Ajatar seemed the most struck by this deep revelation, her wings dropping down to her sides as she tried to digest it. Vorador was far more clinical about it. To him, it made sense. Finally before him was the source of the Dark Gift, the material used to create the original curse. His analytical mind took it all in, picking over all the details and trying to sort them out into logical order. Somehow it seemed deeply appropriate that the macabre origin, the primary source of the curse of Vampirism itself, was a corpse.
The skeleton was an enigma as it defied his mind’s attempts to categorise it. By all he knew of elemental lore, which was vastly extensive, the power and control these bones radiated ought not to be physically possible. No one creature should have the seemingly natural ability to command the elements and through them, the very particles that made up all physical matter. This was a transmutation-like power that alchemists could only dream about.
Vorador wondered what type of creature this had been. With its mammoth size, carnivorous nature and clear power in its bones, which had to have been diminished by the centuries after its death, it was hard to believe that such a creature would have escaped notice. Let alone an entire species of such beasts.
“All of that devilment, from these mere bones?” The Grandmaster of the Serioli asked in a faint voice, not taking her eyes from the remains. Her expression was one of stunned awe. For the Serioli, the mastery of the elements was almost a religious experience. What was laid before her now would have raised profound implications for the history, implementation and future of her beloved practise in her mind. Vorador turned to look into the open, hungry maw of the large dead beast. It was hard not to be intimidated by that mouth and its dagger-like teeth.
 “What power this creature must have had in life...” Ajatar breathed airily, turning and walking around the edge of the shallow pit to study the bones from a different angle. Her wings were shivering, the feathers rustling in a clear sign of her agitation. She always did that when strong emotions were aroused.
“Just what is it?” Vorador asked, unable to really take his eyes away from the open mouth of the creature. It seemed strangely compelling for some reason.
“Ancient, even by our standards, if I cannot determine its species.” Ajatar muttered darkly as if to herself, coming to a stop by the creature’s curving tail. Its tip was segmented into many annotated parts all nailed down. “How exactly can these bones be used to alter things?” She asked, turning to look up at Tiamatu. Roused from his own study, Vorador looked towards the two Hylden women. He noted that the Seer was standing with her head turned to one side, so that she would not have to look at the dead creature.
“The resonance they produce affects the cohesion of organic matter, allowing for remote manipulation and reconstruction.” Tiamatu explained after taking a moment to figure out how to simplify the advanced scientific concepts into an easily understood statement. “There is a limit, though.” She added, seeing their incredulous expressions. “You are limited to working with the potential that is already in the body of the one who you are ‘altering’.”
Vorador chuckled at this and a grin parted his lips and revealed his fangs.
“So no transforming fish into birds, or dogs into insects?” He asked her sardonically, his voice filled with a wry amusement. Tiamatu’s returning smile was subdued.
“Not with this method, truly. It takes millions of years of regular evolution to produce those sorts of changes.” She admitted.
Ajatar shook her head and turned back to the skeleton, her stunned awe beginning to fade and be replaced by an incredulous and perplexed scepticism.
 “The elements that make up all living things, controlled so flawlessly by one creature.” She muttered and neatly folded her wings behind her back again. “It ought not to be possible.”
Vorador agreed, at least in theory, but he was not so foolish as to ignore the proof laid out right before his eyes. This creature ought not to exist and yet here it was.
“Perhaps we ought to be thankful its kind is extinct and long gone.” He said, wondering to himself exactly when such a powerful breed of animals had been killed off. It would have to have been before the ancient war. Then the Vampire frowned, the strangeness of all this finally dawning on him completely and he turned to give the Hylden Seer a very penetrating look.
“Why are you showing us this?” He asked bluntly. The Seer did not turn around completely to look at him. She was definitely avoiding looking at the creature head-on, he was sure of it now.
“Because I was told to.” She replied simply. At this answer Vorador’s expression went flat and his eyes narrowed in deep suspicion.
“By who?” He demanded in a low tone. She just shrugged one shoulder and loftily cocked her head to one side.
“You would not understand if I told you.” She said in an infuriatingly superior voice. “But it was imperative that you see this thing, that you know this creature.” Her eyes moved back to him and there was amusement in them. “Especially you, Vorador.”
He stared her down for a long moment, one of his large ears twitching in his irritation. If there was one thing he truly hated and despised, it was people who thought they were clever enough to mislead and falsely enmesh him.
