The creature that was walking slowly among the rubble belonged to the eldest vampires that were still alive and found in Nosgoth. He wasn’t as tall as a leader usually meant to be; nothing more than a surprising small man, but his stature was supple and muscular like a skilled sword-fighter. Since his kind didn't grow older in relation to human standards, he was caught in the height of his - then quite young ended - life forever. Otherwise, the knowledge of a thousand years could had been seen inhis eyes. But the battle had left it's trace: his look which used to be clear and vigilant was feeble and without any brilliancy now. The burden of command still lay heavyly on his shoulders... All of a sudden he stopped and looked down to what was beneath his feet. A young vampire lay before his blood-covered, heavy boots. He had been the youngest of his clan, a fledgeling, one of the kind that every leader wanted. Wild and determined; a go-getter.
          But life would never have returned into his broken eyesagain. A hit of a sword had almost cut off his whole head. Nevertheless, he bent down to the corpse and after putting his skull that was hanging down to one side back into position, he pulled the knife out of his breast. He waited perseveringly for a fewmoments, but the re-animation that was so typical for his kind didn't take place. His injuries were just too severe. Depressed, he dropped the long, sharp blade and stood up. His look scanned over the chaos within the walls of the fortress. Almost none ofhis children were still alive. His clan had been one of the most powerful and strongest in the whole empire. But now it was only a tired and scattered few, just a handful of survivors in comparison to their earlier quantity. Not enough to resist another wave of attack. He pressed his jaws together until the teeth started to hurt and turned his sore and tired eyes towards the East.
          A shallow, dreary gleam tried unsuccessfully to get through the smoke in the sky. He looked at the rising sun that was hidden behind the foggy haze. The other vampires were already withdrawing behind the walls of their clan's residence. Although the faint light couldn't really do anything to them they still feared the danger of sunlight. Sometimes, when the smog split open, the blue, hazy sky could be seen. Small, thin lances of light that pierce towards the ground and drew light spots on the brown, dried up grass. Woe to the one who got caught by the streaks of fading light. Within a few moments they burned and turned into what looked like a mummified, carbonised lump. During his long existence, he had found shrunken leftovers of his unfortunate companions often enough; the ones who didn't watch out or were not careful enough to flee from the light which was so life-threatening to them.
          Slowly and with a bit of slight he took off his fighting gloves. The thick, red leather stuck to his swollen, overexerted arms and was only to be pulled down with quite an effort. His skin was always showing the paleness that was so typical for this nightbred creatures - a feature that was accentuated by his black hair and dark clothing; something that strengthened the contrast even more. For a while he inspected his strong, three-fingered hand. It was hurting from defending and executing attacks.He lowered his arm again. A soft breeze of air, which was a little bit cold, stroked his skin. He felt the coolness slowly creeping into his bones and knew that he had to return to the fortress. During the night the battle had kept him flexible and warmedup, but now he felt the feebleness in all muscles - especially intensified by the rising, clammy feeling on the uncovered parts of his body.
          I came this far, he thought and a bitter expression appeared on his tiresome, beaten face. But what for? My clan has almost been wiped out. None of my children will conquer the sky the way I am able to now. What perfect creatures we finally would have had become if Kain hadn't destroyed these dreams in his sudden rush of madness.
          Kain...
           Just the thought of his once noble born Master evoked a wave of uncontrolled hate in him and Raziel turned around with a hasty movement. Furious anger filled his mind for a second time and blinded him so much that he wasn't even able to perceive his surroundings anymore. Bloodredcoloured whirls of raging wrath blinded his sight. His facial muscles twitched convulsively and the expression on his face distorted into a grimace. He stared down his body, to the ripped and dirty banner which had the sign of his name on it. His fingerssank into the thin fabric and ripped off the shoulder drape with an angry jolt.
          "Never again", he whispered and clenched his fist round the cloth that had turned sticky and rough. "I will never bow my head in front of you again. You murderer, you will pay for what you have done to my clan and therefore to me either, I swear."

