When Kain awoke he found himself in familiar surroundings. The curtains around the bed had been drawn closed, warm blankets around him, the exquisite feel of silk and velvet. Here he felt safe and yet he knew it was only the beginning. His mind had finally reassembled itself and now he could remember everything. The last night was one of many that had been used to break his will, but in by far more uncomfortable conditions. Each pain, each black rage filled moment that had filled his mind were readily accessed. It made him angry now, remembering it all. He would have acted upon it too if he wasn’t so weak at the moment.

All of it made him want to weep too, but he did not. he never did. He was stronger than that. That same strength had been passed form him to his eldest child, Raziel. Raziel...
His mind wandered once again to his children. With their altered destiny, what had become of dear Raziel? Was he in his own lavish chamber, chained, tortured much like himself? Kain knew he wasn’t dead. He had felt Raziel’s presence around the Sanctuary. For some reason, strongly while he was in Janos’ chambers. Discovering why, and finding out more of what was going on here now was something he knew he had to look into soon.

His thoughts were interrupted as a hand swept aside one of the curtains. He looked up at turel, his second son. Turel looked as worn as Melchiah had, but far healthier. He looked drawn, yes, emaciated from the lack of proper feeding. Not quite a skeleton of his former, proud self, but threatening to be so still. He was dressed differently from what Kain remembered as well. His clothes were simple, worn and had one accessory. A leather collar, much like the one used for dogs and slaves was around his neck. This offered Kain no hope really, just conformation that Turel was as abused as the rest of them.

Turel smiled gently and moved forward. He sat at the edge of the bed and helped Kain sit up. He then reached for something, his hand returning with a goblet. The smell coming from it was blessedly familiar. Fresh drawn blood. Kain’s senses whirred instantly as the smell got closer as Turel’s hand did. His son lifted the goblet to his lips and let him drink the thing’s warm liquid. How sweet it tasted upon his tongue. He felt surprised and yet not that this was the blood of a human. It felt like a luxury in itself, that one simple thing. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps his sons were forced to feed from animals and would explain why as well the way they seemed to be. Animal blood did not sustain vampire very well as it was, and the weaker sons, like Melchiah, would have lacked the strength to chase such creatures. This must have been a great luxury indeed, t his simple allowance to him.

The thought crossed his mind to let Turel have some of the blood as well. He thought against it at first, until he found a whole pitcher was available. He could draw strength enough from half of it until he could get himself something more. He drank down more of the precious fluid until he was sure there was at least a good two or so goblets worth left in the pitcher. Turel brought it back to him again, now strong enough to take it on his own. He put his hand up and pushed Turel’s arm back towards him. Turel gave him a curious look.

“Drink as well, Turel. You look as if you need it.”

“Sire...You usually save such kindness for no one, not even us. Only occasionally have you left something for Melchiah,” Turel said, his voice raspy.

“I know. I am changing this about myself. You are all my sons and I do care greatly about all of you. Things are about to change here,” Kain said, his voice gentle, gentler than Turel had heard it in a very long time. Tears welled up in the young vampire's eyes and he reached forward to hug his father. Kain returned the younger vampire’s embrace. When Turel puled away he greedily drank down the last of the pitcher’s contents, a grateful smile upon his face.

He bowed his head and said, “You know where to go to get more now you are able to do so.” He smiled lightly, then bowed his head again before he silently left.

Kain watched him to got a point, and heard the soft sound of the door opening and closing again. He shook his head. Why had Turel shook so when he had given him that child’s longing embrace? Was it happiness that shook him temporarily? Or right out fear? It looked like he would have to rebuild his relationship with his sons before he felt he could talk much with them.

He slid out from under the sheets and get dressed. He looked at the clothes that were laid out for him and frowned. The shirt there was woven leather, of a familiar color. He looked closer at it, and seen small black feathers in it as well and the green of it was the same color as himself, only darkened. He growled, realizing what it was. The sick being had made a short for him to wear out of his own skin and gave it back to him for him to wear. He shuddered, the memory of that experience coming back to him. He reluctantly put it on any ways despite the revulsion he felt.
 

