"Real or dream?"

Gackt ~ Jesus

The Caitiff

by Eel Nivek

Chapter 1

• • • • • •

"This is bad."

"What's going to happen to us now?"

"How is this possible?" A voice whispered frantically. "I thought t-tha—!"

"What's going on here?" An officer of the royal human army shouted, walking towards the group of nervous villagers. The men and women stepped aside and made way for the officer. The high-ranking official pinched his nose as the stench of an old corpse increased unbearably.

His eyes widened at what he saw next. In the middle of the villagers, an enormous beast the size of a hut, a feral-wolf, lied lifeless. A sword was skewered in its side and a dozen pitchforks were discarded onto the ground next to it.

"A wolf? This far from the Northern border?" He cried out. "You there!" He pointed to one of the villagers. "What happened here?"

The frightened villager stammered, "I-It came upon us with no warning s-sir. It tore through the huts and villagers alike without discretion. We did what we could to keep its destruction to a minimum, but it was far more than any of us could handle. O-Only by a stroke of luck were we able to overpower and surround it. There is no doubt, however that, had it come with its pack, the village would have been destroyed."

"How many are wounded?" The officer asked.

"Twenty have been killed, and forty wounded. The village is beyond saving. The wells are trampled, and the bridge is crushed." The villager replied. "If the capital decides to bring to supplies, the process will take too long. The best action is to evacuate the men and women West to Guardbridge or else starvation will take us all."

"Evacuate to Guardbridge?" The officer exclaimed in disbelief. "That's preposterous! The city is a week's journey from here, and the weather will be merciless. What you are proposing is absolute suicide!"

"What other option do we have?" The villager shouted. "If we stay, the people will starve, and with the current state of the village, the lack of shelter will wipe out the entire populace. In addition to these problems, this village is also the closest to the Northern border. If one wolf can make its way here, who is to say that others will not?"

The hesitation on the officer's face was evident. His brows were furrowed and his lips were curled. What was he supposed to do when both options had high probabilities of death? Could he really make a decision that would determine the fate of this small village, as insignificant as it may have been?

Closely factoring in every consideration, he made the decision.

"WAIT!" A bloody cry erupted from the North, the mountain pass. "AAAAAAAAGGH! SOMEBODY HELP! I DON'T WANT TO BE EA—EAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

The exact instance the cry was silenced, a monstrous pack of wolves emerged from the depths of the forest. Each beast was, at the least, as tall as a doorway and as burly as a cart. Their teeth were also as long as human torsos and their gigantic bodies were so rugged that they bowled over trees as they came towards the village.

Upon seeing these terrifying beasts, the villagers panicked, and ran a muck. Men and women pushed and trampled each other as they ran for their lives. As a result, they were easy pickings for the wolves, which swooped down on the measly villagers and devoured them whole. The sound of bone-crunching filled the air. So much blood had been spilled throughout the entire village that the local river turned red. Death was everywhere.

As the events transpired, the officer stood still, paralyzed by shock and frozen in fear. All hope left his body as he witnessed the beasts rip his veteran soldiers into bits and pieces. What could anyone possibly do against such foul creatures? Nothing, he thought as a wolf swallowed another villager whole. Absolutely nothing.

It was a massacre.

The officer fled for his life, knowing that he could not do anything. The situation was far beyond his control. Only God could help those who were caught in the onslaught.

As he ran, he was barreled down like a bowling pin. His head struck the side of a stone-hut and cracked. Warm blood oozed down his forehead, making a puddle on his chest. He could neither see nor think properly. If this was a prelude to death, then he was certainly going to die.

In the middle of his hazy suffering, he spotted something absolutely abnormal given the situation.

A woman.

A woman so beautiful that he thought he had already passed into heaven and was staring into the sympathetic eyes of an angel. The angel brushed her long, sable hair aside and walked passed his broken body.

He wanted to warn her about the dangerous beasts, but his throat was damaged. The only sound that escaped from his lips was a pitiful wheeze.

Even though the feral beasts were charging towards her, the angel pressed onward It was the most daunting thing he had ever seen. Surely, she would be torn to pieces like the others. What could she possibly do?

The wolves were now within striking distance. He wanted to close his eyes and spare himself from a bloody scene, but his eyes refused to close. Run away! His soul screamed, but the woman remained.

Then in a flash of silver, the wolves closest to her split in two. Blood spurted from the meaty halves. What in the name of… His eyes widened.

The woman shed her cloak. To his utter shock, she was fully dressed in what he assumed was foreign battle attire. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. The garbs she wore were taught and tight against her curvaceous body, but not enough to outline her figure. It was provided little armor or protection, but allowed flexibility. The robes were pure white, making her look like a ghost when she danced throughout the battlefield.

And dance she did.

With a simple flick of her wrist, the wolves, which were a hundred times her size, exploded in chunks of flesh and blood. What skill… he thought in amazement. The sight was so marvelous he thought he was hallucinating, but it seemed he wasn't the only one that was stunned.

After seeing their pack mates being torn apart, the remaining wolves backed away intelligently as if their consciences told them that they knew better than to try to attack this new predator. He watched them turn their tails, but they didn't flee. They couldn't. Something was coming; something more frightening than the woman before them.

He felt it, too. The ground quaked as this new terror approached. Then, out of nowhere, a vicious howl rang into his ears. It was so loud felt his eardrums bursts.

