The Lost City was a legend. It was said that somewhere in the world was the capital of an extinct race with massive piles of hoarded treasure. Vorador had always assumed that such stories had referred to the forgotten Citadel of the Ancient Vampires, but apparently that was not the case. And there was the enigma. If the Lost City had not been built by Vampires...nor humans...and definitely not Hylden either...then just who had made it?
Dimly he recalled his ancient conversation with Moebius once more. The Eternal Prison, he had said, was not made by any of the three races. What special, fourth race had there ever been?
The storm broke after a few hours, heading south and fading over the coastline. The resulting rising air currents were ideal for long-distance flying. Coasting on those streams of air, his black feathers rustling in the wind, Vorador flew high over the land. From his superior viewpoint, he beheld the true extent of the glorious past. The central plain of Nosgoth was wide and fertile, which is why most large civilisations, both human and others, had chosen to settle here. The many powerful rivers from mountain runoff fed the thick forests, swamps and rolling fields.
The snapping cold in the air showed that winter was beginning and as Vorador flew on east, the clouds began to grow thicker and thicker overhead. Covering such distance on foot could have taken him several days or weeks. On the wing he was able to cover the leagues in less than half that time.
As he passed over the small ridge of mountains just to the north of the Great Southern Lake, it began to snow. Small flakes at first, hardly more than a light dusting. When he saw the Lake of Serenity in the distance and turned northeast towards the far greater mountains, a true blizzard began. The wind howled and the flakes grew heavy in the air, obscuring everything in a sheet of white.
Soon it became hard to see anything beyond a few feet. Faced with these conditions, Vorador was forced to land. He swooped down low to the top of a small hillock and blurred back into his own form. Even on the ground it was hard to tell exactly where he was. The blizzard had near instantly covered everything in a blanket. All the trees and ground were snow clogged and the flakes were only growing heavier. This would be a very cold winter, he judged. This blizzard would only be the first of many, covering the land in deep snow until the spring warming thawed it out.
He sensed he was just to the north of Willendorf, which in this era was still in its prime. He did not want to run into their soldiers, given that he judged he was still within their borders. The fabled ‘Lion of Willendorf’, the royal family personified, was a pious entity and would not tolerate Vampires in their lands.
Flying over the mountains in this weather was simply out of the question. The winds would dash him to pieces against the rocks. He was going to have to proceed on the ground, but certainly not in this form. He would need one with the stamina and strength to cross that distance. Holding the image of the wolf in his mind, he slipped himself into it.
The lupine form was excellent for covering ground, even in such thick piling snow. An added bonus would be that if he were sighted by any humans, they would stay well back. Few would confront a wolf lest it summon its pack down upon them. Running on all fours, Vorador bolted down the sides of hills and through the trees.
Once, a deer crossed his path. It bolted as soon as it saw him and for a moment, the canine instinct that came with the form demanded that he dash it down. He suppressed the impulse and carried on, running nonstop for at least a day and night. He had pushed his body quite hard and expended some energy to make such good time. He was going to have to feed soon to replace it.
Soon, however, he came across a road. It was paved with lanterns hung at regular intervals and showed signs of frequent use. It was probably the northern trading road out of Willendorf. It ran parallel to the mountains and was used more often by ore carts from the Provincial Mines than by the merchants.
This ordinary landmark, however, gave Vorador better confirmation of his bearings and a better route to follow. Turning north he began to gallop through the trees on one side of the road, keeping it to his left. Following such a path would lead him to a large mountain pass which he knew was the only safe route to take to reach the East.
On his way he came across several encampments of humans. Most of them were trading posts along the highway, stops where travelling traders and merchants could water their animals and do a bit of commerce before they reached their ultimate destination. These camps were protected by log walls and hired mercenaries, most of them armed with swords, axes or crossbows. Sulphur was known, of course, but gunpowder had not yet been made so mortars, such as those used by Moebius’ army in eighty years, were still two generations away from invention.
Vorador bypassed most of the encampments, except for the last one. It was smaller and less heavily defended, perhaps being so close to the end of the road it did not need large provisions or guards to protect it. Here Vorador stopped and shifted back into his normal form. Often people stopped at such places for refreshment and that was exactly what he had in mind.
The snow worked with him this time, allowing him to slide from tree to tree as he approached the camp. It was merely a few tents surrounded by stakes. There were five guards, most of them huddled in furs and keeping close to a fire. There was one, however, that was taking his turn at patrol, walking about the outside of the camp while tapping his sword against his right leg.
