I was born in a very different time than this one. The exact date doesn’t matter. It was springtime near what you know today as Moscow. The year was 1379. I was not the only one to be birthed that day. My brother Mikhail came into the world shortly before me. We were always close, but when it came down to it, he may have been the older of the two of us, but I was always the stronger, in mind and spirit, if not in body. The two of us were always getting into trouble together, even when it seemed as if there was no way for us to do so. Our parents were beside themselves with relief when we received the letter saying that we had been accepted into the Durmstrang Institute at age eleven. You cannot likely believe how perfect the school was for us. While there, we learned to control and expand on the powers we had had since birth. While there, I dedicated myself to my studies, only rarely allowing Mikhail to talk me into some mischief he had thought up. I graduated with exceptionally high marks (no surprise there). That summer, Mikhail and I decided we would tour the world. Little did we know this seemingly ordinary journey would change things forever.

For whatever reason (perhaps our dangerous sense of adventure?), We decided we wanted to visit the ruins of what had once been Rome. We had been warned about this place, that there were things there that we did not want to find, but of course, we believed we could handle anything we came across. We were a graduated witch and wizard, weren’t we? We went into the land tentatively at first. The first day we only traveled an hour or two in, then spent the rest of the day waiting for the inevitable attack that never came. This was a good sign! The following day, we traveled until midday before stopping. Again, nothing. It was looking as if there was nothing to fear after all. It went on like this for three more days, with us getting farther and farther in, and yet nothing happened. We had all but forgotten why we should be on guard when the unthinkable happened.

We had stopped for the night, far from any sign of human life. We had talked late into the night before succumbing to sleep. I don’t know what woke me, all I knew was that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. I made a move to shake Mikhail out of his sleep, when I felt hands like living stone grab my arms. I fought hard, screaming as I kicked and squirmed to try to escape the beast’s grasp. Mikhail was roused by the struggle, and flew at my attacker in an attempt to free me. In a blur, I was sprawled on the hard ground and the thing had Mikhail’s face in its hand, gazing intently into my brother’s eyes. All the willpower seemed to leak out of my twin. The thing spoke only one word, one simple command, but my brother was incapable of resisting: Leave. And he did. He simply walked into the night, never to be seen again. I know he’s dead. I was sure of it then, just as I am sure of it now. I was so stunned by the whole encounter, I hadn’t moved from the spot I had landed when the thing had thrown me t the side. It was only when he, for he was a man in appearance, if nothing else, turned back to me that I was snapped out of my shock, and attempted to escape once more. What happens next is mostly a blur of pain and sound and panic. I was dying, that much I knew. I was simultaneously drifting unconscious and hyper-aware of everything around me. I remember the smell of the dead leave beneath me. Off in the distance I could hear some bird or other screeching into the night. I think I could even tell the direction Mikhail was moving, though I don’t remember what that was now. And very clearly, from right above me, I heard the man-demon growl out in a strange tongue:

You have a will unlike any I’ve ever met, girl. I’ve no gift of prophesy, but I see greatness in your stars.

Then I was aware of something wet against my mouth, trickling down my throat. It was blood. I was revolted, and yet I couldn’t stop. I was so thirsty. I drank and drank and drank. I knew I was damning my soul to hell with each draught, and yet I couldn’t stop. The last conscious thought was a prayer. God forgive me for not resisting this hell creature.

I awoke sometime after that (three days, to be exact) to the greatest thirst I have ever endured. I was half mad with the need to quench it, and yet something restrained me. Just when I began to think I would go fully mad, I finally tasted the blood on my lips. Finally satisfied, I once more lost consciousness. The next night I was just as insanely thirsty, but I was more aware. I realized that I was in fact chained up in a dungeon of sorts. I could sense the familiar presence of the man-beast near me, and refused him when he once more offered his blood. He left me then, only to return just when the thirst was about to drive me mad once more. I drank, already beginning to suspect what he was doing, and yet I couldn’t stop myself from drinking greedily from him. The third night was more of the same. I resisted as long as I could stand, but eventually succumbed to the bloodlust. It was then that he finally released me from by bonds, knowing full well that I would be unable to leave him. He had bonded me to him, as is the custom with most new vampires.

The next few years seemed to fly by. The man, I came to know him as Marcus, told me all about what we were. He taught me the customs, the laws, how to feed, where to hunt. Basically, everything I needed to know to keep me alive. I hated him for what he did to me. I wanted nothing more than to see him perish in the sun, but due to the blood bond between him, I loved him at the same time. I hated him for this above all else. It wouldn’t always be that way. I would eventually come to respect him, even to like him, and ever present was the blood bond, which he would periodically reinforce by having me feed from him.

To say that time passed quickly would be more than a minor understatement. What seemed like only a handful of nights was in actuality four or five years. All too soon Marcus informed me that he finally thought I was ready to go before the Council. I don’t think I was that difficult of a pupil. I think he just expected too much, too soon. But that didn’t matter anymore. I was finally going before the Council. We made our way to Glasgow, where the Council was located. Marcus tried to prepare me for what I would face. I somehow got the feeling that nothing he did could really prepare me. Turns out I was right. I don’t really remember what went on went I finally stepped before the Council. I guess it doesn’t really matter. I’m here, aren’t I? After the meeting, we left Scotland, but we didn’t return to Italy. Instead, we moved around all of Europe. We were in a new place almost every night, although once or twice we stayed in the same spot for a week.

And that’s about all that happened for the next, oh, hundred and forty, hundred and fifty years. I thought I saw near the entire world during that time. I watched to world begin to leave behind the age of darkness. Everywhere we went, we heard excited whispers of a rebirth of things. I was of course intrigued, but my master was beside himself with joy, in his own, somber manner. It was then, after so very long avoiding the place that we returned to Italy. It was an entirely new place than what it had been. There were people. And cities! Oh, such lovely cities. But above all, was the art. I could spend an entire night just looking at it all. Not just one night, multiple nights. It was here that we finally made our territory. Nothing could have made us leave willingly. At least, not at first.

In the beginning, we had the city to ourselves. But slowly, more and more of our kind started creeping in. We were able to keep the city free of pest for only so long. Eventually it just became too much. There was no way to reclaim our territory. It was difficult leaving, but sometimes change is necessary for growth. We settled in London, once more establishing our territory, though this time were more welcoming to new vampires, provided they announced their presence upon arriving. In effect, Marcus became what would now be referred to as the master of the city, with me as his second-in-command or whatever you wish to call it. The titles aren’t what matters. What does matter is that the Council took notice of how Marcus ran his city. Apparently they approved, since they offered him the empty spot on the council. He would have accepted, too, if our city hadn’t come under attack. Nothing big in the mortal world, mind you. It was three or four others like ourselves, who pictured themselves to be the biggest, baddest undead in those parts. And to an extent, they were. In planning, at least. They ambushed us, just after the sun went down. They went after my master first. Perhaps it was a good idea. He fought all the way until the final death took him, taking two of the vampires with him.