          With long strides he approached the open gate and dived into the soft, calming dusk. He almost didn't notice how the two armed slaves closed and secured the entrance with a heavy beam behind him. One of the men slowly stepped towards him and looked at him rather worried. "You do not look too good, Sire. Try to rest for a while."
          The vampire set his light, yellow eyes right on the mortal beside him and looked into his wrinkled, tired face. Wilbur was one of the most loyal of his slaves and probably also one of the oldest who served him. Although his posture was marked by fatigue, his eyes still had this same pugnacious sparkle.
          "Peace and quiet. Aye, that's what we all need. Gather everything that is still alive and retreat to the crypt below the fortress. Build a few traps and distribute them in the tunnels. Remove the stones off the ground and fill the holes up with water. But: mark these spots on the plan of the building. Everyone of my children has to get a copy. I do not want the last ones that stayed with me to become a victim of our own security measures." He passed his hand through his hair and tried to adjust the strands which had turned dull from the sticky blood, dirt and soot. "Is the shamaness still alive?"
          Wilbur nodded slightly. "Aye, Sire. She will still be by your side in the battles."
           "Excellent. Tell her to erect magic barriers around all gates and entrances. Leave now. Prepare everything the way I told you to."
          "Aye, Sire", the old man murmured and bowed his head a last time. Then he turned to the younger person whohad been standing right beside him. "Come on. You know what we've got to do. Get a few men and women together who are still strong enough to go out on the field."

          Raziel turned away and dragged his tired feet down the corridor. Little stones and dried dirt creaked underneath his scratched boots that had lost all their splendour. Even here, a few corpses could be found. Once in a while, he stepped over cramped bodies, the leftovers of the first battle that took place during the night. He recognised everysingle one of them by looking at their clothes. If it had mainly been Dumahim that attacked them, surely Rahabim and Zephonim had participated in there somewhere. He only didn't see the children of his brother Melchiah anywhere. Only a few single Turelim. Didn't Kain manage to drive them all into war after all?
          What might have stopped his two brethren from attacking him with most of their people? Or: did Kain tell them to hold back on purpose to kill his tribe in a last exstincting wave? His head hurt, but the ongoing, fierce fights weren't the only reason. It was the desperation, burning and eating him up, trying to find a way into his mind. Trembling disdain and deepest bitterness. The vampire leaned with his shoulder against the cold wall. His armour scraped and rasped along the stones. He was so tired, he felt so drained. Nothing at all was left of his arrogant pride that he usually felt, nothing at all of the firstborn's narcism; Kain's handsome and complacent favourite son that held such a high opinion of himself.
          Here, where nobody could see him, he gave himself over to the weakness that had been taking over his body for hours. He slid down the wall, pulled up his knees and put his arms round them. The pressure of the folded wings on his back felt strange to him since he wasn't used to it. Therefore, he decided to spread them out to be able to lean against the wall more comfortably. As if he tried to hide from unwanted looks, he used his leather-like wings which had sunk to the front, to block out - at least partly - the outside world. He rested his chin on his knees and stared with an empty view at the battered wall in front of him.
          The foggy light slowly wandered through the tall window. It left a beam on the stony ground that was almost impossible to notice. Finest particles of dust twirled and danced in this dull, tired lance of light. The new day began. He smelled the harsh, and slightly acidic wind that was full of smoke, entering with a light whisper through the bursted window. The wind stroked his skin gently and played with the long hair that had come out of his now ruffled tail. This tender breeze, that whispered and sung temptingly into his sensitive, pointed ears brought a temptation of the new won freedom. But he didn't feel the longingto get up and fly as he had the day before.
          This time he didn't feel the urgency that had driven him the last, early morning. Restrained tears burned like acid in his eyes when he thought about what had happened. How much did he enjoy his first flight, he was so filled with enlightened, proud happiness about this best of all gifts he had ever received. A single tear fell down his eyelashes and rolled down his cheek, leaving a faint, thin trace on his dirt covered face. How quickly had the heavenly luck reversed into the exact opposite: the deepest and most terrifying hell one could think of. At this point, the price he had to pay for his wings made him almost wish to never have been blessed with this fatal present.