 “If you’re trying to manipulate me, you’re very bad at it.” He told her bluntly. The Seer held his gaze and then smiled very lightly.
“Or I’m not trying to manipulate you at all.” She suggested softly and then abruptly turned her back on him. “When you discover which, do enlighten me.”
In his younger days Vorador might very well have flown at the Hylden woman with his bare talons and slashed her to death for such insolence. Kain probably would have. But by now Vorador was far too mature for such an infantile reaction and clearly she knew that. That made his ears flick in glowering resentment.
 “It is the catalyst of these bones that allows for the restoration of our kind to our fair form.” Tiamatu was explaining to Ajatar. The two of them stood together off to one side by the pit, looking down at the skeletal corpse. The leader of the House of Knowledge had a long pair of metal tongs in her hand. “We needed them in order to be whole and this is why we could not affect such healing in the ‘other place’.” At this she bent down to one knee and reached into the pit with the tongs. Very gently she picked up a small bone, perhaps a piece of vertebrae about the length of a finger, and lifted it out. She held the bone up for the Grandmaster to see while examining it herself. “Without them it was impossible.”
Ajatar watched the bone with wide unblinking eyes, seeming to bask in the elemental resonance it was giving off almost in her face. After a moment of silence she lifted one hand and reached out towards the bone with the tip of a talon. Tiamatu watched her do so with a cautious eye. With a feather light touch the Grandmaster made contact with the bone.
There was a moment of prolonged silence and then Ajatar’s wings lowered in disappointment, her face confused. Vorador did not know what precisely she had been expecting. Perhaps for a jolt of pure elemental energy to ripple down her arm?
“Would this process work on a Vampire?” He asked now, finally deciding that he had best come to the point before he was distracted any further. While all of this was an interesting mystery and might at another time be worth devoting time to, he had only one real concern.
“I have never had opportunity to try the process on any Vampire; much less one of the black winged ones.” Tiamatu replied, supposing correctly that he had been referring to the need for the process on Janos Audron. Holding the bone in the tongs she crossed over to a work surface. Laid out across it was a small collection of glass tubes all held in order of size on a stone rack, as well as various other types of strange scientific equipment.
There she laid the fragment in a small container that had stood waiting, the inside of which was lined with a fabric padding. She placed the bone inside and folded the fabric over it. “But I imagine that will make a difference, since the procedure is currently calibrated for use on only my people.”
Then she turned to the glass vials, pausing briefly to consider and then selecting two of them of about equal size. One of these she also placed inside the container, along with a few other strange tools and then shut it. Carrying the spare glass vial in one hand she began to walk over to them. On the way past she picked up the blue glyph prod that had been left on another surface.
She paused by the wall and then ran her hand up the same markings that had opened the pit in the floor. Their glow dimmed in response and, with a loud grinding noise, the two halves of the covering platform began to slide shut again. Ajatar kept her eyes on the bones of the creature as long as possible, before the floor reconnected and they were hidden from view. Instantly the feeling of elemental churning faded. Perhaps, now contained, the affect of the remains was isolated. The Seer finally turned to face them fully and there was an unmistakable hint of relief in her eyes that the creature had been covered back up.
“To attune it to affect healing on your sire, Janos, I will require a few samples of blood.” Tiamatu said when she reached them and that strange statement was so sudden that there was a moment of awkward silence.
Vorador stared at her with a blank expression.
“Blood?” He repeated and he did not bother to hide his deep and suspicious scepticism. Tiamatu, either oblivious to his suspicious tone or ignoring it entirely, held up the small glass vial she had retrieved. It even had a glass stopper.
 “The curse that makes you Vampires what you are runs in your blood, even if some don’t like to admit it.” She said with a smile of knowing confidence. With a flick of her thumb she opened the vial. The stopper came clear with a short squeak of glass on glass. “As such I will need a sample of blood from Janos’ nearest kin, as well as a sample from Janos himself.” She held out the vial to him. “With those as references I can make the necessary adjustments.”
The Vampire looked at the vial with extreme distaste.
“You want me to bleed?” He asked rhetorically, the edge of his mouth pulled down as his face adopted a disapproving frown. Tiamatu indicated a level in the vial about halfway up its length with one finger.
