2006, 18th January

Space Station, Apotheosis

Anisha left Michael’s office distracted and in a hurry, nearly colliding with Ciara on her way out.

“Watch where you’re going, Hollow!”

“I- I’m sorry, my Lord.”

“Tsk. Get going.”

“ Are you going to see Michael?”

Ciara raised an eyebrow at her.

“What business is that of yours?”

“I merely believed he would send you to Paris where he has already sent Pierre and Aaron. I was just..surprised to see you here.”

“...Right. Anything else?”

“Nothing, my Lord. Just… be careful, and good luck. I have a feeling that this assignment is going to get a lot more dangerous soon.”

Saying so, Anisha retreated, and Ciara was left frowning at her back as she left, before she turned and walked into the office herself.

“I saw Anisha outside.” She told Michael.

Michael did not respond in any way, not even looking up from the text he was perusing.

“She was behaving strangely. She seems very concerned about our welfare all of a sudden.”

“Then you should be flattered,” Michael replied, in a tone devoid of inflection. “But when you say our welfare, you really mean your welfare, don’t you?”

“Err.. Not that she specified.”

“Hmm. Well, never mind that. What did you find out about our first Chief Librarian?”

“Well, you were right about one thing. He operated back in the 10th century before the magical framework was restructured. In fact, he was the one who was instrumental in the restructuring in the first place. Especially the schism between the spirit field and the death field as we know it today.”

Michael leaned back in his chair, wordlessly, letting it revolve to the side, enough to face the window behind him, profile illuminated by the stars in the backdrop.

“How do you feel about a trip?”

“A trip? Where to?”

“Pluto.”

“Michael. You know they only permit adept magi to venture beyond Mars.”

“Hmm. How fortunate.”

Michael rose from his chair, and he rose into the air.

“It seems I just made the cut today.”

Ciara gasped, taking a step backward.

True telekinesis, flight, a step beyond the gravity control practised by apprentices of the energy field.

“So… Are you asking me to come along with you.”

“I am. I need someone I can trust at my back. Adept I may be, but I am still just one mage.”

Ciara nodded.

“Alright. I suppose I’ll have to pack the shitty stuff then.”

2006, 25th January

Reykjavik, Iceland

Lucia walked through the streets in front of the Tjornin, tourists around her giving her a wide berth.

It was not because of the wounds, which had already healed the night before.

She could sense the unease in the posture of the people around her, but it was only a reaction to her own movements- superlative motor skills and uncanny perception and sense of balance creating deliberate movements evolved to the singular purpose of predation.

Predation of humans.

And though they may not have the greatest sensory ability, they retained enough to tell them they were in the presence of something they really should not be within striking distance of.

She somehow sympathised with her father’s inability to freely appear in the general populace, ever so slightly uncomfortable with so many gazes trained directly on her at once.

She really should take her attention off the people around her, and focus on what was really important for now.

She had to get back to the safehouse for now- she did not think it would be wise to just barge in, in case James or a trap he had set lay in wait there, but it was still her best lead, at least.

She tugged back the sleeve of her heavy overcoat, to reveal the gleaming silver serpent banded around her wrist- a gift from the matriarch, the prize for her life.

She had even passed her a text of rudimentary blood magic rituals- apparently, the world Lucia had stepped into necessitated better arming herself.

She found it oddly humorous how the blood witch was willing to part with quite so many of her secrets, but not even offer her true name.

Perhaps names had power in these matters of magic, and the old matriarch held an ace against Lucia, but it wasn’t worth worrying about right now.

Taking a sharp turn, she disappeared into the shadows.

Her father’s men patrolled the safehouse in a rather predictable pattern, and when the one inside the office, monitoring the cameras, slid bonelessly onto the floor after a rather sharp knock at the base of the skull, the ones circling outside never even noticed.

One turned the corner, his back to the other, and completing his route, he turned back, to find the other sprawled not a centimetre from where he had turned around the corner, and was halfway through the process of drawing his weapon from its holster before consciousness cut away.

