planned or developed. It is a sloppy job, no matter who undertakes it and if you are serious about exacting revenge, you must be nothing but cold when it comes to the final blow. Remember, every person you kill has had a life. They had their own hopes, dreams, friends, and family, but when it comes to an end, nothing must matter except yourself. When your opponent is dead, then you can lament over their death."
        Trisen nodded.
        "You’re right. I’m sorry, and I‘ll never make such a scene like that again."
        Vorador shook his head.
        "No apology is necessary," Vorador assured. "Though I must inquire, why were you speaking to that painting?"
        "This picture," Trisen said, pointing to the lady. "She’s the Goddess."
        "Her?!" Vorador replied, seemingly alarmed.
        "Yes," Trisen answered, a coy grin playing on her lips.
        "There’s a name on it," Vorador said, looking up at the picture. "Perhaps it’s the Goddess’s name."
        Trisen gasped and immediately began jumping to try and reach the picture.
        "Ah! Get it! Please! Oh, I’m begging you, please, please, please, please, please!"
        Trisen fell to her knees and groveled at Vorador’s feet, making him chuckle slightly.
        "All right," he said, smiling. "Get up."
        Vorador lifted the picture from its perch above the fireplace and handed it to Trisen.
        "Where’s the name?!" she asked breathlessly.
        "There in the corner," Vorador replied, pointing.
        Trisen seemed to dive her head at the corner, and, squinting her eyes, she tried to read the name.
        "X...A...O, no, Q...U...E...I, wait, no, it’s an L..." Trisen drifted off. She then looked up a Vorador, a triumphant grin on her face. "Xaquelina!"
        A deafening clap of thunder that rattled the entire mansion made Trisen jump and Vorador look out the window.
        "Trisen," he said softly, looking out the window.
        "What?"
        Vorador pointed to the window and Trisen looked out, then gaped in awe. Giant black clouds were rolling up at a seemingly impossible speed. Lightning flashed angrily in the darkening sky and thunder accompanied the lightning’s fanfare at such a loud point that some of the windows almost shattered. Trisen turned to Vorador, her eyes wide.
        "Looks like we’re going to have rain," she said, still grinning.
        "Yes, it would seem that way," Vorador noted, nodding his head. "I’m going to the pantry, I’ll-"
        "Pantry?" Trisen inquired, then she remembered. "Oh, right, er, sure, go ahead..."
        "So far, they’re all dead, but I’m planning to get a few more live ones," Vorador answered.
        "There’s a taste difference?" Trisen inquired, her stomach lurching.
        "Yes," Vorador explained. "The humans that are alive, their blood is warm and more tasteful. The ones that have been dead for a few days, their blood is cold and tastes stale."
        Trisen scrunched up her nose and nodded her head.
        "Oh. Yech. I was planning to eat something, too, but my appetite just ran off," she said. "I mean, I know it’s vampire nature, but still, just, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew. No offense meant, though."
        Vorador shrugged.
        "No offense taken," he replied.
        Trisen watched Vorador leave, then, thinking about the difference in blood taste, scrunched up her nose again, stuck out her tongue, and made a gagging noise. She made an apple appear, but just stared at it, turning it over in her hands. Food was right now the farthest thought from her mind, the very thought of food making her queasy.
        "Forget it," Trisen said, sighing. She then turned the apple into a mouse and gently toyed with the creature, stroking it and allowing it to roam around in her room. The mouse would always return to her though, as Trisen had possessed it’s mind to the point that it would do her every wish and whim.
        "Now see, you’re so innocent," Trisen told the mouse, which sat up on his haunches and listened intently. "How nice it must be, to be oblivious to pain."
        The mouse squeaked and nodded.
        "See?" Trisen pointed out to nobody in particular. "You agree, too. Here, play chess with me."
        Trisen made a chess board appear and she and the mouse went through five games of chess before she finally fell asleep, the mouse curling up beside her head and falling asleep too.
        Rain pattered on the windows gently, drastically contrasting with the deafening thunder and blinding lightning flashes. Eliza shook her head and turned to Vorador.
        "This is by far one of the worst storms," she said. "It came on so quickly, too."
        Vorador nodded, lounging in a thickly cushioned chair and a little drowsy from drinking more blood than he needed.
        "True," he whispered, his eyelids feeling heavy.
        Eliza looked over and grinned slyly.
        "Did we eat a bit much?" she giggled.
        "Perhaps," Vorador answered shortly.
        Eliza smiled and walked over.
        "Then I’ll leave you to your rest," she said soothingly.
        Vorador laughed shortly and closed his eyes, folding his hands on his stomach and dozing off.
        Eliza shook her head, her hair shimmering and walked up to Trisen’s room. She peeked in and couldn’t help but laugh softly. How coincidental, Trisen and Vorador fell asleep at approximately the same time. Eliza took note of the small mouse lying beside Trisen and seemed slightly amused.