“I will not require much, just enough to perform some rudimentary experiments with.” She assured him. Vorador did not particularly feel reassured and glared at the vial with active dislike. What he was being asked to do was distasteful to him. In certain aspects of the later Vampire culture, blood was a very precious thing and its waste was considered an aberration. Blood should only be shed in battle.
“Vorador, don’t you want your dear beloved father restored?” The Seer asked him mockingly and he flinched visibly at the jibe.
-0-
“I trusted none of this species, not even Damkina, fully. Perhaps I was letting my perception be clouded by my sire’s prejudices. Whatever the case, placed before me was a very simple choice: restoration or damnation for my father.”
-0-
He stared at the little vial for a long moment and then grunted, his ears drooping a little in reluctant acceptance.
“So be it, then.” He sighed in resignation. Tiamatu managed a short smile and made to open her container, perhaps for one of her tools. Vorador quickly held up a restraining hand. “But not here.” He told her firmly. “I will have this process watched over in my own habitat.”
He ignored the Hylden woman’s surprised look and closed his eyes for a moment. The Whisper was an ability that all Vampires shared. It was a natural telepathy developed during their kind’s evolution as the Dark Gift grew amongst their numbers. Long distance communication could be achieved by wizards and other sorcerers, but that involved magical incantations and was a messy spell. The Whisper was far more reliable.
The strength of the gift depended on the energies and skill of the Vampire employing it and to a lesser extent, the metal aptitude of the receiving party. As a Vampire of considerable age and ability, Vorador himself could reach out some distance to speak to any other of his kind he desired.
-(Sally... do you hear me?)- His mind echoed out, calling to one of his spawn. Back on the island where his castle stood, the Cabal would by now be revived from their own sleep. He had left them with instructions to keep the island peaceful and the castle secure. Above all, he had charged them with the guardianship and wellbeing of Janos Audron.
Sally was the strongest of the Cabal. Having stayed awake while the others slept, her powers had greatly increased. She had assisted him in the battle with Ishtar and the rescue of his sire.
-(Sire?)- Her mind echoed back after a moment. She was not as skilled with the Whisper as he was and so could only speak to him across this distance when he made the connection.
-(I will be returning shortly. Have Janos cleaned and dressed in fresh clothing. We will be having visitors.)- He told her crisply, fully expecting the Cabal to have everything prepared by the time they arrived. There was a very long pause.
-(My lord... Janos is no longer here.)- She replied, her mental echo sounding very reluctant to speak. Vorador opened one eye in surprise, his frown deepening suddenly.

-(What?!)- He demanded, his thought lashing against her mind unintentionally in his vehemence, like a tidal wave striking the shore.  
-(At midnight after you left, some more of your sire’s kind arrived.)- She told him with a very submissive thought. -(They said they had come to bring him to a secluded place of safety. We told them we could not allow it but they knocked us aside with their numbers and weapons. There were too few of us and many of us were still too weak from the sleep to prevent them. They took off with Janos before we could stop them.  I tried to inform you with the Whisper but you were out of range for my skill.)-
He listened to her somewhat rushed report and then opened both eyes, his expression grim and dangerous. He didn’t bother asking her any more questions. He shut off the connection and then turned, deliberately slowly to look at Ajatar-Cadre.
“Ajatar.” He began in a very low and controlled voice, not letting any of the annoyance he felt show on his face. “Would you like to explain why the Serioli have seen fit to abduct my sire?”
The Grandmaster of the Serioli half turned and gave him a sidelong glance. By her expression he could instantly see that not only did she know of the abduction, but the command for the heist had come directly from her.
“I ordered him taken to our new stronghold, an abandoned mountain retreat that once belonged to Lord Kain.” She said flatly to him, instantly confirming his suspicion. Her tone was completely unapologetic. “Janos might not be Serioli, but he is still one of my people. I could not leave him there where he was vulnerable to Hylden attack.”
Neither Tiamatu nor the Seer seemed to take any offence at this remark. Tiamatu herself cocked her head to one side in some confusion.
“Where is this stronghold?” She asked.
“Far to the west, in the mountains north of the Lake of Tears.” The Seer replied promptly. “Kain used it as a mountain sanctuary, an impregnable fortress that is almost unassailable.” At Tiamatu’s questioning expression, she smiled. “I showed the Serioli where it was.” She explained. The leader of the House of Knowledge considered this briefly, scratching the underside of her chin.
