The morning passed quickly  into lassitude and by early afternoon I found that my schedule was free – exiting the stone building the humidity  only enhancing and deepening the depression I had fought since early morning.  Going about mundane, petty affairs – I completed tasks with a lack of enthusiasm that bothered me.  Never allowing the charade to be compromised –the outside world remained ignorant of my problems,  and to them I was  a remarkable specimen and somewhat of a novelty as the youngest Professor ever to take tenure.

The cool drink warming rapidly in my hot palm , I wandered the campus grounds past the dormitories and to the private area just inside the woods, and there spying a copse of trees did venture to the cool ground beneath.  My collar opened and the tie curled incongruously in my top pocket, I threw my jacket to the ground and looked up.  The canopy of the old trees allowed a little of the hot late summer sun through to dapple the ground beneath in gold and green.  Laying back against the trunk the broad cool branches offered some comfort and support I wistfully imagined a filigree of lace above me.

Closing my eyes against the sun, against the day I was comforted by the pure and open sound of humanity as it played keenly across my senses – thousands of minds open in the choral of thought drifted through and taking flight along the wings of their innocence I sought out one mind in particular.  Unaccountably my lip curled at the memory and making soft contact with the hive of minds of the brood proper found her close by.  Her mind compelled me to listen to the simple ordered lilt of the cradle song and the gentle tracing across my brow. The amulet about my neck growing warm as I reached her.

She who had been mother, friend, guide and teacher – answered with a smile and a laugh and I knew in a moment that she would travel the paths of magic to be with me then all the realms stilled – and I knew peace.

Tourlain watched from my office window and smiled, as I walked into the woods, his eyes keen and protective of me, yet he knew when to allow me time to be at peace.  And reaching back into his own tortured haunted past, he honoured me again by looking for the path that would allow him to best aid me and against his courage I was humbled.
 

Silence passed as a warning during the rest of that afternoon, and in the fullness of time – I wandered from the University – to my Study and finally given ascent to my stupidity did move towards the dining room and the faces of my court.   I had always been a specimen studied in sharp relief – never untidy and always reserved even in my own court.  Had they have looked, had they had seen they would have worried, I pushed back my long hair which strayed free from his clasp and ran a hand over weary eyes before I entered.

Anxiety pinched  the faces and hearts of those who knew of the attack earlier that day. Melissa watched me for a moment and seeing me answer her with a smile and a gentle touch was still and continued to talk to Jakob.  He perhaps was one of the elder of the clan – and like myself had seen Thalos fall.  Friend, mentor and guide he studied me closely

The remnants of the group – this night almost the entire house was there and numbering some 26 gave me the freedom to be done with idle chatter and taking my seat at the head of the table stared straight into the eyes of my cousin.  A frown creasing his brow as his  fingertips brushed my hand and he leaned in close.

“When does she arrive?”  startled I looked into his questioning eyes and smiled at being known so well.

“Oh very soon I should think.”

He sat back a work in elegance as he placed his napkin across his legs – the feral hint was back despite the good nature and I saw fire in his eyes.

“Good.” And I knew then that he would fight to the death.
 
 

Where do I begin? I am not eloquent in my speeches as Rowan – and I often do not know the words to describe how this came to be.

Even how I came to be is little more a mystery to me even through the depths of time I have lived. I was born in a small town called Irun on the French/Spanish border – my father was brood proper and my mother a gifted woman of Thalosian descent. To know what we are is to know all of our history – and I am sure that even Rowan is not fully aware of all there is to know.
 

I am an impatient man and  this propensity over all my faults has lead to many sorry tales, and in this I am no different from the majority of my kin – so in poor words I shall subscribe to you the knowledge of what we truly are, as if all the truth is to be known then this is part of that truth.

The Brood proper which comprised originally Silfryn, Mystrielle, Tourlain – my father, Legion and Ashlynn – are in your sense immortal.  They are the remnants of an ancient race, both fallible and arrogant.  Their history is no less dark than the days in which they lived, favored by the avatars of their gods they were blessed with intelligence, magic and beauty.  They lived under the careful and indulgent gaze of those who had passed from this world and in their own stupidity allowed them to prosper.  And as all good creatures fled from the darkness these would embrace it till even their own gods did turn against them to destroyed all that they were.  Of the race none others but the brood survived and these were favored and loved beyond all reason and given a task – horrid in its content and application.  They would live to fight the demon lord Dra’Gnor their own father  who through magic and carnage did take to the darkness and it is there task – that through all time to keep the shadow lands at bay and the children of light safe they would slay him and his armies.

They had come to Thalos a band of travelers with great gifts to impart on the barbarian culture and molded them into the servants of light that saw them put away the sword and take up the arcane arts.

And again in time they failed – the mortal breed as they were hungered and lusted for more and in all the peaceful attributes of their knowledge turned against the light and took up the cause of vengeance.

The Young Kingdoms formed and forged on the tutored carnage of Thalos made a pact with the dark forces to destroy their charnel lords and the light faded from the realm.  Ashlinn left and took respite in her temple – a reverend daughter she turned to her god and he in turn loved her and  brought him to her in his own realm.  Legion became the warlord of the Young Kingdoms – yet still warned Silfryn of the impending disaster and disappeared.  Mystrielle stayed too long and left only days before Silfryn when her own warning’s went unheeded – and to this day walks between the realms but resides with Ashlinn for the most part.  Tourlain walked his days under the suns of the New Lords and bonded to my mother stayed until  she passed from her mortal life and took me to his kin.  Of all the brood – Silfryn did not return to her own realm favoring the shadowlands and fulfilling her role of the Mistress of Memory.  She passed the days appearing infrequently to us and then she was gone – leaving a grieving son with little memory of her and a man who would have died happy should he have seen her face again.  Yet the ways of magic and compact are made and her God let her line live and continue and for this we are grateful.