          His thoughts wandered back to the moment, when actually everything had begun.......

          .......Surely he knew that this point of time was too early. His next changing was supposed to be in at least a decade. But something inside him had pushed so urgently forward that he wasn't able to fight it in the end. Although he tried to resist violently, the nature of his existence forced its right upon him. Never before, someone had changed before Kain and this knowledge worried him. What would the Masters reaction be, especially since he had to appear at the annual meeting of the clan? The date of his forthcoming transformation couldn't have been at a worse time - the day of the dark empires anniversary.
          Were Kain's senses - while his mind was occupied with the festivities - sensitive enough to feel a changing, possibly not visible, as well? If it had been the right circumstances, he would have welcomed the gain of a new ability. But a dull, dark, foreboding whose meaning he could not grasp, pondered heavily on his mind. What kind of power was it that drove his body to stumble forward so impetuously in order to climb the ladder of evolution before his Master? Was it the law of immortality itself? The searching boredom of a mind at a standstill which was longing to expand its horizon? He couldn't give an answer.
          And when it finally happened and the vampire acknowledged the gift that was given to him, the arising feeling of happiness superimposed the hurtful drilling in his soul. He forgot about the pain that had almost torn him apart and transformed him into a new state against his will. He forgot about the agony of the slightly scared and confused state of his mind that refused to change until the very end. The leather-like wings that had grown were the first, true big step to the perfection of his body.Humans as well as the unliving stared at him when he, only dressed with pants, went out barefoot and showing his naked chest. Then, a tiny, enraptured smile was on his face and his eyes bright and enlightened with pride. Never before had he felt such absolute perfection.
          What unknown possibilities opened up before him, for him and his clan! One of these days his tribe would be the master of the sky, looking down at Nosgoth and eventually experiencing the world from of a bird's perspective... The first, careful stroke of his huge light batwings took him a short distance off the ground. When he fell back on the flagstones with his bare feet he put his head back and looked up to the sky. The impulse to fly became so immense that he almost didn't notice how he pushed himself off the ground and lifted up in the air with powerful, strong strokes. Higher and higher up he went, so steeply and quickly that the released force and power already scared him. He stopped his steep flight at once and felt how easy it was to co-ordinate his will with the wings. It felt, as if he had always had them.
          Raziel looked down. The big fortifications of the clan only were a square block in the cleared and already partly infertile landscape beneath him. The creatures in the yard who looked up to him had almost shrunken to the size of ants. He lowered his altitude and did a loop over the area. Feeling intoxicated by the unusual freedom and his new gift, he tried a few manoeuvres, testing the suppleness and reflexes of his new extremities. But the changing had cost him a lot of strength and he noticed the increasing fatigue. With regret he realised that he had to land. He needed refreshment and a bit of rest. Later on, he could go for another, more long-lasting flight.
          The clanleader hadn't even stood fully on the ground with his somewhat shivering legs when somebody already expected him. "Mylord", he called from far and slowly came closer. The one who had just arrived snipped his fingers. At once a slave hurried from the entrance behind him to Raziel and filled a large cup. He drank hastily and emptied the earthenware vessel in one go. The other vampire bowed in front of him with a happy and proud gleam in his eyes since he welcomed the changed look of his commander.
          "People already talk about your changing. At first, I didn't want to believe it, but now I realise that it is the truth", he began, shortly after his master emptied the cup and licked the last few drops off his lips. Raziel held the vessel to the side and told, with a short nod, the mortal to refill. The smell of the blood that streamed dabbling and gargling out of the pitcher had been altered by magic to stop it from clotting and raised his appetite even more. He couldn't wait to have another drink. Etheban let a faint laugh when he noticed the greed with which his Lord emptied the cup for a second time. "I knew you would be hungry. Therefore I ordered to have a refreshment ready on your return."
          "The changing was exhausting", Raziel sighed when he stopped drinking. He wiped the drop that was running down his chin with his clenched fist so that he was able to lick it off his skin. "This time, it was a real torture I have never experienced before."