And then he saw it, but he couldn't believe it. In front of the forest clearing, surrounded by the wolves which seemed like dwarves compared to it, was a silver wolf that was standing on its hind legs. Its eyes glowed red like rubies and its fangs were the size of the smaller wolves. This creature… It was a monster, no it was THE monster. There was no better way of describing it.

It struck without warning.

The woman, who was most likely in shock, was sent flying faster than a bullet. He gritted his teeth. No one could have survived either the blow or the landing. What monstrosity was he witnessing? Never in all of his years could he have expected to encounter such a horrifying abomination on a relief mission to a village.

However, the night of surprises wasn't over. To the right, under the debris where the body of the woman should have been buried, the rubble exploded.

And out of the wreckage, a different woman emerged. A woman with hair as white as snow that shone under the moonlight and eyes… eyes so unnaturally red it looked like her irises were bleeding.

She waved her blade and in one swift cleave, the silver wolf fell to its knees, missing both of its legs. It howled in agony as it tried to re-adjust itself, but it only fidgeted around awkwardly. The silver-haired woman walked up to the wolf until she was staring directly at its teeth. She flicked her wrist and the wolf's snout shot straight up in the air.

Hearing the beast's agony, she flicked her wrist again and again and again until all that remained of the wolf were its bones.

With nothing to stop them now, the other wolves retreated into the mountains as quickly as they could.

The officer, who had watched everything from the sidelines, felt his body turn cold and numb. So it's finally time… He closed his eyes and shook his head at his foolish misunderstanding. All this time, he had worried about the woman, when, in reality, she was the most dangerous predator there was.

As he took his last breath, he looked to the skies and prayed.

If monsters and supernatural beings like these truly existed…

Then God save his people.

• • •

Cassandra R. Aureus, the Sixth noble under her Lord, Noctis L. Caelum, and lady of the Aureus clan, fell to her knees as she reverted to her normal form. Her silky, sable hair was coated in her own blood. The damned wolf had nearly killed her. If she hadn't released the seal on her powers when she did, she would have lost her head.

But who would have ever thought that she would encounter a Canis or werewolf, as the human referred to them as, here? She had to notify her Lord.

Cassandra tried to stand, but her body was too badly damaged. Prodding herself, she realized that she had broken multiple bones. This was the first time she had been wounded on the battlefield. If her husband saw her in this state, he'd throw a dramatic, overly-possessive, "let me protect you" fit. That was something she would try to avoid at all costs.

"Lady Cassandra!" A voice cried out desperately.

The clan leader turned to address one of her household servants.

"Lady Cassandra!" The young male servant repeated and paused to catch his breath. "I came here as fast I could, are you hurt my lady?"

"I'm fine," she answered. "I'm sorry to trouble you Viktor."

"Nonsense my lady, I live to serve the Aureus household. Plus, Lord Aureus would have my head if I neglected my duties to my lady," the boy looked around at the complete destruction of the human village. "My lady, if I may ask, what happened here?"

"I had the misfortune of fighting a Canis," she replied and pulled up her sleeves to show the boy her purple bruises. She gritted her teeth as the pain of rolling her sleeves jarred her body.

The servant boy's eyes bulged out of their sockets, "I-I can't b-believe it! My lady, you fought with a Canis… here? How is that possible! I thought that the wolves were sealed out by King Caelum's barrier. The wolves should be restricted to the far North frontier. There is no way that those mutts could have found a way passed the barrier."

"I wish that was the case… I really do," Cassandra whispered. "But unfortunately it isn't. As you know, the Lord's powers have not been the same since the time 10 years ago when he executed the traitor, Nathaniel. The barrier must have weakened and the wolves must have found a way through the seams."

"B-But my lady… T-That means!"

Cassandra nodded, "There are other creatures fouler than wolves in the borderlands. The Southern, Eastern and Western borders are vulnerable. I would not be surprised if we received word from our scouts that other human border-villages were attacked as well."

In a pitiful attempt to stand, the Lady of Aureus clan fell weakly to her side. She grimaced as rocks bit into shoulder.

"My lady!" The servant boy cried out, hoisting his mistress onto his back.

"I-I need…" Cassandra panted raggedly. Sweat formed on her brows. "I-I need my husband… Where is he, Viktor?"

"Lord Aureus is presently with the King, surveying the Western lands. He had already left the Aureus household before I departed in search of my Lady. In my haste, I assigned Valerie and Desmond with task of watching over the estate."

"That was a wise decision," Cassandra set her head against the servant boy's back. "You've grown so much, Viktor. I remember when I first held you, you were a little child no bigger than wolf pup. Now look at you… You've become an impressive knight."

"My lady…" the boy blushed.

"Of course, you haven't fully grown into a man," Cassandra teased, pulling at the boy's cheeks. "After all, you don't even have a mate yet. So tell me… Are there any Bride's that have caught your eye?"

"N-No!" the boy denied. "I don't need a mate! I don't mean to offend anyone, but what is the point of having a mate? I'm fine as it is, and I think I can continue to manage without one. God help me, if I ever tie my fate to any one of those frail, dependent, loud-mouthed Brides!"

Cassandra smiled. The boy had so much to learn.

"On a serious note, my lady, are mates really that important?"

