Karen had been in and out of consciousness for the better part of a week since they had removed her eyeball from the socket. The old Dhampir barely remembered Heath's constant refusal to surrender to the Shtriga and to end both her and his torture. A part of her welled with pride with each time he refused the competing city's offer but yet another part, the part they had broken already in their torture of her, wanted him badly to give in and end it for her. She knew just as soon as he submitted to them, they would have no more use for a century-old Dhampir master and she would be drained of her blood, her body sent back to Gerald as a warning to never again break the truces.

Her eye fluttered open again, bracing for the pain. It was searing but not unbearably so, unfortunately allowing her to remain conscious this time. She scanned the room and her old student had been removed from his spot and she was by herself. Relief washed over her like a soothing, cool wave of water. Her time remaining on this earth was not long and the Dark Father would finally come to grant her rest. She was weary and had served her Master many more decades than a Dhampir would normally serve a Maestru. Her body was broken, bent, and her reflexes slowing from age. It had already cost the life of one Shtriga she was sworn to protect.

Her hands, wrist still bearing the blood-ravaged wear marks that the chains had left on her during her unconscious writhing, were now free and the only thing that bound her was a single manacle on her ankle, hooked to a short leash on the wall. She had been laid on a straw stuffed mattress and her ragged, bloodied attire had been changed to plain clothing bearing an unfamiliar symbol. The room was silent as a tomb and fitting for a dead Guardian but she would not have the honor of her Shtriga to give her the last dignity afforded to a Guardian. In the best case scenario, she would feed a random Vatalas. At least then she would still be furthering the cause of Moartea but if they truly wanted to torture her, they would give her dishonor her without spilling a single drop of blood.

She shook her head to dispel the unpleasant thoughts and decided that her thoughts would be better placed towards escaping before any of that could happen. She examined the room carefully and an errant piece of wire lay nearby, by her estimation just out of reach, but damn them! With one of her eyes out, it could be a foot closer or further with how bad her depth perception was off. After stringing some torn cloth through the links of the chain to muffle them, she carefully reached to full extension. The tips of her toes barely caught the wire and she smiled at her prize. Experience would see her victorious today.

Within five minutes she had felt her way through the tumblers and the ankle manacle was off and set soundlessly on the floor. With as much noise as darkness overtaking the land, she stole her way to the door. She could tell by the waning adrenaline that darkness was coming on the overland which meant waking Shtriga and Vatalas. She must make it clear of the city before nightfall.

The lock on the metal door took her several minutes longer to work her way through before she heard the satisfying click of the last tumbler. Karen took in a couple of swift gulps of air, calming herself. beyond this door was a rival city, either death for defeat or life for success. The hinges were noisy and there would be no easy way to do it. With the swiftness still left to her by her sire, she ripped the door open to be met with applause and bright lights.

"Well done!" A voice called to her beyond the lights, "My! You are everything he said you would be and more, my lady."

Karen froze mid-stride unsure how to proceed. In House of Baciu, an escaping prisoner was put to death immediately. Someone had tested her, toyed with her, and now congratulated her.

"If you didn't want an old Dhampir to escape," Karen tossed the wire to her feet in the light, "Then don't leave things like this around. Not many of us old Dhampirs around and those that there are, well, we know a few things."

As long as there was banter, she was breathing. She might as well play ball.

"No, from what I am told, you are one of a kind. Well past your prime, oldest known Dhampir. What will it be one hundred and five this next spring?" The voice asked as it moved in front of the light giving her a silhouette to see. From the shape of the limbs, the elongated nature of the man, he had to be a Shtriga.

"Your sources are good, Maestru."

"My source also tells me you are the best but as of right now, you are dead because your loyalties lie to another city and you broke the Truces." the Shtriga said blandly. If he meant to make Karen flinch he failed. She longed for eternal sleep, tired beyond her years. Death at this point would be a reward. "Ah, a true Dhampir to the end! He was correct. That is why you are still living my dear Karen. Death would be its own reward for you and if you play our little game, we might even grant you an honorable death."

Her eye lit up with life, "And what are the rules?"

The Grand Maestru stepped close enough she could see him, "Why, I am your new Maestru and you will train my new Dhampir."

Her face lost all color, "Heath"

"Yes, your student and son."