Lucia extended her senses through shadows, scanning irregularities around which the light bent itself, the smallest tripwire or unevenness in the floor tiles even, that hadn’t been there before, and-

Someone was inside.

A humanoid figure.

It turned toward her, as if cognizant of her presence.

Not James, no- too unhurried, self assured, uninjured, for someone that had retreated by smashing his way through panes of ice and navigating freezing cold water in his hurry to get away.

“Come into the light where I can see you, my child.”

A voice she did not recognize.

She did not walk into the light, positioning herself to better strike at his blind spot.

Which seemed impossible, given whatever invisible sense this stranger possessed, his gaze seeming to track her perfectly, until finally, his face caught the light at an angle, and recognition dawned.

Lucia knew her grandfather, Lucien Bellone, was supposed to be dead.

But she recognized that face.

And judging from the fact that she could not sense a pulse, or really any scent to the man at all, she judged that reports of his death had not in fact, been exaggerated.

Just as she had learned recently that death did not necessarily mark the end.

“Lionel is often just as distrustful as you,” Lucien smiled ruefully, “I don’t necessarily blame either of you. But you need not fear me.”

At this, Lucia slipped into the light, confronting him at last, silver snake uncoiling around her wrist.

Lucien chuckled, skin around his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement.

“So that’s what works, is it? A naked provocation?”

Lucia smiled too, but it was all sharp edges without joy.

The metal snake slithered onto the floor, edging towards the man.

Lucien’s smile dimmed as he caught sight of the unnatural, metallic serpent, raising outstretched palms toward her.

“I get it. We don’t know each other well enough to be quite so free with our humour around each other. I entirely blame myself for everything that’s befallen this family. But I would like a chance. Maybe not to make things right- It’s entirely too late for that. But I would like a chance to know you, to know my family.”

When no reply was forthcoming, Lucien sighed, trying one last time.

“If you don’t want to know me, that’s fine. I’ll leave right now. And, if this helps you trust me a bit better, know that I was the first of our family to have been turned. Which means, unlike you and your father, I am merely a half blood. I mean you no harm, and I would gain nothing from harming you.

Half blood or not, Lucia knew the difference in their age would more than compensate for the difference in the potency of their blood.

“So… where do we start?”

Lucien smiled brightly once more.

“I was thinking, I would tell you a bit about myself. And then you could share, whatever you were comfortable sharing.”

Lucia merely crouched down in a corner, content to listen and watch, as Lucien sat upon the bed in the centre, and began to speak.

He told her of life centuries ago, a humble life in an isolated village in France during the hundred years war, while the Black Death ravaged the land, his helplessness in the face of it all, even as they worked to balance the humours in the victims’ bodies, using every possible remedy from knives to leeches to rose water, patients piling up around them with no end in sight.

Until one night, an individual rider with a strange air about him, asked for the local doctor, and Lucien had his first encounter with the supernatural, although he did not know it yet.

The man liberally questioned Galen’s methods, displaying an unprecedented knowledge of human anatomy and the circulatory system.

At the end of their discussion, the man offered him an opportunity to travel with him, to meet minds all across the land, to greater develop their understanding of the disease ravaging their land, and put a halt to it, if they were able.

The stranger refused to believe it was the work of some miasma, but would not elucidate his reasons as to why.

Lucien began to piece together his reasons, that he must know of a location where the disease had not in fact, spread, and if the disease did spread through miasma, it would have undoubtedly reached that location as well.

He never plied his companion with theories of his suspicions though, as the man seemed suspicious enough already, his strictly nocturnal habits, unwillingness to sleep in the open without a roof to guard him during the day, how he never actually witnessed the man partake of food and water in his presence, and his death-like sleep during daylight hours unnerved Lucien thoroughly.

And yet Lucien could gather neither the will to interact with his strange companion as he slept in the daylight, or even abandon him and move along; every attempt he made, his limbs would fail him, turning to jelly.

Everywhere they would travel, he would notice rodents; the creature had probably run rampant with the folk not being able to care for their crops as well.