"Yes they are," She nodded silently, her thoughts drifting to her husband, who had won her over unconditionally with his childish charm and humor. "You'll learn eventually, but once you complete the mating ritual… Your life changes completely. It's like tying your fate with your lover and becoming one. Even as we speak, I can't help but think of my husband. I yearn for him and his blood, and I am sure he does the same. If anything, I can feel his presence, and that alone, is everything I need."

"My lady."

"Yes?"

"How do you think the King feels?"

There was a slight pause.

"I honestly can't say that I know, but if I had to guess, I would say that he's lonely. He's lived longer than any of us and has experienced the flaws of immortality without a mate at his side. That is not a feat to take lightly. I can't even sleep without my husband at night. To think that he's lived for so long without a mate just proves how remarkable he is. But at the end of the day… It's still sad to see him so lonely."

"Lonely?" the boy disagreed. His King, the Lord of all Vampires, the Silent One, the only vampire who could level entire armies with a simple whisper, was lonely? He just couldn't imagine it. His King was powerful, merciless, emotionless, and anything but lonely. The word lonely itself implied that his King was somehow vulnerable, and vulnerable was not something anyone would dare accuse their King of being.

"And do you want to know something else?" Cassandra continued. "I bet if he did find a mate, we'd all see a side of the King that no one has before, a playful side of him that smiles and laughs freely without having to worry about maintaining his image."

"How can you be so sure, my lady?"

"Love," she replied. It was such a cliché response, but it was true. "Because love. That's all there is to it. When you truly care for something or someone, you change. You don't care about anything else and you could care less what others think about you. When you love someone, all that matters is their approval. Of course, you wouldn't know. From what I know, you're still quite the virgin, aren't you?"

"M-My lady! My sexual relations are not of importance to this serious discussion that we are having," the servant boy's face turned beet red. "P-Plus, why does it matter if I am a virgin or not!"

"So you are a virgin." Lady Cassandra licked her lips playfully. "It's been too long since I've had one of those."

"MY LADY!" the boy replied furiously, trying to ignore the silky fingers that were crawling down his chest. Oooh, but damn, they felt good. "We can't do this!"

"Shush," she whispered into his ear. "You said you didn't want a mate, right? You could be my lover… and I could be your mistress. No one would have to know. How does that sound?"

That sounded divine.

"That is absolutely inappropriate my lady!" He shouted.

"Bahahahaha! I'm just joking," Cassandra laughed. "You're so cute when you blush!"

"My lady, you really must stop teasing me. My poor heart can't take anymore abuse and what would Lord Aureus do if he saw this interaction? He would behead me and toss my body to the dogs!"

Cassandra smiled. "He would do no such…"

Hearing his lady pause, he became worried. Something was terribly wrong; he couldn't shake off this horrid feeling.

Then he heard a scream so tormenting it grated his ears, forcing him to his knees. It was Lady Cassandra. She had fallen off of his back—no—she had thrown herself onto the floor, and was grabbing the left side of her waist. The whites of her eyes were blood red and her face was flushed with sweat. Her midsection shot upwards, creating an arch from her legs to her head.

She continued to scream.

Viktor panicked. What devilry had possessed his lady and caused her such pain? He quickly moved her hands away from her waist and tore at the robe. Spanning from mid-thigh to her left shoulder was a hideous gash in the shape of a wolf claw. He had to look away from the horrible sight or else he would vomit.

It must have been the wound she had received earlier.

For some unknown reason it had re-opened, and it was killing her. The blood from the wound started to bubble. His Lady grabbed fistfuls of dirt and bit her bloody lips in response to the indescribable pain.

And then he smelt it—the reason why his lady was in pain, and the reason why her blood was bubbling.

As the putrid scent of acid hit him full on, everything became clear to him.

His lady had been poisoned.

• • •

"Éclair! Éclair!" A voice cried in distraught. "Dad what's wrong with her?"

16 year-old Hope Estheim grabbed his father's wool coat desperately, tears sliding down his cheeks. He had been out fishing with the other village boys when he heard that the town's doctor had been called to his house.

Dropping everything, he had run home only to find his older sister lying on her bed, dead still as if she had been forced into a sleep.

It was shocking to see his somewhat-invincible, older sister in such a weak state.

Anyone that knew her would tell you that she was different, unlike any of the other village women. She was silent, calm and collected at all times; she never spoke out of turn or forgot her manners. But she wasn't afraid of berating or belittling those that deserved it.

As a child, he had been bullied occasionally by a group of older boys. Éclair realized this and found out who the boys were. No one knew what happened, but the boys never bothered him again.

If there was word that perfectly described his sister it was intimidating. Although she was the talk of the town and the object of every townsman's desire, no one had the courage to approach her. There was an unspoken rule about her that she was a woman that no poor village man could ever hope to have as wife. She was a charming Princess or a gentle Queen as the elderly townswomen would call her. The poor village men could only watch her, at a distance, with longing as she took her daily walks through the town center.

Of course, commanding the attention of every man in the village came at a price, Éclair was the envy and hate of almost every woman. Often, the village women and girls would get together, and gossip about her, making snide comments about her foreign nature and her "disgusting" eyes.

But that never affected his sister. To Éclair, talk was cheap.

Seeing his sister lifeless, he didn't know what to do. How could something like this happen to her?

