Exton

The vampire lord sits in his room, unmoving, unbreathing; outwardly calm, but inside a raging volcano of doubt, anger and indecision.

Never in the history of Clan Acheron has such a thing occurred. A vampire – a vampire of my line – playing sycophant to a ghoul. And “a” ghoul it must be, for Stefan thinks too highly of himself to submit to any but the most powerful. That argues that this ghoul, whoever he is, has attained an unheard-of level of power for one of his kind. He must be very old… yet he has broken with tradition to become a predator. Nay, more! He has made his followers predators as well. Is there a way we can use these suppositions to stop this madness?

These thoughts aren’t new; it’s all he’s thought of since returning to Exton. Each new revelation serves only to wrap him further in introspection and none brings him any closer to a resolution.

He is Lord of Clan Acheron; any wrong done by one of his clan, it is his responsibility to redress. And my own brother! Oh, Stefan, you have much to answer for, and I will not be able to save you this time….