Vorador silently approached him. While the snow obscured vision it did make his footsteps crunch. Perhaps the man heard him for he began to turn just as Vorador made his lunge. Havoc and Malice came arching up swiftly. Malice smashed its blade into his face with a sickening cracking sound, the head caving in with a shower of skull fragments and brain matter. Havoc crunched into his chest, slicing in deep until it punctured the heart.
The man died instantly but Vorador was already feeding, summoning the blood from the gaping wounds down his throat. The flow restored his lost energies and lent him new strength. He took only what he needed and began to quickly drag the body into the trees, obscuring his footprints. The sound would have alerted the other guards. Once he was out of sight he butchered the body further with his talons to disguise the obvious axe blade wounds.
The guards came running and when they saw the trail of blood in the snow they began to follow, each holding a weapon. Vorador could easily have killed them all but did not want to waste time when he had other things to attend to. He slipped into the form of the wolf and while he was still out of sight, smeared himself with blood from the ruined corpse.
Then he leapt out from behind the trees, snarled at the startled humans and then bolted off into the blizzard. Such a display and pantomime was not entirely meant to hide his presence but rather to ensure that no general outcry was raised as he fed when necessary. Let them think the woods hereabouts were full of feral wolves and give them no reason to suspect the passage of a Vampire.
With renewed strength he carried on, running along the road until he began to see lights and rising smoke through the haze of falling snow ahead. He slowed his pace and then trotted up the side of a hill. From this vantage point he saw that settled in the space cleared by loggers was a human city of respectable size. It was encircled by a stout stone wall and the buildings inside were almost artistic, speaking of high class and elevated social status. Several of these buildings were large and ornate, made of marble with high columns and lofty soaring wings branching out. They had the theme of ‘academia’ all over them.
-0-
“So I had come back to this place once more. Stahlberg, a grand city of academic discourse and rational inquiry.  Its universities were said to be the finest in Nosgoth.”
-0-
Frowning even in lupine form, Vorador turned to look off towards the southwest. Even through the haze of the falling snow, the spire of Avernus cathedral was just visible, a dark suggestion of a towering outline.
-0-
“However, its position so near the theological centre of power in Avernus was no coincidence. Placed under the shadow of the cathedral, the priests could ensure that no avenue of learning that challenged their dogma would ever be pursued. The progress of human achievement was thus neutered, ensuring that generation after generation would grow as socially ignorant as the one before it.”
-0-
Vorador looked upon the sight with no little pity. He was Serioli, or at least he had been trained by them and shared their pathos in preserving and acquiring knowledge and understanding.
Here, well-meaning scholars and freethinkers would come, seeking to understand the world in which they lived and improve the lives of their fellow man. A laudable sentiment, but it was a dream all too swiftly crushed by the hold religion had. More often than not, any academic who supposed a theory that violated any aspect of scripture would be ordered to recant their words or face excommunication. Most relented but the few that stood firm were made examples of. Burning at the stake was not a clean way to die.
A flash of memory spiked in his mind and Vorador looked around the city again. It would be just under a century before it would happen, but here, just outside the walls of Stahlberg, Moebius had constructed his execution grounds. The choice of this place for such a spectacle was not mere whimsy either. Moebius, as a devout follower of the Wheel of Fate, had disapproved of free thought which he labelled ‘heresy’. By making Stahlberg the centre of his bigoted crusade, he had ensured that the city would stay wrapped in the fervour of religious intolerance for at least another two generations. The only advancement would be in the field of Vampire hunting technology while social science and other forms of improvement were set aside.
-0-
“Ironically, it would be the upheaval caused by Kain’s rising empire that would force the humans to adapt and learn new science.”
-0-
He supposed that in some weird way Kain had done the humans a favour by conquering Nosgoth. He had forced the boot heel of absolute religious authority off their necks and they had responded by learning as much as they could to try and stave off the dark armies he hurled against them. Also ironic was the fact that the Hylden too had contributed to the intellectual and scientific rise of man. Their pseudo Sarafan Order, which would control Nosgoth for two centuries, would usher in an industrial revolution and show mankind the value of technology.
Vorador glanced down and saw a spot just before the city gates. At the moment it was occupied by a small farm but in eighty years, in that same spot would be the execution ground itself.
