** Could an undying love blossom in the ruins of a shattered world? **
And so the world of men was lost
and a new one, our world,
was born.
- Morrígan
Goddess of the Battle
of the Túatha Dé Danann -
4th cycle anno Bellum.
The Second World War...
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The blood in Zane's veins rushed and roared like a storm in his ears. Every powerful heartbeat in his chest rumbled like the pounding of war drums. The stench of damp earth assaulted his senses and was like a fuel for the freshly stoked flame of anger within him. The bloodhunter's claws cut through his fur like daggers, darkening the white with the ruby-red lifeblood from his veins.
All he had really wanted to do was disappear into the shadows. This fight was pointless and did not further his goals. Unlike other Vaesen, he was not a fool who lost himself in aimless lust for battle or bloodlust. If he was tracked down and his appearance became known, he would soon be swarming with brazen, overzealous hunters who were on his arse. And he couldn't have that!
In these times, among the ruins of the old world, a head like his was a welcome trophy and a way to escape the shackles of fate. It was a way to break out of a sordid life. But he wouldn't do anyone this favor, especially not at the cost of his own life.
An indignant growl rolled over his lips, reminiscent of angry waves crashing against cliffs and sending a rumble of thunder over the nearby neighborhood, even without a black sky.
He had to put as much distance as possible between himself, the blood hunter, and the satyr's corpse to live up to his name again and disappear like a ghost. Instead, the pesky piece of carrion stuck to the tip of his tail like pitch and haunted him - to his undoing. This rotten piece of meat involved him in a fight that he didn't want, for which he had neither the nerve nor the time.
Well... If he had a death wish, Zane would fulfill it. It was not for nothing that his bounty was so high that people thought twice about messing with him. Zane had never dodged a fight anyone wanted so badly. Nobody was going to get his head. Especially not this pathetic greenhorn!
'Die, wretched maggot!' his thoughts barked, and the mighty jaws that had broken through even the stone hide of Gargoyles in the catacombs opened - ready to end this chase. The clawed paws held the writhing body of the undead firmly pinned to the ground while the vampire's eyes widened in fear at the prospect of imminent death. The fangs flashed like deadly daggers in the night, greedy for the long overdue 'life.'