He ached some still form the previous night, but he was at least glad someone had been sent to help him recover from it. Once he was dressed, he looked around his chambers and found a small schedule. He looked it over. Some of the things listed there were crossed out, the others he made a mental note of the times and places before he left his rooms. He walked below instead of going to Vorador’s chambers first. There, he would find more sustenance from slaves.

Emerging from the dungeons a short while later, feeling more refreshed and as alive as a undead being could, he then went to Vorador’s chambers. His first appointment, with some group of beings or other, wasn’t for until the afternoon and he had plenty of time. The Vorador didn’t change any from the previous time he had walked down it. He looked down one hall on his way, the hallway that lead to Janos’ chambers and shuddered. He kept going, pausing there for only a short time.

He came to the opulent door again and knocked. Vorador answered directly this time, having opened the door himself. He yanked Kain into the room and embraced him, his arms wrapping around the younger vampire tightly. When he let go, Kain looked him over. Vorador had yet to get dressed for the day and stood there still in his sleeping clothes. Kain also picked up the haunted look in the other’s eyes.

“Are you all right?” Kain asked him.

“I should dare as the same of you.” Vorador offered him a seat. “Excuse for for a couple minutes.” Kain nodded and Vorador went into the bedroom to get dressed. When he came back, he still wasn’t dressed anything like Kain distantly remembered. He sighed and guessed he would have to get used to this strange and yet so familiar place. Vorador poured a couple of drinks from the cabinet. He offered one to Kain and sat in a seat across from him.

“Has your memory returned finally?” Vorador asked him.

Kain nodded, sipping at the offered glass. “It seems to be a melding of two different times. The reality I knew, and this one. Things are so strange and yet so normal here.”

Vorador nodded. “That is what you get for playing with time like you have been. I just hope soon you will find a solution and prevent this whole mess from happening. change our lives for the better so we never lived in this hell.”

“That’s the oddest part. I did try to stop it. I visited you soon after words and warned you.” Kain searched the other’s face for a hint that he remembered. When Vorador nodded, remembering this. Kain continued, “It’s all my fault and Raziel’s fault that all of this even happened in the first place. If he’d only listened and I had been quicker to stop him.”

Kain looked down caste, his eyes wandering ot the floor sadly. Several minutes of silence between them before Vorador spoke. “I am still grateful you came to warn me. Although nothing you said could have prepared me for the horrors to come, the pain I suffered or the terrors he loosed upon the land. I am still grateful that I knew something was coming and I could prepare what i could for it.”

Kain looked up at him, seeing the genuine in the other’s words, a soft smile came to his face. This conversation was a rather somber one, very unlike the one last night, one filled with pain and sadness. “Perhaps....I should reacquaint myself with everyone here and get a better idea of my surroundings.” He paused, looking at Vorador intently. “Starting here,” a smile crept across his face.
 

In the main chamber, at the foot of the Pillars, Janos sat on his throne. With everything conquerored, time passed slowly again, and he was getting bored. Well not now, for a little while he wouldn’t be. He had Kain, his old source of entertainment renewed. He allowed Kain much room to do whatever he pleased really. Kain however, didn’t know this. He allowed it because his tampering in the time stream is how he had kept so strong over time. His little trips through time renewed that endless inner strength and fueled that furnace of rage and hatred Kain possessed. Taking him always had been a joy and an excellent way to pass the time anymore. How it degraded them so, Kain and Vorador, but he did not care. At one time he would have, how he cried when he almost killed Vorador in his own bloodlust and returned him as a vampire. Now that all seemed as much as a joke to him as any attempt of Kain's to change everything.

