ℑt was late in the evening and the moon was already high in the sky, the sharp curve of its waxing crescent phase shaped like the blade of a farmer's sickle. Faint light spilled across the trees and mountaintops that towered off in the distance, but in town the streets were illuminated by ornate lampposts that speckled the land around Elantria Castle, soft orange glows radiating from the fires within. The hustle and bustle of the capital had begun to settle down now that the young and the elderly had retired to their homes, seeking the warmth and respite of their beds as the witching hour approached. Only evening laborers and ladies of the night remained, with the latter few attempting to attract the company of the former as they finished up their business and headed to their abodes.
Lucia had left behind the high, pointed peaks and grand halls of Oracleis Cathedral to pursue her mundane tasks hours earlier. As one of the Sisters of the convent, she spent her days offering up prayers to the goddess Oracleis, the most widely worshipped deity in the Light Kingdom. Attending sermons and working the confessional only accounted for a small portion of her overall duties, however. When she wasn't cleaning up around the cathedral or helping out in the kitchens, the young woman was often tasked with running errands for her Sisters out in town. Perhaps the wine cellar needed to be restocked, or a nobleman had requested a house call for his sickly wife. Today, it just so happened to be that many such chores all converged at once, leaving her the prime candidate for them.
It wasn't until after sundown that she'd finally finished off her long list of errands, the day ending with her exiting the tailor's shop while holding bundles of fabric in her arms. Does Sister Elinor really need this much? She wondered, the little bell above the door tinkling behind her as she pushed it open and left the establishment. As a petite girl of only five feet, her head barely came up over the pile of them, orchid-hued eyes sharp like blades as they reflected the lack of amusement she felt at being relegated to 'pack mule'. Sure, she was just some nobody orphan that the church had taken in, even clothing and caring for her free of charge — but would it kill them to give her a break sometimes?
Sighing, Lucia made the trek back to the cathedral, wisps of silvery-lilac hair fluttering behind her with each step she took. As a Nephilim, her eyes glowed faintly in the dark, yet they still didn't make it any easier for her to see. She navigated the cobblestone paths by lantern light, her dress providing little in the way of protection from the cold night air. A shiver ran through her, but she only straightened her shoulders and pushed ahead, her footfalls the only source of noise emanating from the deserted street.
The quiet was... unnerving. Surely there should have been at least a few people that were still awake and about? Stilling herself, she stopped next to a lamppost and looked around, straining her pointed ears for the faintest sound.
Without warning, the flames in the oil lamps lining the streets all died at once. Plunged into total darkness, she quickly dropped the fabric she'd been holding and cupped her hands, a sphere of holy light shifting and undulating as it materialized in her palms. By now, her pulse was so loud that the quickened tempo of her heart was all she could hear, her blood rushing faster as it pulsed through tensed veins. There was a presence in the dark— no, multiple of them, a whole cadre of figures stalking her from the shadows. How could it have taken her so long to notice?
"Who's there?" Her voice was like ice and needles, the radiant aura of her magic only spreading so far. Anything could be lurking in the crevices between buildings or beneath the leaves of a nearby weeping willow tree. "Show yourselves."
Her demand was heard. Out of the corner of her eye, an outline was approaching her at blinding speed, the glint of metal catching her eye just before she whipped her body around to evade it. A throwing knife lodged itself into a signpost behind her, the tip of it dripping with an iridescent purple liquid. Poison.
Somebody was trying to kill her.
Without stopping to negotiate, Lucia immediately took off running, the long trains of her dress whipping in the wind that rushed past her. Her boots struck the ground hard, heavy breaths accentuating each movement she made as she exerted herself beyond what she was used to. As one of Oracleis' disciples, her life was a peaceful one: conflict was often nothing more than something she'd read about in history books or the squabbles she'd witnessed between her Sisters in the order. Elantria itself was a safe, tranquil place — bathed in the golden light of the sun, it was home to many of the light races that inhabited this world. Attacks against the royal guard or those out in the pasture weren't unheard of, but she'd never personally been targeted by any malicious entities for any reason whatsoever. She was merely a humble follower of the goddess, a half-celestial who posed no threat to anyone. What could anyone possibly have to gain from assassinating her?
