Blood Will Out

prologue

There have always been powers in this world.

Through every part of history, there were people who were special; who had abilities beyond what was natural. They were called healer, shaman, medicine man, witch; but they were afforded some kind of respect, even if only out of fear.

This is not the story of those people.

This is a story of the others. The least of these. The marginalized.

As far back as we've recorded history we've had a name for them too: heretic, lunatic, berserker, maniac, possessed, crazy, freak. And indeed, amongst this grouping, some of those titles are deserved. But there were others, people whose existence stretches back as far as memory. These people had violence in them; that same madness that would seize control of their mind and run rampant through their body.

But they also had something more.

Unique abilities woven into their genetics like brown eyes or curly hair. A wealth of power... if they could learn to control it.

They found each other over time, drawn by an energy one could only feel in a counterpoint. They built communities on that tenuous connection.

Time would show them what the world did to ones so different. They learned to keep their traits a secret. They sought sanctuary across the sea, a land whose green shores promised a new start. Some of them were swallowed whole by the Atlantic or drowned in the sickness contracted during the crossing. The strongest survived; put down roots and built communities. Their unnatural abilities helped them to prosper, but fear of persecution made them cautious, made them ruthless to hold on to their security. Still they flourished like hothouse flowers; a bounty of divinity growing only inside the protection of thinly disguised safety.

They built homes. They built families. They built legacies upon which a nation was founded. But somewhere along the way, their hold on the powers started to slip. Diluted by new bloodlines, the abilities they'd once considered their family's by right, showed up less and less until only a handful in each generation had skills worth coveting. At risk of seeing their blood reduced to commonality, they took precautions.

Within these confines their pure family lines were protected, the rules were followed and everyone prospered. They thought themselves invincible.

But there were two things they never accounted for.

The ones who would run away; and the ones they never saw coming.