The Houses of Lorian Hollow: The Soundtrack to Your Scream

Prologue

24th of October, 1520

Alas, the pride of these lineages is fickle. In blue blood dwells inherent sin. And what is to come of such a carnal sickness? Death. The blood of slain innocents stains all our hands. No more can I handle the guilt. For I feel, in part, responsible for the war gripping our once quiet settlement. The plague of bloodlust and power poisons more as the days pass.

My fate is sealed here.

My blood binds me to my woes.

I hear the call ringing out for the Houses to come to order. My heart is at unrest as the hour grows nearer. I wander the courtyard this eve. The sun has decidedly veiled itself in a haze. Perhaps it, too, knows the solemnity of this day. A most curious and morose solemnity, the importance of which I both accept and defy, an agony that afflicts me.

Tonight the Houses have agreed to assemble in the town square, an impending meeting that leaves me weary.

I so crave the solace that would come with a treaty between the bloodlines. The rift between the souls that linger here has grown so deep, the hatred and bitterness worsens as the days pass. The hope of a peace between the families is the only glimmer of light that shines today. I still find my heart in torment. A foreboding presence haunts me.

The sky grows darker, the tired sun surrendering to gloomy hues of night.

The screams are yet to come. For an unholy sacrifice is the only way to soothe the beasts that live here, the demons that dwell in this hollow. We have come to such savage affairs.

Where did we misstep so?

How could I have been so willing to give them away, them, the mortals, the unsuspecting, trusting, divine?

The very humanity that I am in awe of.

Humanity I will never enjoy.

The ticking clock of life, a golden blessing taken for granted by so many.

I wish I, too, could feel the urgency. The vibrancy of an emotion that marks a memory. The salt of a wound healing, the excitement of impending joy, the value of a momentous occasion, the flutter of a heart in love, a heart broken.

The fear of loss.

The latter I feel. All too often, I feel it. Not for my own... not for us, the Evolved and Immortal. But for them, for our mortals.

My Guardians.

And they will bear witness to our animalistic appetites.

And one will befall the tragedy of it tonight. A choice I had no say in. My words, my adamant refusal, my tears and attempts to protect her, I could not steer her fate.

Her.

It will be her blood that spills, of all of them, hers. This is a pain of loss I have not felt so richly before. I will never recover. Her son will never recover, a life without his mother. I am a monster. The devil himself would cry out in disgust from my testimony. I have no place in his hell.

How they stand Guard by our side knowing what we are, knowing what my family is, none of us are worthy of such mercy.

There is beauty there, a beauty only God could emanate.

My thoughts have run away, and as I make myself present again, I see the cold world that I dwell in. Those sweet sentiments! Yet I know the dagger will soon pass my hand and to the long, twisted fingers of the executioner. Nothing matters now. Heaven will judge us on this eve, and an order befitting we sinners will be bestowed.

The bloodlines of all will be appeased, and how fittingly, so near All Hallow's Eve.

J.