"What does that mean?" the little girl asked.

Logan turned his head from polishing the leather of his sword's scabbard. He grinned, seeing her green eyes locked onto the Latin inscription above the door. The phrase scrolled across the space between the doorframe and ceiling in black letters, a red dragon intertwined through the words. The father placed the oiling rag and the leather sheath back on his desk, getting to his feet. He stepped over the thick tapestry carpet that covered the wooden floor and moved to stand beside her.

"Draconem Vivit," he read it aloud. "It means, 'The Dragon lives forever.' It is the mantra for our bloodline."

The girl's eyes widened as she looked up at him, her mouth opening. "Draconem Vivit," she repeated, careful to pronounce each syllable of the dead language.

"Very good," Logan praised, smiling down at her. She looked just like her mother with her petite features and long eyelashes. Her golden-brown hair complemented her fair skin and emerald green eyes. "Your grandsire would be proud," he added.

They had lived quietly in their home by the sea, and the Blood Warrior was content to have left behind the world of Shadows and Moon Worshippers. They were left to live in peace and prosperity far away from all of the bloodshed and conflict. He'd watched with a grin each passing night as their family flourished. Eris was almost eight and he had enjoyed watching Ranelle teach her in languages, philosophy, the arts, and proper British manners. She was bright and eager, willing to take in the world around them with her eyes wide open.

Avalon, too, had grown and turned into a successful young man. The twenty-year-old had already taken up a place in the Shadow Stalker society, feverish to join the Shadow ranks as a full-fledged Scholar amongst the Capitol's halls. He had also developed talent in the medical field, but his true passion was magic and witchcraft. The boy had spent his teen years following Nathaniel Bartholomeu around whenever the Winslow fledge visited, and constantly sought out projects and studies when he traveled to Italy with Ranelle. In his downtime, Logan found him locked in his own creative space where he would paint from sunset to sunrise while listening to music.

The father took great pride that his children were so intelligent. And although he still hoped it never came to pass, he knew both would serve their greater destinies well...

Eris smiled, her eyes straying back up to the phrase. She read it again, her lips moving silently with the words. "Why is it a mantra?" she asked, curious.

Logan nodded again, gesturing her back over to the large desk in the middle of the room on its red-and-black carpet. He pulled out an old, worn scroll of paper and spread it across the wooden desk, placing the glass of blood on one corner to hold it open while he braced the opposite corner with his leather conditioner. He pointed to the map of the world that was detailed with all of the Draculan strongholds and houses, including their old territories that the Count had once commanded. Many of the old kingdoms no longer existed, and some were still territories before the modern world had shaped the boundaries of their present time's countries and sovereignties.

He tapped the center of the map where a large red dragon wound its way around a long spear, marking the birthplace of vampires. "Do you see this?" he asked.

The seven-year-old leaned over the table, pushing up onto her tiptoes so she could see better. She nodded enthusiastically, glancing up at him.

"This is where we come from, where your grandsire first ruled," he explained. "It's a small country called Transylvania, part of Romania. The goddesses chose him to begin our race as vampires. Do you know about the goddesses?"

She giggled and shook her head.

Logan chuckled and nodded. She really did look just like his wife when she smiled. "There are two goddesses who created all of the supernatural world; vampires, werewolves, witches, and demons. The older of the goddesses is known as the Goddess of the Night," he went on. "She was beautiful and wise, with dark hair as black as the night sky and skin the color of snow. She wanted to create vampires to act like guardians to the mortal world as a tribute to her father, the king of the gods. She gave your grandsire all of his immortal powers and made him into the very first vampire that has ever walked this earth.

"His name was Count Vlad Dracula Dex, and he was a fierce and powerful warrior. He led his people to great victories over their enemies and was known throughout the land as one of the most powerful men. The Goddess of the Night took notice of this and changed him into an even more powerful creature of darkness, with the strength of twenty men and the speed of the fastest horses, unable to be harmed by any mortal weapon," Logan continued. "And he promised to serve the Goddess of the Night. She decreed that his responsibility was to use his immense strength to protect her father's creations of men in the mortal world."

"Was he scary?" the seven-year-old asked.

He grinned again, but shook his head. "Not always, but he could be. And he took his duties very seriously. He was soon known across the whole world for his feats of strength and the battles he won. And this made the Goddess's sister, the Goddess of the Moon, very intrigued. She, too, wanted to shape the supernatural world along with her sister. She was younger, wild, and was not afraid to use her immortal talents. She saw the power and glory in Count Dracula and wanted to take some of it for herself."

"What did she look like?"

"Well, she was very different from her older sister. She had blonde hair that was so pale it was almost white, and blue eyes that glowed in the dark like the stars. She held power over the moon and the ocean tide, and she could decide when the night sky would be completely dark by hiding the moon. Those nights were very scary to mortals. They cannot see in the dark like you and I can," he explained. "So the Moon Goddess joined her sister and helped create more vampires, and then werewolves and witches... Vampires were to act as sentries for the mortal world; Wolves would herald each full moon and watch over the forests and wilderness; and Witches were tasked to keep the balance of nature, using their magic for healing and protection."