There was no time to question her assailants' motives. A charred, smoky scent hit her nostrils just before infernal flames danced across her peripherals. Demons. Fiends weren't permitted to enter the Light Kingdom, but that didn't stop their kind from trying to infiltrate and corrupt those who were pure of heart and holy, the embodiments of everything they despised. Lucia spun on her heel and summoned divine flames of retribution, their golden light casting out the dark fires of the abyss. It wasn't enough to spare her completely, however. She let out an agonized scream as hellfire caught her dress ablaze and began to lick up her skin, the burning sensation ten times worse than any normal magic. It managed to leave a nasty reddish burn along her thigh before she was able to put it out, the flesh around the area turning blackened and necrotic. Hissing through clenched teeth, Lucia's head snapped up to examine the figures approaching her. They were cloaked and unidentifiable, but she could tell that they were all from the realm below.
One of them had been utterly consumed by her holy fire, his body burnt to ash and scattered to the winds while not a single one of his companions lifted a finger to help him. Down there, they believed in culling the weak, for one had no place in such a cutthroat society if they were without power. Such a callous ideology was almost disheartening to see in action, had the stranger not been trying to burn her alive moments ago.
"Kill the Nephilim." Their leader commanded the remaining three, his fist clenching as he summoned an obsidian blade in his grasp. Horrified, Lucia realized that it was made of diabolic ore from the Realm of Undeath. Wounds garnered from such a blade would not be so easily healed, even in spite of the celestial blood that she'd inherited from her ancestors.
The four of them advanced towards her, their murderous intentions so overpowering that they were practically tangible. With a choked gasp, she leapt backwards before his weapon could slice her skin open and shot a beam of light into their midst. The demons scattered to avoid it, but the girl was resilient, her magic continuing to pelt them in a desperate attempt to keep them back. A bloody struggle ensued between opposing forces, one angelic scion versus four demon spawn, their shadows stretching towards her in an effort to snuff out her light. She was stronger than them, but their numbers were greater; add onto that the fact that she was at a disadvantage after nightfall meant that she was fighting for her life just to keep up with these beings.
Though she was cornered and fatigued, one still remained. Her movements slowed with exhaustion, his blade kissing her flesh as it drew line after line of her sanguine life force from the soft tissue it buried itself into. Her magic grew weak as her blood loss continued to worsen, the rapier of light she'd been wielding fragmenting into glowing shards before disappearing entirely. Panting heavily, Lucia hit the floor when the demon kicked her onto her back, his dark blade piercing through her torso and embedding itself into the solid stone beneath her.
"Aaaaaaagh-!"The scream she let out ripped through her vocal cords, but it was cut short by the blood that rose up from her throat and spilled over her lips. She choked on it, coughs racking her body as the man dug his sword even deeper into her intestines. Her fingers twitched as they rested at her sides, the luminescence of her pupils beginning to fade into a dulled gray. Beneath her attacker, she lie in a puddle of her own blood, her ivory dress stained crimson and torn by the sharp edge of his blade.
Lucia tried and failed to sit up, the thrum of her pulse slowing to a crawl as she gazed up at the stars above, watching as they swirled around in her blurred vision. Am I... dying? She was too far gone to fear death anymore. Instead, her heavy eyelids began to close, a single tear escaping her lashes as it slid down her cheek and soaked into the cracked earth of her final resting place."... Why...?" One word was all she could manage to rasp out, a single question meant for the ears of her killer. But would knowing the reason for her demise really bring her peace?
He slid his blade out of her flesh in one motion, flicking the blood off of it before returning it to its hilt. "You're the last of Cordelia's lineage. When you meet her in the afterlife, you ought to ask her that."
Cordelia...She'd never heard that name before. Her head slumped to the side as she breathed in painfully, barely registering the way that the man turned his back on her and left her for dead. So she did have a family somewhere out there... At least now she might finally get the chance to reunite with them. Embrace me, Lady Oracleis...
"We can wait no longer; we must wake him if our people are to prosper once more."
Blood Knight Commander Matthias Dracul commanded the Thralls to open the ancient sarcophagus, where an old and powerful ally had been resting for centuries. Centuries ago, the dark forces of Mortisian marched on the land of Light and engaged in a bloody war that lasted for twenty years. On the eve of what would be considered the last major battle of that war, the Grand Marshal had been gravely wounded by an ambush of Celestials. Angelic beings intervened in the war and turned the tides of battle as all hope had been lost for the mortal races. With the Grand Marshal too wounded to continue, he was taken away by loyalists back to Manor Drakenhof, where he was sealed away in the dark magic of Undeath in a sarcophagus in which he would heal from the holy wound.