        Trisen breathed in and rolled over slightly, lying on the floor. Eliza flinched and walked forward, gently nudging Trisen.
        "Trisen," Eliza whispered. "Trisen!"
        Trisen moaned slightly and looked up at Eliza.
        "Wouldn’t you prefer to sleep on your bed?" Eliza asked softly.
        "Yeah," Trisen moaned sleepily, staggering onto her bed. She flopped down on it and instantly fell back asleep. Eliza shrugged and left the room.
        Trisen tossed over slightly, frowning in her sleep. She could hear the slice of a guillotine, vampires cry out, and humans cheer on. Then, slowly, a picture began to come in her mind. Trisen could see a large crowd, then, at the front, a guillotine with somebody at the guillotine. The picture began to focus and Trisen realized with dawning horror that it was a vampire at the guillotine.
        "VORADOR!!!!" Trisen screamed.
        The guillotine came crashing down and Trisen saw the executioner lift Vorador’s head, then Moebius took Vorador’s severed head and held it up as though it were a trophy.
        "VORADOR!!!!!!" Trisen shrieked, her voice hitting a terribly shrill note. "VORADOR!!!! VORADOR!!!! VORADOR!!!!!!"
        Trisen was shaken awake by Eliza, who had came running in when Trisen had started screaming.
        "Trisen!" Eliza cried. "Trisen, what is it!?"
        "Vorador!" Trisen gasped. "Where’s Vorador!?"
        "He’s sleeping in the library," Eliza said slowly. "What is it?"
        Trisen didn’t answer, but raced to the library madly. Her feet skidded on the rug and Trisen almost crashed into the railing, but it didn’t matter, she had to get to the library! Trisen swung open the doors and saw Vorador asleep. The elder vampire opened his eyes slightly.
        "Trisen?" Vorador murmured.
        Trisen breathed a sigh of relief heavily and then collapsed onto the floor, trembling. Vorador quickly rose up and Eliza came rushing in.
        "Vorador!" she cried. "I’m sorry that she awoke you! She was screaming your name like there was no tomorrow and then, when I awoke her, she immediately came here upon learning this is where you were."
        Vorador narrowed his eyes in confusion, rose, walked over, and then knelt down beside the fallen, trembling form of Trisen.
        "Trisen?" he whispered, lightly laying a hand on Trisen’s back.
        Trisen began laughing hoarsely.
        "Just a dream!" she giggled maniacally. "Just a nightmare!"
        Vorador and Eliza exchanged glances and then looked down at Trisen, who was now slamming her fist on the floor and laughing insanely, still shaking like a leaf in the wind.
        "What nightmare?" Eliza asked softly.
        Trisen looked up at Vorador. Her face was white and she seemed to be lost in another world.
        "I-It’s nothing," she stammered. "Sorry to bother you, Vorador."
        "It’s all right, but," Vorador studied Trisen’s trembling form. "Are you sure you are going to be okay?"
        Trisen nodded and a loud clap of thunder rattled the entire mansion. Trisen looked around.
        "The storm’s still raging?" she inquired.
        "Yes," Eliza answered with a nod of her head.
        Trisen, trying to regain some of her composure, rose and beckoned for the two to follow her. Vorador and Eliza once again exchanged wary glances, but went ahead and followed Trisen.
        The young witch stepped outside into the pouring rain and looked upwards. Vorador and Eliza stayed inside the mansion, watching from the doorway. While they were both immune to the rain’s acidic touch, the small droplets of water still proved to be a nuisance.
        "Xaquelina!" Trisen yelled to the heavens.
        A blinding flash of lightning that startled both Eliza and Vorador exploded across the sky.
        "Esira krad regneva fo eht sehctiw! ESIRA!" Trisen chanted as loudly as possible.
        Lightning raged angrily, bolts of the electricity actually striking with each other. Thunder seemed to slam onto the ground itself, making the swamp puddles ripple crazily with the continuous thunder claps. Hail began raining down, the sharp ice striking the ground and Trisen. Vorador quickly ran out and put his hands upon Trisen’s shoulders.
        "Please, Trisen," the ancient vampire said, almost begging. "You’ll be wounded out here!"
        Trisen looked up at Vorador for a few moments, then the two quickly ran inside the mansion. Eliza stared at Trisen in disbelief.
        "What were you thinking?" Eliza cried.
        Trisen stared at Eliza and blinked innocently. Vorador looked down at Trisen’s wrist and noticed in horror that the silver bracelet that Trisen wore was embedded deeply under her skin.
        "Trisen!" Vorador gaped. "That bracelet!"
        Trisen stared down at her wrist and then cried out as the silver jewelry ripped its way from her wrist. Blood splattered on Trisen’s arm, Vorador’s face, and the floor. Eliza shrieked in horror and Trisen fell to her knees, sweat dribbling down her forehead. Vorador wiped Trisen’s blood from his face and looked at Trisen in concern.
