** Could an undying love blossom in the ruins of a shattered world? **
And so the world of men was lost
and a new one, our world,
was born.
- Morrígan
Goddess of the Battle
of the Túatha Dé Danann -
4th cycle anno Bellum.
The Second World War...
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Zane suppressed an annoyed snort and just grumbled quietly to himself.
As much as he disliked it, he knew Myra was right. Since the stone guards had come to life, it had become almost impossible for them to escape from the palace unseen. The auction and opera houses were too big, and the grounds too well guarded, especially after the riot.
Nevertheless, he felt anything but comfortable at the thought of putting his life in the filthy clutches of the vampire scion. It stank to high heaven that he was offering them his help. The strong jaws ground into the angular features.
"I don't trust that snake..." Zane rumbled quietly.
"Neither do I," his more or less imposing companion replied quietly as they turned a corner and followed the winding corridors further into the depths. "But Casimir is ... unhealthily ambitious. The prospect of proving himself to the master is exactly what he wants."
Zane grunted, more or less in agreement. He had experienced this ambition firsthand and was still suffering the consequences. Every step was agonizing. The pain radiated from his foot and lower leg all the way up to his hip. Sweat from the fever and the exertion was already dripping from his chin. It wouldn't be long before he could no longer support the weight of his own body because his muscles were failing. He was also finding it increasingly difficult to breathe.
"Besides, he has what we both want so badly - the dagger," Myra reminded him.
Yes, the damn dagger. The tool that had taken the one life they both mourned. The only bond between them, as absurd as it may have seemed.
The only weapon that shouldn't be in the hands of humans. In the first cycle, when the war raged and the Vaesen came to this world, they destroyed everything that could be dangerous to them as a first measure. The trolls attacked church bells, vampires tore out hawthorn and blackthorn bushes, or burnt down holy sites. Even now, it was still a mystery to him how the dagger had ended up in the hands of the traitors. That should never have happened.
A crunch before him drew his attention away from his thoughts back to their guide in the darkness. Casimir had sunk to his knees in the middle of the corridor and felt the lower part of the wall to their right with his bony fingers.
