Son of a bitch.
I knew it. I fucking knew it.
History has a perverse fucking way of repeating itself and wouldn't you know it, but here it is, knocking on my door. It laughs in my face and asks, did I really think I could escape it so easily? Did I really think it would let me go?
It seems my brother and I are doomed to repeat our past mistakes over and over like some kind of time warp. Time is cyclical for us. We are born. We die. We become vampires. In a thousand years time, we'll be back to where we started, loving and hating each other and still fighting over the same woman. The same smile, the same gentle touch.
How could we not? It seems to be in our harvested blood, embedded in our genes.
I am not up to another century and a half of war. But it appears that I have no choice.