“If that is where Janos has been taken, then that is where we must go.” She said in conclusion. Ajatar looked at her with stern disapproval on her face.
“I cannot allow Hylden inside the walls of our stronghold!” She said adamantly, a frowning marring her expression. Tiamatu glared back at her, her own expression matching the Grandmaster’s perfectly.
“And I cannot treat Janos if I am not physically present.” She retorted sharply. “Unless you want to bring him here?” Her tone was sarcastic.
Ajatar glared at her. Tiamatu glared back. The two of them stood there for a long moment before the Grandmaster looked away sharply, her wings faintly rustling.
“Only Tiamatu and myself will be going with you.” The Seer said in a more tactful voice. “You may have a guard on us at all times if you feel it necessary.” She assured the Ancient Vampire. Ajatar’s frown clearly showed she was deeply opposed to this idea.
“Do not quail at this, Ajatar.” Vorador told her and both his face and expression were very stern. “Not after you abduct my sire from his sickbed.”
The Grandmaster of the Serioli glanced between them all with a frown, finding herself bereft of allies on this issue. Still, this was a large thing she was expected to do, allow ancient enemies of her race into her fortified stronghold. Even though there might be a supposed ‘ceasefire’, she was still a military leader and as such had an instinctive distrust of the enemy even during peacetime. However, she realised that under the circumstances, her hasty pre-emptive actions had made this the only thing to be done.
“Oh, very well.” She said with a grunt of acquiescence. “I suppose it wouldn’t be fair for the Hylden alone to make a gesture of peaceful intent.” Tiamatu inclined her head but the gesture had a mocking quality to it.
“I thank you for your understanding, noble Grandmaster.” She said with a drop of sarcasm in her voice. Ajatar gave her a sidelong look, full of dislike. Tiamatu’s returning smile was impish. The Grandmaster snorted once derisively and then extended her hands out to the rest of them, arching her back and spreading her wings slightly.

The translocation spell she enacted was an elemental discipline, aligned to the study of Air which itself was composed of the principles of Dimension and Mind, both of which allowed for magical transportation. A luminous orb of mist surrounded them all, engulfing them completely and hiding the rest of the laboratory from view. The unmistakable sensation of movement and physical dislocation made Vorador’s head swim and he knew they were being transported from one location to another instantly, regardless of the actual geographic distance.
The Hylden nation and their city were left behind in an instant and when the luminous mist cleared, Vorador found himself standing amongst the bleached white rocky boulders of a steep cliffside. He took a moment to collect his bearings, swiftly turning his head to survey the panorama. He had to shield his eyes with one hand against a strong gust of wind. From this new height he could see the land rolling out before him to the south.
The Lake of Tears was a shadow of its former self, a mere thin stretch of stagnant water that looked sickly green from this vantage point. Once the sight of the ancient Vampire Citadel, that colossal fortress had been eroded by the centuries down and down until even its foundations were submerged in the stinking mud of the bottom of the lake. There was no evidence now that any sentient being had built anything in this region at all. Everything was being eroded down to nothingness and he was just witnessing the final seeping away of all that had once been. 
The scene was telling of the state of Nosgoth herself and the sight of it only reinforced his own notion of futility in any attempt to resuscitate this denuded world. All colour was leeching away, leaving Nosgoth little more than black, white and all shades of grey in between. Soon even that would go and the world would be a blank slate.
Just to the east, partly hidden behind the peaks, were the rising black chimneys of the imperial smokestacks. These belching furnaces were now silent and no more put forth the smog that clouded the sky and hid the fledglings from the light of the sun. Still, the damage from such foolishness had already been done.
Ajatar folded her wings tight to prevent the wind from catching in them and blowing her off the side of the mountain.
“We will have to walk from here, where we can be seen to approach with no hostile intent.” She said, raising her voice over the whistling of the wind. “Or my warriors will just cut you down instinctively.”
The two Hylden ladies were having trouble on the slope. The ground beneath their feet was made of loose rock and gravel and their feet were tridactyl and raised like a tripod, thus they sank into the gravel up to their ankles. Tiamatu was spreading her three toes out wide to give herself as a wide a surface area as possible. Despite their difficulty the two of them carried themselves with the utmost dignity as Ajatar led the way up the steep slope.