His thoughts mindlessly drifted to his first meeting with her, ten years ago. That day on the river-bed, his whole life had changed. He, who would have grown up an only child, had gotten a sister, an overly-protective sister that rarely smiled or laughed, but also a kind sister that took care of him daily.

As he thought about, Éclair had changed a lot during the last ten years, physically. Of course, he had grown as well, but his sister had completely changed from a skinny, young girl to a shapely, imposing woman that towered over the other village women. It was part of the reason why the old ladies called her a Queen. His sister, for one, had all of the makings of a noblewoman.

His sister.

His and no one else's, he thought bitterly.

"What did the doctor say?" He broke the silence and asked his father.

Bartholomew sighed, rubbing his temples, "He didn't know what was wrong with her. He said this was the first time he had seen such a strange occurrence. Right now, all we can do is pray that she will recover."

Gnashing his teeth, Hope stood and headed for the door.

"Where are you going, Hope?" His mother called from the kitchen, where she was brewing up herbs for Éclair.

"I need some air!" He replied quickly, tossing on his fur coat and wrapping a scarf around his neck.

"But it's dark and cold outside!" His mother stated. There was a hint of worry in her voice.

"I won't be out for too long. I just need to clear my head."

"Make sure you get back before midnight or else I'll have to send your father out in the cold to fetch you, understood?"

"Thanks."

Nora Estheim sighed, shaking her head. Hope must have been really depressed. Then again, who in this household wouldn't be? After all, it was the first time Éclair had been sick. Truthfully, she was also worried sick about her daughter's health, but her son was taking this too hard on himself. He had to realize that there was nothing he could do, and sulking would not make Éclair any better.

She continued stirring the pot of herbs. The hot steam blew into her face. For some reason, she started to cry. The ladle in her hand shook as pictures of her precious daughter's lifeless body filled her head. How long would her baby be that way?

Please wake up, Éclair… Sweetheart…

"Nora!" The sound of her husband's voice made her jump. "Nora come here!"

The urgent tone in her husband's voice caused her to toss the ladle aside. She ran out of the kitchen with her apron and mittens still on, and sped towards Éclair's bedroom.

"What is it?" She shouted as she burst into the room. "Wha—Oh… My God… What's happening to her!?" She shrieked, lunging to her daughter's side. "What's happening to her hair? W-What's happen…" Her words were replaced by a loud series of sobs.

Bartholomew held Nora in his arms in an attempt to calm her down, but he was as startled as she was. He knew he was getting old, but he didn't think he was old enough for his eyes to play tricks on him. Maybe he was wrong because he swore his daughter's lustrous silver hair had just turned pink, the color of a budding rose.

Then suddenly, Éclair's eyes shot open, and he racked his brain again for more answers. Her eyes weren't red, they were green.

"D-Dad?" Éclair whispered, uncertain why her father was giving her such a funny look. "What's wrong, dad? You look like you've just seen something you shouldn't have."

"Oh sweetheart!" Her mother cried, pulling her towards her and smothering her against her chest. "We thought you weren't ever going to wake up! What happened? How do you feel? Should I get you something?"

Éclair shook her head, "I'm fine mom. Well… At least, I feel fine."

"What's happened to your hair?" Her mother cried, tugging on her locks. "It's pink."

Éclair knitted her brows in confusion. Since when did she have pink hair? Her mother's hands grabbed her cheeks and brought her to eye-level.

"Yours eye are green, too. Oh my poor baby, I don't know whether I should be worried or relieved. I'm happy you're awake now, but I'm afraid of what's happening to you. This isn't normal."

"I know," Éclair nodded, touching her bizarre pink hair. This was surreal. She knew her original, white hair was unnatural to the eyes of others, but she felt out of place know that her hair was pink. So many questions cycled through her head. Would her hair ever return to normal? Why pink?

"Dad?" She called out to her silent father.

"Oh," Bartholomew perked up. "Don't worry yourself, sweetheart. I was thinking of… Never mind, that's not important. But you always be my daughter, no matter what, remember that."

"I know," She repeated. "Thanks."

"I'm still upset," Nora huffed. Her tears were finally dry. "But I know that we'll have plenty of time in the future to find out happened to you, honey, so I'll stop my questions for today. We should just be glad that you're awake. But it's strange though… You almost look…"

"Human," Bartholomew finished as if he had read her mind then realized what he had said. "Sorry, don't mind me. It was an unnecessary comment."

Nora nodded in silent agreement. What Bartholomew had said was correct; Éclair did look like a human now. Well, correction, she looked more like a human now. Initially, everyone had their suspicions about her new daughter; they weren't fools. But Éclair displayed no habits that would distinguish her as something other than a human girl, so they let the issue die, but there were still some people that doubted her origin.

Regardless, she loved her daughter unconditionally.

A loud rapping on the front door drew them out of their silence.

"It must be Hope," Bartholomew stood. "I'll go let him in. He'll be happy to know that you're awake."

As he reached the door, Bartholomew felt a chill run up his spine. Something in the deepest pits of both his gut and conscience told him not to open the door.

His hand froze at the knob, "Who is it?" He projected in a serious voice that masked his nervousness.

"H…H…Hh…" Came the ominous reply. By now, every bone in Bartholomew's body screamed at him to turn back and grab a weapon.