There was one time where he would have felt himself too old for such liaisons. Not that his body was too old or unwilling to follow his mind, but that he had become so removed from everything that it just seemed out of place. Vorador, amongst only a couple of his long gone children changed that for him for a time, just as Kain was now. He could take whomever he wanted and use them for whatever he wanted. The Circle of Nine, the Pillar guardians were all his pets now. Once they commanded all of Nosgoth, everyone bending to their whims. Now they bent to his. Moebius was one particularly amusing toy. He always fought against him. He lost every time as well, but his little attempts were always amusing. He never got the same punishment as some of the others. No, he had no interest in the weak elderly human for any other entertainment. He let him sit amongst those he feared and hated most, let Kain’s young sons a taste of his blood and drained him enough to make him so weak as he couldn’t do much of anything for a while, recover and it would soon happen again. He never learned really.

He paused in his musings, and stood up and walked around the pillars, occasionally half skipping out of boredom. He moved around the pillars, studying them like he had many times before. He laughed out loud, a thought crossing his mind as he did so. Poor dear Kain, he stopped at the Balance Pillar, looking up at it, poor, poor dear Kain. His meddling in the time stream would be useless now. He had tried before and now his own corruption was the results. He would have been happy really, if he was left dead. He would finally have been with the rest of his long forgotten race with all the loved ones and friends that were just as long gone. His dear wife, long gone. He found himself missing her every now and then. Missing the natural daughter she had died trying to bring into this world. If she had lived it would have been hope for no one else had been able to conceive much less bear then full term. But his poor wife was too weak by the time it was time for to give birth to her and passed on in the act, their daughter following her, too weak to survive.

The times before then, how happy he had truly been. Before the war with the Hylden. Before the Curse. Before life took on a horrible change for the worst and everything went off a cliff, as it was best described that way, a hill being a too slow descent to be a good comparison. His race had been both playful and dutiful. Spending their time doing what a society must to function by day, and gathering in social gatherings by night. How everyone had enjoyed those gatherings. Who didn’t in those times? Life was so much simpler then. It could have been now, it was still a choice he could make. Just drop everything and go back to his cave, high in the mountains and sit and wait.

Wait for what? And more importantly why bother? His race was gone, those days weren’t coming back and hiding in a mountain retreat wasn’t exactly going to change that. The being he had been waiting those many thousand years for, well...really wasn't gong to show up anytime soon. He grinned and fingered the bloody red gem around his neck. No, he wasn’t going to come back anytime soon. At least not yet. Janos knew that Kain would eventually figure out where Raziel was and finally end his misery and every one else's. But that was a ways off, Kain was still fresh and confused as to what was going on. He wouldn’t attempt another time jump for a while. Not while Kain felt that he was being watched.

He looked at the gem, and fingered it a certain way, awakening the being trapped inside. The gem took on a inner glow as it responded. He could feel the anger of the being within. <<Damn you Janos! What do you want now?>> Raziel called from within it, his voice boiling with rage, rather being resting than speaking ot much of anyone.

“Oh nothing much, dear child. Just checking to see if you’re enjoying yourself.”

<<What do you think? Do you think I like hearing what you do to people from within here? Unable to cut out the sounds and you rape and pillage the land? The people? I’m going mad for God’s sake!>>

“Oh come now, we can’t have that. We can’t have another Zephon running around laughing like the march hare now can we?”

<<Stop patronizing me Janos. Let me out of this blasted rock and Ill show you more of the kindness you so lovingly bestowed upon everyone I ever knew including Kain.>>

“Oh. Heh. Did you enjoy listening last night? As I began again on breaking down your father’s will again?”

<<Didn’t you think I heard enough screaming and begging for mercy the first time you did that to him?>> Pain tainted Raziel’s angered voice now. <<Leave me be you degenerate. Let me rest. Promise you when I get out of here I will take back that heart and swallow it along with your soul.>>

“Temper, temper child,” Janos said with a grin. “And I hope you do. I want to see the look on your face when you fail.” Janos laughed out loud maniacally, evidence of his corruption having rotted his mind to insanity so.

