Know no wrath like His, my Father.

[Varian]

An entry from an unknown date:

It escapes me, the memory of when I slept without these dreams. Voices in my slumber that haunt me like the ghosts of a past I am unable to recall.

I know only the first night, when my eyes opened to darkness and every night since that first.

But when I sleep.. I see images of a boy without my ashen skin, without the ferocity in his gaze, and without the lust of the Beast within his heart.

Until this night most recent, he has been there to console me as if I required it. As if nursing a humanity he alone can see, burried beneath the layers of cold and hate. I wish for him that this rage was so easily stilled..

Without him, I walk through shadows, as if searching for something not even I am truly aware of. Before this I smirked at his guidance and now, perhaps it is him I so desperately seek...

[Varian]

An entry from an unknown date:

Like a specter I stand unseen in the past, in my memories while I slumber. I watch helpless, these events that have already transpired.

And while I know of my condition and my inability to alter these events, I struggle still to call to them in my dreams. My nightmares.

What is the reason I am forced to witness that which I have so forcefully forgotten? There can be no sane reason.


And through the murk and mist of strained recollection, I see a boy who thought himself a man. A boy turned a soldier against his will. A will that was weak and a mind that was so easily fooled into believing that this cause was the only cause.

There, with clenched teeth his innocense sacrificed as he took the life of another still younger than he. Not because of hate, or for loyalty of his conscription, but out of necessity to survive.

The wars. I remember the wars too well. Air gagged with smoke and screams. Skies turned black with carrion birds. And that smell of blood.. It threatened to churn my stomach then..

[Varian]

An entry from an unknown date:

I had walked these steps before. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that I have staggered.

Just then a man, a matter of mere days had proclaimed him that. Still he looked a child, as he stumbled and collapsed upon that road, riverside. He would have died, surely, had it not been for the watchful gaze of another.

I clenched my fist and cried out, but was unheard. As that boy's head was craddled by the beast I knew would still his beating heart. I felt that fire inside once again, just as I knew it when I struck him down.

Monlado Traesalo. The disgrace of clan Toreador. The monster that coddled a beaten and broken boy for no gain but that of his own.

Helpless, I watched the boy die and live again with the blood Monlado offered from his wrist.

I can only hate my Sire for what it was he did then. I had known his words were lies from our final meeting, when I ran him through with my blade, but to witness the debauchery first hand.. it incited an all new disposition.

When his indulgence had come to an end, Traesalo dragged his victim to the shore and let loose his grip upon the boy. I remember the cold of the water as it was the last sensation my fading mortality allowed. Then it was black.. and I awoke.. just as that boy awoke from his humanity.. my dream was at an end..

I stared into the shadows of my chambers and wondered...

[Varian]

An entry from an unknown date:

Shards of light broke through the waves, dancing around the body of that boy. Pale and breathless, motionless until something started him from his would-be grave.

When the sun fell from the sky that first night, something inside my fledgling husk made me aware that twilight had come and that I was indeed, very much alive.

Through the mud he crawled, clawing at the bank until he could escape the current. Too tired to wonder how it was that he was able not to drown.

Though there was no chill, huddled he lay along the tree line. Alone.

Just then, something caught my eye. Stark onyx reflected the moonlight of that memory and I turned from the boy to find that I too was being watched.

The eyes of that bird were as soulless as my own are now. Staring through me, that crow could not have been so unknowing of my presence. How long it had been there, how long it had been watching me watch this boy.. this I do not know. It called to me once, and as if I understood, my attention shifted to the ashen skinned childe once more.

I cursed softly as he was again, in the arms of a Kindred, but just as quickly, my worries dissipated. It was Timothy. An elder of my true clan, Ventrue.

Progeny of Vedartha himself, Timothy's inentions were not so maladjusted as Monlado's had been. The Ventrue gathered my restless form into his arms and carried me through the forest, toward the hillside.

The crow called out again, loudly, as he left his perch and followed the pair. I took a step in turn and was shaken from my dream once more..

[Varian]

An entry from an unknown date:


I sat upon my throne, staring into that man's eyes. The eyes of a mortal man. They were so hollow, though and I saw nothing within them, as if he had no soul.

We never spoke, not a word between us. We only stared. I thought it was I who need utter the first word, but as I parted my lips he did the same and I silenced myself.

It was so very strange. I felt nothing and it seemed he was just as solemn. My thoughts raced, but my mind was a torrent and I knew no logic then. I could not discern what reason he had to seek my audience nor could I recall opening the door of this house to allow him entrance.

It was only that moment alone and nothing before or beyond.

Violet eyes, soft, but entrancing. I know no others like them, yet they were the eyes of a mortal man.

White hair and strict features. As I tore myself from that hypnosis I took stock of myself. Subtle details, such as my clothing. It was all alike, to every thread.

