Threnodir Melainis had not died easily. Both gloves were shredded from where he had attempted to fight off his foe, defensive wounds from talons and fangs that pushed deep into his palms. Even the thick armoured vambraces that covered his arms from elbow to wrist were buckled and broken, the crumples forming the shape of fingers where something of impossible strength had crushed his arms in a grip stronger than steel. The throat wounds clearly showed that one of the fiends that he had hunted had managed to transform the hunter into prey, but there were signs that he had given his best before the end. Finely ground into the clothes were grey ashes that had been smeared by the blood that had sprayed from his wounds, showing that whatever creatures had bested him, one of them had died before he did.

  There were little of his personal effects left on his person. Nearly everything that we had seen him wearing in Skingrad had been destroyed or was otherwise missing. Even the small collection of rings, both mundane and enchanted were missing after someone had gone to the effort of pulling them off. The creature or creatures that had killed him had seen fit to loot his corpse of any valuables and with some distaste I rummaged through pockets and pouches looking for further clues.

  Gathering around in the flickering torchlight the number of villagers increased despite the terrible sight of the dead man in the back of the wagon. The disappearances that had been haunting the region had now been given a terrible face to represent them, one that permanently revealed the nature of the threat they faced. The mutterings that I could hear in the crowd showed that I was not the only one who had noticed or identified the wounds in his throat, and the level of fear was growing exponentially.

  "Well, at least we know why people are going missing." Viconia stated flatly and I nodded.

  "Yep. And on top of that, it or they or however many there are, seem dangerous enough to kill a hunter of their kind." I continued my patting down of pockets and pouches on Threnodir's body, finding little of note except for a tiny leather bound book stuffed down the front of his shirt that was mostly intact. "That doesn't bode well."

  "What are you going to do?" one of the villagers standing near us called out to a chorus of similar questions.

  "We're going to wait until morning." Standing carefully on the rocking wagon I jumped down onto the cobblestones and looked around the sea of fearful faces and terrified eyes. "Then we're going to work out where this fiend, or fiends are hiding and kill them."

  "Just like that?"

  "Just like that." My grin was made even more horrible in the flickering torchlight. "Only a fool hunts vampires at night. At least during the day we can find their home and kill them while they sleep."

  I stood taller, looking over the tops of the crowd's heads and raising my voice until they all could hear me. "Return to your homes, and look to your loved ones. Come morning, we will finish this."

  The current of fear flowing through the village was easily detectable but there was the slightest glimmers of hope amongst the populace. From the reactions it was clear that no one in the village knew Threnodir or his occupation. All they knew was that they had the Heroes of Kvatch and Champions of Anvil staying in the village and that whatever threat prowled the region would soon meet its end on our blades.

  With an undue haste the crowds dispersed to the sounds of scuffing feet and the turning of locks. Homes would be barricaded well tonight, but for Viconia and I we simply returned to our room in the tavern. The mood between us had cooled once more, leaving a thin veneer of professionalism and companionship instead of the moment of pure emotion that had passed earlier. With the hour growing late Viconia made the decision to curl into bed, stripping out of everything but her pants and tunic and disappearing under the thin, motheaten bedcovers with barely a glance or word. I instead leaned up against the wall under the slightly swinging lantern, thumbing my way through the book I had taken from Threnodir's body.

  It was a struggle at first to find passages weren't ruined by his blood. Almost entirely ruined, there was little ink in the book that hadn't smeared and smudged with his death. Thankfully the last handful of pages were still legible and I couldn't help but feel sorry for the charismatic vampire hunter meeting his fate in such a way. In the flickering light I read softly to myself, peeling the sticky pages apart and reading the last words of a dead man.

  It has been my personal quest to find this blade, and restore it to its previous glory. I am afraid that I have failed in this endeavour. I managed to track Lord Volmyr to his lair here in Nornalhorst. It is likely that I will die here, but I write this in the hopes that someone, some bold adventurer will find his way here, and fulfil the task that I have not – to remove the stain Volmyr has put upon this glorious sword.

  He has somehow managed, through foul necromantic rites and the assistance of his vampiric sorcerers, to quench its light. I do not know why he has not yet slain me, but I can feel my limbs cooling as the loss of blood takes its toll, and my heart quails to think that my end will come here, at the hands of a vampire lord, with a blade that once was a shining symbol against these loathsome creatures.

  I have seen enough to know that they have tied themselves to the Light of Dawn, Volmyr has been sacrificing wave after wave of his minions. And with each death, the blade's light grows weaker. I fear that soon it will fail entirely.

  I can hear them chanting now, the sound chills my soul.

  With Viconia's soft breathing as she slept in my ears I flicked my way through the rest of the journal, seeing little more details of any real use except for a crudely drawn map of the region that appeared recently added. Stuck between illegible journal entries roughly after our first meeting at Skingrad, it outlined not only the path his journey took but also his goal. Marked simply with a tiny ink stain in the shape of a cross, notated as Nornalhorst, there was enough detail for me to not only get a general idea of where it was but how far away. Using little more than my own mental map of the area I guessed that whatever Nornalhorst was, it was less than a few hours march near the western tributary of the White River. It was a short journey of less than a day in total and with this in mind I snuggled down into my rough bedroll on the tavern floor, closed my eyes and fought against my wandering mind for sleep.