          "But the result is quite excellent, Mylord", remarked his representative and looked over his young  Masters head on the tips of the wings. "What a magnificent present", he whispered. "I saw you flying. It was enthralling to watch you." Hesitating, he wanted to turn round although he wasn't really able to take his stare off the gift. Therefore he decided not to and hastily returned. "You are coming to the annual meeting, tonight?"
          "I haven't forgotten about it", murmured his clanleader. The same moment he felt the uncomfortable feeling returning to his stomach. This dark, scary hunch that had accompanied him until the last moments of his changing grew worse than before. He handed the cup back to the slave who took it with a slight bow and left without making a noise. "You can leave, Etheban", grumbled the commander. "Give our father notice that I will be there on time... Wait! There's one more thing!" He shouted after him.
          "Aye, Mylord?"
           "Don't tell him anything about my wings", he muttered and strained to give a smile, "I want it to be a surprise."
          Etheban nodded with a smile on his face and had a closer and nosier look at the folded wings with a mixture of passionate happiness for him and but also with a bit of envy. "Certainly. ... Will we get some, too?" he wanted to know and hesitatingly came closer. The young leader approached him and stopped right beside him so that his fledgeling could take a closer look. With respect he touched the profound bonestructure that loomed out of Raziels strong back with his fingertips.
          "There's definitely no doubt about that. Every single one of you will have wings one day", he emphasised and enforced his statement with a confident nod.
          This prospect made the other vampire smile and his eyes showed an expecting glance that touched the feelings of the clan's head. "I cannot wait for thatto happen, Mylord." Again he stroked gently along the wings and jerked back a bit with his hand as they moved under his soft touch. "They are so nice." After that he turned around and left.
          Raziel looked after him - deep in thought. The dull feeling clenched his breast stronger and stronger and seemed to press it together. It felt as if he was caught in tongs that were closing without any mercy to crush him. The vampire put his head back and looked at the dreary sky. He felt as if a threatening black cloud was accumulating above him. Something that not only endanger him but his whole clan.

          When the time had come to leave for the meeting the unpleasant pressure in his stomach had hardened to stone. Dark and evil dreams had disturbed his sleep and had made him turn round nervously. The pause for regenerating his energies hadn't brought comfort, but had altered his mind in a strange way: a different sensitivity but at the same time confused and mixed up. He wasn't concentrating and was fidgety when he put on the old armour with the red banner. A long time ago, this had been his protection when he fought the humans. Now, he only used it for the annual meetings. Nothing more than a symbol for the bloody victories achieved in the past. He tried to get rid of his nervousness and the slight feeling of uneasiness. At least his children should believe that everything was alright and in best order. But he, he didn't believe in it anymore. The result of his transformation was too evident. He knew Kain very well, he knew what an sanguistic and cruel character he could turn into.
          The next moment he stood up straight and with a proud feeling of resistance, held his chin up. It wasn't him who forced the changing, it just happened, against his will. But this was only a very small comfort for his raving mind. Until now he had always managed to calm down his master and solve problems with heated, but non-violent arguments. He hoped to be able to deal with this situation the same way today. For a second he thought about the difficulties his temper had led him into already. A few times Kain came close to ripping his head off. But everytime he succeeded in calming his father down. One definite reason was that he always managed to get out of a tight spot on his own. With a light sigh he spread his wings and rose into the air.
          The unique joy of flying pushed away the unpleasant feelings. But quicker than he would have preferred, he reached the centre of the empire. He circled widely for one more time above the building that was wrapped up by the haze. He enjoyed the grace of his new extremities and was hesitating to land. But nevertheless, he had to go down and enter the stronghold on his feet. The other vampires that were walking around in the lightened corridors, or stood together talking in small groups, contorted their heads to see him. He took pleasure in the way they stared at his back and gaped at the folded wings - not only unbelievingly, but also with jealous eyes. A small, spiteful smile appeared on his black lips. Not one of them would change the way he had!
