Six Months Earlier

The Western Coast of Ireland

The fate of the many had always been decided by the few.

And that same fate was often determined not in great palaces, historical courtrooms, or expansive estates, but in the depths of dark, dirty basements and stench-filled battlefields.

Tonight was not different.

A trail of torches lit the path into the ruins within Brackloon Woods. To the rare traveler who strayed too far from the main trails, it could seem like a gathering of wild mountain folk. But this evening, the will of two covens determined the future of an entire species of vampires.

A single word, a single command could bring peace—or war.

Only the elite of the Baetal and Draugur covens attended. Each Master stood on the edges of the Brackloon woods, a neutral territory, flanked by their sergeants and a dozen more of their faction leaders.

Milo Eskandar, master of the Draugur, and Lief Jederick, master of the Baetal, still harbored the wounds of their ancestors, a feud over two thousand years in the making.

The only reason they’d gathered was to call for peace. A peace brought on by a common enemy. Death.

Man, supernatural, or beast couldn’t best the vampires. Their enemy now was one well known to their human inferiors—disease.

Death had come for the undying.

An incurable virus was killing off their races and decimating the female vampire population.

Milo stepped forward, his long black-and-gray streaked hair tied at his neck. Flashes of firelight shone as flecks of orange in his eyes. “Have you agreed to the terms sent by our emissary?”

“A cease of violence in all territories and no acts of retribution for previous grievances?” Lief answered.

“Yes.”

Lief rubbed a hand along his jaw. “And how are we to know the Draugur will hold steady to their word?” He glanced over to his sergeant and nephew, Nikolai Jederick, the Baetal’s incoming master, and smirked. “With ancestors like yours, it is hard to imagine promises being honored.”

It was a dig meant to flare tempers as an open act of war, but there were greater challenges facing them now.

Milo’s son, Arsen and incoming master, loomed behind his father. “The Draugur have never been the ones to go back on their word. Do not forget your own history, Baetal.”

“Perhaps it is you, Draugur, who needs a history lesson,” Nikolai said.

Milo raised a hand into the air. “Silence.”

The two younger vampires, stood toe to toe, a dense anger filling the air between them. Each of them only held less than six-hundred years to their names.

Milo sighed. “This is our third attempt to reach peace, Lief. What say you?”

Lief placed a hand to Nikolai’s shoulder and brought him back several steps. “We agree to your terms. No Baetal will harm a Draugur until this matter is resolved.”

Milo nodded and curled his finger, drawing forth a human thrall belonging to the Draugur. The young man, no more than twenty, stood in the middle of both leaders and raised a bejeweled golden chalice to his wrist, then sliced. Blood poured down into the goblet, oozing in thick red droplets. Each master stepped forward and drank from the same chalice before returning it to the thrall.

Lief summoned forth a second thrall of the Baetal. A girl in her preteens stepped forward and brought with her another chalice, this one silver with sapphire gemstones circling the rim. Arsen was appalled by her youth. The Draugur would never take on a human servant until they’d reached adulthood and truly understood the task they were about to bear.

She took the same blade used by the young man and sliced open her arm, letting a wide trail of blood slip down her bare skin and fill the glass.

Milo and Lief gestured for Arsen and Nikolai to step forward and do as their leaders had done before them. Without hesitation, Arsen drank. Among the vampires, it was a sign of respect and fidelity to share blood from the same human. When Arsen had finished, Nikolai took the goblet and downed the remaining blood. He raised his sleeve to his mouth and wiped the remnants from his chin.

“It is done,” Milo said.

“So let it be.” Lief finished the oath.

They shook hands, spoke a few private words, and then returned to the group. Moments later, Arsen watched the Baetal Master and his clan leave the woods like shadows dissolving into the night.

“Father? Make I speak with you?”

Milo stepped away from his faction leaders and guided Arsen farther into the woods, the sounds of broken branches and leaves crunching beneath their feet. “What is it, my son?”

“The Baetal.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t trust them to honor this truce or to make peace and the health of all vampires a priority.” Arsen ran a tense hand through his hair. “Perhaps we should have reached out to the Kresova.”

“No, their queen is mad and the grievances amongst them are only growing in whispers.” Milo shook his head, “We must accept their word but keep a keen eye upon them.” He stroked his beard. “Is something else bothering you?”

“Nikolai.”

“What of him?”

Arsen sighed. “I don’t trust Nikolai to honor it. Not when our time comes.”

“Both you and Nikolai will be the new masters and you will both be responsible for more than just your immediate covens, but the humans and various factions under your territories.”

“I don’t know if he will uphold peace.”

“Then if he will not, you must. Or we all will fall.” He squeezed Arsen’s arm and returned to his faction leaders.

Milo was right. Peace was necessary to discover the source behind the disease ailing his people. Ailing all vampires.

But peace usually came at a price.

War.