Angels were singing somewhere in the darkness, a shrill and wavering sound, prolonged by distant echoes, reverberating through his mind. They were decent enough to spare him verbalization, they only vocalized what was only too apparent: a warning to tread carefully where all material life ceased and the realm of the spirit opened. 
Kain was crossing the threshold of hell...in a sense, he mused ironically, he was coming home. Having been restored to the material world as a vampire, he came full circle to the place of his rebirth, following a path of knowledge and intuition. The echo of the inacessible angels' voices still pulsed somewhere in a corner of his mind, forcing a reluctant  thought of longing for eternal peace, reconcilation, redemption...he had realized long ago, that heaven was not attainable. Heaven was nothing more than an empty eden that stagnated and decayed along with Nosgoth. Even the angels were decadent. Had he only found them interesting...but they were tedious to the bone...if they had any.

The task that lay ahead of him was far more fascinating. For to create a legion of vampires, his own faithful and obedient sons, every on of which blessed with a portion of his vampiric power, was an entirely new experience to him...he felt intriqued by every one of them individually, he felt intense fascination as he removed the half-dead souls from the torture machines devised by demons. A putrid smell of stagnant and ageing suffering enveloped the tormented souls. Kain watched, intriqued, as they reponded to his call; their leader first lifted his head to see with his unseeing eyes the source of the voice...
Hell was home for them-having spent there a millenium, they were already resigned to their fate. In life, they were righteous Sarafan, uniquely trained to be vampire hunters, fanatically devoted to the Circle. It must have been a surprise for them, Kain smiled with a sense of satisfaction, to find that the reward for all their great deeds was eternal suffering...Kain received silent and tragic consent from each of them, a decision to become what they had hated and despised as humans. Kain laughed silently-he was comitting a double sacrilege...

"And hath the Holy Inquisitor showed his mercy to the lost ones and released them from their bodily prison..."