Kain’s meeting went surprisingly well. The fledglings listened well to him, out of respect and a healthy fear. Apparently he was supposed to tutor any fledglings into Janos’ rule and in charge of making sure they were willed enough to resist anything in their path in upholding that same rule. If it wasn’t for the program Turel had handed him, he would have thought something very different about their master. Thought it would have been probably wiser that way any horrible ‘visits.’

He wondered about Turel. He had seen him that morning, attending him, and again this afternoon. He called back on his memory and found out why. Turel was apparently his appointed lap dog, the one who ran all his errands and did most of the work for him leaving him free much of the time to do what he pleased. He wondered about his other sons. So far he had accounted for two. He knew he wouldn't’ find Raziel very easily, but that still left three of them to check on. Turel had yet to leave the room, and was sitting, waiting patiently for Kain’s permission.

Kain looked over at him, “Where are your other three brothers? Dumah, Zephon and Rahab?”

Turel gave him a confused look, then his face went back to it’s normal placid state. “Rahab in in the Library. Dumah is in the Pit and Zephon the Chamber.”

Kain shuddered to think of their fates. Rahab sounded like he got the better of it, so he would go there first. “Go now and do whatever your supposed to.” Turel bowed to him and left, a pile of class papers under his arm.

Kain stood from his simple desk and made his way to the library. At its door, he felt a strong magical presence there. more like some type of barrier was in place, but what was there to contain in a library? Either Janos really didn’t want people to steal any books, or the books were particularly viscous. He doubted that any books would bite him, and so went in.

He looked around the huge stacks. Shelves upon shelves of ancient and new books were everywhere. He had a hard time keeping track of where he was for everything looked the same form one row to another. He hated it when he would have to go and search for Rahab in his library for he usually got lost himself. Rahab occasionally got lost in his own library as well, thus the need for him to go in a nd find him. He would have each time if it wasn’t for his ability to teleport and take the both of them back to the door. He always wondered why Rahab never bothered to post maps around his library or at least paint lines on the floor or something to make it so he couldn’t get lost in the first place.

It took him along time searching, but he found Rahab. He was shocked at what he saw. Rahab was now a little more than a wraith, literally a ghost of his former self. Swirling phantom robes hid much of the former vampire’s form, a ghostly chain attached ot his collar, so like the one Turel wore, following him around, the chain itself several feet long and faded away at the end. Rahab moved, seeming to be walking and yet he did not for form beneath the robes, he did not have feet.

He drew back at first, watching helplessly as his fourth son moved about, arranging the books and tidying up the place, his phantom hands seeming solid as he moved a duster about. “R....Rahab?”

Rahab looked at him, and signed for him to hush, in all the glory of a librarian, then went back to what eh was doing. Kain quieted his voice as he spoke again. “Rahab?” Rahab silently looked at him, his blank ghostly features chilling. Kain tentatively walked over closer to Rahab. He tried to lay a hand on one of his phantom shoulder’s but his hand passed thought. “....son....?”

Sadness melded and took over the former vampire’s features. A single, phantom tear rolled down his cheek. “...father....?” He seemed to gasp air, but insubstantial lungs really couldn’t, his mind flooding back to him. Another tear, and his head snapped back. An unearthly scream loosed from his throat, his spectral form tensing in pain. When he finally stopped, he simply stood there, as he had when kain first saw him, his shoulders sagged a bit form the sudden pain, but then he took back his normal posture and continued.

Worried, Kain tried to reach out to him, his voice a little louder than it should have been, insisting, “Rahab?”

Rahab looked at him again, his face blank, and hushed him again, as if none of it had ever happened. Kain closed his partially opened mouth, and stepped back from Rahab. his own shoulders sagged from sadness, but it was quickly replaced with anger. Janos must have killed Rahab and imprisoned his soul here to watch his aging book collection, his mind trapped away from its home making Rahab the perfect slave librarian. He bared his fangs in that anger, hissing angrily. He marked another reason to kill Janos as slowly or as many times he could manage.