Eris pushed herself up onto her toes to look at the map again, her eyes tracing the lines that made boundaries for each territory and country. She took in the drawings of wolves that bounded across land to the far north, and the symbols of a boiling caldron and smoke to the far south and northeast. Her gaze returned back to the red dragon and its medieval weapon. "Then what happened?"

The father smiled again, withholding the need to chuckle once more. She was smart and inquisitive, just like her older half-brother. "Dracula and his allies spread across the land and created more vampires to protect the world. It was widely known that he was the most powerful of all vampires, and they often sought his counsel. And many still believe that."

Her eyes widened. "Was he like a king?" she asked.

He laughed and shook his head. "No, not exactly. But since he was so powerful, many vampires followed his example and listened to the teachings he had. He was given his power by the goddesses, and that made him a leader of our kind. And he passed down that power to our family." The Blood Warrior reached over to pick up the sword that rested on the opposite side of his desk, carefully balancing the blade and pommel in his hands.

"This was his sword," he said, nodding to the jewels in the hilt and crosspiece, the metal glinting in the low light of the room. "One day, when you're older, this will be yours."

The girl smiled, taking in the sharp metal and its detailed filigree. It was both beautiful and daunting, something she would be afraid to touch. The idea that it once belonged to the most powerful vampire felt silly to believe, but she knew her father didn't lie. "What happened to him?"

"No one knows for sure," he replied. "But because of him, and a few other influential vampires, we lived in peace for a long time, and the world was whole. Vampires lived in groups called covens in each of the cities to watch over the humans. They kept their territories safe from all of the bad things out there that might harm someone."

"How come we don't live in a coven?" she asked, her gaze training onto her father.

Logan felt his grin slow, and instead he clenched his jaw. He looked down at her, forcing a smile back onto his face. The question was naive, but he didn't expect her to know what they had escaped from before she was born. She would have no idea what the real world was like outside of their hidden sanctuary. "Because we wanted to live here, with you."

She frowned, not satisfied with the answer. The world seemed so big and vast, and yet she knew nothing beyond her parents' stories and the boundaries of their home's property. "But what about the others?"

"You'll see them one day, when you're older," he promised. "Come on, your mother will be looking for you. It's nearly time for your lessons."

The girl nodded, dropping back down onto her flat feet. She waited for him to finish rolling up his map and put it back in its resting place in his desk. He then carefully sheathed the weapon and gestured her back towards the door. She moved ahead of him, half-skipping out into the hallway of the ground floor of their home. Her cloth ballet flats were nearly silent on the wooden floor, and she retraced her steps back to the stairwell. She glanced over her shoulder and slowed as she began to ascend the steps, her father just behind her.

"Avalon," her mother's voice called from the second-floor office, "your papers are here!"

"Be right there!"

Eris giggled and followed the sounds of their voices as she turned left at the top of the stairs. She rushed down the corridor to the office that was nestled between her parents' room and the spiral staircase to the third floor. She turned into the doorway just in time to see her mother as she finished filing away a stack of folders. "Hi, Mum!"

Ranelle glanced up and smiled. "Hello, darling. And where have you been hiding?"

Logan followed the seven-year-old into the business suite, leaning into the doorframe. He grinned when Eris gave him a quick glance.

"I learned about the goddesses," she explained to her mother. "Daddy knows all about them!"

The woman giggled, returning her husband's smile. "Oh, does he now?"

Eris nodded fervently. "He told me about how we were created and covens and everything."

Ranelle smirked, beckoning for their daughter to join her at the table where textbooks, notepads, and a chessboard waited. She watched as Eris took up her usual spot in one of the chairs, propping herself up higher by sitting on her leg and foot beneath her bottom.

"One day, I want to see a coven," Eris went on.

"You will, my darling," Ranelle promised. "Avalon!"

"I'm coming!" came the distant response.

Ranelle's gaze traced the ceiling towards the third floor, listening for her adopted son's footsteps. She glanced at Logan and rolled her eyes, making him chuckle audibly.

"Let's go, Avalon," Logan added, his voice just above a normal speaking tone. His son's vampire senses were slowly coming to life, which meant he could hear his parents with little problem.

"I know, I know!"

There was a sudden thunder of steps on the wooden floorboards above, crossing to the far side of the third floor before the sounds of booted feet on the metal stairs echoed from the hall. He leapt off the steps before reaching the final one and jogged down the corridor to the large office suite.

Avalon turned the corner, nearly colliding with his father's shoulder. He backed up a step to regain his balance, a sheepish grin on his face. "See? I'm here," he said, showing his teeth in a cheesy grin. He had grown to be over six-feet in height, his lanky build and blue eyes serving as the sole differences from his father. His blonde hair hung down past his ears and almost brushed his shoulders. He had been growing it out for nearly a year, trying to mimic the musicians and rockstars he idolized in his music collection.

"Uh huh," Ranelle remarked, trying not to giggle. She turned to face the young man, holding out a stack of papers and folders towards him. "And don't you dare get paint on my rug," she warned teasingly.

"Yes, Mum," he replied, taking the pile of paperwork. He quickly began to thumb through it. He turned to lean his backside against the desk, starting to speed-read through the fifth paper in the stack.

"Now," Ranelle went on, "back to your lessons, Eris. Do you remember where we left off?"

The girl nodded, smiling as she watched her older brother. "We were talking about England and the Great War."

"Very good," her mother praised.