During his defeat the powerful figure known as the Monarch, the Progenitor of Vampires and King of Mortisian, had gone missing along with Cordelia. His Celestial lover was kept a secret from the courts of both dark and light save for those closest to him.
It has been nearly three centuries since that final battle in which the tides had turned in favor of the mortals and the forces of darkness were driven back into their corrupted and dead lands in which they would rule and reside for the next three centuries without doing anything more than typical raids and skirmishes. No one held the power to unite darkness once more to march as they were left with their own squabbles and bickerings. Matthias Dracul's hope was that the Grand Marshal had recovered from his wounds and would be able to take the throne that the Monarch had left behind. Replaced now with a Council of Demons, Vampires, Werewolves, Unseelie, and other dark beings that either fought their way to the table or through wealth and corruption.
The dark sarcophagus crunched with the heavy slab of stone shifting off. Magic seals broke as the dark magic began to seep out from the cracks before the Thralls would push the stone sarcophagus as the heavy slab of stone crashed into the cobbled flooring. A blast of dark magic exhumed from the opened sarcophagus as a blast of powerful wind caused the torches that lined the walls to flicker before being snuffed out with darkness enveloping them.
Matthias dropped to one knee with his head lowered in respect, a hand over his cold heart.
Light blue hands, nearly pale in color, crept out of the darkness of the sarcophagus and crabbed the edges before a beautiful and dangerous figure emerged from the darkness. Dressed in fine silks, the cascading white hair of the Grand Marshal framed his face elegantly. With the touch of a feather, his feet landed on the ground, and his eyes opened to reveal the blood-red hue that gazed down at Matthias.
"Welcome back, Grand Marshal; I hope you have recovered from your wounds. I apologize for disturbing your rest, but we cannot wait any longer if we are to save our species." Matthias would be the bearer of bad news. How the war had ended over three centuries ago and that the Monarch had disappeared with no confirmed body being found. Even in these three centuries of searching and exhausting resources, they had found nothing and it only emboldened the other forces of darkness to begin taking power away from the Vampires and overthrowing them from the court.
"There is much for us to discuss. Currently, we have moved your sarcophagus back to your stronghold, Drakenhof Manor. Those still loyal to you are waiting for your return. Shortly after your wound that forced you to retreat from the war..." Matthias hesitated a moment. The Grand Marshal was the one closest to the Monarch, his most trusted advisor and general during his reign.
"...the Monarch disappeared. We never found a body, nor have the mortals celebrated his defeat and death. It has been over three centuries since your wound and his disappearance, and I have exhausted extensive resources in searching for our long-lost King, but I've failed you..." Matthias would continue to give his report on the last three centuries to his master, in which the man would listen in silence. The Vampires had been split into two factions. The Loyalists were still loyal to the Monarch and the Grand Marshal, and the insurrectionist led by Lady Isabella von Bergow.
He would report on the demons and other races that have become more prominent in the council and the skirmishes that broke out between the dark races. Vampires were dying, and without the Monarch, a 'True' Vampire could not be born -- a True Vampire could only create a Thrall where the Monarch could bestow someone with great power and alter them into a true being of darkness. There were less than thirty True Vampires that remained. Many members of the Blood Knights, a prestigious and elite group of warriors that only accepted True Vampires into their ranks, had been split with the division of the factions, but Matthias stayed loyal.
"That is all there is to report, My Lord." Matthias would raise his head with his red eyes open to gaze up through the darkness and see the outstretched hand towards him, gesturing for him to rise.
"Rise, Commander. The Unholy Capital has fallen into disarray with my absence, and the loss of our Monarch is of great concern. You have done all that you could with what you were given. Yet we must find him, my old friend, I will take his power for myself and restore order to our lands before enacting our revenge on those that opposed us years ago."
𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔇𝔞𝔶
Viktor Novak, Grand Marshal of Undeath, watched in silence from the darkened alley of Elantria. His research brought him to the city of Light, where he searched for the offspring of Cordelia, a Celestial, the lover of the Monarch. Cordelia had been very close to the Monarch and learned many of his secrets through their affairs. She had been by his side with loyalty even during the war, but Viktor would not rule her out as being a suspect of why his friend had disappeared so long ago. These past two years, as he regained his power and set up his networks once more in search of information, he had found through reports that Cordelia had vanished as well. Reports also detailed that she had offspring and descendants, but many of them had been mysteriously killed or disappeared entirely. It raised suspicions to him and his only hope was that they were not all dead and that one descendant still survived through the hunt of their bloodline.
His intelligence had brought him here, where there were rumors of a Celestial descendant working for the church, but he had little to go off of.
It appeared that his luck had turned. Demons had also been tracking his target and making their hunt spectacle. Viktor followed in the shadows as he watched the battle between the two parties, looking for confirmation in which he would act and save Nephilim from her fate, but he needed to be sure that she was worth saving. It was only when the demon had confirmed his intention to leave the woman behind for dead he would make his presence known. Dressed in armor as black as night with an equally matched cloak wrapped around his figure, he would appear from the shadows behind the demon.
In a sudden draw. What looked like a sliver of moonlight cut in a horizontal line, and the demon's body slumped to the ground as its head rolled away. Separated from its body, Viktor's sword would sing a quiet song. A beautiful silver blade that shone like the moon above. Not even a speck of the vile ichor stained his blade as it slowly returned to its scabbard. "Cordelia's descendant, you will not die here today. From here on, you will be entering my service." Viktor's crimson orbs flicked down to the fading woman who was clinging to the last threads of her life.
"Matthias. Keep watch." He gave an order that the Commander would appear from the shadows just as Viktor had done moments ago and stood guard at the entrance while Viktor knelt down next to Lucia.
She was weakened from her fight, and her loss of blood was leaving her on death's door. The scent of her crimson liquid was sweet and potent, holding the familiar smell of Celestial blood, though diluted. She was indeed the descendant of a celestial, but whether she was related to Cordelia, was still to be determined. Leaning in with another whiff of her scent, he would bring his canines into her neck and drink from her blood while returning some of his own darkened power. Healing her of her wounds and bringing her from the brink of death, he would remove his mouth from her neck and watch as the blood loss and corruption that coursed through her body would be too much for her to handle, and he watched as she passed out, but not dead.
"We are finished here, gather her and let us return to Drakenhof Manor. Her Celestial blood will fight the transformation, but being so close to death and losing so much of her own blood, she is incredibly weakened. Turning her into a Thrall.... may not be so simple." Viktor's eyes would cast down to the slumped Lucia before he would stand up and walk away from her. Matthias unwrapped his cloak from his body and wrapped it around Lucia before the two had departed from Elantria, returning to their base of operations.
The journey back home took two days, and Viktor would keep his blood and power from waking her too early. Instead, he kept her intentionally in the sense of limbo until they returned to Drakenhof, where she would be stripped and cleaned by Thrall servants and put into her own chambers. Various options of dresses and articles of clothing had been laid out on the bench inside her chambers, as well as the dresser was filled with more and a grand walk-in closet of fine dresses.
Matthias was stationed outside of her chambers, waiting for her to awaken from her slumber. Her body would hopefully take to the dark blood of Viktor and her transformation of becoming a Thrall, or a partial Thrall, would be completed.
A shadowy vignette began to close in and darken the edges of her vision, her damp lashes fluttering as the world around her grew distant and cold. Death was so dark, so lonely... It felt as though all of the strength in her body had been sapped away and now she was nothing but a hollow vessel fated to pass from this world before she could even truly experience life.
But then a glimmer of hope appeared — it was a voice, masculine and calm yet carrying with it an undeniable aura of power and authority. Whoever this austere gentleman was, she vaguely registered that he was not one of her attackers. Lucia forced her eyes open so that she could look upon his face, but all she could make out between the darkness and her tears was long ivory hair and deep crimson hues that glowered down upon her. Clutching at her chest and coughing, she lifted her other hand to reach out and try to touch him. "Wh-who..."
Her voice cracked, pain contorting her features as she felt two sharp, needle-like points prick her neck. Unable to muster the energy to scream, all she could do was whimper softly as he drank of her essence, his frosty lips against her skin sending shivers down her spine. Lightheaded and on the verge of passing out, she clung onto his shirt collar until sleep claimed her at last, her grip waning moments before her hands fell to her sides and she slumped against him. Having fallen into a state of unconsciousness, the young woman remained limp and seemingly lifeless as the man's attendant carried her through the streets of Elantria, the sound of her faint breathing serving as the only indication that she wasn't a corpse. Yet in her dreamless state, she would begin her transformation, her celestial blood fighting back against the vampiric taint that had begun to corrupt her body.