Strangely, there came a memory of childhood; a boy playing in the gardens of an enormous palace...and the poignant and sudden ending of that childhood...Raziel opened his eyes, yellow irises glowed softly in the darkness. Now constituted the ending of his humanity, he thought, as he raised his arms and felt the rough surface of the stone slab above him- covering the coffin encasing him. Or maybe, he thought bitterly, his humanity ended on that day far in the past, when he had seized the sword and felt that fierce, insane desire for the first time. The beginning of his manhood marked the decline of his humanity...how very philosophical...
The stone slab lifted and slipped with a scratching sound off the coffin, crushing to the ground and shattering into pieces...Raziel felt his body throb with an inward force that pulsed through his veins, animated his mind and elecrtified him...a sensation of sick excitement, artificial but powerful. His hand went up to his chest, fingers feeling the ragged skin around the deep, gaping wound that ran through his heart...dark, thick liguid oozed from the gash. A current of still-frame memories ran before his eyes...the moment when the cruel blade of a demon-vampire shot through him, his soul and was leaking away...sucked into damnation...The pale, cold, demon eyes observed him with fascination, perverse relish mirrorred in them. The demon uttered words which escaped the dying Inquisitor, his mind enveloped in a veil of anguish and terror. Centuries of regret...
He found himself impaled on a long spiked pole, surrounded by a pool of flames ...and his mind erupted with the pain of his victims. It was in hell that he finally understood what a damnable fiend he had been...
"The Holiness will descend upon the sinful and shall teach the law to the unlawful..."
Raziel stepped uneasily out of the coffin, released his grip on the stone and tried to stand firmly on his weak, stiff legs. He nearly fell, the straps that held his cuirass snapped and the heavy mail clanked to the floor...relieved of the weight, he staggered forward, eager to exit the tomb, to breathe with cleaner air...
The implications of his decision were beginning to dawn on him...somewhere in his heart he felt a faint pang of despair and agony, lying in wait...the sensation sharpened with every second. Raziel tried to subdue it by concentrating on his movements, still wobbly and unsure; his efforts were rewarded when he reached the door ...the stone that blocked the way had been removed. 
He surfaced into clean air and a cold moonlit night. A gust of wind hit him, bringing a smell of life, making him shudder. In dim light, he surveyed himself silently, examinig his skin, cold and paper dry with marks of decay, fingers slightly twisted, nails black...he ran his hand against his face...the skin was decayed, uneven... he was nothing more than a rotten ghoul...but he still felt the warmth of the strange animating force within him, that was slowly circlulating in his veins.
Raziel raised his head. Against the black sky, loomed the enormous skeleton of the cathedral,  now derelict and deserted. He walked clumsily under its roof of curved beams, which resembled a broken ribcage. Between the black ribs, the sky was swollen with clouds. From the storm of emotions that raged within him, one surfaced, perhaps the most significant...the inhuman desire for blood, not altogether unfamiliar. He had known it already, only in a different form, long ago. He succumbed to it, an eerie and bitter call that grew louder with every second. The call made his senses alert-sharpening them, making him painfully aware of his surroundings. Almost uncosciously, he crossed the remainders of the main aisle and reached a single, broken pillar. There was a man chained to the pillar, looking about frantically, an expression of horror on his face. The wave of his emotions and the smell of his terror struck Raziel. Instinctively, he attacked, slashing forth with his black-clawed hand across the man's face. Slowly, he straightened and raised his hand, acting on impulse. Blood broke from an artery and spurted in a stream into Raziel's mouth, leaving the salty taste on his tongue. Raziel shuddered with a spasm of pleasure, a sensuous gratification for his hunger. He saw the changes that the communion wrought on him...his skin tightened, smoothed, the black wounds of decay disappeared. He laughed, giving outlet to a strange sense of joy,  a terrible, yet astonishing sense of satisfaction.
"I surmise you have quenched your first thirst, Raziel." He heard a voice and spun around to see a dark figure, leaning on a pillar, arms crossed, observing him.
"Kain" Raziel whispered, memories of the first encounter in hell returning.
The figure moved away from the pillar, stopping before the novice. Raziel noted his height, his broad shoulders, his smooth, dignified movements. Kain laughed softly. 
"Yes, Kain." he walked slowly around Raziel, examining him." I see you have adapted well"he stopped, facing Raziel, " to a condition so demanding."
Kain beckoned Raziel to follow and walked past the pillar, leaving the area of the cathedral.   Raziel no longer found walking difficult, his muscles were renewed. He followed Kain, deriving pleasure from the simple activity of walking.
" You have slept long, Raziel. A millenium has passed since your death." Kain threw him bits of information, careless of the shock they might inspire. He had adapted well indeed. None of this shocked him, because he no longer viewed time from a human perspective.
The stronghold was not surrounded by the lake any more- the ruins crowned a hill encircled by a deep ravine, where  the water once had been. Raziel surveyed the land andshook his head, disgruntled. The abundant forest teeming once with life was now a dry plain, stretching far into the horizon.
"Nosgoth is nothing but decay now." Kain observed calmly, seeing his reaction. 
"Very much like us..." Raziel muttered, ironically. Kain shot him a cold glance in answer.
"You have not yet grown to appreciate your state. Nor your position. In time, you will learn to value the fact that you are my first born... yes, your brothers are already waking there, underground. You were the first to emerge, as I predicted.
 I need not explain to you the weaknesses of the fledglings...I leave you to your Sarafan knowledge..." Kain was observing Raziel closely and saw him flinch at the word "Sarafan". "You were so very expert at vampire weaknesses, weren't you?" Raziel clenched his teeth.
"Must you refer to my irrevocable past?"Kain laughed softly, amused.
"Your pitiful past. Now, need I remind you of allegiance that you owe to me for obvious reasons?"
Kain was correct-Raziel was obliged to express gratitude and swear an oath of obedience,...every Sarafan warrior was familiar with the vampire honor code. He knelt down, and gazed up at the towering figure. He sealed his fate with his own silent words.
"I swear to serve you Kain, with all my powers and my blood, as long as my soul resides within me. I give you my word." Kain smiled an ironic half-smile...This young Sarafan whelp was a scholar indeed.
"The heaven rejoiced as the Inquisitor bowed before the Holy Power that bestowed glory upon him...hear of the joy this day brings!"