THE BEINGS OF DARKNESS" Chapter I – In the Prison of Lies

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Despite the full moon, there was no moon in sight. In places where the cloudbank was thinning, only a few brighter stars shone through. Those same stars gleamed in the eyes of a migratory tawny owl. Heavy wingbeats tore through the darkness. The wind played stiffly with the stiffened feathers. They were delicate sounds, yet they cut through the silence like a sharp dagger. Every noise, even the smallest, became incredibly distinct.

Darkness seemed to slowly envelop the entire land. It seeped between the tree branches just as light penetrates them during the day. It crept along, weaving between the stones. Most importantly, it didn't flow from the navy blue sky; rather, it hovered lightly over the ground, like mist. This wasn't a darkness caused by the absence of light; rather, it aspired to be its opposite. If the darkness were to subside, one could be sure that brightness would flow from a completely nonexistent source, subtly yet deadly covering the entire land.

The tawny owl landed softly on a rotten, barely living tree, its bark already peeling. He wasn't looking for prey, for he wasn't hungry. Instead, he observed with curiosity the strange world he had to inhabit. He was careful, however, not to become anyone's food. Just below him, by the trunk of an old tree, wolves gathered, howling as usual at the moon, this time hidden behind clouds. The animals raised their heads toward nothingness, undeterred by the lack of a silver glow in the midst of the navy blue sky. Some bared their white fangs and strained their senses in search of food. They sniffed intently, trying to catch the scent of prey they could follow. These weren't the beautiful, imposing animals you could even befriend, the ones people had heard of. These were beasts in the truest sense of the word. With red eyes, gazing at everything with an eternally hungry gaze. With open mouths full of deadly fangs, eager for a meal. Above all, they were intelligent creatures. Cunning and clever, they knew many tricks. They were most fond of human flesh, but such food was in vain in this dangerous land. They would have to sneak into distant villages, for no one was mad enough to venture into these wild forests alone. Only a few had the misfortune to wander here and leave their remains amidst the thicket of treacherous woods. But the wolves dared not undertake such escapades, knowing that this was not their territory, and being outnumbered, they could still end up as pelts hung triumphantly in the home of their killer.

The wolves' contemptuous gaze fell on a defenseless tawny owl perched safely on a rotten branch. Certainly not fit for a meal. At least not for them. But the bird, unaware of this, flew away hastily, soaring high above the tops of the tallest trees. Now he saw everything clearly. He also heard a few sounds piercing the night's silence. They were not pleasant. The small silhouette of a tawny owl dived into the darkness. This world was vastly different from the one illuminated by the sun. Both were separated by a barely perceptible boundary. A boundary of shadow. Once crossed, there was no return. Danger lurked everywhere. The treacherous marshes the bird now saw emitted gurgling sounds as some animal, lost in the milky-white mist, accidentally fell into their depths. Among these wild forests, teeming with untamed beasts, other creatures also lived. Their nature was not much different from that of the night killers, for they were hunters too. They fed on blood, human blood, because unlike wolves, they feared nothing. They were immortal, so was there any force that could harm them

?

Black, thin braids revealed an unnaturally pale face as Sahirah tossed her hair. Equally black eyes gazed longingly at the darkness beyond the stained-glass window. She had never left the palace. She had spent her entire life there. It was her home and her prison. She had long ago lost all hope that it would change. She knew what fate awaited her. All that remained was to accept her inevitable Destiny. But it wasn't easy. Not for someone like her. Sahirah felt "it" approaching, as everyone around her began to behave differently than before. She rarely met anyone but two: her master and her guardian, but even so, she heard other vampires speak of her. And with respect. She didn't know if she deserved it, because the last time she had met someone outside her entourage, she had been just a young vampire child. Back then, she had a difficult personality, and often rebelled, and suffered punishments for it. Usually very severe ones. They were meant to dispel all the absurd ideas that had been brewing there. Unfortunately for her and her guardians, they met with little success. Nevertheless, now it was time to become serious. She had become a woman. Still capricious, but ready for what was about to happen.

Sahirah hurriedly left her chamber and walked down a corridor illuminated by tiny blue spheres floating in the air. She had always thought they were magic, and even now she continued to doubt it. She often wondered how these tiny particles could produce such brightness. Despite being told many times that they were just blue gems on transparent bases, gleaming with an unnatural light, she preferred to believe in magic. She never dared to find out if it was true, because, to her despair, it might turn out to be true. After all, dreams are necessary. Every time she passed by, she gazed at the sparkling diamonds with the same delight as the first time she saw them.

A moment later, she stood before the enormous brass doors of the Battle Hall. She held her breath, tense. Just above them, the Latin phrase gleamed in golden letters: "Aut vincere aut mori." It meant "Victory, or death." This time, the final...

For as long as she could remember, this place had been associated with pain and suffering. She didn't hide the fact that she was afraid of it. However, for some time now, her training had taken on a different character. It wasn't based on combat skills or developing heightened senses; rather, it leaned more toward using her mind. It didn't make much difference to Sahira. And just like always, she felt a searing pain. Only this time, it seemed to be a product of her subconscious.