The path bent and twisted in many directions, and through the gaps in the tall rocks Vorador could make out the chiselled spires of a castle-like fortification. Ajatar paused to hoist herself up onto the top of a rocky plateau and then paused, looking up towards the structure as the others joined her.
-0-
“I had heard much of Kain’s mountain sanctuary, his fortress of seclusion where none but his chosen elite guards were permitted to enter. With its abandonment the Serioli had occupied the structure and no better defensible position could they ask for.”
-0-
As Vorador surveyed the fortress he saw that rather than being built outwards, the architects of this fortress had taken advantage of the sturdy, exposed bedrock to tunnel into the cliff itself. The fortress was mostly underground, sheltered and protected by the mountain itself. Spires and turrets grew out of rocky projections and many of the defences were formed from the stone itself without the need for mortar in the bindings.
Protected arrowslits lined the smoother outer walls, all angled to give the defenders the best shots at potential attackers while ensuring aggressors were left with no target for retaliation. There were even metallic overhangs at various places where there was the potential for the dumping of boiling pitch and other nasty substances.
What attracted his immediate eye, however, was the fortress’s front gate. It was made of a rusty red iron and pitted, probably reinforced from the inside. Directly above it, engraved into the rock itself, was the curving bat-like symbol that had been adopted for the Empire. Beneath this were the other symbols of the Clans, all in order of the prestige of the lieutenants who served as their leaders. Strangely, the symbol for the Razielim had not been removed and was displayed proudly with the others. To either side of the gate, giving the illusion of holding up the rock above, were two large statues, each depicting Kain himself standing resolutely and proudly staring out with a determined expression on his face. In the hands of each statue was a facsimile of the Reaver blade, turned from its intended purpose as a weapon of liberation into the symbol of a tyrant’s authority.
-0-
“Kain’s sense of taste left much to be desired.”
-0-
Tiamatu paused to consider the stronghold critically, her head cocked to one side. That seemed to be a personal eccentricity of hers; similar to Ajatar’s twitching of the wings.
“Impressive.” She remarked, perhaps out of the need to say something civil.
“Ostentatious.” Vorador snorted in correction.
Ajatar stood there, looking up at the fortress for a long moment, her face strangely content, then began forward. As she approached the massive doors, she held up one hand with her talons clenched in a fist. When she reached a certain point she stopped and waited.
Then, after a brief pause, the door began to swing open. The gears of the colossal mechanism required to turn the hinges groaned loudly and the ground beneath their feet trembled at the vibration. Out of the revealed courtyard beyond came a small unit of Serioli warriors. They kept together in a tight ‘V’ formation as they flew and grasped in their hands was a variety of different weapons: axes, swords, spears and even three with longbows. The weapons were vastly outdated but in the hands of these trained warriors they were more than sufficient.
In the lead was the newly appointed second-in-command of the Serioli Order, a large winged Vampire who carried a large curving golden axe. His most distinguishing mark was a raking scar that travelled horizontally across his face over his nose.
With some distaste, Vorador saw that many of the Serioli had taken to wearing drapes over their shoulders, all of them boldly displaying Kain’s imperial symbol. He knew that the Serioli had pledged themselves to Kain, their so-called ‘Scion of Balance’, and he wondered at their complete lack of taste for such a choice of idol.
“Ajatar! What is this?!” The leader demanded incredulously as the welcoming committee landed before her. He was not looking at his Grandmaster but rather at the two Hylden women who were standing prudently out of the reach of weapons. “You bring the enemy to our gates!”
Ajatar frowned and reared up, her demeanour becoming that of the confident military commander, even if she did not have a physically intimidating natural appearance.
“Hold, Ansu!” She said sternly to her second-in-command. “I do not like this any more than you do... but these two are guests.” She swept her gaze over the other warriors assembled behind him, daring any of them to contradict her edict.
“Guests? The Unspoken, guests in our stronghold!?” Warrior Ansu asked, his face contorted with surprise, shock and disbelief. Ajatar nodded and her expression and body language radiated the fact that she was not going to tolerate insubordination on this issue.
“Yes... there is a ceasefire now.” She told him flatly. The other Serioli Vampires began to exchange startled and confused looks amongst themselves at this statement. A few of them peered around at the two Hylden women, while trying to pretend they were doing no such thing.
