PART 1: CHAPTER 8

Lucius knew not the origin of all the other supernatural creatures just like he knew not his.

From the young age of eight he had known he was anything but human, when he had carried a tree and flung it like it was mere wood.

But his craving for blood only began on his eighteenth birthday and centuries after he still could not survive without it.

Humans he had turned, now creatures like him also depended on blood as they were all bound to his lifeline.

Some warlocks volunteered to work for him and others were conquered in war. He was still enraged and as he built his kingdom of vampires the rage never died.

His vampires knew of this rage more in themselves than they knew in him. Some of them held fiery anger and need for destruction, and he did not tame them.

He let them lose to hunt and do as they pleased as long as they cleaned up their mess and did not expose their existence to the world.

For it had taken twelve of the most powerful warlocks to protect his Kingdom from the outside world. He did not want to lose the stability he has once again been able to find.

As for the werewolves they were too insignificant to Lucius. He called them wolf humans, weak creatures who could not fight alone.

To him, one must not depend on others, but only on himself.

The only thing that surrounded Lucius was blood, rage and an intense immense loneliness.

Until one faithful night when everything changed.

Lucius was seated on his throne in his palace. The chandeliers above him sparkled and the floor was made of a special type of brick painted all in mahogany yellow. Their were candles at each pillar shining unendingly.

His throne made of the purest gold was high up.

Victor his right hand man and Clara his head warrior were both standing by his side whispering different opinions about the witches who had dared to kill one of their own.

Lucius's expression remained blank as he listened to them not once looking up until She appeared, The high priestess.

Her body glowed from the light in the Chandelier and her eyes were as white as the robe Lucius was putting on just like her hair. Her skin was pale and as she spoke she did with the voice of the gods.

"I Behold King Lucius, ruler of the vampire, supreme. Thy loneliness shall end come on the day when thou shall meet his mate. Her blood shall save thee from death and together you shall restore the thrones of your father before you and the throne of thy on earth." 

Having heard this prophecy Lucius was filled with anticipation for his mate.

He went to every village in search for her while he ruled his people with an iron hand.

There would be no more killings, one would take only as much blood as needed and then cast a forgetting spell on the human victim.

Decades past after the prophecy until it was exactly hundred years and still Lucius had not found any who owned his heart.

He lost all hope, his hopelessness led to him not keeping an eye on his people.

Some went rogue and killed humans again. The discipline they once had was about to be lost.

It was never as though they did enjoy the discipline they wanted to be free to do as they pleased, but the only ones who held that power became those who were sent out on wars against warlocks who Deemed it fit to kill one of their own.

One night Lucius dreamt of his mate, her brown hair, her brown eyes, and his hope was once again restored.

One dark night, Victor his right hand man took him out of the Kingdom with the promise that he had found his mate.

While they strolled through the forest in north of Ocean city peacefully talking, Lucius who was ever so trustful of Victor walked in front.

And as he stared into the night a dagger was dug and twisted to his heart.

The dagger of the sun. He had heard of it from the priestess but he never believed that there was anything like it. Anything that could end his life.

However, as he stared up at Victors gloating face while he struggled to breath he knew the dagger existed and he had been betrayed.

Victor left him to die.

As soon as Lucius started to fade away, his body going pale, decaying, a scent caught him.

It filled his lungs and dulled his senses, but more than anything the scent was like a heavenly summon, a magnetic pull.

Lucius found himself running towards the Scent with his last breath.