          But the closer he came to these massive doors, his facial features became tense and when he stood in front of the hall's entrance, his face suddenly turned serious and stiff. No laughing, no metallic  clinging of well filled cups or the light sound of familiar voices could be heard. There was an absolute silence. A bad, pressuring calmness that forced his anxiety to rise. Raziel remained a moment to calm down and after that he entered slowly and ready for what was to follow. With a high held chin, appearing to be proud and untouchable, he approached the broken pillars of Nosgoth, and therefore the seat of the vampire dynasty. All his brethren were already there and looked at him. Their faces didn't show any emotion, actually they almost seemed to be repulsive. Not one little spark of happiness was to be felt.
 As well, this honourable evening was supposed to spread an exuberant mood. The 1000th anniversary of the kingdom. His brothers had talked about this upcoming jubilee for months. Not less than him or Kain. But now, instead of a happy celebration, he came to an event which seemed to be more of a funeral, or worse an apocalypse, something that might be as bad. But the clanleader had already sensed the reason for the cause. It was himself. His transformation. However his master could have found out. He felt how they examined him, he saw how Dumah tried to raise his hand with a small, timid gesture to greet him. But he left it to a weak, nearly imperceptible movement of his fingers. He carefully checked the atmosphere in the hall. But he was only faintly able to taste his brothers. The whole room vibrated with Kain's dark charisma and crackled like electricity on the sensitive skin of the firstborn.
          His senses were absolutely strained when he moderately strode closer. Nobody was talking or enlightened the atmosphere with comments as usual. He passed Turel and noticed a tiny trace of his smell. Very faint, not more than an idea that was overridden by the presence of their Lord. A trace of insecurity and intimidated helplessness that he had never experienced before, surrounded this powerful vampire. Raziel tried to control his emotions but he doubted that he was able to cover his agitated scent with showiness and piece, especially not in this state of mind. The unpleasant silence in the room was only disturbed by the noise of his boots. These heavy, slow paces that echoed from the walls and had something definite about them. His attention was caught by the master who sat on his throne. Narrowing his eyes a bit, Kain bent forward in anticipation. This gave him a lurking look that tried to dissect Raziel with his cold stares. Obedient, the first lieutenant sank down on his knee and bowed his head. He felt relieved that he was - at least a bit - supported by the ground.
          The slight feeling of weakened legs he hadn't known before gave proof to his insecurity. This ominous, strong quietness in the hall was racking his nerves and started to grind him slowly, but surely, as if he was stuck in-between two grindstones. The pressure that this silence put onto his soul became stronger and stronger. He blocked the eager stares out of his mind when he - at first reluctant, but then with an absolute, resistant pride- unfolded his wings and presented his gift to them. With his eyelids half-closed, he tried to see Kain's reaction. He hoped and feared at the same time. Then he held up his head and returned his master's gaze; with the same self-satisfaction like ever. Proud and a bit rebellious, too. The unbelieving stiffness on the hard, angular features of his creator disappeared and made way for displeasure. Then his father's face hid the emotions, but a hint of furious greed was still too evidently recognisable. Slowly, he got up from his throne and went towards Raziel who stood up.
          The dark foreboding came down on him like a storm. He saw the twirling of Kain's soul in his face and the outraged emotions in these cold predator-eyes by now. The serious consequence of an irrevocable knowledge, of an inevitable and fatal decision that will take his course and a strange raging none of them had ever felt before. There was no wrath about his early changing but something like a nasty  compulsive act like having the sword of Damocles hanging above his head. When the sharp claws softly scratched the back of his wings, they twitched and contracted a bit. The touch wasn't ponderous, but sharp and definitely not meant as friendly. This time it would be very hard to calm him down.  If not impossible. He had never seen him this outraged, not even during fights. While he examined his Masters scent that humans almost couldn't perceive, Raziel stared without realising his physical surroundings. With his sense of smell he detected something disagreeable and diverse. The perturbing result of a riot that was held back forcibly. An uprising pull in his neck made him feel as if a second, tingling skin was growing on top of his.
