The Prologue

The cat walked down the moonlit path, stepping carefully over the uneven stones that led to the sanctuary. It was following the cloaked figure of course, as it had for the past several nights over several miles. Although one would never have suspected it to be capable of such a feat, its snow white coat and the rather large belly which sagged down its middle suggested that it was a favoured pet of a rich old lady living in the Forum.

The man knew of its existence of course, he could smell its odd smell and see his white shadow trailing behind him clearly. Was it merely an escort, sent by his too-polite hosts to ensure that he crossed the boundary safely, or something more? It was the smell that bade him to treat the cat with caution, it had the distinctive acrid smell of an enchanted creature. Still, he was certain that it would not harm him or get in his way. His hosts were too set in the old ways to harm a guest within their territory, much as they would have liked to, so he knew that he and his bundle were safe for the time being.

His bundle made a small noise, but he ignored it in favour of quickening his steps to the giant wooden doors. Dawn was almost here, there wasn’t too much time left now. A touch of his fingertips on the cold brass knob, and there was a loud clicking and whirring noise from within, and the door swung open. He left it open as he strode in, knowing that the cat would follow. It was better to have a witness for what was going to happen tonight.

The sanctuary was built the old way, entirely of gigantic stone blocks with intricate rune carvings to bind them together. The hall was long and comparatively narrow, and the ceiling was far above, supported by tenuously thin tendrils of stone. Windows were long thin slits in the side walls, stone pillars were cunningly erected in front of them to prevent their letting in the sun at dawn. A huge circular podium lay at the far end of the hall, and the entire building was designed such that the first ray of sun would strike the exact centre of the circle, while the rest of the sanctuary lay shrouded in darkness. It was speculated that a system of highly polished mirrors placed in the ceiling was used to achieve this, but no one really knew. Even at this time, when he knew his death was but a few minutes away, he couldn’t help but admire the architectural skills of those who had lived so long ago.

He wondered idly if any of the daily patrons knew why the temple was built the way it was. Probably not, he decided, as he himself had grasped the reason only a few weeks ago. He remembered his previous visit, when he had made that terrible oath, that he would never rest until he had righted the ancient wrongs, until he had unified the world.

He had failed. People had called him foolhardy and arrogant, when he set out full of purpose. He had proved them right. Far from being the savior of the world, he had succeeded in making things far worse and a terrible war seemed inevitable. Years of hate and misunderstanding would finally find an outlet, and a secret cowardly part of him was glad he would not live to see it. This brought him back to the present, he had come back to the sanctuary, back full circle, to make his last sacrifice for the cause.

The cat slipped in, almost unnoticed, and crept under one of the stone pews.

He looked down at the tiny bundle under his arm, which wriggled slightly under the scrutiny. He slowly unwrapped many layers of fine quilt to reveal a baby, a pale scrawny thing not too many days old. Large eyes blacker than night stared out from a thin, bony face. It seemed malnourished, an unhealthy, sickly looking thing. Good, he thought to himself, perhaps it would make it less of a sin to kill this creature, the creature which took its mother’s life when it was born.

The cat’s eyes narrowed as it watched the man place the baby gently on the scorched spot which marked the centre of the podium, where the sun’s burning rays would strike unforgivingly, focused by the mirrors in the ceiling. A piece of parchment placed there would ignite instantly. And the man placed the baby lovingly on the spot.

The baby seemed to know something momentous was happening, it stayed completely still, and stared at the man through its wonderfully expressive dark eyes. A sudden lump found its way into the man’s throat for some reason, and he murmured as he rose, ‘Forgive me.’

Dawn was scant moments away. He looked up at the ceiling he could not see, and spoke, his voice husky. ‘This is my last offering. I have nothing else to offer you.’ His voice echoed around the temple. ‘Please,’ he bowed his head, ‘Accept my sacrifice. Save my people.’

The tiniest prick of light appeared above. The sun shone down on the new-born. The man waited. For the cries of the infant as it was burnt to death. For the smell of burning flesh. For his heart to break.

And waited.

And under his astonished gaze, the baby began to giggle. He could feel the hair on his fore-arm rise, the strange musical hum which accompanied a strong burst of the Power filled his ears. His eyes met his son’s and a flash of understanding brought him to his knees. The baby’s eyes were now a light grey, its face seemed fuller, more human.

His sacrifice had been accepted, not the way he thought it would have been, but accepted nonetheless.

They came soon after dawn, as he knew they would. Grim faced mercenaries, seven of them marched slowly down the entrance towards the podium. He was still on his knees, to all appearances, he appeared to be praying. But they took no chances, although it was day now, and the sun’s gentle diffused light lit up the sanctuary. Their swords were unsheathed, and they arrayed themselves in close ranks behind him. Was it the first time blood would be shed in this sanctuary?

And the bravest of them crept closer, and with a sudden thrust of his sword, stabbed him in the back. The man toppled forward, onto the strongly sunlit dais. His flesh began to burn almost instantaneously, far too quickly for a normal human. The baby watched him gravely as he died, light grey eyes meeting black, and the man smiled, a thin smile on a too pale face.

‘My son, the savior of the world…’

The priestesses came soon after, when nothing remained of the man but ashes, with cries of disbelief as they noticed the baby, unscarred, unburnt, wrapped in fine silks. They assumed, of course, that a woman who could not care for her baby left it here, as was the custom amongst the poor. But rarely did a baby come with fine silk quilts. And never was it placed in the centre of the dais, where the sun shone strongest, the mother must have been very careless indeed.

The cat crept out unnoticed. The act of power it had witnessed had shaken it deeply. It would have to report back that day of course, but it would not mention the baby. The vampire was cornered in the old sanctuary, and met his end in the hands of the mercenaries, those were the events that happened that night. The sacrifice would remain a secret.