“They are here to assist in restoring Janos’ shattered mind.” Ajatar announced overloud so they all heard her.
“You would trust them?!” Ansu was clearly not convinced of this at all. Frowning, Ajatar took a step closer to him and dropped her voice so that her words would not carry back to the others behind her. Vorador, however, had exceptionally good hearing, perhaps due to the evolution of his ears. He heard her quite clearly.
“No; but so long as they do what they say they will do and then leave, there is no harm.” She told him quietly but firmly.  “But I would have them escorted by at least three of our finest warriors.” She held a talon up to his face. “And I mean ‘escorted’, Ansu. Not imprisoned.”
Ansu tensed at the flat and stern command. He was not filled with the zeal that prevented much of the ancient Vampire culture from accepting the Hylden, but rather he did not approve of this arrangement due to military reasons. Still, he had received a direct command from his superior and like any good soldier he would obey orders.
“As you say, Grandmaster...” He replied with distaste and then half turned to gesture back at the fort with a raised hand. Vorador heard the scrap of claw on stone as the archers and marksmen who had been watching their approach, unseen, were given the command to stand down. The Serioli with Ansu stood aside, some reluctantly and others with openly curious expressions on their faces. With this honour guard around them, the Hylden ladies were escorted through the gates and into Kain’s lofty summer palace. Vorador followed along behind, taking some amusement in the reaction of the Vampires who saw the two ‘guests’.
The interior of the mountain retreat was a honeycombed structure with many rooms and vaulted chambers carved out of the rock itself. Massive cylindrical stone pillars, inlaid with reinforced metal struts were positioned regularly to ensure the stability of the larger spaces. The outer walls of the fortress were at least thirty feet thick, the door sealed by a complex mechanism of gears and the only approach to its gate protected by a succession of battlements and archery towers. The fortress’s position was so isolated that it would be supremely difficult for anyone not gifted with wings to physically get here.
The Serioli had taken well to this fortress and indeed here they would be able to defend themselves from virtually any hostile force. Vorador could both see and sense the employment of elemental smiting all around him. Experiments were apparently being undertaken to employ the materials of this later era in the construction of an elemental forge. Despite himself, Vorador found it pleasing that the only surviving aspect of the ancient culture of his ancestral species was the tolerant and rational Order he had known as a boy.
With one exception.
Janos Audron was laid out in a magnificent bed of thick fur and silk, wide enough for him to lie with his wings fully extended. The chamber was long with many side rooms leading off from it at regular intervals and filled with furnishings made out of polished metal, delicately carved and sculpted rather than riveted; including a table and a set of chairs, a work surface, a bookshelf and a weapons rack along one wall.
The floor was covered in a lush red carpet that absorbed the sharp edges of the talons of those who walked on it. Engraved in the ceiling overhead was another carving of the imperial symbol, inlaid with a golden metal.
The room also had the only decorative window Vorador had seen in this place so far: a large and arching stained glass window depicting the death of the Sarafan Lord by Kain’s hands, the Reaver thrust through his enemy’s chest, all in bright and varying shades of green and red. From this alone Vorador had reason to suspect this was Kain’s own bed chamber.
Janos seemed as frail and wounded as ever before, lost in the prison of his own mind and withered in both body and spirit. He lay in his new bed and did not move, only breathing in shallowly to the point where he looked almost like a corpse.
-0-
“After being thrown into the demon realm by the Sarafan Lord, Janos had been taken prisoner by the cruel high priest, Ishtar. There, in the clutches of his hated enemies, my sire was tormented for over two thousand years; all the while exposed to the warping effects of that terrible place. Damkina had promised restoration of both elements of my family. It was time to see if she could deliver on at least one of them.”
-0-
The Serioli had been very gentle in their transfer of Janos to their fortified position and had treated him with a great deal of loving care. His sire had been cleaned and dressed in fresh clothes as he had wished, a modern garment made of white satin and reinforced black leather.
Tiamatu approached his bedside, placing her container down beside her and leaning over to examine the prone Vampire. She studied everything, observing the distortion of his muscles and skin, the discolouration of the feathers on his wings and the gaunt, hungered look he had despite having been fed by the Cabal.
“The damage is extensive, but does not appear to be beyond repair.” She announced after a moment, looking back over her shoulder. “But I will require the necessary blood now.”