As for me – well strange things happened.  I spent many a formidable days with my father and returned to a world much changed – cities occupied the spaces I knew and the people had found their own dark ages and slowly through the mire crept towards their own sanity but no such gains are made without cost and the people where beaten and abused by their own conscious.  Easily frightened and suspicious I was shunned again – a fate not entirely unknown to myself.   Forgive me…..I do not mean to sound bitter.

During these days I was stolen and as a child no more than 14 swayed by the angels who came to me.  They found me one day – sitting in the sun watching with feigned attention the men working their fields.

Then across the fields I watched him walk – his feet passing above the ground – his hair a golden halo about angelic features and his simple clothes of linen hung from a well proportioned frame  - he smiled easily and as I watched I felt an uneasiness yet pushed this thought to the back of my mind.    Curiously the farmers did not seem to notice him and shimmering before me he knelt and introduced himself to me.  This was The Prima Nocturne of the clan.

I did not know then that these beautiful creatures housed such evil intent.  I was accepted and without hesitation and could think of little else.  Their insidious hands worked upon my body as surely as they worked upon my soul – turning me by degrees against all that my father had taught me till I wondered as to his very existence.

To appease those souls whom I knew would one day call for my own blood – I was guilty of heinous tasks.  I lied, stole, cheated and killed many during the days under their care.  And my reward? Ah well – such bitter memories – perhaps I would be allowed to eat – perhaps they would stop beating me – perhaps their hands would pass gently against my tortured soul – perhaps they would let me sleep.  What is it the bard had said – to sleep – to dream , aye there’s the rub.  For in such sleep no peace is found – and again I was alone without memory of who or what I was save a freak with abilities beyond those we call mortal – yet I hurt and could not remember a time when I did not.

Decades continued and I aged slowly to manhood – barely 17 by your standards I was called on again by my Prima Nocturne to do his bidding.  A cruel time in our lands with many wars and the Elgowah had a vested interest in the outcome of one such incursion.  I was sent forward to lure the lord to the city where he was to garner information for a fee.  But in spite of my instructions this night I did not do my masters bidding, instead staying to watch the fate of this good and gentle man.  They fell on him with teeth and hands – plaguing him with small magic’s and tormenting his mind with fears and dishonor.  Until torn and bleeding bordering on his own madness he flung himself of the bridge into the swollen depths of the Seine to his death followed by howls of unnatural laughter.
 

Then dark eyes were turned on me as I stared in disbelief.
 

They used their magic on me that night and beat me till I could not stand yet this was only the first of the horrors they would inflict on my poor body and in truth they frightened me badly.  I cowered in the darkness begging and pleading for mercy – and they knew none.  Again and again they came to me and their assaults continued against both body and soul until I was dragged bleeding naked and shivering to the feet of my lord.

 He reached down with those impossibly long fingers and lifted my chin from the floor to look at him and it was in that moment I knew he feared me for he saw within me the teachings of my father and calling on the innate ability showed him what I was truly capable of.

I allowed the beast of my spirit to rise forward and stand to challenge this one.  The cold stone room grew quiet despite the entire clan viewing this moment.  Men, women, children and youths stood by and became as quiet as the grave.  My hatred taking my soul to darkness and The Prima Nocturne now looked into the eyes of the tiger – my transformation complete and knowing I could not kill him he too knew that I would not lay down my life and die in his service.  I tore his flesh from his body – his bones cracking under the weight of my jaws – the blood tasting against my lips and I feasted on his living form.

In that moment the room swayed and as one they set upon me and barely finding an escape I ran through the dark streets and allies of Renaissance France.  I ran till I could no longer keep the form, and then ran more till the screams and cries in my mind found silence and crashing headlong into a pile of rubbish pulled the stinking detritus over my shaking body and cried.

I do not know how long I laid amongst the ruin of society and wallowed in their filth, but the import of what I had done struck at me some time later when I realized just how very different I was.  In retrospect I amaze myself with the knowledge that I did not understand this earlier – my isolation and despair not to mention my own self loathing forced me deeper into despair and for what seemed like days I did not move from my self imposed prison.

A frision of movement across my legs caused me to shudder as the rubbish was pulled back from my body – I had given up hope and had resolved not to fight – realizing that nothing the clan could do to me would be worse than the guilt I carried in my heart as to what I had done.

Sun streamed into my dazed and bruised eyes and wiping at the worst of the muck caked about my still naked frame I shivered at the gentlest of touches.

How do I describe what my beleaguered soul and eyes did see.  He was beyond beauty – his almond eyes looked at me with concern and love – his touch mocked me with the gentleness I saw in the soul of the man who stood beside me.  Long golden hair framed a serene beauty and he spoke.

“My name is Rowan, Tourlain – and I have been looking for you for so long.”

I managed to stammer out – “Why?” and still I cowered from him.  He smiled as he wrapped his greatcoat about me and drew me into his warm embrace brushing the rubbish from my hair.

“To take you home cousin.”

“I have a home?” in that darkness and despair – in that place of fear and loathing I clung to him that night and have never let him go and never shall – Rowan is the keeper of my heart, he took me home and gave me back the most important possession I had.  Myself.

Our relationship goes beyond gratitude – it surpasses the boundaries of all that those of us are for in truth I have loved him as I have loved no other and he has found me worthy to stand by him.  And  I shall never disappoint him again.