| A torch was set to the kindling, the flames catching quickly, eagerly licking at the wood, engulfing it. She soon lost sight of them as the roaring conflagration consumed them. She only heard their voices in her head, pleading with her to go quickly, and leave the village. It was no longer safe. Tears ran down her face. She was not even aware that she was screaming out in anguish as her parents bodies thrashed violently, then stopped moving altogether. The mob noticed her screams and began heading in her location. She saw them approaching but didn�t care. Her parents had been put to death suddenly, without warning, without reason. They were only a few feet from her when the powerful arms, stronger than any human wrapped around her, yanking her from her spot and pulled her into the darkness. |
| Part One: Dead To The World |
| Chapter One Nepal, 1363 A. D. Stytentos watched the scene in horror, his heart in his throat. Another of his people sentenced to die. Just for existing. This time it was a young woman, no more than twenty and two years old, her infant held by the arresting Roman soldier. It was their way of making certain she cooperated. She stood atop the pile of wood, allowing her arms to be tied behind her as she sobbed uncontrollably. His heart went out to her. He desperately wanted to do something, but it meant putting his own life in jeopardy. She screamed out in desperation and fear for someone to help her, but no one moved. The flame of the torch was set to the kindling, the fire quickly roaring to life. As the flames consumed the wood, it moved closer to the young mother as the crowd of soldiers sneered maliciously at her, delighting in her agony. Stytentos wanted to knock their heads off, leap beyond the burning wood, save the young woman and her baby, then run far away so they would be safe. So, why didn�t he just do that? He tried with everything he had to move his legs, but they refused to move, as though his muscles had turned to stone. He looked down at them in horror, clutching his legs. They were stone. Looking up, he saw the young woman wailing and twitching in pain and horror as the flames roared up her dress, up her body. Suddenly, the Roman general tossed the small crying bundle into the flames. The werewolf reached out in a futile attempt to grab the child, but it flew passed him into the raging wall of fire . . . He awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. Another nightmare. It was like so many of the others that had haunted him. Memories from the past returning to torment him in the form of horrific dreams. He sat up, putting his face in his hands. As he calmed down, he remembered where he was. He was in the temple, where he had been for the last sixty-three years. Had it truly been that long? He reflected on the past, wincing at the ache in his heart. After the murders of Sir Walter Volknor and Lady Knight Mary, the werewolf people found themselves facing a different world. Times were changing for the worst, and the Lycanthrope population realized that their future was an uncertain one. As time wore on, they were no longer held in high regard as they once had been. Their legend as guardians and heroes had become twisted and they were looked upon with suspicion and fear. The werewolf that had once been admired was now thought of as an evil creature of darkness that would attack anything that moved. They had been hunted to near extinction, killed by means of cruel torture and burnt at the stake by the churches of the invading Romans. The hysteria had swept through Dacia like wildfire, until it took hold in other lands. Entire families were wiped out, and in some cases, even humans were put to death as the Catholic Church gained total control of power. Thirteen hundred was a dark time unlike any other for the werewolf people. Nearly fifty years after the deaths of Walter and Mary, the humans they once had protected and called friends had somehow become corrupted and turned on them. In the space of forty years, they had nearly all been destroyed. Only a handful survived the insanity that had come to be known as �The Burnings�. No one knew how or why it began |
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