He left that haunted library and sought out the Pit. this place was a ways form the library and closer to the outsides of the Sanctuary. This Pit, a great thing indeed, A great hole in the ground. Dirt was constantly being hauled up out of it by a chain of beings. He walked to its edge and saw who was doing all the digging. He shook his head, looking down on Dumah. He remembered fully now Dumah’s fate. To keep the egostitical young vampire out of his way he played off of Dumah’s ego. He had told him that he could doubt he had the strength and endurance to dig a hole right thought Nosgoth and out the other side, wherever that was. Dumah, the egotistical fool, took this as a personal challenge and started doing so immediately.

He shook his head and walked away. He figured Dumah, at the rate he was going, was probably going to work himself to death in the bottom of that hole and be responsible for the creation of a mountain in the process, the pile of dirt that had amassed in eh distance showing a good start on one now. No, no sense trying to talk sense into him. He probably wouldn’t stop until he accomplished his goal any ways and if he did, Janos would just find another way for Dumah to amuse himself.

One last place, one last son to account for. As he went to the Chamber, both vampire and slave aline, there was a difference here?, tried to warn him as he got closer to the source of some rather insane laughter. He went to the Chamber's door, and looked though the silted window before he dared enter. He didn’t see much, or hear anything really and so he entered.

Zephon was his second to weakest child, weak in body but not in mind. He was clever and quite intelligent, but rarely used it for something really good. He had plotted against his brothers quite a bit, this he knew, and his brothers knew and thus wasn’t quite as trusted as much as he should have been. His fifth son was always one to act cool and collected, even in the face of a crisis for his busy mind was always figuring a way out of it.

Here, nothing was left of that same clever mind. No, this wrenched creature before him, in ragged clothes, hair a rat’s nest, and insanely distorted features was nothing like his son. Zephon looked up at Kain once and laughed with all the glory of a madman. His dark eyes showed that same insanity with a intensity he’d never seen before. In a way, he wondered how sane was this insane vampire really?

He knelt before Zephon to look him in the face better. Those dark eyes burned with the rotted mind within. Zephon smiled at the awed face before him. “Like this father? Like this right here?” He asked with a laugh. “I’m little Zephon. Bouncing baby vampire boy number five. Would you like to dance?”

“No. Not right now. Zephon?” Kain moved a little closer to him cautiously. He noticed that the young vampire was chained to the wall and thus wouldn’t be too much of a threat to him. “What happened to you?”

“Like my cave? I think I’m a lovely decorator. Such pretty decorations there. You really should see my cave. All the pretty colors, lined up in a row, where ever they stop, no one knows. Neither high nor low, nor low nor high, such pretty pretty gems in the sky,” Zephon said, laughing madly after he spoke.

Kain gave him a confused look. Somehow he knew that times before he had gotten the same answer. He ws starting to wonder what it meant and committed what Zephon said to memory to write down later. He patted Zephon on the head, making the young vampire do a theatrical purr like a cat and meowed. When he fixed everything, and if any of them still had any sanity left, he made a point ot invest ina whole lot of psychological help for everyone and the mental asylum for Janos after he was done with him.

He went back to his chambers. This time before he got to his rooms, he noticed Turel in a small, little more than a dark cubicle, doing the paperwork from the meeting earlier. He looked it over from a distance. It looked little better than a comfortable cell and like he apparently lived there as well. He shrugged it off, glad at least one of his children had some level of comfort. Turel didn’t seem unhappy. He guessed with the way Turel acted he had been heavily brainwashed into the perfect slave.

He looked at his schedule on the table. He seen that that previous meeting was all he had to do that day. The next day he would be meeting elsewhere about something else. He kept flipping though. One task daily. Just one single meeting, training fledglings, that lasted a few hours. Turel would help him, and do most of the work after words. His life apparently wasn’t too difficult by the day. By night, he feared. He feared that pain again. memories of different encounters came to his mind, broken apart, like his mind was trying to save him from himself. One thing he knew clearly. That Janos would ‘visit’ upon Vorador as well. How shaken and broken he’d always be after words. He would just melt into a shivering pile of flesh, his mind blanked out. He could do nothing more than try and comfort Vorador though these bouts and hope they wouldn’t last long.