Two nights came and went before Lucia finally awoke once more, her restless slumber broken suddenly as the world around her became real and tangible. As her vision came into focus, she lifted her head somewhat and looked around, a slight groan leaving her lips before she blinked the grogginess from her eyes. The room that materialized around her was not one that she was familiar with, and based on the decor she was almost certain that it wasn't anywhere within Oracleis Cathedral or the surrounding area. She sat up, her palms pressing down into a soft mattress draped with furs, the familiar sinking sensation of dread forming a knot in the pit of her stomach.
Aren't I... dead?
She looked around the chamber one more time, dazed and in sheer disbelief at what she saw. Or was it all a dream? The assassination attempt felt too real to have just been her imagination, and if it had been a dream then that wouldn't explain how she ended up in some unknown house. Her throat burned with a strange, intense thirst, the kind that water could never hope to quench. Shaking fingers ghosted over her neck where she traced them along two small holes, the stranger with pale hair briefly resurfacing in her memory. What was it that he'd said back then?
``Cordelia's descendant, you will not die here today. From here on, you will be entering my service.``
Panic drove her from the bed, her legs swinging over the side of it as she ran to the window overlooking the grounds. In horror, she realized that the shadowy lands stretching out beneath her were not a part of Elantria at all; this was the Realm of Undeath, and it was no place for a Nephilim.
Her breathing sped up, her hands frantically roaming over her own body only to find that the burn marks and the stab wounds had completely vanished, nothing but smooth porcelain skin left in their wake. Everything was back to normal, and yet, nothing was even slightly normal.
Ignoring the clothes that had been laid out for her, Lucia crossed over to the door leading out of the room in nothing but the flowy alabaster nightgown she'd been changed into. She didn't want to think about who was responsible for undressing her or what had happened to her bloodstained dress — right now, all she wanted to do was escape this place that she didn't belong in. A sharp intake of breath preceded her hand resting on the doorknob, apprehension at what might be out there slowing her movements. For a few beats, she held that breath, her white pupils dilating as she turned the handle and heard a gentle click from the other side. It was unlocked.
Summoning her conviction, she flung the door open and stepped out into the hallway, her head immediately tilting towards the presence lingering outside of her chambers. Unlike the man she'd seen in her trance, this one was blond and more human-looking, though his ruby gaze was just as sinister. He, too, must have been a creature of the night. Although she wasn't thinking straight, she had to remind herself that her apparent captors had clothed her and completely neglected to chain or lock her up at all. In that case, perhaps she was free to leave at her own leisure... First, though, she was determined to get some answers. When their eyes locked she put on her best intimidating glare, undeterred by the fact that she had to angle her chin just to look up at him.
"A-are you the one who brought me here?" Lucia coughed into her fist, attempting to regain her voice despite how incredibly dry her mouth felt. "What is the meaning of this? Explain yourself or I'll strike you down where you stand."
The threat didn't seem quite as menacing when she was still wobbling around and adjusting to moving again after days of rest, but it was issued in earnest, her narrowed lilac jewels boring holes into his visage. She wasn't entirely sure she could make good on that promise in her current state, but in her Lady's name she would most certainly try if he gave her reason to.
"Until I gauge her importance, I want you guarding her, Matthias. Whoever those demons worked for knew her lineage. Someone could be after her to silence her bloodline and keep the Monarch's position from us until we know our enemy she will be under close watch."
Guard duty would typically be beneath someone of Matthias's status, the Blood Knight Commander, but he knew the importance of Lucia's existence and her significance to his Master. He would guard Lucia with his life and protect her from any threat until Viktor no longer deemed her necessary, and if she would not comply with becoming a Thrall then she would perish like those before her. She was necessary, for now, and it would be the wisest course of action for her to understand that quickly and use it to her advantage as best she could while not pushing too far and causing her new Master to become annoyed with her existence.