-0-
“Here the bloody melee of Moebius’ mercenary crusade would culminate with my own execution. It was disconcerting to see this place nearly a century before that despicable guillotine was erected. It was hard to believe, but I actually was in the past. I had known Kain had performed time travel but to experience it myself was another matter.”
-0-
For a moment his vision seemed to overlap. He saw this place as it was now and how it would be, full of blood, carnage and the screams of bigots, all in one instant. He shook his canine head to clear such mental vertigo.
-0-
“I did not trust this errand the Seer had me running. I feared I was being led deeper and deeper into some other insidious design.”
-0-
Anyone who suggested, never mind requested he come anywhere near this cursed place was suspect by default, in his mind. This place was a mental sinking pit, a place where if he did not put up stout walls of protection around his mind, he would be sucked down into an abyss of fear. Despite having lived so long, Vorador had never been sanguine about the idea of dying. Having now experienced it himself he was adamant about never dropping down into that darkness again.
Most humans believed in the concept of ‘heaven’, where their souls would go when they died and where they dwelled for eternity in bliss with passed on loved ones. Not only was that asinine concept false but it was a dangerous deception. And the Wheel of Fate faith, which Moebius had so adored, was even worse.
The Seer had designs above and beyond simply acquiring this so-called Celestial Arrow; that much was obvious. Exactly what this purpose was and how it fit in with the rest of her deep machinations remained a mystery. Kain and Raziel both danced to her tune, whether they knew it or not and now apparently it was his turn. In his lupine form he snorted and turned his head to look east at the rising mountain peaks.
-0-
“But in my heart I really did not care. If she restored Umah to me she could plan anything she liked.”
-0-
He bypassed the city, running on further north. By now he had crossed the border out of Willendorf and into the Northern Kingdom’s territory. They were less pious than their southern neighbours, at least for the moment, but still would not be cordial to a Vampire in their lands. Fortunately it was not them Vorador needed to deal with. He skirted their towns and hamlets, keeping to the forests in the foothills of the mountains. Eventually he came across a rocky path that led up to run across the top of a low cliff. It was even ground with no obstacles in the way and was shielded from the snow by a wall of granite. The Vampire galloped up it, spraying gravel from beneath his paws as he ran.
Night passed and it was dawn by the time he sighted the mountain pass that lead to the East. It was on the eastern border of the Northern Kingdom and was heavily fortified with outposts over its mouth. The falling snow was even heavier in the pass and everything seemed to be cloaked in white, but even that did not muffle the echoing sounds. The pass was narrow and sound easily bounced from surface to surface. As such, the sound of thousands upon thousands of marching feet was easy to hear.
When Vorador came over a rise he saw them.
It was a vast column of armoured men, marching in tight formation into the pass. Vorador guessed there might be two thousand or more in this force. They were all wrapped in whatever they could find to keep out the cold, mostly animals furs but some were wearing reinforced leather. Armour was worn over the fur, a very sensible practise in such a cold climate. Cold metal against bare skin would be lethal.
Many men carried swords but a few had war axes slung over their backs. The recognisable shafts of pikes could also be seen and walking in groups on either side of the army were men carrying quivers and curving longbows. They could only be marksmen. There were a few on horseback near the front, each holding a banner with the twisted rose symbol of their northern nation, but they numbered less than twenty and could only be escorts for the commander of the small army. Wagon trains full of supplies brought up the rear.
From his vantage point Vorador watched them slowly march up through the pass. Despite the thick snow the pass was shielded by the curving granite walls all around and so the army marched on through muddy slush.
Nupraptor had said that the East was in some turmoil and here was proof. But exactly how much turmoil and just how would it impinge on his quest? He could not recall mention of a conflict in this region during this time, but of course he had been deliberately indifferent to the affairs of men. He kicked himself for such a foolish lapse. While he ought not to have gotten involved he ought at least to have kept himself informed. That had been the one flaw in his pathos of total isolationism.
If he were to find out what sort of turmoil lay ahead, he would need some up-to-date information about what was clearly a war and unfortunately there was no stealthy way to get it.
Galloping on he easily outdistanced the human army, restricted as they were to the pace of the wagon trains. When he had gotten some distance ahead of them, he dropped down onto the top of a large rock that jutted out over the pass. There he shimmered and blurred back into his regular form and crouched down to wait.
