2.
He returned no time sooner than the second full moon. Zahir was waiting for him. She didn't ask any questions. She gave up dancing for others and became his Confidant. She even brought him the finest young women she could find so that he could feed when it was too dangerous for him to get out. As time passed, her dark hair turned to grey and then to white, all this came little by little, full moon after full moon. Her body figure turned into a mass of wrinkles and fat, but her eyes had kept their wicked spark.
He didn't know how many years she had yet to live but he was certain that Zahir would serve him even when she would have to crawl on her knees to do that. In her mind he was an ancient God from the North. It was her great honor and unique privilege to serve him. He had never told her about his past life before Egypt. Zahir had never dared to ask him anything. She had no clue whether anyone else was aware of his existence or if he had any kind of a family beyond the Nile and the dark Mediterranean Sea ... up to the day that a letter arrived, and it had written his full name on it.
She held the precious letter as if it was holy; a reflection of a mystic Heaven which wasn't meant for her. She was waiting in agony for the hours to creep by one after the other, like the waves of the Nile in the lazy summer. The night came bringing a familiar breeze along with it. She knew he would go hunting. So, she had to wait some more hours for him to return. She was obliged to offer him the only things that she could never possess ... time.
Zahir entered the room and saw him standing naked in front of her with his long blond hair failing miserably to cover his divine nudity. His cold blue eyes could see through her soul. For a moment she thought that in case she turned around, she would see Naima's naked dead body lying on his bed. Zahir turned but the bed was empty. She took a closer look at the envelope. Her hands were no longer pretty but he was still there standing in front of her, beyond time and mortality. For a creature despising Hubris, he had been the greatest hubris she had ever witnessed. Deep inside, she knew that no one could escape Nemesis forever; neither the blessed ones, nor the damned ones.
She came closer and handed the letter to him. Zahir had escaped his blood thirst years ago, but she knew well that she couldn't escape what was even more powerful than that. So, she surrendered once more ... to fate this time.
She didn't say a word. She just gave him the letter, turned around instantly, and vanished silently. The oracle had told her what was yet to come but she couldn't dare to whisper it to him. After all it has always been his path. He had no choice other than walk it as soon as the call was delivered on his doorstep. It was full moon again and the new era had just begun.
He took the letter. His fingers recognized the sealing wax simple by touching it, moments before he saw it. He could recognize smell its scent among all the spices of the East, a rare mix of wax, blood and perfume. The Prince's Chevalier was used only on one occasion and that would be to call the Nobel's of each clan for a gathering. He looked at the front page of the envelope.
'Mister AAH, son of None
Palace of the Nile's Moon
Egypt'
He turned the envelope and looked at its back side.
'Oudeis, Son of Pelasgus
Acheron River,
Bridge between the living & the dead'
None would ever dare to call him by his true name unless the Prince was dying. He took a step back and used his mystic powers. The ones he had been avoiding to use for decades now. No, Prince wasn't among the dead Vampires. He searched for him among the undead ones. He couldn't point out his spiritual sign either. This could only mean one thing. The Prince was hibernating in another world, out of his reach.
He didn't need to read the letter to figure it out. Hierarchy was at risk with the Prince dying. Clans would start fighting for power and anarchy would be their damnation. His lustful nights in Egypt were over. He turned around and looked at his luxurious outfits, his sensual perfumes and his musical instruments. This era of his existence was officially over. He had to leave it all behind once more like he always did.
He stood in front of his closet with a vague hesitation in his steps. He wasn't ready for one more war. He had already seen so many of them that he could count them no more. He outlasted all of them thanks to Acheron's powers. Nevertheless, he suddenly felt so exhausted just by contemplating a new one that the temptation to just lay there till he could watch the sun rise for a first and last time seemed irresistible.
A voice shouted inside his head
'Oudeis! Stand up!'
He had no choice but to open the closet, throw his glorious outfits on the floor and grab his old travel bag. Night after night he was hoping that he wouldn't have to take it out of the closet. The ancient Gods had been merciful and have offered him many years of absolute freedom. Those years were already a memory. He opened the bag and started wearing his true outfit; that of a mystic warrior. Aah was already dead by the time he had dressed up. Oudeis, son of Pelasgus was back to serve the Prince and the legacy of his clan.
Zahir entered the room once more. She gasped as she saw him in his outfit for the first time. She didn't make any sound. She didn't even have the time to move before Oudeis came to feed from her. He couldn't take anything or anyone along with him. He couldn't leave her behind either. He didn't care whether it would be Acheron the one to take her to the land of the dead or Nile. She was running free in his veins, from his lips and tongue straight to every inch of his frozen body. She would stay with him forever even though he would soon forget that she even existed.
He disappeared under the moonlight on his way to Alexandria's port. It was a long journey from Egypt to Spain, but he had to make a stop there and join Calista Noite. She must have received her own invitation as well. This dark and sinful seductress was the most powerful Queen of Shadows and he needed to join forces with her before they arrived at the Prince and faced the Clans.
For a number of reasons, he despised travelling by boat. Sailors' blood tasted like rats' blood, but he had no other option.
He found out which ship was on its way to Pyrenees and got on board without anyone taking notice. There was hardly any sailor from the crew left alive by the time the ship entered the Spanish Port. Nobody ever figured it out what happened to all those missing sailors. As soon as the moon was up in the sky he was on his way to Calista's castle.