"Don't make me repeat myself. Who are you?" He demanded.

"He…He…Hel…" the voice croaked. "H-Help me…"

And then there was silence.

Hands firmly gripping the doorknob, he noticed something peculiar. The floor had become slippery. Looking down, he realized that he was standing on a puddle of blood that had leaked through the cracks under the door.

Without wasting any more time, he pulled the door open and a dismembered figure slithered into the house. The man, or whatever was left of him, was dead by the time he hit the floor.

"BARTHOLOMEW!" Someone shouted from down the road. "BARTHOLOMEW! GET OUT OF HERE!"

"W-What's going on?" He spoke to himself, examining the corpse of the villager that was soiling his doorway.

"BARTHOLOMEW," the man shouted, coming within arms distance.

"B-Bjorn…" He stuttered, addressing the armed villager, who was panting for air. "What on Earth is going on?"

"The village has been attacked."

"Attacked?" He couldn't believe it. Myelin was one of the nation's most heavily-armed border fortresses. A siege on the village would have taken a fortnight at the very minimum.

Bjorn nodded. He had a nasty cut above his left brow that forced him to keep one eye shut.

"That's impossible! No army could have broken through the walls so quickly."

"It wasn't an army. It was a pack of giant wolves, bigger than anything you can imagine! They tore through the walls like paper and destroyed the entire village within minutes. You're lucky you live on the outskirts of Myelin, they haven't reached this far yet."

"They destroyed the entire village? What of our soldiers? What of the villagers?"

"Dead, except those that managed to flee like me, and those that live furthest from the Western pass like you." Bjorn answered. "You must run. Take Nora and the children and flee from here while you still can. Or else…" He motioned towards the dead body. "You'll end up like him."

"T-This is…" Bartholomew was at a loss for words.

"Cease your loitering! Take your family, run South, and head for the capital. The King's City is a hundred times more fortified and safe than the border-villages. Seek a new life there. Myelin is no longer a place we can call our home."

"I can't just abandon my house like that!" Bartholomew protested. "My family has lived here for over twenty years!"

Frustrated, Bjorn seized him by the seams of his coat, "Listen to me, you fool! This isn't a game. The longer you stay in Myelin, the more you jeopardize your family's chances of survival. Are you really that blind? Can't you see the corpse right here? I didn't come all this way to try to convince a suicidal man, I came here to warn a friend of an impending danger."

Bartholomew clenched his fists then gave in. "Alright…"

"Good."

"Where are you going?"

Bjorn stopped, his back faced Bartholomew. "There's some unfinished business I have to do."

"You're going back, aren't you?" Bartholomew asked, even though he knew the answer, and that nothing he said could change the bearded man's reply. "Bj—"

"I made a promise to my family, Bartholomew. I told them I would see them soon, that I would join them once Myelin was evacuated."

"Then that means…"

Bjorn tapped him on the shoulder and grinned, "I'll see you on the other side, old friend. Hopefully, it won't be soon."

Bartholomew nodded and watched his friend of many years disappear up the road that led to the town center.

Without stalling any longer, he rushed back into the house and explained everything to Nora and Éclair. They were just as overwhelmed as he had been, but he told them to put on their cloaks and forced them out of the room, nonetheless. They had already lost too much time.

As they exited the house, taking with them only what they needed, Nora stopped.

"What about Hope?" She asked.

"My plan was to go find him, once I saw you two off." Bartholomew replied. He knew that both Nora and Éclair wanted to protest, he could see it in their eyes. "Hope and I will meet you at the King's Tavern like we planned. Please… Just go."

Hearing the desperation and pain in his voice, Nora and Éclair nodded reluctantly. Éclair gathered her tiny mother in her arms, and urged her along the road encouragingly.

Before she left, she turned and stared into her father's stormy, gray eyes.

"Dad," She rushed into her father's arms, burying her face into his broad chest. She tried to hold back her tears. She never cried. That was saying a lot about the situation. "I won't forgive you if you don't come back."

"I'll come back," Bartholomew stroked her hair. "A knight always returns for his lady."

Éclair laughed at the old reference and played along, "I am a princess, after all."

"Run along, princess."

Returning to her mother, Éclair focused on the dark road ahead. It was up to her father to bring Hope back to them.

"Are you alright mom?"

Nora nodded, "You know me. I'll be fine in a minute or two. That man though… You recognized him didn't you? You knew him."

Her mother was referring to the corpse of the man that was rotting away in their house.

"His name was Geoffrey. He was the apprentice of Strom the Blacksmith. I can't say I knew him well, but what I do know is that he was skilled with weapons. No ordinary wolf could have done that to him, and that's what frightens me."

A gust of cold wind brushed passed them.

Éclair pulled her hood over her head and pressed herself against her mother to provide warmth for her. Thankfully, they had taken a popular, well-developed route to the ferry. There were rocks on each side of the road that lit up like yellow fireflies, providing an accurate image of what lay ahead. Theoretically, they should be safe. Unlike unknown roads, popular ones didn't have bandits or criminals. Realistically, however, anything could happen.

She felt her mother's hands clamp around her arm.

"What is that?" Her mother questioned nervously.

Éclair turned her head to the left and peered into the pitch-black woods. It wasn't hard to notice, and it wasn't something anyone wanted to see, given the time of day. From deep within the forest, a pair of glowing red, human eyes stared at them, studying them intently before vanishing.