Grimly Vorador approached and held out his arm to her without a word, watching her very closely. The blood she extracted from him with the use of a hollow needle was no loss at all although when she went to retrieve the sample from Janos, Vorador watched her like a hawk.
When the leader of the House of Knowledge had two glass vials with blood, she held them up the light to examine them closely. Then, humming to herself, she knelt to open her container and brought out some of the instruments from her laboratory. Without sufficient knowledge of the science and techniques she was employing, Vorador was at a loss to understand what she was doing precisely.
None of the Serioli knew either and the armed ‘escort’ crowed close to peer in. Tiamatu paused and looked up over her shoulder at him disapprovingly.
“I am trying to work here.” She told them all flatly. Ansu, who had been peering in with the others despite his dignity, flushed up an ugly shade of mortification at this rebuke.
“One false move and I’ll separate your head from your shoulders.” He told her, one large hand on the hilt of his axe. Tiamatu stared him down for a long moment and then smiled.
“How endearing.” She replied with immense sarcasm and then turned back to her work, leaving Ansu to stand there with eyes bulging in outrage.
“Forgive their enthusiasm.” Ajatar remarked, coming up to lay a calming hand on her subordinate’s shoulder. “All they’ve ever known of your kind is your being implacable enemies in a war.” 
“That was more than three thousand years ago.” Tiamatu replied, still working with her instruments. She poured a small amount of the collected blood into a device and began running her finger over the controlling glyphs. The device churned audibly.
“Not for them.” Ajatar said.
“It would seem that neither side is really willing to let go of the animosity.” The Hylden woman stated and her tone was slightly melancholy.
“There’s been too much blood spilt, atrocities committed and horrors inflicted for that. We’ve hurt each other too badly.” The Grandmaster remarked in that same sad tone. Tiamatu paused in her work and looked back over her shoulder at Ajatar.
“Perhaps.” She said and smiled at her, a warm smile this time for the small flicker of hope there. Ajatar stared and then smiled herself.
“Ansu, if you please?” She then said, pulling on her lieutenant’s shoulder and compelling him to follow her. “I have some things to tell you, in private.” Despite Ansu’s outrage and unwillingness to leave the Hylden unwatched he was eventually removed from the chamber.
Vorador kept his eyes on Janos, wondering privately to himself just what he was going to do if this actually worked. If this procedure was successful and Janos was restored, it would be unlikely that he would approve of this so-called ceasefire with their supposed eternal enemy. Vorador was not certain if he would be able to talk his sire into accepting the merits of such an arrangement.
It was then that he noticed he was not the only one looking directly at Janos. Off to one side, the Seer was staring at the unconscious Vampire. Her expression and stance were deceptively neutral, for Vorador knew the true emotions beneath her facade and the telltale signs that gave them away.
“Even the sight of him makes my blood boil in my veins.” She admitted in a soft and quiet voice as he came up beside her. Her eyes were locked on Janos’ face and she wasn’t blinking. “I am sorry Vorador... but I will not deny it. I despise Janos more then you could ever imagine. How could I otherwise, after what he did to me?”
She did nothing characteristic of the enraged, such as ball her fists or clench her teeth, but rather was calm, controlled and quiet. That made her rage all the more intense somehow.
“Then why do you offer to restore him?” He asked quietly back so as to not draw attention to their conversation.
“Because it’s necessary.” She said. She had used that excuse before for her actions, but this time there was an edge of bitter resentment in her voice. “If it were left down to me I would leave Janos Audron to a fate a thousand times worse than this catatonia and enjoy every second of his suffering.”
Vorador looked at her sidelong.
“Eons have passed since that event.” He reminded her. The Seer gently shook her head.
“No amount of time erases that sort of scar.” She said and her voice caught a little in her throat. She had to swallow before continuing. “The Eternal Prison was in many ways worse than the demon realm.” Then she turned her head to return his look.
“Do not ever ask me to forgive him.” She said. Vorador held her gaze and then folded his arms behind his back.
“And yet you were asking your own people to forgive mine?” He asked and at this the Seer flushed, visibly struck by the comparison. Resentment for his words filled her eyes. “Perhaps, Damkina, you might consider your own position before advising others.” He told her as he turned away, smiling slightly at her consternation. “You might seem less of a hypocrite that way.”
Tiamatu straightened from her strange work and turned to face them, an annoyed frown marring her face.