  When morning came and I woke from my tangle of limbs on the floor I found myself alone in the room. Viconia had risen well before I had and was nowhere to be seen. Her clothes, armour, weapons and equipment had all disappeared with her and other than the crumpled bedcovers and her lingering perfume there was no sign of her. It wasn't unusual for either of us to wake before the other when staying indoors but this was the first time that she had taken all her possessions with her.

  Quickly rising and with sleep removing its barbed talons from my mind I shrugged on my clothing and equipment, strapping all the various pieces of armour to my person and feeling the comforting weight return to my limbs once more. Weighed down with my armour, bandolier, pouches and weapons, I threw my cloak over my shoulders and made my way downstairs to the main hall of the tavern.

  Ducking down below the bruising base of the hourglass I stepped out into sunlight after finding no trace of Viconia in the tavern. The hour was still early, the sun struggling to be felt through the trees and foliage of the encroaching forests and after such a night the village was still in the midst of awakening. Cooking fires were being prepared, various herbs and teas finding their way into pots and filling the air with the comforting, bitter smell that caught in the back of the throat.

  The darkened shape of my travelling companion was seated against the side of the tavern, leaning back against the rough stone walls. Judging by the way the edge gleamed she had been scraping her dagger against the whetstone for several hours now, and there was a threat inherent in the consistent motions.

  "Well, I see you are finally awake." Her dagger had less of an edge compared to her voice as she afforded me the merest of glances. "I hope that your pathetic exertions of last night brought at least one of us some measure of pleasure."

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  I stopped as though I had been slapped, staring at her dumbfounded at the tone and the hostile glare she was giving me. The last time I had seen her look at someone else in such a way had left him vomiting profusely on the ground.

  The scowl on her face twisted her beautiful features into a mask of anger and disgust as she leant forward from the wall and continued staring. Dumbfounded I could only stand there in complete shock, my mouth open and trying desperately to understand what I had done to upset her in such a way.

  The dagger thumped into the cobblestones as she threw it at her feet. For a second it sat there, lodged into the stone and soil quivering, before my eyes were drawn from it back to her. Every motion she made was filled with vicious intent and I struggled not to quail under her gaze or drop my hand to the hilt of Sunchild from pure instinct.

  "I have watched you through the night, and every moment my stomach churned with vileness." Her lips tightened in a contorted expression of hatred I felt as though I was being smashed in the face with a maul with every syllable.

  There was a momentary pause as she leant further forward and spat on the ground in front of me. "Your very presence makes me ill."

  The eyes of a handful of villagers looked over to us from where they had been going about their business. The tone of voice and the non-too-subtle way she was speaking at me was drawing their attention for a few moments before they thought better of it. I barely noticed them though with how much my world was collapsing in around me until it was filled with nothing more than an angry Drow standing a few metres in front of me.

  My shock and surprise was changing now, the confusion being consumed by a burning anger that matched hers in its intensity. Torn apart with my emotions rubbed raw and fuelled by the vampiric side of my soul my choler took over.

  "What in the name of Oblivion brought this on?" I snapped, spitting my words forward like they were gleaming spearpoints. "Is this about the kiss? Just because you had a moment of honest weakness doesn't mean you get to take it out on me!"

  The milking stool that she had been sitting on fell aside with a crash as she threw herself forward, kicking up off the ground with less her usual grace and more of the rage that was exploding out of her. "Do not attempt to look into my mind and render judgement il'kahtical!" she snapped, stamping over to me with a heavy tread. "You haven't the strength or knowledge!"

  Where the attentions of the handful of villagers had been waning before, the anger in her tone and the way our voices suddenly raised ensured that most of them made themselves scarce. An argument between a pair of heavily armoured individuals was not something anyone wanted to be part of.

  "Why not?"

  "Why. Not. What?" There was venom in her words now as she stared me down. Despite the difference in height it felt as though she towered over me in her anger.

  "Why shouldn't I look into your mind? Last night it seemed as though you were opening it up for viewing."

  The crack of her hand across my face echoed through the street like the impact of a smithing hammer against an anvil and I saw stars for a second. With considerable force my whole head had been rocked back, my lip splitting and leaving the searing shape of her palm across my jaw.

  There was a crunch of bone and cartridge and she backed away momentarily as the beast rose to the surface. Her anger was contagious and my features restructured in a heartbeat, tightening the skin into a visage of evil. The flash of fear in her eyes was intoxicating and alarming and before anyone could see I quickly crushed the vampire inside once more. For that moment I was suddenly more concerned with the fear she had shown at my curse than the likelihood of being discovered.

  Rubbing at my jaw as the last of the vampire shifted into the depths of my soul I saw how the fear had not dimmed the anger she felt. She was almost at the point of seeking my blood and I no longer had the stomach for this fight.

  "Fine then. Whatever." My words drew even more anger from her but I was no longer caring, speaking purely from to simmering depths of my rage. "Go if you wish. I couldn't care less."