          Kain's hand went over the tough, leather-like skin of his wings. He came to believe that he was able to feel the uprising swelling of his Lord's bitterness in those palms. Whatever he was up to, his smell was absolutely evil. But he didn't possess the will, or the power, to take a look behind him. His dark lips twitched and for a second Raziel showed his teeth - shortly and threatening. Nothing more than a weak, rebellious revolt against the unspoken constraints to obey and wait. His head turned round a little bit. All his senses were on alert and directed to what was behind him. What happened there? What was Kain up to? He felt how the huge clawed fingers released his wings. He thought he felt how this enormous body straightened up with power. At this moment Kain sent out a very pungent odour and bombarded Raziel's mind with a flood of warning signals. It was the want for annihilation, for destruction, that he tasted. This forced the clanleader to act in a way of pure self-preservation.

          He made a quick, strong push of his wings to the rear and felt bones and skin touching vampire flesh that was as hard as steel. The reluctant growling that Kain released as a reaction to this disrespectful, clapping smack triggered Raziel to jump forward and take off into the air, trembling with cold fear. Still flying quite high above the ground, he turned around shivering in horror and the slight shock of realisation. The claws of his master were still crooked and held up. If he hadn't reacted instinctively and compulsively, these fingers would have ripped the wings off his back. Just the thought was terrifying enough to turn his inside to ice. Rahab, Dumah, Turel and the other two glanced back and forth between him and Kain, paralysed in horror and disbelief. His face was nothing more than a distorted grimace by now.
          "Get him down", he ordered with a thundering voice and stared at his favourite with an inexplicable, obvious rage. "What are you waiting for?!" he barked when nobody was able to get out of their state of surprise. The order shot through all of them and triggered a tremble among everyone, including Raziel. "Go, and pick him out of the air if you have to, BUT GET HIM!!"
          Everything inside the firstborn stiffened when he heard these words that Kain spat at him so coldly and contemptuously. Bitterness and rising fury circled his emotions like a boiling wave. He kept an eye on his brothers when they started to look for something they could use as a weapon. At the same time he moved back to the pillars and rose further up in the air to avoid trapping himself.
          "You have heard our Lord, Raziel!" Zephon shouted with his shrieking voice.
          At the same time something compact and dark flitted right past him and almost touched the end of his right wing. A heavy vase shattered on the pillars. Sharp-edged splinters and fragments flew around Raziel and penetrated into his flesh. The burning, strong piercing of his skin in the region between shoulder and cheek loosened his vocal cords and brought him to speak. "What the hell you're up to?!" he shouted and went up to the high, warped ceiling with one strong wing stroke.
          A metallic vessel hit his drawn up knees with full force. His reaction was more of a reflex than planned: he kicked the thrown object and caught it with both hands. His eyes searched feverishly for the vampire that had thrown the container. "You've got to be mad, all of you!" he growled with flickering voice and distorted the tin with the force of his fingers. Then, his attention was caught by Kain. "What have I done?" he screamed in a sharp, guttural voice. "What crime have I committed?"
          "You small unsuspecting creature, you're asking why? How do you dare to question my judgement?!" his master barked up to him.
          Raziel felt how his facial features slid away in naked, unbelieving astonishment. "The changing occurred against my will! Tell me just one good reason for the punishment you’re setting down on me right now. I served you for thousand years without any transgression or even the tiniest trace of doubt within your decisions!"
          "You aren’t in the position to ask those questions without knowing as much as I do. But in refusing to obey you became a dangerous opponent to all of us." Kain turned to Turel and gave him a sign. "Nail this foolish traitor to the wall. Tear those damn things off his back and bring him to the abyss where he belongs", he ordered with a frozen tone of voice, "and then, take care of his clan."
          Raziel fixated his gaze and lied waiting for his mighty brother who had torn one of the ornaments off the wall to impale him. He saw the fatal intention in Turel’s eyes and threw the contorted metallic vessel he was still holding with an enraged verve through the window behind him. With an deafening crash the glass burst and collapsed. Huge splints and sharp-edged parts rained downwards and fell clinking and clattering on the ground. All vampires beneath him moved backwards to avoid getting hit. Nobody wanted to risk having their hearts stabbed or to be decapitated by one of these long, slim fragments. With hasty strokes of his wings, the young clanleader escaped through the opening he had just made. The knowledge that Kain was ready to kill him, Raziel, without hesitation and within a few seconds, put him in a thoughtful mood. Were even the chosen, Kain's battle-leaders and first lieutenants, nothing more than slaves?
