October, 1370 AD

The darkness was thick and cloying as I stirred gradually, passing from insensibility to consciousness in painstaking stages. My face lay atop the cold cobblestone floor of Niflheim's vaulted atrium — within our killing grounds. That darkness sheathed me completely in its damp and insidious embrace the while I lay prostrate and gasping.

It was some minutes longer ere I bestirred myself onto unsteady legs. My bones and sinews were yet reintegrating and regenerating themselves — altering my transfigured moon-possessed shell back into a recognizable form. Although, I would still only ever be a mimicry of humanity.

An acute ache throbbed and oscillated through my brain like white-hot shards, yet fortunately it would not last much longer. The dizziness would pass, but I was in desperate wont of water to slake the aridity from my parched tongue now that the thirst for blood had been satiated. I walked to the very edge of the vault's perimeter wall whither I knew the basin of cool water to be. It was fed into the underground of our netherworld by an old aqueduct that conveyed it hither from one of the multitudinous springs that populated the Drakkentörn Ranges.

I had no need of a rushlight to guide me thence, besides which there was none to be had. I observed my surroundings with a jaw clenched in agony. My otherworldly organ of sight readily filtered out the shrouding gloom into a dim green hue through which I pierced the dense obscurity that might otherwise have enveloped, and hindered, a mere mortal eye. It was in this way that I could discern shapes and shadows in verdant clarity, but for the life of me I retained not a single memory nor recalled even a fleeting glimpse of the night before... when my mind was so much altered. I never recollected the beast's memories; it had none to offer me, only vague perceptions that seemed more like hallucinations than corporeal images.

Gripping the edge of the stone basin with white knuckles, my skull feeling as though it had been riven in twain by a bolt of lightning, I submerged my head in the spring water and held it immersed for some time as I dispatched deep gulps of purifying liquid. The coolness alleviated my palpitating temples. When I had sufficiently drank my weight in water I emerged revitalized and returned to the center of the chamber. I noticed another pair of glowing, green fluorescence advancing purposefully toward me. Carac's shoulder brushed mine as he made his way drunkenly to the stone ewer which I had just occupied.

I surveyed the green-hued expanse of the vault and, spying my father's quiescent form near the same spot I had earlier vacated, I strode toward my sire with a much steadier gait. I heard the lock turning in the trapdoor afore it opened to reveal my brother's eerie, green luminescent orbs as he emerged from the black pit below.

"Did you have a good night, brother?" I poked, "however did you occupy yourself... down there?" He evidently did not appreciate my bawdy satire for he only scowled at the supercilious smirk I wore.

"As you well know," he spat, "there was naught but myself to play with this night! I thank you for your concern!" He was too easy to rile, was Caine.

I chortled heartily at him, Carac joining in from the other side of the chamber. My father rolled his weary eyes into the pitch black ceiling above, our double entendre's not amusing him in the least. My brother pulled himself weakly from the vault's belly and wobbled, as if on new-born legs, to where Carac yet drank.

Caine had been relegated to the likes of a lowly guard dog down in the pit, lest any stragglers escape; we, none of us, sought that position, but the obligation was nonetheless a requirement and thus we alternated it betwixt ourselves. 'Twas a wholly unsatisfying experience and my brother would hence be surly the rest of the moon cycle — as I would have been had it been my turn.

I, however, had gorged myself and felt justifiably revived and reborn now that my flesh no longer felt as though it were splitting its seems. Unlike Caine, I was duly sated, contented even, and was of a mind now to enjoy my brother's ill-humor.

I sat beside my father as he removed bits of gore from his blood-caked hair. "Any news from Skådrrok?" I thought to ask.

I had long been curious whether or not Fendrel had contacted my father since their quarrel, but Godwin had subsequently been reticent on the subject of my uncle. I knew this to mean that he was yet considering matters and sought only to keep his own council inasmuch as when he did finally confide in me, he would do so with the confidence of certainty.

Godwin rarely spoke his mind unless all his thoughts were fully formulated and ready to be disseminated to his satisfaction. My sire did not often desire our opinions when yet establishing his own, a fact that both frustrated and impressed me, but I would assuage myself with the fact that, though he let no assessment sway him, he did value mine above any other... when he chose to discuss aught with me. Moreover, he was never wrong and I had much yet to learn from him.

Father shot me a sidelong glance and sat pensive a moment afore speaking. "He has not. Nor will he, I wager." He sighed and cracked his neck audibly, the sound reverberating throughout the dark. He then fixed his steady gaze on me again.

"There can be no reconciliation, Lucian. You know this." I nodded. I did understand as much.

There was far too much dissension amongst our two families now for any resumption of harmony to occur; our disagreements were too insuperable to ignore. We still did not realize all of Aria's full potential, her mother's bloodline was yet a mystery, but she was ostensibly unlike any Dóttir we had ever known. Even were I not besotted, she was too valuable a mate; and Fendrel's insistence that she be exterminated galled and disgusted me utterly.

The thought so enraged and appalled me that, had I not been restrained that morning in Father's solar, I would have ripped Fendrel's black heart from its empty vestibule!

It was his uncompromising opinion that no one, not even Anne or Rose, should know the full extent of our cursed existence. We took every precaution to hide what we truly were and Fendrel would himself kill his own wife to protect that law; he had in fact done so.

His first wife had been a young beauty by the name of Gyda. Ross, my cousin, had been the product of that first marriage. When Gyda had discovered Fendrel's true nature, the facts of which were still heavily shrouded in uncertainty and skepticism, he had insouciantly disposed of the boy's mother, the same way our ancestor, Rothgar, had done to his first wife; and Fendrel had forthwith married Rose who had thereafter cared for his child as if Ross were her own.