He looked over the room. he couldn't’ think of anything he wanted to do here, now, alone. Except... He walked over his desk in the small study and pulled out a small, empty notebook. He took a pen and ink and wrote down what Zephon had told him and decided the rest of the book was going to be used for making notes so he could keep track of what different things he found or noticed. Kain also decided he would have to find a way to make the notebook escape time, keep the notes he had written no matter what happened to him or his mind and hope it would help him fix this mess.

He closed the book once the ink was dry and found a good spot to hide it, with in a hidden compartment in his desk before he put things back and left his chambers. He went to Vorador’s and found him there. Apparently, Janos had Vorador do nothing at all during the day except wallow in his misery alone. He wondered if it Vorador was unable to leave the room, like Rahab couldn’t leave his library. Or if he preferred to exile himself and prey he would have to see Janos as little as possible. He guess the latter, and with a bit of effort, remembered that the latter was definite. Merely seeing Janos was too much for him and would set off his bouts of mindless shivering.

He looked around and found Vorador in his own study, sitting at the desk, his chin propped on one hand, looking as hopeless as ever. He slowly turned a page, apparently lost in either thought or the ancient tome he was looking though. Kain silently walked over, and watched over Vorador’s shoulder, looking at what he was reading. The old pages were written in the oldest form of blood script known and it he had a hard time reading it. Vorador changed pages again, the picture there let Kain know what he was reading. One of the anchient’s books about their history, their war with the Hylden. He looked over each being in the picture, unable to put a name to any of them except one. That one figure wielded the Reaver with the reverence of a holy object, he looked into that stylized face, seeing the youth that Janos once possessed. In that picture and now he looked similar with the expedition of having shorter hair in the picture and his clothing different.

He knew what Vorador was doing now. Torturing himself by looking back at the father he once knew. The man had been important in saving Nosgoth from the Hylden. Now he caused as much damage as the Hylden had and then some. He stopped Nosgoth’s fate then to only have it happen now. He heard Vorador’s breath slow and deepen from effort being put in to keep him from breaking down again. Kain gently laid a hand on his shoulder, making Vorador jump from surprise. He twisted to see who else was in the room, fear flashing across his face as he looked up. He relaxed when he seen who it was and sighed grateful it wasn’t who he hopes to not see.

“Relax. You really must stop torturing yourself,” Kain said, his hand waving, indicating the book.

Vorador looked at it. “I can’t help it,” he said, sadness filling his voice. “I just wish that literally overnight like he changed, he would return to his old self and not remember any of it. That I wouldn’t remember any of it. He closed his eyes slowly, his face contorting at some distant mental pain. Vorador leaned forward, his shoulders starting to shake some. Kain replaced his hand and watched Vorador closely, hoping that this wasn’t going ot turn into another one of his bouts. Indeed this was painful for Vorador. His mind went back a long time past.

He stood, by a window. His sentry birds had long since warned him of the other’s coming. His breath was slow, his mind meditative as he waited. Kain had left not too long ago. Lucky him. He wouldn’t have to see the dawning of what was to come. Instead he would have to jump into the middle of it. Well, somewhat lucky. But the beginnings were always the worst and most painful.
 

He heard a familiar sound in the distance, his sensitive ears picking up, his hearing being more sensitive than most vampires. Such a familiar sound although a rare one to hear. After Kain’s warning he found himself actually dreading this once welcome sound. He dreaded to think of what changes that had occurred in his sire. Janos had always been a patient one, even while he would screw up on his lessons repetitively. He had been such a gentle, caring individual despair all the horrors he had lived through. When he was near, or distant, he was a warm, almost like a softly glowing presence in his mind, comforting and secure feeling. Now he felt a black hole where Janos once was, so dark that he felt as if it would consume his mind.