          Were they only skilfully manipulated, subservient marionettes? Created for the one purpose of fulfilling their Masters selfish dreams? Was everything that Kain had made them believe - that he loved them as if they were his own children - nothing more than a phrase and cliché-ridden stereotypes that he used to control and lead them like puppets? Raziel fell into depression, a bottomless hole that was filled with drilling doubts, bitter confusion and personal pain. He tried to handle his uprooting emotions. Then, suddenly, everything rose up inside him. Such a burning, unleashed hate that he was almost drowned by all his sentiments. He wasn't the traitor, but Kain! Kain who had always used and exploited everyone. Kain who had lifted himself up to an idol. This numb, sadistic monstrosity, that enjoyed to have them pray and look up to him like a god.... Tears of naked, trembling anger clouded his view. He wiped his eyes unwillingly and hurried to return to his territory.

          When he reached his fortifications, all of his strength was gone. Stumbling and staggering he walked a few steps over the yard. His will was so exhausted that he had difficulty to fold his hurting, lame wings. He caught the first vampire he saw.
          "Go!" he shouted enraged. "Get the slaves out of bed, drive the whole clan together. Have them fetch water and put the vessels on the battlements! Lock all gates and entrances to the fortress and take care that nobody is outside!"
 Since the man only stared at him in total surprise, he pushed him forward. "Go on, damn it! Our life depends on these measures!"
          Now, the one he had addressed turned round on his heels and ran inside.
           Because of the wild ringing bell the yard filled up at once with all creatures that lived within those walls. Mortals as well as vampires gathered around their leader and master. "Be quiet!" he shouted out and the nervous crying and confused voices silenced within a short time. "I don't have the time to explain to you what has happened. We have to act fast. I want you to prepare yourselves for battle and everybody is to be armed, the slaves as well. Before the night is over, they will attack us and I am sure about that. Before then we must be prepared. A few of the mortals have already begun to distribute water filled buckets on the battlements. Furthermore pitch and oil must be cooked and torches made. Take your crossbows and bows and get hold of all the weapons - blades, swords, posts - everything you can find that's useful for impaling. I don't care if you have to, destroy furniture or panelling to make stakes."
          At this point, rumours arose among the gathered crowd. "Why, Mylord, do you want water and weapons for impaling?" a voice shouted from the back row.
          "Because this time it's not mortals attacking us, but our own kind", Raziel snarled bitterly with his voice that had become rough and acquired an acidic undertone.
          "Vampires?! Why would our other clanbrothers attack us?"
           "The reason is... my wings", he explained emotionless and jumped on the wagon that was normally used for transporting food and firewood. "I do not know what has got into Kain. Because I change so early and preserve this powerful gift he thinks I am a traitor maybe even envying his status."
          "That's absolute nonsense! Everyone knows how loyal you are. Especially you!"
           "You should have seen him how he set my brothers on me. He wanted to kill me, that bastard!" Raziel told them enraged. He clenched his fists. His whole body was trembling with anger when the memory came up again. "Now, leave and do as you're told. I do not want to drive you into war but what other choice do I have? Either we die fighting or Kain will slaughter us like cattle. And now, leave", he finished whispering, "get prepared for the battle."
          The yard was crowded up to the walls and emptied only slowly when everyone started to realise the quickly set up strategy. Their leader looked after them with a sorrowful, heavy-burdened expression on his face. When the last one had disappeared out of his view, he turned his head to the East. It was still quiet until now, but it wouldn't stay that way. Raziel didn't know how many enemies they would have to fight in the end. The worst scenario he could imagine was all five clans coming up against him.
         And Kain? Would he be among the combatants? Or was he waiting in his stronghold - just like a coward - for the one to lie the decapitated head of the firstborn before his feet?