EPILOGUE.

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The name of my maker weighed heavily within the pages of the journal, and as I read the account of our creator, I came to a profound understanding of the nature of my own curse. I was merely a pawn in the grand design, a minuscule outcome of Amon's reign. Even as we, what the modern world now calls vampires, hide and are hunted, it's not because of mere mortals or hunters seeking our end. It is the legacy of The First Immortal and her maker that casts the darkest shadow over our existence.

Centuries have passed since their creation, and we find ourselves entangled in the turmoil they initiated. Our true identity remains concealed from both mortals and immortals.

I had hoped to uncover a cure within the pages of this ancient tome, a revelation of the origins of this affliction that has plagued me. As I sit amidst the rain and fog of London, gazing upon the very museum that had acquired this journal, I realize that The First Immortal endured the same loneliness and despair that I grapple with.

My name is Michael Augustin, and I am first and foremost a researcher. I am Amon's Childer. I have never met The First Immortal, but I wish I had. I have developed an infused ink that allows vampires like me to walk in the sunlight with a tattoo upon flesh. In this modern world, we blend seamlessly among mortals. Our curse seems to evolve with the passage of time. She spoke of scarabs and scorpions crawling beneath her flesh when exposed to light, while for the last generation of vampires, we simply burn.

The progression of this curse is a fascinating subject. Generations change, our bloodline thins, and Amon remains elusive. I cannot help but wonder if he, too, is attempting to evade his True Death at the mercy of his Maker.

Nonetheless, I will not cease my quest for answers. I will continue to study this blood disease that has haunted us through the ages.

But for now dear friends, I shall meet you again in the shadows.


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