        "Trisen?" he inquired softly. "What happened?"
        "Xaquelina," Trisen breathed out weakly, Eliza having to support Trisen’s head. "She possessed me... She spoke to me... The Goddess actually spoke to me...! She told me to summon her brother...Ian... Ian..."
        Trisen’s eyes glazed over slightly and she gasped for air. Vorador shook his head.
        "Apparently Xaquelina drained her of power," he said quietly. "Don’t make her speak any more."
        Eliza nodded and started to lift Trisen up, but Vorador stopped her.
        "I will," Vorador said, gently taking Trisen from Eliza.
        Eliza acknowledged Vorador’s wishes and moved back, allowing Vorador to rise carrying Trisen.
        "Why did you harm her, Xaquelina?" Vorador whispered out of Eliza’s earshot.
        I did not intentionally hurt Trisen. I could not speak to her and give her my powers without giving her those injuries.
        Vorador froze.
        "Xaquelina?" he asked the air.
        Yes, Xaquelina answered. It’s me. I must thank you for caring for Trisen.
        "Caring for her?" Vorador asked. "All I have done is provided her with shelter."
        Not shelter, Xaquelina corrected. But sanctuary. You calmed your wrath when she purposely disobeyed you. You protected her from an assassin. You have provided emotional support to her.
        "I’ve never done that," Vorador retorted quickly.
        Perhaps not intentionally, Xaquelina replied softly. Yet, you are playing a parental role for her and there’s nothing that can change that unless you banish or kill her.
        "I’d never do that," Vorador said promptly.
        I know you wouldn’t, Xaquelina stated tenderly. Thank you, Champion of All Vampires...
        Xaquelina’s presence faded and Vorador was left standing in the hallway, cradling Trisen’s limp body. Vorador carried Trisen to her room and laid her down on her bed, covering her with the blankets, taking care to keep her wounded arm from being covered by the blankets. Vorador telepathically summoned another of his brides, who quickly appeared.
        "Kari," Vorador instructed. "Bring strips of bandages, hurry!"
        Kari quickly nodded and dashed off, then almost instantly returned with long strips of white bandages. Vorador took them from her and then bade Kari to leave. Kari obeyed and left Vorador and Trisen alone. Vorador, not being much of a doctor, planned to have Trisen bandage her wound, as Vorador feared he would only make the wound worse with his attempts to assist. A droplet of Trisen’s blood trickled down from Vorador’s left cheek to his lips, and he absent-mindedly licked it away. The sudden power surge that rushed through Vorador made him go dizzy and Vorador was instantly revolted with himself for allowing a drop of Trisen’s blood go down his throat.
        Trisen moaned and slowly came to. She gazed up at Vorador weakly, her eyes half-lidded.
        "Vorador…?" she whispered
        "Yes," Vorador replied softly. "Don’t move, you’ve been drained of your power."
        "It was amazing," Trisen gasped. "The feeling of power. It was immeasurable… Xaquelina... No wonder she is the Goddess!"
        Vorador shook his head.
        "If she is a goddess, you would think she could devise a less bloody way to possess the last of her kind," he grumbled.
        Trisen shook her head.
        "It doesn’t matter," she said hoarsely. "So long as she’s pleased."
        "Who is Ian?" Vorador inquired, suddenly remembering the name.
        "Ian?" Trisen repeated, narrowing her eyes in remembrance. "Oh, Ian. He’s Xaquelina’s brother. When Xaquelina was killed, Ian was as well. He was killed at the guillotine, though, and because of that, when Ian arose as a ghost, he was headless."
        "Headless?" Vorador asked, slightly alarmed.
        "Yes," Trisen replied weakly, her eyes starting to close. "He became the guardian of all the witches. Ian the Guardian..."
        Vorador waved his hand.
        "Don’t speak," he said softly. "You’ll only drain yourself even more. When you regain your strength, you can finish telling me of Ian the Guardian."
        Trisen nodded and breathed in deeply. She rolled her head slightly to the side and closed her eyes, falling into a deep sleep. Vorador rose and exited the room silently. Jacquez greeted him.
        "How is she?" Jacquez inquired.
        "Weak, but alive," Vorador answered, looking back. "I believe it will take a while until her energy completely replenishes."
        Jacquez nodded and allowed Vorador to pass him to get to the library. Jacquez walked into Trisen’s room and stared at her. Jacquez knelt down and stroked Trisen’s cold forehead.
        "You’re going to make me famous, little witch," Jacquez whispered softly. "Thank you. I’m sorry it had to end this way."
        Mantrello, in mist form, widened his eyes in horror. He had been after the wrong person the entire time! It wasn’t Trisen he should have been after, it was Jacquez! Jacquez was the Circle Member’s spy!