Matthias was in more casual wear now that they were in the safety of the Manor and back within the lands of Undeath. Dressed in regal fashion, he wore a deep red gambeson with a red fitted coat overtop and buckled around the waist, and golden inlaid buttons snapped together. Golden trim work edged the seams of the red coat, and around his waist was a deep brown belt attached to his scabbard, on which his left hand rested upon the pommel of his sword. Traveling down, he wore fine-fitted trousers of charcoal black and matching boots. One could easily mistake him for a nobleman of the human realm if not for the deep, piercing red eyes and the ominous aura that exhumed from his presence. The sharp canines indicated the true nature of Matthias and his eternal youth.
He had been standing watch since she arrived at the Manor in which mindless Thralls, at the command of Viktor, had stripped her down and cleaned her of any dirt and grime of the alleyway and travel. Her wounds had healed on their own thanks to the infusion of blood and her own celestial bloodline. Placed back into a nightgown that covered her -- he was expecting her to come out of the room dressed in one of the fine silk dresses that were offered, but instead, Matthias would turn his eyes and head to meet the open door with Lucia in the frame still in her nightgown.
She spoke with confusion in her voice and even lauded a hefty threat at the Commander, who could only let a small smirk play on his lips before settling back into a neutral expression. One of professionalism. "You were incapable of even defeating your assailants and were on death's door. If you couldn't handle such weak demons, you would not even stand a chance against me." He spoke from experience; being centuries old and the Commander of the once proud and elite guard of the Monarch, he would not fall to some half-breed so easily, even with her divine blood.
"Come. Your new Master will explain everything to you, but we will be going now. You are to meet with him upon awaking, even in your nightgown." He wouldn't give her the chance to change now. She would only look for a way to escape this place out of fear and unless the confused woman wanted to change in front of Matthias, then they would be going to meet Viktor now.
"He is in his studies in Drakenhof Library. He spoke of you not becoming a typical Thrall, which is true. For now." Matthias turned his back to Lucia and began to walk down the illustrious and ominous halls of the Manor. Elegant decorations and paintings lined the walls; ornate pillars were lined with gold plating and jewels. She was taken through the Manor, deeper inside until arriving at the library where two guards were posted in red plate mail and adorned helmets. They parted the doors open, and she was to go in alone and meet with Viktor, as Matthias and his guard would stay outside. "Go. Don't keep him waiting." With a final word and a nudge forward, the doors closed behind Lucia as she was left in an expansive domed library within the Manor. Bookshelves are so tall you would need ladders to get to the top shelf; an untold amount of knowledge was here in this place. Some books are so rare they were forgotten in time.
In the center of the room was a grand table lined with books, maps, inkwells, and parchment paper strewn about the hard oak surface. Sitting over the table, scouring through pages, was Viktor Novak, who saved her and then enthralled her into his service. He was dressed as finely as Matthias in similar attire, but his colors dappled more into a black base with jade green seams and silver buttons. Piercing crimson eyes peeked up from the pages to rest upon Lucia's own orbs. His posture adjusted, and he slid back, leaning into the back of his cushioned seat as he slowly closed the book he was reading to put his attention on her.
"Descendant of Cordelia." He addressed her, unaware of her name and seemingly uncaring to learn.
"Approach, and tell me. Do you know who I am? Or have I slept for so long that my name no longer strikes fear into the mortal's hearts with a creeping chill of dread?" Viktor's voice was steady and low. It was cold, but at the same time, it held a strange sense of warmth. Comforting and deep like it would drown you with his tone. Once a Pale Elf, he still held the elegant grace and beauty of his kin, but those once soft pale eyes were deep with crimson power. His presence before her held a connection. A connection of servitude lingered under the skin, the blood of him that fought to dominate her celestial blood. It was thanks to her half-breed nature she wasn't under his complete control to command whatever he desired or needed from her. She was his Thrall; even if it was only partial, she would still feel the effects of his magical blood taking hold of her.
The Grand Marshal of Undeath, he led the armies of the Monarch into the mortal realms and wreaked havoc in the lands. Conquering Kingdoms and burning his way through their homes before that fateful day when everything changed, and the armies of Undeath were pushed back into the darkness of their realm.
"Tell me. What do you know of our Monarch, King of Undeath and Progenitor of the Vampires." He was gauging her reaction and response. Her knowledge of her own lineage and how familiar she may be with his kind. He wanted to know if the answers he sought were in her mind or were in her blood.
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