He made no effort at all to conceal himself as the army approached, agonisingly slowly, and simply let himself be seen as they came around a bend in the ravine. Those in the lead, perhaps the scouts, pulled back on their horses’ reins in alarm. They stared at him for a long moment and then rode back to the commander’s escort which was not far behind them.
Vorador saw men staring at him from a distance, a few pointing in his direction and gesturing wildly in panic. The army approached and then at a signal from the officers came to a stop with its head some fifty feet away from him. This was something of a calculated risk, but Vorador was certain that he could intimidate them enough to provide him with the information he needed, army or not. There were, however, a lot of armed men here and even Kain would have trouble killing so many singlehandedly.
 “What is it?!” One of the men on the back of a horse demanded shrilly, sword already drawn with a round shield held in front of himself protectively.
“Some demon from the pits of Hell?!” Another asked and began to quickly heft a war axe up, the reflex more inspired by fear than bravery.
One of them, however, rode his horse forth and stood between the Vampire and the others protectively. He was a stout, well-muscled man with his face hidden behind the visor of his helmet. He drew his sword, a large black broadsword and pointed it defiantly at him.
“Hold, foul creature!” He commanded and his voice had a poetic turn to it, as if he were primarily a bard who just happened to be trained in the arts of war. “Thou shall not approach the Prince for upon mine honour, I shall rend thee apart with my righteous sword!” The old terminology came quite naturally to him and Vorador found himself smiling in wry amusement. He hadn’t heard ‘thees’ and ‘thous’ for well over two millennia. He had missed its quaint sound.
However, another man on horseback let off a sigh and nudged his horse forward.
“If you don’t mind, Ser Barentein.” He said and his voice was youthful, barely a few years past its point of maturity. “I can handle this, thank you.” He made his horse step forward past the startled and poetic champion.
He was quite young. Vorador judged him to be no older than seventeen. His hair was strawberry blond and he had a pale, angular face with deep blue eyes. He wore stylized armour that in some way emulated the symbol of the rose. It was a pale red and engraved in black with rose imagery across the sides and greaves. Two spikes like the thorns of a rose came up from the shoulders. Over his head he wore a leather hood reinforced with chainmail. This he pushed back, letting his long shoulder length hair flap around his face in the wind.
 “Your Highness!” The knight, Barentein protested as the young man moved forward. He looked back over his shoulder at the man.
 “I said, I can handle this.” The youth said firmly and then nudged his horse further on. He stopped perhaps twenty feet from Vorador’s position and looked up at him. His expression was unafraid but also prudently wary.
“Good day, Vampire.” He said in greeting and seemed not to notice, or at least pretended not to, men with long bows edging closer behind him, hands reaching to quivers to fire arrows should their prince need protection. Vorador was not concerned about so mundane a thing as arrows and gave the boy a scrutinizing look.
 “You know what I am?” He asked. The youth shrugged and spread one arm, but kept his sword arm near the hilt of the blade at his side.
“I was educated at the finest university in Stahlberg.” He replied with some pride. “While I was there I was allowed to study the anatomy of your kind, both old and young.” He gestured with a pointing finger to Vorador’s arms. “I recognise the talons and the shape of your hands. You are clearly a Vampire of some considerable age.”
Vorador frowned at the notion of Vampire corpses being dumped on a table of some human curiosity seeker and being dissected. However, he decided to let the affront pass.
 “I am William De'Sengir, Arch-Duke and third-born Prince to King Robert of the Northern Kingdom.” The boy said, introducing himself with a short bow that was in some way self-mocking for his grandiose titles.
The Vampire regarded the brave, or perhaps simply rash, boy for a long moment of quiet speculation.
“I am Vorador.” He said and those that heard him stared at him with wide eyes, colour draining from their faces. No doubt they would have heard of the name before; of the terrible and bloodthirsty assassin who had slaughtered two-thirds of the Circle of Nine.
 “Oh.” William said in surprise, both eyebrows raised. The knight, Barentein galloped his horse forward quickly and put his shield in front of the prince.
“Stay back, Your Highness!” He urged. “’Tis a Vampire of unearthly power and dark repute!” He gestured with his sword to the archers to take up their positions. The marksmen were more than happy to do so, stepping forward and drawing their bows back to fire. A few of the armoured men on the backs of horses came forward as well. As was their duty, they would protect the member of the royal family with their lives.