I lifted my hands from their places and reached out, just as he did and they touched. That surface was glass, and those orchid eyes I stared so deeply into were my own..

But that mortal man across from me was Alexander Kanashia. Startled, I tore my hands from that mirror and recoiled.

I must have shaken then, and I awoke within my chambers.

I had thought my nightmares were at an end. Apparently, I was mistaken.

[Varian]

An entry from an unknown date:

The day since last I wrote here have been innumerable, as this journal was one of many possessions I left behind when I so abruptly departed from Trae Kelsa several years ago. Since my return, I have been aware of its whereabouts, but reluctant to record the events that have taken place or the visions that haunt my sleep. It is only now, after this most recent occurrence that I feel obligated.

It was two nights ago, the evening after my return to Myrken, from New Dauntless. I set out from town, toward my home. I chose to do so without the escort of my coach. Instead, to wander the woods, as I have longed to do since my feet fell upon Amasynian soil. The forest appeared unfamiliar, as it never has in the past.

When I broke the timberline, there were no clearings, no paths and only the sparse light that struggled through the canopy to guide me through the overgrown brush. I wondered if none had set foot here for as long as I had been absent from it, myself. Suddenly, there was a terrible sound. It was not man or animal and even now, I can not compare it to another I have experience.

The cry was shrill, a piercing screech that chittered, but never waned in intensity. It was a difficult task to define the origin of the sound, despite the abilities afforded me. I carried on, through the trees and in the direction, as I determined it, from which the scream was emitted.

Soon, a foul smell accompanied the cry. The smell of decay, necrotic flesh and it was so heavy in the air; I might have tasted it, had I opened my mouth. Beyond this bog, there was a den, though it was the den of no forest creature. A door at the entrance and as I approached, both the sound and scent dissipated. My fingers brushed the surface of the door, its wood rotten and aged, as old as this place itself seemed.

Through the cracks and crevices of the barrier, I saw the flicker of flame and my Kindred ears told me there was movement. I pried the door from its threshold and ducked into the narrow passageway. This tunnel of earth lead me deeper underground, to where the corridor opened outward into a room that was by no means carved to accommodate a man of any decent stature.

The room smelled of wet earth, but fresh as if it had only recently been created. The fire burned hot and boiled some mixture in the steel cauldron suspended above it. Beyond the flames, hovered over the kettle, was a smallish figure. Shrouded in a tattered, black cloak and cowl, no light penetrated the shadows that concealed the creature's face. It was not until she lifted her head and set her pitch-filled eyes upon me that I could divine that she was female.

This old woman, she seemed older than myself, though lacking the ability to retain the picture of youth. Her flesh was wrinkled and dry, pulled inward at her lips, as if sewn so. She reeked of death, in a way no mortal could comprehend. I uttered a curse in disgust, but it fell short when that now familiar scream tore through the otherwise silent cave.

In pain, I fell to a knee. My teeth clenched to restrain a strange frenzy from freeing itself. She was calling. I could feel the beast, testing its bonds, reaching for liberation. When I thought I could fight no longer, again the sound subsided. Replaced by laughter, a knowing laughter that mocked my efforts.

A voice erupted from where I knew she still stood. It was strained and harsh, but in the manner of a serpent.

"The blood of your brother is not that of your father's."

I awoke then, the sound still fresh in my ears, but my body secure within the confines of my casket and the scent of my native soil beyond the oaken walls.

I have not seen my brother in more years than I can recall, nor have any others in my knowledge.

My brother.

I have not slept since.

[Varian]

An entry from an unknown date:

A single image reminds me of days not so long past. Fleeting glimpses of a girl I once knew, who once knew me for what it is that I am. A girl no longer, her youth not kept frozen in time as mine has been. A reluctant choice I made then kept mortal blood in her frail veins.

I do not doubt the tribulations she has seen since my departure, nor those since my return. Still, my curiosity of her remains, struggling to grow stronger. A chance encounter is to blame for the smolder beneath the ashes.



Last night, death was left at Oberon's doorstep.

Trespasses such as these are not so easily forgiven. The folk of the Vale are a vengeful sort. I will return to the forest this evening to make amends, to rid their world of my mark.

[Varian]

Malkav, in his madness, believed he was capable of depicting the events of the future, simply by staring into puddles of blood or muddy water. This was the curse placed upon he and his childer, for his betrayal of my Father.

The truth of these abilities is shrouded, concealed in the ramblings of lunatics and, while my teachings are rooted in the old ways, I find myself struggling to contain my laughter when listening to these tales.

Still, I am stirred from my slumber by pictures of things that have not yet come to pass and voices I have not heard in many years.

A once perfect rival, beautiful and lethal, gifts threatened by age.

I am both vexed and hopeful at once. If the assassin of Shadow Moon has returned to Amasynia, I have no doubt that our paths will cross once more.

It troubles me to think that I have, perhaps, somehow contracted a taste of Malkav's malediction.