It was a relentless loop, leading to more hunger, and more death.

And with increasing hunger came desperation.

Men armed with the shoddiest weaponry, still enough to cut open an unarmed man well enough, waylaid them as they travelled, catching Lucien unaware while he rested beside their horses.

The horses whickered, agitated; Lucien believed then that it was the men brandishing rusted farm implements as weaponry in front of them.

But something terrible was waiting to fall upon these would-be robbers.

His companion was not visible- or, as Lucien had found out later, it was merely a trick of the mind, and his concentration would slip off his companion’s form like oil through a clenched fist.

Regardless, the result was the same.

Men were torn limb from limb, with no opportunity to retaliate, no way to even know what had transpired.

“And then,” Lucien sighed, “He offered his gift to me. Agelessness. Immunity to disease. More power than I knew what to do with.”

“And the cost?”

“Pardon?”

“The cost of this generosity. Who gives shit away for nothing?”

Lucien smiled at his granddaughter.

“He would withhold his gift until we actually had a solution for the Plague itself.”

“Very noble of him.”

“You don’t think humans have a monopoly on nobility, do you? Besides, we depend on humans to survive. I expect that was more than enough motivation.”

“That, and the risk of blood borne infection, I expect.”

“That is not a concern among us. We would be a poor species of predator if we couldn’t evolve away from such a deficiency.”

Lucia rocked back on her heels.

“And were you successful?”

“To his mind, yes. We isolated the cause of the disease through studying patterns in the heavily afflicted areas. I suspect that was enough for him to prevent the disease spreading to his own…”

“Larder. You can say it.”

Lucien merely smiled.

“I wanted… this, for a long time. I had Lionel after I had already transformed, and I could already tell he was a strange child. He grew older, and.. more violent. I believed I had made a mistake. I believed the child had a conflict between his two natures, that I could even things out by completing the transformation. I was wrong. I… never wanted it to get to this point, you know?”

“But we’re here now.”

“Yes. After Lionel was brought into this life, he grew even more distant, and then… he suffered a loss. And when that happened, he grew even more inhuman, and I… pulled away. I don’t want to repeat that mistake with you. It’s selfish, I know, but you are my family.”

Lucia kneeled against the wall, expressionless.

“You’re a stranger. That word is meaningless.”

Lucien’s eyes reflected hurt, before he regained himself.

“I know. I know I am a stranger to you. But… what was that you said? People don’t give things away for free? I don’t expect you to waste your time with me. You’ve walked into a very dangerous world, Lucia, and if what I sensed the previous night was any indication, it just got a lot more dangerous. I offer you my experience. I may not have your potential, but the powers I do have, I have honed to a reasonably great degree. I can help you.”

Lucia shrugged, then began to walk out the door.

When Lucien did not immediately move from his position, she threw him a backward glance.

“Well? Aren’t you going to come along?”

The old man smiled, rising to his feet.

On their way out, they saw the guards had began to stir.

“I see you had an… altercation, on your way inside.” Lucien observed.

“I was expecting to see someone else inside.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I suppose he ran off though. Who knows how far he’s gotten.”

“Who was this man?”

“Some half blood vampire my father put on my back as a retainer. Tried to kill me, fucked off when he failed though.”

“If he betrayed Lionel, then he has left the Eurasian subcontinent. He’s likely trying to get to America right now.”

“Why America?”

“The ancient purebloods mostly call Eurasia home. Not much space here for the younger and the weaker among us to spread their wings. In that regard, America is an opportunity.”

Lucia narrowed her eyes.

“So that’s where he’s hiding.”

“Lucia… I know you must want revenge, but-”

“I don’t care for revenge. And I won’t hunt him down.”

“No?”

“No. It’s irrational.”

Lucia thought back to the events of the night before, where the matriarch was barely able to keep the ritual going, even as Erik repaired the palace of frost before it flooded entirely.

She felt whatever presence it had been, stirring in the heart of the sea, receding back into its hibernation.

She felt her fist clench subconsciously.