“Ser Barentein!” William snapped and his voice rang with a confident tone of command that was odd to one so young. He slapped the shield away from himself almost angrily and turned on the man. “If I want your protection and your flowery verse I shall ask for it.” Barentein stared at his prince but his expression was unreadable behind his visor. “And you men will stay back until I have given you the order!” William added with some contempt to the archers, glaring at them savagely until they almost sheepishly lowered their weapons.
With a glare William directed Barentein back behind him and then turned to address the Vampire once more.
“Pardon him.” He said apologetically. “My father set him as my bodyguard. He has two older sons before me but he feels he can take no chances with any male issue of his loins.” The young prince paused to consider the Vampire afresh, this time with new interest. His eyes were the eyes of a scholar and he seemed to be taking in every detail and observation he could.
 “So, Vorador eh?” He asked with a half smile. “The monster that butchered the mass majority of the Circle of Nine?” He sounded far more elated than afraid for the presence of such a perceived menace. “I am enriched to have met such a titan in the history of our world.” His smile turned into an irrepressible grin. “It will be something to tell my own heirs about.”
Vorador was more suspicious than relaxed by the prince’s cavalier attitude and indifference to danger. He knew that there would be some humans who were not instantly bigoted against his kind, but at the very least he expected them to be afraid, like any prey would be in the presence of such a predator. This simple acceptance was unnerving.
 “But what is so notorious a Vampire doing out here in the wilderness, all on his own?” William asked as if making simple conversation.
“Heading east.” Vorador replied, keeping his eyes on William but not missing any of the movements the men behind him made. He was ready to spring into action the moment an arrow was loosed in his direction.
“Why, what a coincidence, that’s just what I am doing.” The prince replied jokingly and looked back over his shoulder at the army behind him. Most of the men could not see what they had stopped for and were taking the opportunity to drink a little water and get their breath back.
 “Your father is expanding his kingdom?” Vorador asked flatly. William chuckled lightly in response.
 “A long-term military campaign.” He explained. He pointed down the pass in the direction the army was travelling. “Our borders have been threatened often from the East and their Mandarin rulers, and now my father has decided to put them down once and for all.”
Vorador frowned at that. He did not recognise the term ‘Mandarin’.
“This is a relief column. We’re to join up with the main force and then begin the march to the capital city, Zwergstadar.” William went on to explain. Vorador knew the name of the city. It was reputed to be the only large-scale city in the East. He knew little else about it.  
 “What is a Mandarin?” He asked, not caring if it sounded ignorant.
 “The Mandarins are the so-called rulers of the East.” William told him with a roll of his eyes. “There are five of them in all and they rule with an iron fist. Their army is called the Dogma and it has crossed our borders many times on provoking raids.”
Vorador digested this for a moment.
“Then the East in embroiled in total war?” He asked.
 “Liberation.” The prince corrected him with a blissful smile. “The people of that land have suffered greatly under the yoke of Mandarin rule.” He gestured to all those behind him with one arm that clanked in its armour. “We come as an emancipating army, to manumit the masses of tyrannical oppression.” Despite the presence of such a notorious Vampire, a few of the men puffed themselves up at such a description.
 “Forgive me if I remain cynical.” Vorador remarked flatly.
“Well, that is your prerogative.” William just shrugged indifferently and then made the motion of dusting his hands. “But enough of my banter; what can I do for you?”
Deciding to get down to the business that had forced him to even speak with the prince, Vorador stood up from his crouch. Despite it being a commonplace movement, several of the men flinched in response.
 “I require information about current affairs in the East.” The Vampire said. “Especially on the positions of the two clashing armies.” William looked back at his men for a moment, then at the Vampire. He smiled whimsically.
“Fair enough.” He agreed and turned in his saddle. “Ser Barentein, bring forth one of our military maps that show our positions.” His bodyguard looked at him sharply. Despite his face not being visible his body language told of his total surprise.
“Your Highness?!” He asked in a startled voice. William gave him a sour look.
“Oh please, it’s the least we can do to be cordial.” He said with a flick of one hand.
“This Vampire could sell such intelligence to our enemy!” One of the other men on the back of a horse said, looking back and forth between his prince and the perched Vorador. William adopted a mock expression of chagrin and scratched his chin.

“Oh, that is a good point.” He said without any sincerity. He looked back at Vorador. “Will you?” He asked openly and with wide, innocent eyes. Vorador found him even more disturbing for his complete disregard for what he himself thought was a valid concern.