  I began to turn and she stomped forward a single pace, glaring daggers at me. "Vel'klar l'vith xun you think you are going!"

  The journal appeared in my hand as though I was playing a winning card from a deck. Flicking it into her chest she snatched it from the air, glancing at the bloodstained leather with some measure of confusion. For a moment I glanced over her, before snarling and starting to walk down the road. "I'm going to find something to kill..."

  There was no reply from her, and no trailing footsteps and the first few dozen metres were the hardest and longest I had ever travelled. She didn't cry out, call for me to stop or return and made no effort to follow or chase after me. Instead I felt the burning gaze of her expression on the back of my skull even as I pulled my coif and hood over my head and concealed my tightening face behind my mask.

  Marching heavy footed from the village, my lengthening stride turned from a straight legged stomp into a jog. Soon the jog turned into a run and as the trees concealed the village from view the vampire rose to the surface and I began to sprint. Armoured feet slamming into the ground with shuddering steps I hurled myself through the foliage, taking refuge from the rest of humanity including my own in the depths of the forest and vampiric darkness.

  With incredible speed I surged through the forest, ignoring the way branches plucked at my cloak and the few centimetres of bare flesh free from armour and leather. Her raw anger had cut into me deep and I felt twisted and used somewhat. The tiny whisper of reason in my mind attempted to sooth my emotional hurt but the anger and the hold of the vampire would not hear of it. More than one tree was shattered as I hacked them down with Sunchild, or in one case grabbing a sapling with both hands and tearing it out of the ground by the roots. Before I had travelled more than a dozen kilometres from the village through the forests my knuckles were raw and weeping blood from punching them into tree trunks and my anger had finally begun to wither.

  The world was a collection of faded greys and throbbing sources of life to my changed eyes. The vampiric sight working even as the sun continued to rise over the horizon and spear through the canopy. Rising out of the foliage like a grey skinned boulder, the hulking form of an ogre had appeared as shimmering lines of blood and lifeforce in a world with its vibrancy lost to vampirism. In seconds of both of us realising the others presence, the cannibalistic creature was left strewn across half an acre in a collection of shredded flesh, shattered bones and splattered blood.

  It was only the creature's death that finally seemed to satiate the vampire and it slunk back into my mind while still providing my limbs and body with unnatural power. By now I was in the depths of the forest, the castle and the tiny village nestled at its base long since lost to the greenery. Even with such a minuscule distance between me and what passed as civilisation in the region it was truly wilderness. Only the rare few individuals would travel this way; either in search of game as a hunter or poacher, or in the attempt to flee from persecution by the authorities. In the broken hilled region of County Glenvar there was little wealth to be had and the effort of clearing the forests and taming the region for farming or logging was far too difficult to be profitable.

  As such, regions such as this were home to the forgotten, the lost and the misplaced. With little more than the memory of a hand drawn map in my mind I travelled through the forest, relying on my vampiric speed and stamina to travel a distance that would've taken hours in a tenth of the time. While densely forested the area was still rife with landmarks that made it easy to negotiate. Hills were cut through by streams that varied from muddy cracks being consumed by moss to roaring currents that never ceased in spite of the season. Threnodir's map had placed the location of the Sword he sought and the site of his imprisonment at one of the larger tributaries flowing north to lake Rumare, and with this in mind I managed to cover an area far greater than what should have been possible.

  It was closer to noon by the time I came across anything more than a cleft in the hills, and if it wasn't for the unnatural angles of the stones poking through the ferns and moss of the forest I would've have missed it entirely. Built around and over one of the streams leading from an artesian spring in the foothills to Lake Rumare, the Ayleids had carved their mark into the West Weald. What appeared to be a town or minor city from what little I could discern by the size and configuration of the ruins was losing the fight against the forests. Most of the bricks and stonework had long since been consumed, broken apart and returned to the earth by the entangling and constricting roots of enormous trees. Many of the buildings were ruins, some still stubbornly supporting their roofs and other than the mostly flat regions between them there was nothing to show where the proud streets were once filled with life.

  My own sense of direction and Threnodir's map had led me to the Ancient township, while merely a shadow of the ruins of Nonungalo it was by far greater than the village of Glenvar a few hours travel to the East. Like Nonungalo and most Ayleid ruins, it had been built in the shape of an enormous wheel, the streets creating the spokes and each district converging into the central hub and tower in the direct centre.

  Smaller, but still towering into the overgrown canopy of branches and leaves, and central tower was mostly intact. Ancient stones worn down from centuries of wind and rain had been overgrown and left cracked and broken. The stone working expertise of the ancient elves ensured that their legacy would continue on for centuries to come and had left the labyrinthian undercity intact and accessible.

  Standing before the yawning portal into the depths I couldn't help by feel trepidation at what horrors awaited me inside. I felt the tiniest twinges of fear and uncertainty that were only matched by the yearning desire for Viconia's presence. It was like twisting a dagger in my guts thinking about her and how I felt about her. There was no longer any doubt in my mind that I was falling for her just that bit more every day. After the kiss the night before I knew that the one battle I was not going to ever win was the one against my own heart.