“This will take longer than originally predicted.” She admitted with reluctance. Vorador turned sharply to look at her.
“What is the hindrance?” He asked sternly.
“As I suspected, a Vampire’s different composition makes affecting the necessary changes a greater challenge for the process.” She said and lifted up the blue glyph prod that she had brought with her, running a finger over its useful end. “Adjustments to the treatment and the equipment will take several days.”
That was not what Vorador wanted to hear and his expression showed it, his eyebrows lowered and both ears erect on either side of his head.
“And then he will be restored?” He asked with an angry overtone to his voice. Tiamatu shrugged.
“He will be relatively coherent and much of his fair physical form recovered.” She replied, completely ignoring his vehemence with perfect ease. “I can say no more than that.”
Vorador silently fumed about this restrictive setback. However, there was very little he could do about it. If the process took days then it would just have to take days. He did have, he supposed, a surplus of time to spend.
“So be it, then.” He remarked with contempt and turned to look at the stained glass window while Tiamatu went back to making the lengthy adjustments to her equipment and devices. He didn’t know why he thought looking at it would help calm him down. Seeing Kain armed with the perfect sword he himself had forged only made him more irritable.
“Are you satisfied now?” The Seer asked him from behind, still sounding sore and annoyed from his rebuke. That tone served to fuel his annoyance.
“No.” He replied flatly. He turned his head to look back at her over his shoulder. “Janos still lies there lost in madness. I will count myself content only when I can hold an intelligible conversation with him.” Then he turned his head away, lips drawn down in a deep, annoyed frown. “And thus far you have said nothing about Umah.”
The Seer regarded him with some asperity and then began to walk around his side so that he had no choice but to look at her.
“You expect me to reward you entirely in advance?” She asked mockingly. Vorador purposely did not look directly at her, keeping his expression firm and his eyes on the window.  “No, no, Vorador.” She wagged a finger at him. “Janos is simply my ‘good faith’ payment.” When he refused to acknowledge her presence she angrily stepped forward and dropped her voice into a harsh whisper
“If you ever want to see your precious adopted daughter live once more, you’ll have to do a little something for me.” She said.
“Was saving you from your incarceration in the Eternal Prison not enough?” He asked with heavy contempt, still not looking at her.
The Seer snorted and tossed her head back, her eyes rolling.
“That debt expired centuries ago and you have more than used up my natural gratitude.” She informed him with scorn. Her eyes flicked back to him in a look of peeved disapproval. “Don’t push it, Vorador.”
The Vampire was silent for a long moment, his eyes fixed firmly on the window. On the image of the Reaver, rather than its wielder.
“What assurance do I have you can even do as you claim?” He asked then, his voice betraying that faint flicker of hope that he had done his best to conceal so deep inside himself. “Revive her after being long dead for eons?”
The Seer chuckled once in the depths of her throat and placed her hands on her hips. Her attitude was one of smug superiority.
“There is just one real question that has any merit.” She said and her own vehemence seemed to have been overtaken by her natural cockiness. “One you need to ask only yourself.” She smiled just enough to part her lips. “How much do you want it?”
With that, Vorador knew she had won the combative discussion. His resentment and anger for her machinations flared for one single instant and then faded, dropping away in defeat into a grim and indifferent resignation.
“You already know the answer, or you wouldn’t have asked.” He said in a mild rebuke. He took a deep breath and then sighed. “Very well, what is your price?”
The Seer’s smile widened in her triumph. She raised her hands and pressed them together in front of her chest, fingertip to fingertip. She almost seemed to glow in her victory and Vorador supremely wished she would stop milking it.
“There is a relic that I need found.” She began in a sweet voice. “It is utterly vital that this construction be uncovered, its location made known.”
At this he did finally turn to look at her directly.
“You want me to go on a treasure hunt?” He asked with some resentment. Surely this had to be some perverse joke.
“It is an artefact older than even the ancient war.” She told him and this time her tone was deadly serious. “Older then the Wheel of Fate religion.” The Hylden woman spread her arms out sharply. “Older then either the Vampires or the Hylden and mightier than both of them combined.” She paused then, as if for deliberate dramatic effect. “It’s part of a legacy, a heritage that all the races of Nosgoth share.” She looked at him sidelong and her gaze was fraught with iron and ice both.
“I need you to uncover the Celestial Arrow.”