The wing beats drew closer....

He could track Janos’ movements. As one of the servants welcomed him. As he was lead up to the mansion’s master. He could almost feel the darkness growing as he approached. He shivered as if a cool draft had invaded the or,. He heard a soft click, and a rush of air as the servant silently opened the door. THe sound of cloth on skin and other cloth as he crossed the room.

“Master Vorador?”

Vorador closed his eyes slowly, painfully. He restrained the urge to shudder, to turn and run, willing to risk jumping out the high window and flee the dark presence just beyond the door. He knew he wouldn’t succeed even if he tried for Janos was faster and stronger than any other vampire in al of Nosgoth,, so deceiving coming form his light build and lighter body.

“Master?” the quiet voiced servant asked again.

Vorador repressed another shudder, and slowly turned to the e young vampire. The servant spoke again, fidgeting, perhaps sensing the dark presence and frightened, “Sire, janos is here to see you.”

Vorador kept his expression neutral, his voice as normal as he could manage. “Let him in.” He could barely hear himself saying those words, his mind screaming to run and hide.

The young vampire bowed to him, turned and went to the door. He gestured for Janos to enter then slipped out as silently as he had entered. Vorador’s restraint was truly being tested now upon seeing his Sire, the visible outside changes. His dark clothes, always having been light or neutral of color, his stance and manner, aggressive now where he always had been slower, belittling his true strengths, and the most frightening of all, his expression. An almost feral smile spread his lips, his eyes lit aflame with his madness. All of this made Vorador want to scream, to find a deep dark corner and hide, to mourn in peace the passing of his sire. This....creature in Janos’ skin couldn’t possible be the gentle ancient he had known for so long.

He couldn’t contain the sadness that took over his mind. Janos’ death had driven him to grief and rage, lead him straight to the Sariphan and kill all those he could find responsible. He had accepted his loss as quickly as it had happened thought. Grief wasn’t going to bring his sire back, and killing more would only bring about his own death faster. Now, deeply painful sadness filled his mind, his expression wilting, his ears drooping some in sadness.

That same sadness turned to fear as Janos laughed at him. The horrible sound, belying his madness. He had heard the ancient laugh before, at some silly thing he had done. This sound however made the blood in his veins freeze with fear.

Janos walked over to him and grasped Vorador’s chin in his hand, forcing him to look at him in the face, the smile never leaving. Vorador barely repressed a shiver. He may have been one of the undead, having long since been able to be defined as a living being. Janos had many traits about him that no other vampire in nosgoth would ever attain for he was a living vampire. A live, warm being cursed with the thirst of the undead. Instead of gentle warmth, his hands now were icy, cold as death. Whatever force that must have resurrected him must have brought him back as the undead, corrupted to the core and of the worst kind. The kind that made the stories humans came up real and brought them to rally themselves against more harmless vampires.

He looked into those sunset golden eyes, searching for a sliver of his sire and found none. He closed his eyes again, new grief welling up in him. Janos was dead again and this....thing in his skin now stood before him, daring him to accept him as his sire. How dare this impostor defile such a good being like this. How dare it.

Janos grabbed Vorador’s shoulders, causing him to open his eyes and look at the other. All those thoughts whirling around in his mind and they had yet to exchange words in the barest of minutes they had stood together in the same room. Vorador gave a hard gaze, anger welling up in him. He knew that this creature would also dare to use Janos’ voice as well. Dare use Janos bodily against him.

“What’s the matter Vorador?” Janos asked, his voice mocking. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”

Vorador shoved away everything in h is mind, everything that was trying to break him. He looked up at Janos in a defiant rage. Rage aimed at this impostor. He would have struck Janos, beat him and locked him in the dungeon and leave him there to rot. But the skin it wore stopped him. It knew form the start how to get at him.

“You are not my father,” Vorador said firmly, as if he were speaking to a wayward fledgling.

Janos drew back, acting hurt. “Why Vorador, what would make you say such hurtful things.”