"Did you see that?" Her mother whispered.

She indicated that she did by wiping the sweat that had built up around her temples, "We need to move before that thing decides to come after us, if it already hasn't."

But before they could take another step, they were surrounded by men in exotic cloaks, each with insignias that belonged to a foreign kingdom.

Éclair shielded her mother from their sight as best as she could, "We have no money." She informed. If these people were bandits then they wouldn't find a profit here.

"Money?" The first man scoffed, tossing back his hood and revealing himself. "We don't want your money."

The first thing she noticed was how pale his skin was and how lethal his teeth were. Those looked like they could bite through anything.

"Then what do you want? There should be no reason for you people to stop us. We're nothing more than travelers on our way to the capital."

"You're pretty dumb, aren't you?" The man responded, laughing to spite her. "Two women all alone, at night, in the middle of nowhere, with no one around for miles, what else could a group of men possibly want given the situation?"

"You sick bastards!" Éclair cursed, straightening her posture. "Stay away!"

"Now, now! Don't be shy! Why don't we all just have some fun?" The man walked up to her.

She retaliated by drilling him in the chin. The man dropped to the floor instantaneously, like a rock. Seizing the opportunity, she held the unconscious man in a headlock and pulled out the dagger she had strapped at her waist.

"Don't move or else he loses his head." She warned, holding the blade to man's neck and drawing blood to show his companions that she was dead serious. For some reason, her right-hand, the one she had punched the man with, burned as if she had smashed it against a brick wall.

The hooded figures stopped their advance and exchanged uneasy looks amongst each other. Clearly, they had not been expecting her to fight back. Serves them right.

Tightening her hold on her captive, she walked forward and hissed, "Get out of the way."

The circle of men parted, opening up a path straight ahead. Despite having a hostage, she kept her guard up, taking small steps and looking around often.

She felt her mother grab the back of cloak. Surprisingly, she was taking this very well. Normally, she would have broken down in tears, but it seemed she understood the position they were in. If they showed any signs of weakness, they were finished. It was as simple as that.

So far, everything was going smoothly. Keeping her eyes on the road ahead and forcing her hand to maintain its tight grip on the dagger, she walked faster. By now, she could feel the gazes of the men piercing into the back of her head.

All of a sudden, a brown-haired man, entirely different from the other men, cut her off and blocked her way.

"I'm sorry," He spoke in an autocratic voice. "But I'm afraid this is as far as you go."

Éclair had to stop walking to recover from her panic. Her heart was pounding furiously, so much that she felt like it would burst at any moment.

She flashed the dagger theatrically, "Move it, I won't say it again."

"Such insolence…" She heard the man whisper. Her eyes widened as he approached her, with his hands in the pockets of his foreign suit. There wasn't a hint of worry or concern in his stride.

"I'll kill him!" She threatened. "I'll really kill him! Stay away."

"Will you?" His lips curved into an amused smile. "Then do it. Kill him."

She couldn't do it. Her body was under some sort of spell. Either way, spell or not, she wouldn't have been able to do it. It was a bluff that had worked only once.

She felt the man's cold fingers pry hers off the hilt of the dagger. Her hand remained in the air while he toyed with the blade. He slid the face of the dagger against her cheek in an arrogant indication of superiority.

"You humans are all the same. You reproduce in numbers like ants, yet your significance and contributions to these lands are little. You steal not only from the land, but also yourselves like uncultured fools. If my King was not so merciful, you would not exist today," The man spat. "Be grateful."

You humans? What was this lunatic talking about? Unable to speak or move, she glared at him defiantly.

Seeing this, the man scowled, "You should learn to respect those who hold power over you. Shall I remind you?"

He pointed the tip of the dagger against her chin.

She didn't relent.

He laughed in fascination of the woman before him, "I've wasted enough time here."

As soon as he turned away from her, she felt a mental presence overwhelm her mind, crushing and squeezing her conscience. She gasped as her head felt like it was going to split in half. Her body couldn't hand the pressure any longer. She passed out.

"You," The man adjusted his spectacles and pointed to one of his servants.

"Y-Yes Lord Astrum."

"Tie them up," He commanded, motioning to the pair of unconscious human women.

"Right away, my lord!" The servant complied eagerly. Once the task was finished and the women were secured, he stood. "What would you have me do with them, Lord Astrum?"

"Take them to the House of Aureus and put them in the slave's quarters. The head maid will assign tasks for them as she sees fit."

"Yes, my lord." The servant replied and whisked the two women away.

"As for the rest of you," Lord Astrum turned to the remainder of the Astrum clan vampires. "Follow me." He ordered, disappearing into the night.

• • •

For probably the tenth time that night, Bartholomew couldn't believe what he was seeing. As he finally exited the forest clearing and passed through the archway to the town center, he saw thousands upon thousands corpses of monstrous wolves scattered across the center. The air reeked of putrid flesh and the grounds were literally covered in sheets of blood.

It looked like a massacre had occurred, and certainly, these wolves had been on the receiving end. Bjorn had said that these were the wolves that had destroyed their village in mere minutes. If that was the case, then he couldn't even begin to think about what other vile creature could be at work here. The sight was so devastating that he actually felt sympathy for the beasts.

