Prologue

A bloody battle came to a close deep in the Beast Woods.

Twenty-eight thousand lay dead and only two were left standing.

Fifteen-thousand members of the Holy Legion, led by Princess Themis Rhamnous, ventured into the cursed woods to find and defeat an ancient enemy - the Vampire Court.

They and their pawns had been cruelly manipulating and ruling multiple kingdoms for many years, revelling in people’s suffering and reaping their hard efforts for themselves.

Outraged by what she had discovered, Themis led an expedition herself to destroy them once and for all.

The journey to their home, the infamous Castle Bathory, proved difficult.

The terrain was rough, monsters swooped down on them from the treetops, werewolves led raiding parties, constantly harassing the convoy both day and night, yet Themis and her troops pressed on.

At the side of a vast lake, their armies fought; their blood dyed the teal water crimson.

Themis Rhamnous and Lord Ruthven, the head of the Vampire Court, were the last ones standing.

Themis’s royal guards were dead, her generals butchered and she herself was battered and bruised. Her prized spear, her father’s gift to her when she came of age, had been broken in two, yet she did not part with it from her hands.

Lord Ruthven had lost his entire council, vampires he had worked with for decades, his army had been destroyed, corpses of dead werewolves laying in thick piles of ash. His fangs were drenched in blood, as were his claws and his sabre.

They stood less than five metres apart, both exhausted, struggling to catch their breath, both near breaking point.

Their duel had started thirty minutes prior, back when battle was still joined in large numbers around them, but neither side had given quarter or turned to run, and eventually the field around them went silent.

The stench of the dead was repulsive to Themis and overstimulating to Ruthven.

Instinctively, they knew that if they continued to fight, one of them would die for certain.

They also both knew the other would refuse to die alone; they would muster all of their power to land a killing blow.

Whomever moved first would set the tone for the final clash to come.

Breathless, Themis took up her sword, discarding her broken spear.

“Do you welcome death?”

Ruthven’s question gave her cause to stop and glare. “What do you-?”

“Yes, you could kill me here, Princess Themis, but I would most certainly kill you too. Maybe I won’t live long enough to see your last breath, but you are alone, far from the kingdoms and not even you could survive the blood loss caused by a missing limb.” He chuckled. “Not at present, at least.”

“It would be worth it to rid Aangapea of your kind.”

“…Perhaps.” He gauged her reaction and lowered his voice. “Yes, the vampire race would die out, but…what would happen to your people?” She flinched ever so slightly, a movement all but a vampire would have missed. “With your death, everything you have spent your life building would collapse. War would return to the kingdoms; all those you lost fighting to build your empire would have died for nothing. Karak-Harth betrayed you, Tethys is dead, slain by the Half-Eye, your Holy Legion lies in ruins around us, and your children would be at the mercy of your remaining council members, most of all those traitors at Elvast who deceived you.

“How long do you think your ideals would endure after your death? A month? A year? A millennium?” He snickered. “No matter; it would fall and it would never rise again. And when that happens, your people will be consumed by the north and the west. With you leading your people, however.” Ruthven smiled. “They will endure.”

“What trickery is this?”

“No tricks, princess, but a bargain.” Lord Ruthven extended his arm. “If you leave here and tell the world you wiped us out, I shall enter hiding, never straying from these woods until the day your blood no longer rules these lands.

“In exchange, you shall leave my kind alone and never return to these woods.”

“Why do that when I could return with a fresh legion to finish you?” Themis threatened.

“You could but, by that time, I shall have turned the masses into ravenous dogs that only desire to kill. Well.” His eye colour changed. “That’s what will happen if I am feeling generous.” He shrugged. “It’s not like my terms are unreasonable. We both live in peace, and your tale grows ever taller and more awe-inspiring. Your ideal of the Saint shall be one step closer to becoming reality.”

“On a bed of lies.”

“A lie of omission; more than most legends and greats can say about their past,” Ruthven countered. “If that does not suit you, let us join one last, bloody battle for the bards to sing off in the Tragedy of Themis.”

Themis laughed bitterly. “And what tales and songs shall be written about you?”

“Few. Then again.” He purred. “I would keep my immortality with your death.”

Themis went quiet and her sword faltered.

Her eyes never left Ruthven’s visage, but Ruthven could tell her mind was elsewhere.

If I struck now, I still wouldn’t be able to kill her and live. Karak-Harth exposed her naivety, and he imparted all of his wisdom into her, yet she cannot fully utilise it. As long as she remains like this, I can exploit her.

Remain ignorant, Saint Themis, until the day you die.

Her silence lasted for two minutes.

Then, she sheathed her sword; Ruthven did the same, his claws retracted, and he bowed courteously to her.

“I’m glad you have seen reason.”

“Swear it, a blood oath, bound in magic,” Themis ordered.

And so, they did.

The Vampire Court and all of its members, past, present and future swore on that day to never stand against her descendants and the empire they ruled until the end of time.

In exchange, Themis Rhamnous swore that the vampires would be declared extinct, that she would never tell another soul that Ruthven and his kind endured, and that war would never be joined between her and them.

We’ve both left loopholes ripe for exploitation, Ruthven mused. I look forward to the future, Princess.

Themis left the corpses of her dead, taking only herself and her broken spear home.

Ruthven collapsed, unable to even sit upright.

Had the future Saint Themis turned back and seen Ruthven in that state, then the Vampire Court would have been destroyed forever.

Her wisdom and mercy had betrayed her, and Lord Ruthven laughed loudly, an ugly, vile chuckle that made the trees tremble and animals cower in fear.

Three days later, Ruthven stood back up and tidied his clothes.

He discarded the remnants of his armour, washed himself in the bloodied lake, and emerged reinvigorated and determined.

Decades are nothing to vampires.

Centuries are agony, but time well spent in anticipation.

For the day your empire falls, Themis Rhamnous.

Four hundred years later, he would see just that with his own two eyes.