Hilda’s lifeblood ran hot through her arteries, and filled her with power far beyond what she had merely a single night earlier.

She knew she was the greater killer than James, and now she had the strength to break him in half, a margin of 50 years compensated for in a single night.

But James did not matter. Lucien was right. She had walked into a world that was defying comprehension, beings of incredible power surrounding her.

She turned to see Lucien, his posture open and inviting, his intentions supposedly benign.

Trust was not a vulnerability she was willing to entertain, but for now, she would observe, she would learn, and she would have her chance soon enough.

Meanwhile, miles away, in the middle of the waters of the Labrador sea, an inconspicuous trawler was hunting for unusual quarry.

“This one’s bloated with spiritual essence.” Victor gripped a wriggling fish from t=he still dripping conical net they had pulled up from the black waters.

Hans looked at the wriggling creature with an expression of faint disgust, not making any move to reach across and touch it.

“I’ll take your word for it. So, how do you plan on tracking down our real quarry? I remind you that I myself am not trained in any magics regarding divination from the entrails of fish.”

“We won’t need any entrails. I believe I know how he feeds. A creature like that must require a lot of nutrition to be active, and there really isn’t a lot to eat here in the middle of nowhere. That’s why he has to stay in hibernation.”

“What about our guest? Has he talked yet?”

“Since we fished him out of the water? No.”

“Have you… been working on that?”

Victor shrugged.

“I was hoping you could do it. The guy looks fragile. I might break him.”

Hans rolled his shoulders backwards, rose, and walked inside to see a vampire, literally fused with the material of the wall and the floor, straining uselessly against his captivity.

He snarled at Hans as he entered, projecting his will through the briefest moment of eye contact, but Hans merely shrugged it off, as if he had walked into a cobweb unwittingly.

He pulled a steel chair from the corner, letting it drag across the floor with a screech.

He turned it the wrong way around, its back facing the vampire even as he struggled.

“What is your name?”

The vampire snarled at him before letting loose a torrent of incoherent abuse, that Hans allowed to wash over him rather placidly, before his prisoner ran out of words and steam.

And then he raised a palm, and the temperature around them dropped meteorically, and the vampire’s face began to peel away.

He howled in agony till his throat was raw, even as layer after epidermal layer flaked off his face like dust.

Even Victor entered the room with a hand clasped over his ear, the other ear buried into a shoulder, till the screaming stopped when Hans finally decided to lower his palm.

Victor whistled. “And here I thought I was the one at risk of getting too rough.”

Hans did not acknowledge this statement, choosing instead to address his captive in a perfectly even tone.

“I asked you your name.”

“It’s… James.”

“Very good. What were you doing in that part of the sea where I fished you from, James?”

“I was escaping.. The Draugr’s fort, beneath the ice.”

Hans turned to Victor.

“Isn’t one of your friends from there?”

“Wouldn’t call Hilda a friend, exactly. She’s just… like minded.”

At the mention of that name, James’ eyes seemed to gleam.

“Your friend! I know her! I know what happened to her!”

Victor turned a rather blank stare at James.

“Since the ritual went through the previous night, I assume she is dead?”

“Yes- yes! I can point you to her killer! I can help you!”

“Why would I want to find her killer?”

Victor and James stared at each other in momentary silence, broken by Hans.

“That’s quite enough, James. You will answer my questions, and not a word beyond that. Now, tell me what you saw of the ritual.”

“I wasn’t in the chamber when it was happening, but I was there when it went wrong. That was when Lucia had killed Hilda already-”

“Lucia,” Hans interrupted him. “She must have been the one to stop my plan to interrupt the ritual, and destroy my assassins.”

“I already told you ghosts make poor assassins,” Victor said. “Although how vampires without the means of interacting with ethereal horizon creatures destroyed them beats me.”

“Some vampires differ from others based on our observations, being able to draw from the same Horizon realms where I draw my Death magic from. What causes the difference in these subspecies is not known, but this Lucia-”

“Ah. The pureblood that I saw with Hilda during the Hunt.”