“No.” He replied, though. William shrugged and turned back.
“Good enough for me.” He said and imperiously directed them to bring him what he had requested. Given that he was indeed a member of the royal family, they obeyed and soon a rolled up sheet of parchment was brought to him. William took it swiftly and held it up in one hand in the Vampire’s direction.
“The map is up-to-date as of last month.” He said. “As far as I know, we still hold Valeholm but Father was making a push towards the coast to take their right flank.”
Vorador made one gesture with a talon and the parchment floated up to his waiting hand, summoned to him with telekinesis. Using his mind he began to unroll it and studied it for a long moment. The East was a wide stretch of land that was just as large as the central plain itself. It spread out until it curved south in a jagged coastline. There was one large, wide river and two expansive lakes east and west. Mountains jutted up in the centre of the plain and on the eastern side of the peaks was a wide expanse of swamp labelled ‘The Fens’.
The East was very sparsely populated. The only settlements were along the coasts and near the mountains, in sheltered places protected by large rock outcroppings. A few words were written on various locations, denoting who was in control of which settlement.
“I thank you for this intelligence.” Vorador said, folding the parchment up into squares and then slipping it into his belt for safekeeping.
“You’re very welcome.” William replied with an absolutely straight face. “Well, as much as I’d love to continue this absolutely fascinating conversation, I am expected with these men at Valeholm, posthaste.” He pulled his hood back up over his head.  “Good day to you, Vampire.” He said with a nod and gestured back to the men with one hand.
“Move up!” He called.
“What about the Vampire, Your Highness?” One of the mounted men asked, having not taken his eyes off of Vorador at all.
“What about him?” William asked.
“We can’t just leave him here!” Another protested almost shrilly. The prince gave him a quizzical sort of look.
“Why not?” He asked. He was obviously not so stupid that he did not know the answer, but was rather coaxing them to try and argue with him. It was a strange song and dance that, if done correctly, would solidify his chain of command over them. Vorador had seen the same tactic used before.
“It’s a commandment of the church!” A third put in, still holding a sword.
“Aye, it’s Vorador himself! It’s our duty to at least...” One more started and William quickly jumped in to override him.
“We have pressing business, gentlemen.” He reminded them with a stern voice. “My father needs our sword arms against the eastern barbarian horde.” He swept them all with a glare. “We are at war and yet you propose to waste time chasing a Vampire over the mountains?” Several of them looked like they were going to argue, but when they met his gaze they faltered. “I’m sure my father would be very interested in your choice. Besides, your intended prey has already gone.”
When they all looked up in startled surprise, Vorador had indeed disappeared. He had not translocated himself, but rather had turned into a raven while their attention had been diverted and was presently simply circling high overhead. In the pass the winds were not so terribly strong, so a soft glide was permissible.
William had no difficulty in getting his army moving again and before long the column was marching on.
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“As strangely courteous as this popinjay of a prince had been, I knew better than to simply accept his word. I believed it would be the course of prudence to covertly follow this army and observe for myself.”
-0-

The map might tell him the general outline of the war, but it would not compare to seeing how matters stood with his own eyes. The map had told him that the Northern Kingdom held the town of Valeholm on the far side of the pass. If that held true then he could trust its information.
So he followed the army, moving at their pace. It took them two days to clear the pass with their supply trains right behind them. As Vorador looked out at the land beyond he marvelled at it. The land stretched on past the horizon and much of it was unmarked forest and rearing mountain. The sun was just beginning to rise, giving the distant shine of rivers and lakes a golden glow.
-0-
“And so I beheld the distant Eastern plains of Nosgoth, a sparsely inhabited realm of swamp, grassland and jutting peaks. Somewhere in this expansive and near untamed wilderness was supposedly the fabled Lost City, and contained therein, this so-called Celestial Arrow.”
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The shape of the land seemed to flash in his mind, freezing in place and stayed fixed there. Then it seemed to unlock something and there was a rising surge of recognition and familiarity.
-0-
As I beheld this land from the vantage of the heavens, the stirrings of recognition began to move in me. It was the strangest sensation of déjà vu. I had been here before.”
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He soared up high and looked out across at the land, surveying it with new eyes but with a growing sensation of having been here before.
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“What was it Ajatar-Cadre had told me? That I had been found by Janos Audron as a human boy, here in the East? Was I remembering this land that might once have been called home?”
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