I did not mourn the loss of Fendrel's protection, but I did cast a leery eye to the west each day for I did not trust my uncle not to retaliate in some deceitful way. My sire's voice broke through my distracted thoughts.

"I can not allow him to harm her and he will not allow her to live. Tis as simple as that." My father seemed introspective a moment longer ere he spoke again. "I daresay it was always Fendrel's intention to find cause to rid himself of Gyda."

"What do you mean?" I nearly despaired that he might not comment further, for he was quiet a while longer, but he did finally resume his thesis.

"I find it curious that after his visit to the south, when he and I were there on business some seventeen years since, he returned home a restless man and, according to Anne who received regular missives from Gyda, had become increasingly violent; so much so that she lost the second child she carried at the time." My father frowned darkly. "I believe he returned to Heathersea, after Gyda's demise, in search of Cara and, realizing that she too had perished, sought my sister's hand instead. I cannot seem to repudiate that single thought, for it has disturbed and vexed me thus far — that Fendrel murdered Gyda, by pretext of the old laws, so that he might be free to take Cara to wife."

"But Cara was herself married-"

"Think you he would not have easily disposed of Edwyn?"

I could not argue that point and compressed my lips deliberately.

My father continued, "I have a strong suspicion that he knew what she was. He must have known something about her! But we will never realize the mystery that enshrouds Cara!"

I could plainly see that he was aggravated and upset by that which was yet unknown and would perhaps always remain so. Godwin's frustration radiated off him in angry waves. He seldom lost his temper and was now close to doing so, but finally he becalmed himself enough to resume.

"He will obstinately deny that Aria is any progeny of his because — and this is a notion I have since reified with relentless contemplations — she would not only be proof of his indiscriminate philandering, but also that he had disregarded an even higher and unbreakable covenant: thou shalt not take unto thyself a Dóttir av Maní unless it is done within the sanctity of marriage."

I knew the words well. My own voice joined my father's in unison as we concluded the commandment: "And, above all, from thy wife alone shalt thou beget offspring." It was an ironclad precept, our most draconian edict. It had, since days of yore, stood firm; a length of time that very easily measured almost a thousand years!

The silence thickened. Caine and Carac had since joined us. What Godwin inferred did indeed make irrefutable sense — Fendrel could not allow Aria to live if there was any doubt as to who had fathered her. There was indeed now a dark shadow of incertitude that was cast across his cheap protestations; and he knew it.

Her very existence was damning to Fendrel and what better way to do away with her than to use her presence in Niflheim as an excuse to snuff her from existence. 'Twould seem that our best efforts to conceal her scent, eight months ago, had been in vain. He had effortlessly recognized her distinct aroma! I had not considered his muzzle might have been bathed in her essence. More fool I.

Ergo, we had reached a deadly impasse. I would only allow Aria's death over my bleeding corpse and Fendrel was as good as dishonored if he accepted and acknowledged his daughter openly. Thus, stymied beyond any hope of resolution, we had parted ways. But we would, both sides, always be watching over suspicious shoulders for our erstwhile kin to throw the first dagger. That day would come, however. 'Twas only a matter of time.

"Now that Fendrel is no longer the head of our family..." My father peered curiously at me and I did not like the implication of portent that weighed heavily in his words.

"Yes?" My lips and brows were weighted with uncertainly.

"Have you perhaps given thought to the fact that you might be his natural successor? The Greyback Heir."

Father impaled me with his steely blue gaze. They were the exact hue of cobalt that might tinge a frozen stalactite afore it impales the unsuspecting fool that thought to pass beneath it! I knew that I might be that fool.

"No!" I vowed adamantly. "Fendrel still holds that status, Father!" But, looking to my brother and Carac for support, I noticed that their expressions had changed noticeably; they seemed to be considering the notion.

I had always earned the respect due my position as the heir to Nørrdragor and accepted it, as a matter of course, but this new awareness they affected — I had no care for it! I opened my mouth to argue the implication, but my father forestalled me with an arched brow and I realized suddenly, quite off subject, that Aria had recently begun to mimic this habit of his.

"Think on it," was all he asked. "'Twas you, after all, that fought off three elders and two young males in defense of your mate." I was warily silent. "It is curious, is it not? At least admit to that," said he with a glint of premonition in his sharp scrutiny. I was of a mind to maintain my disavowal, but there was a niggling unpleasantness tugging and pricking at the periphery of my thoughts, nudging my attention.

Aria! She shattered my thoughts suddenly with gut-wrenching impact! I need to go to her!

Every subsequent moon cycle had exacerbated her lunar responses exponentially! Since becoming pregnant the moon's effect had worsened and complicated her parturiency — each time more aggravated than the last. Anne had described in graphic and terrifying detail how Aria would, every eight and twenty days, suffer the consequences of her condition in my accursed absence — as if in the throws of her own inexplicable change!

But the process would always stop short of an actual transformation and, thank God, before she went into premature labor; who knew better than I, her own husband, the agony of the change.

There was no more time to waste! "We must leave!" I commanded without further explanation.

Realization and concern now churned the expressions of my companions, leaving me in no doubt of their understanding: they knew all too well what I suffered now and had suffered the last eight months. The fear of Aria's strange condition.

I cursed myself for a worthless fool and hastily jumped into the pit, grabbing my discarded clothes absently as I sprinted into the underground tunnel that would take me to my wife by the most expedient route possible.



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