They hadn't been killed. They had been butchered, chopped into bits and pieces like chicken feed. He would never have been able to guess what they were until he spotted one that had managed to escape a gruesome death.

Off in the distance, he heard a clash of swords. Running towards the sound, he found Hope exchanging blows with a blond-haired man. A crowd of men, dressed in strange tunics and flashy armor, formed a circle around them. By the looks of it, the fight was supposed to be entertaining for the crowd. They were definitely enjoying it, shouting and laughing whenever the blond-haired man landed a blow.

But he didn't enjoy it all. How could he? How could any father for that matter enjoy watching their son get knocked aside? By no means was Hope an unskilled swordsman. He had taught his son the basics and much more.

In respect to the warriors in Myelin, Hope had been a top swordsman that placed either 1st or 2nd during annual competitions. His son was far from being a novice, but the blond-haired man made him look like one.

It was evident who the victor was going to be. Hope was panting for breath, barely able to keep his guard up, whereas his opponent had barely broken a sweat. And, by the way the man loosely wielded his sword with one-hand, Bartholomew knew he wasn't trying.

Unable to watch any longer, he charged straight towards the circle of men and burst into the center, placing himself between his unconscious son and the blond-haired man.

"Hey watcha' doing old man?" The blond questioned, pointing his sword at him.

"Have you all no pride or shame? Only an egotistical coward would challenge a young boy to a man's duel!" He shouted, projecting his voice as loud as he could. "Have you all no shame?!"

"What's wrong with having a little fun?" The blond laughed, shrugging at his companions who laughed along.

"Is this your idea of fun? Knocking around kids that have no experience in actual combat? My son is sixteen years old for crying out loud!"

"So what?" The blond replied. His voice was dry now. "I was ten when my father made me kill my mother. I can remember everything, the way she pleaded, on her knees, to spare her, and how my heart raced after I took her life."

"Y-You…" Bartholomew gasped, seeing the demented look on the man's face. "You're insane!"

"Hahaha! Just kidding!" The blond laughed. His face was smiling, but his eyes weren't. Bartholomew knew that the story was true; he knew a murderer when he saw one. "Did I scare ya?"

"Lord Aureus!" One of the men standing in the circle interrupted.

"What is it?" the blond replied.

"Lord Astrum and the King have arrived at the Western Pass. Your presence is required at once."

The blond sighed, "Ignis and Master are here already? Maaaan, those two have horrible timing. Gah, it looks like I have to end this. Are you ready, old man?"

Bartholomew straightened his posture. "Ready for what?"

"If you can take this, I'll let you and your kid live, but if you can't, well… Let's just say, you'll be dead, and your kid will follow soon after."

"Take wha—"

He couldn't finish the question. As soon as the first word escaped his lips, the blond disappeared, and in the second that followed, he felt something like a jackhammer collide with his gut. He went barreling into the air, breathless, and dropped to the floor motionlessly.

Bartholomew was in excruciating pain. His stomach felt as if it had exploded, and he was on the verge of passing out, but he was very much still alive.

"Wow, old man, you're made of some tough stuff. I've seen people implode when I punch them, but you're not even close to dying," He vaguely heard the blond say. "Hey you!" This time he was calling someone. "Take this old man and his son to the arena! I think I've found a pair of participants for the Games."

"L-Let… us g-go…" Bartholomew barely managed to wheeze out. "Y-You… made… a deal…"

"What was that?" The blond inquired then scoffed. "I did no such thing. If I recall correctly, I'm pretty sure I said that I'd let you live. I never said you could go."

Realizing that he had been duped, Bartholomew dropped his head in defeat. As he slipped into unconsciousness, he felt his body being hoisted onto a pair of shoulders. From there on, he really couldn't recall a thing. His conscience had left him.

• • •

Lord Aureus, as he was known as to the members of his clan, stood under the archway of the desecrated human village, and eagerly awaited the arrival of his Master. It had been quite a while since he had seen his Master. Perhaps he had found a mate?

That assumption quickly died as he saw his elegant Master approaching the archway with only Ignis at his side and a couple of peasants trailing them. Knowing his Master, if he found a mate, he would never let her out of his sight.

He knelt before his black-haired Master and inclined his head in respect.

"Prompto," His Master acknowledged. "Rise."

He stood then turned to his Master's companion, the third clan leader and acknowledged him, "Ignis."

Lord Astrum or Ignis grinned, "You need to cut your hair."

Prompto embraced his friend and laughed, "Is that really all you have to say to me? After all of these years? Well then, two can play that game. You're clothes look like trash. GarbaJ with a capital J and an emphasis on the -ahj, my friend. Who picked that cloak for you? Your cleaning mistress? Talk about having no sense of fashion."

Ignis cleared his throat. "Actually, Master recommended this attire for me."

Oh shit!

Prompto's eyes widened, realizing his grave mistake. What the FUH… "Well damn, you should have said so earlier! I think it looks FANTASTIC!"

"Prompto."

"Y-Yes Master," the blond replied nervously, and he had good reason to be nervous. Whenever his Master used that tone, things died.

"Have you forgotten what pain was? Must I remind you? Shall I pry your eyes out?"

"NO! NO! NO! You wouldn't do that to me, would you? Master?"

"Of course not," Noctis replied in a humorless voice. "I was just kidding."