“Don’t mock me creature. Drop his skin, leave him to rest in peace. Face me now creature,” Vorador demanded.

Janos smiled again. “Oh but I am facing you. Surprise Vorador. I have some presents for you. I doubt you’re going to like them. Not what I have in store for you or all of Nosgoth. However, I am going to enjoy every minute of it.”

Vorador backed off some, bracing himself. He had never heard such madness from Janos, never so much insanity. Janos approached him again, menacingly, as if stalking prey. Vorador backed off more. His mind panicked. Screaming loudly now for him to get away. He was so packed he obeyed his mind, stumbling back across the room. His eyes were wide with fear as Janos moved so quickly and came upon him it appeared if he had teleported there, he fell backwards, bracing himself again. So this is what it was like to be on the other end of the scale. To be the prey.

Janos loomed over him, his wings spread, casting a shadow upon Vorador. He bared his fangs in the midst of his insane smile, his eyes intense. “Oh, my dear Vorador. My dear sweet child. How you have grown from that scrawny little street rat I seen on that one winter night.” He licked his lips hungrily. “How I taught you everything you know now. Everything. I care to test that knowledge now. Time honed while you lived on your own for so long now.” Janos’ eyes darkened, Vorador recognized this look instantly. There was nothing he could do to defend himself as Janos grabbed his wrist, then the front of his shirt and yanked him up to meet him. “How long has it been for me again? A couple thousand years? I wonder if my own skills are any good anymore.” He looked at Vorador hungrily. “Care to find out with me?”

Kain had pulled Vorador against him, rubbing his back and side soothingly, his head lying on his shoulder. He weakly moved within the other’s gentle grip, his body relaxed now from the intense memory. Oh how he hated that moment and yet, he could not remember half of it. His mind had screamed so loudly it drowned out what was happening then. Drowned out what Janos did to him. Janos didn’t have to work hard to break him for merely being a beast in his sire’s skin was heart breaking enough. He had been the first of many victims. He enjoyed breaking him slowly, killing everyone in his mansion. Everyone he cared about, one by one in front of him died horribly until he remained last.

He twisted some, looking at Kain. Kain’s expression was one of concern as he gazed back, searching the other’s expression for a positive sign. He smiled softly to the other trying to reassure him that he would be fine now. “Thank you,” he sad softly. Kain let him go and stood up, still watching him with concern. Vorador slowly followed, pushing himself up from the chair. He reached over and closed the book, then looked back at Kain. His mouth felt dry, the blood thirst’s early warning to him. He licked his lips, seeking moisture.

Kain smiled lightly now. “Shall I get something for you?”

“If you would peace,” Vorador said. He depended on Kain fully. For comfort in its many forms, including bringing him food. He didn’t like it at all, being so dependent. How he loved to hunt in the past. The thrill of it, seeking helpless prey and taking them for their blood. Such delicious fun then. Now he couldn’t bare to leave his chambers because of his fear.

Kain smiled again. “I’ll return in a few minutes.” Vorador nodded, and followed Kain out of his study. He watched Kain go, then slowly walked over to the plush couch he had curl up on the night before, at least until he dragged himself away after the screaming and yelling had stopped. Another form of torture for him. His chambers were linked to a series of pipes. If he would not come out, he would have to hear the torturing of others any ways. Of Kain especially. He made sure he could hear every second of that. The last source of sanity for him. The last thing he had left to care about, and to care about him.

Kain silently left the room. He didn’t mind really. Anything to spare Vorador more pain. As he walked he thought back on his sons. Five of them accounted for, one missing. Somewhat. One brainwashed, one deceived, one dead, one insane and one barely hanging on. He frowned, drawing near the dungeons. He knew little of what happened would have escaped Rahab despite his reclusive nature. Too much apparently or else he wouldn’t be in his current situation. Kain made a point to find a way thought what bound Rahab. He also made a note to find MElchiah and speak with him later. Perhaps he would know something.

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