Hans shot Victor a sharp look.

“Yes, that’s what your other subspecies is called. Pureblood. They have a far deeper pool of power to draw from than the riff raff vampires,” Victor shot James a slanted look, “Hilda was one herself. Difference being, these things are completely non-human.”

Hans pressed his folded hands heavily onto his chair, deep in contemplation.

“This mythical Grandfather Winter the Draugr seem to revere; would he be one of them?”

“Seems likely.”

Hans could bemoan the fact that information had been kept from him for later; the very fact that he had this information now meant that his perspective had shifted, making him even more determined to track the ancient monster lying in wait in the depths below.

With a wave of his hand, he turned the metal binding James in place to liquid, and when the vampire was free, back to metal once more, snapping back to structural integrity.

Freezing momentarily, James seized the opportunity, flying out of the window in a burst of supernatural speed, leaving a spray of shattered glass behind him.

Victor looked amused. “Should I get him back?”

Hans merely shook his head.

“He’s useless to me. Stay our course. If this creature is truly completely distinct from humanity, it will serve our purpose better than I initially thought.”

Hans dipped deeper into contemplation, while Victor walked out into the cool night air once more.

Hans had spent a vast percentage of his life- the part that mattered, anyway- with Apotheosis, and knew fully well how the organisation worked.

He had made a big splash with his play at Mars, and he fully expected opposition; That was the way all conflict was decided, after all.

A mage who disagreed with Hans’ ideals on being exposed to them, the metaphorical obstruction in the water, would reflect the ripples from his splash, his broadcast of intent.

That had been the whole point.

In an ideological war, exposure was the most important step.

And now, it seemed the obstacle had made itself known.

Rayyan, a colleague of similar views, if guided by a more simplistic endgame of control, had been told to keep an eye out for patterns, a retracing of Hans’ steps as he had first set upon this path.

Anisha had recently been drafted by what Rayyan assured him was a group historically known for incompetence, this time with a new overseer at the helm.

So this Michael Kane was the key factor; he had to know his opponent as well as his opponent undoubtedly knew him, by this point.

Apparently, he had a flawless track record, and exemplified the principles of Outreach, being a coordinator of some repute.

He had probably latched on to Anisha’s impending metamorphosis already, or would have his suspicions soon.

The most disturbing bit of news was apparently a trip to Pluto- had Michael zeroed in on his Hans’ influences as well?

Hans now eagerly awaited news from Rayyan, who could use his dimensional magic to place a trace on Michael.

His communicator buzzed within his pockets, and he put it to his ear.

“Rayyan.”

“Hans. I tracked his office- very pointedly sterile. So I hunted down his room instead.”

“And?”

Rayyan sighed.

He thought he had finally traced his quarry- with his command of dimensionalism, he could trace individuals or objects through space and time through the smallest kernel; leftover matter or trace DNA; photograph, footprint or even a strong emotional connection.

And find those traces he did- psychic echoes shone throughout the room brilliantly, a dozen clamouring voices roaring over one another to be heard.

Rayyan’s palm fell upon the seat of the chair, and a grateful man in a grey uniform was thanking Michael for sticking up for him in front of his superiors.

He staggered to the wall, and a blood stained mage raised a toast to Michael, two thoroughly wounded warriors having survived the fires of conflict on their very first Faerie hunt, bonds formed in blood.

On the table on the side of the bed, a vase of lavenders lay there, wilting, his fingers brushed against the vase, and Ciara rose from the bed as artificial sunlight poured through the windows, the scent of lavender reminding her of the only happy memories she had of home-

Hans cut Rayyan off midway before he rambled on for much longer.

“So he muddied the waters. And you can’t place a trace on him, because it’s been drowned out.”

“I’m sorry, Hans.”

“It’s not your fault. Michael did well to cover his tracks. But it doesn’t matter. We stick to our path. We’re bound to clash; if not now, then further down the line. I trust I can count on you when that happens.”

“Of course. I will await your word.”

Hans closed his fist on the communicator, rising from his seat.

There was still much to be done.