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[Thrax]

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"M'lord, there is a bounty on your head," Skurj reported, speaking to his father, Thrax. "I heard talk of it in certain circles." Skurj leaned against a pointed pillar watching his father complete a sacrifice atop the manor in which they both lived. The smoke of burning flesh filled his nostrils, but it did not revolt him. Instead, it just made him hungrier.

"How much is it for?" Thrax asked, pouring water over his bloodied hands, cleansing them.

"I think about fifty-thousand gold pieces if you are handed alive over to a Yew official."

Thrax scowled. "Is *that* all?" he sneered. "Who posted the bounty? No, wait, let me guess... Duke Kotare?" He wiped his hands on a towel that hung from the belt around his waist and sat down on a throne made of shadow stone. He tilted back his head, inhaling deeply the fumes, and muttered a short, silent prayer.

"Aye, it was he. He requested you be brought in for questioning about kidnapping Saints and for insurrection, or some such. You should be careful," he advised. Skurj himself sat down in the adjacent seat, one which had been reserved for Thrax's consort, and Skurj's mother, Nefariana.

"It is to be expected, son. One cannot do what I am doing without ruffling the feathers of the aristocratic elite. It is standard procedure. It is precisely what *I* would do, have done, and mean to do... squelch and crush all opposition unmercifully. But I thank you for the warning." Thrax took a rolled up parchment out of a pocket of his crimson robe and handed it to his son. "Read that and tell me what you think."

It was a letter from Nefariana. It was addressed to Skurj:

"My dearest son,

I have been cured of the curse at long last. I am no longer nosferatu. Rejoice with me in this, for I have long prayed for it. Your father told me it was Oggaroth who did it, but I learned that it was revoked by the goddess Quaestra Concordia, she whom the Saints revere, for it was to her that they prayed for me, and she answered.

Because she has done this, and because your father lied to me, and because I have always inwardly detested the evils he perpetuates, I have left him and have renounced my allegiance to his god. I do not doubt Oggaroth's power, but he is a destroyer, not a healer. I cannot abide such a life. I have gone to live in Sanctus Covenir, the Castle where my uncle Itannar dwells.

I want you to join us here. Renounce the evil your father and I have taught you. It is the way of pain, sorrow, regret, and hopelessness. Perhaps then the Lady Concordia will hear my prayer for you, that your own curse; that unnatural power with which you were born, which has disfigured you, will be lifted.

If you cannot do this, then forgive me, for I will not cease from praying for you, and your father. Though I do not love him, he was generous to me during my time of distress. I owe him something. I will do what I know is best for him, and for you, and that is to pray you will both come to the Light as I have. It is never too late.

Please consider my words and reply. I am trusting that your father will deliver this missive to you. If he fails, I will know.

With love unfeigned,
Nefariana"

Skurj crumpled the note and threw it on the ground. His covered head lowered. "She has deserted us then, is that it?" he whispered.

Thrax leaned over and put his arm around his son. "Not you. Me and my god. Go to her if you wish. Talk to her. I will not stop you." He withdrew his arm and sat back. "Perhaps she is right. If your heart is not in a thing, you should not do it," he mused.

Skurj stood up quickly, turning to face his father. "You are beginning to sound like one of the Light-Bearers! Is all that you both taught me wrong?! Is service and loyalty to our god, spreading his power over this realm... is it all just a lie... a facade... a cruel joke?!"

Thrax rose from his throne, locking eyes with his son. "No, it is truth, but only for me and those who have chosen a like path in this life, in this place. You do not understand what drives me. I am not what I seem to be. One day, one day, I will explain it all to you, but do not ask me of it now; you are not ready to bear it."

Skurj sighed. "I will hold you to your word," he stated. "Some day... soon... you will tell me what I must know of you." He paused a moment. "I will find and speak to mother, but I will not walk another path... not just yet, no matter what she says." He turned and walked away.

Thrax sat back down on the throne and stared at the note at his feet.