Just kidding? Prompto thought in utter confusion. Was it just him or had his stoic Master just made an attempt at being humorous?

"Ahahaha!" He heard Ignis force a laugh. Ignis shot him a look that said, "Laugh if you know what's good for you." And so he laughed for the sake of his Master, who was a complete child when it came to being funny.

"Prompto, what of your report?" His Master asked.

"By the time my clan arrived at the village, the wolves had already destroyed everything in sight, and the humans were dead. Ten of my men were injured during the fight, but they are receiving treatment from my healers as we speak. We destroyed all of the wolves and encountered nothing unusual."

"Was there a Canis amongst the pack?" Ignis asked.

"No," Prompto shook his head, "But…"

Suddenly, a chill passed through his body and he froze. This feeling was… No… No… It wasn't possible!

"But what?" Ignis demanded, but backed off the minute he saw the blond drop to his knees, clutching his head. "What's wrong?!"

"NOOO!" Prompto screamed in anguish. His uncontrollable lament was heard from miles away. The trees nearby uprooted and flew into air as he released the rage that quickly accumulated within him.

This can't be. This can't be. This can't be!

He broke down into tears. His soul felt like there was a void in it. She's gone, was all he could repeat as he slammed his fists into the ground, creating quakes that knocked the lesser vampires off their feet.

Ignis ran towards Prompto.

"STAY AWAY!" The blond shrieked, covering his head under his arms. His eyes flashed dangerously red.

"Prompto you…" Ignis breathed. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

"Cassa… My Cassa…" He whimpered like a wounded animal backed into a corner. "S-She's gone. I-I can't feel her anymore. She's gone. She's gone. S-She's… Gone… No… NOOO! It's so cold Cassandra…"

At this point, Prompto was beyond reasoning with. He went berserk, "STOP IT! STOP HURTING MY CASSANDRA!" He screamed at the sky, and continued to do so until he felt a pair of warm hands grasp his shoulders. Master…

"Rest," Noctis whispered.

At the command, Prompto felt his eyes shutting on their own accord. His Master's soft voice had lulled him into a sleep.

"Ignis."

"Yes Master?" Ignis replied as he rushed over to take Prompto off of his Master's hands.

"Make preparations for a funeral in Pulse. Gather all of the clan heads and have them report to the Kingdom within the week." Noctis instructed.

"But Master, surely Cassandra couldn't be…" Ignis wanted to protest, but his Master's eyes were cold and serious. "That's impossible…"

Noctis closed his eyes, drowning himself in the pain of losing one of his own. Whoever's hand was at work here had better pray to the Gods that he didn't find them.

"As of today…"

He formulated several ways to murder the wretches that had laid hands on his children.

"The Lady of the Aureus clan, Cassandra R. Aureus is dead."

Hide while you still can, he warned his nameless enemies. I'm going to hunt you down.

• • •

Elsewhere, in the shadowy depths of an ice cavern, a faction of robed figures sat on pillars that formed a ring around an ivory table.

"Did it work?" One of them spoke.

"It did," Another replied. "My scouts have reported that the clan leader is dead."

"Of course it worked," A sensual voice chuckled evilly. "The poison of the Arachnids has always been a leech's shortcoming. A tiny drop can kill a leech in less than ten seconds. Sacred Tear. Did you know that's what they call it?"

A couple of the figures laughed.

"Regardless, your tactic of equipping my wolves with poison was ingenious," the figure at the head of the table boomed.

"Oh stop it, you flatter me."

"So where do we strike next?" the head inquired.

"Well, you know, the leeches have been very fond of their so called Games, it would be a pity if something went terribly wrong while the all of the clan leaders were gathered together, wouldn't it?"

It was an excellent plan. The head grinned viciously, "One down."

"Ten to go."

• • •

A/N: Well hi there, I don't know where to even begin...

First off, I probably sound like a broken record right now, but I am SO sorry for being ever so slow at updating. Honestly, I felt super guilty, and died a little the past few months whenever I visited fanfiction with my word document stuck at the 0 word count mark. So i'll apologize, over and over again, because this and updating is the only thing I can do for you guys as a writer. No lie, no fluff, no kiss-ass, though, it wasn't my love for Lightis that made me write this chapter, it was you guys. As I read the PMs that you guys would occasionally send, asking me when I was going to update, I felt like an asshole, so I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, and if anyone still cares, one of my mane New Years resolutions is to update more. Hopefully, at least one update per month! (except in January, busy busy Dx)

tl;dr — I'm sorry I haven't updated, I will definitely do better in 2013

A few notes on the chapter, I'm sorry if I bored you to tears. This chapter was mainly an exposition, introduction, build up the feel for the story type of chapter. If the names were confusing, I am hella sorry, I confused myself as well while I was editing the chapter. Everything will be explained, all the characters, clan-leaders, villains, etc. Everything will be clarified soon enough or just shoot me a PM if you have any questions, concerns or winning lotto tickets.

Also, I really love fantasy and writing about supernatural creatures, and whatnot, so please bear with me if the plot gets ridiculous at times or the characters seem overly-retarded, I'm doing my best to incorporate as much Lightis as I can into hopefully what becomes an epic fantasy story!

Thanks, I love you guys! Have a wonderful 2013. Happy New Years!