The doors opened unexpectedly, with only a slight rustle. The hall consisted of four floors connected by a main staircase and smaller, hidden passages. Earlier, when Sahirah had studied various martial arts, they had been strewn with elaborate traps she had to avoid or overcome. Even now, she remembered all the secret passages, the impassable places, and the obstacles she had to overcome. Above and beside the doors, enormous, elongated crystals attached to the wall illuminated the impressive interior. They cast a cool, light blue glow that made the place seem even colder. Sahirah knew, however, that this was merely an illusion. Fire traps were placed on each floor, and it wasn't uncommon for her to sustain wounds from them if she wasn't careful. Master Maneden, as always, greeted her with a faint smile on his pale lips. He was stern and decisive. He never showed any emotion, let alone grace. Sahirah even doubted he possessed any. His light, silver hair fell in long strands to his shoulders. He had dark, piercing eyes from which nothing could hide. With a glance alone, he could command someone, and no one could oppose him. A bright scar gleamed on Maneden's left cheek, shimmering in the artificial light. Sahirah didn't even dare ask where he got it or why he didn't simply hide it, even though she was very curious. She knew it wouldn't pose a problem for him. Was it sentimental? Or perhaps he simply didn't want to forget the event that had left such a mark?

The Master wore blue robes, giving him the appearance of a mage. However, his very pale complexion, like that of all vampires, undermined this false impression. These creatures didn't know magic, but that didn't mean they didn't have other powers. Maneden knew how to use them to his advantage. He wasn't interested in power or other riches. He maintained that every being was valuable in itself. Sahirah fully agreed with this. Unfortunately, these were their only shared views.

The master scrutinized the slender figure of his pupil, dressed in a gleaming black uniform. It had blood-red stripes on her chest and thighs. Additionally, a complex pattern was emblazoned on her chest. Sahirah dressed like this for every training session.

"You know almost everything. We've managed to perfect all your senses. You're no stranger to martial arts; you can control your strength, use your senses, and even hypnosis..." he listed. "Today we'll tackle the most difficult part. Namely, detachment from the body and using only your power."

Sahirah pursed her lips. She knew what she would have to face. Only a few vampires could transport themselves to any location at will for a few minutes. Although the body didn't move anywhere, everything was felt and visible to others, as if one were truly somewhere else. No one, not even a master, could fully master this ability, as Sahirah was about to experience. It was a difficult and extremely dangerous art. Some lost contact with their bodies forever and were unable to return.

"While in one place, you can project your mind anywhere. The world will then have no limits for you," he reminded. "When the deity merges with you, it won't be difficult. But now you must experience what it's like. Open your mind!" he ordered his apprentice.

Sahirah closed her eyes. It already felt like she was outside her body. She had mastered that.

"Imagine some part of the palace. For example, a great hall. Don't think about who might be there or what might be happening. You must feel that you are there," the master said emphatically.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Despite her best efforts, she could still picture the place, but it was empty. Nervously, she stopped the exercise.

"It's too difficult," she complained, disappointed at her failure. "I have no idea what could be going on there right now!"

Maneden raised his hand firmly to immediately interrupt this unexpected outburst. He sighed disapprovingly and brushed back his long, gray hair.

"It's not like that. When you enter a room, you don't know what you'll find. You slowly open the door to see what's inside, or you visit a familiar place."

Sahirah tried with all her might, but her efforts were in vain. After several hours, she longed for rest. The Master frowned.

"Again," he declared firmly.

"Again?" This worried her, but she didn't dare object.

She focused all her senses on the great hall. "I think I'm starting to succeed this time," she thought. She walked down a dark passageway, torches hanging from the stone walls. This was the corridor leading to the great hall. The massive doors slowly opened. She heard screams. At first muffled, then, as she approached, they grew louder. I didn't want to look in there. She knew something bad was happening. But what? She pushed the door open slightly, and it swung open. First, she saw impenetrable darkness, then she began to make out figures. The larger figures stood over the screaming victims, beating them mercilessly. Chains clattered on the floor. The victims screamed horribly, kneeling in pools of blood.

"Punishment awaits everyone for disobedience..." she heard the vengeful voice of the tall figure. Her gaze drifted further, to the wall where tortured people hung in chains. They begged for mercy, but Sahirah had a feeling it would be useless.

"Asemri? Here?" someone whispered behind her. She turned sharply, but saw no one. Suddenly, she felt a jolt and realized something had ripped her from that place. She opened her eyes. She realized she was kneeling on the floor of the Training Hall, holding her head. Her whole body was numb, and dark red blood was running down her black uniform. Certainly not hers.

"I think today's lesson is over," Maneden said quietly, approaching quickly.

"But... Did I succeed? I was in the great hall, right? Only there... there..." Sahira couldn't bring herself to say it.

"This wasn't the great hall, or any other part of the palace. Just your imagination. You should rest; you're obviously tired."

"Tired? With what? I haven't had to do this kind of thing before," she protested, but the master's strong arms pushed her firmly toward the door.

As she left, she could still hear his cold words behind her.

"You'd have a hard time getting it on your first try. Don't worry.

" "But I'll try again tomorrow?" she wanted to be sure.

"I don't think so." The doors to the Training Hall closed.

Sahirah stared at them, speechless. How could you not? She had always trained until she was exhausted, and now this was just a test of skill. Or lack thereof, which was quite possible... She felt an unpleasant bitterness in her throat. She didn't dwell on it for long, as images of bloodied figures returned to her.

But what had happened haunted her. She was certain she was heading down the corridor to the great hall. And then... Then, those chains and blood... She knew there was nothing like that there. She finally concluded that she was heading to the hall, but then I moved somewhere else. That would be very likely. She couldn't believe what she saw was actually happening.

She lowered her head. Her footsteps echoed hollowly off the walls. "I simply failed. There's no point in kidding myself..."

This failure and her master's strange behavior brought her back to the chamber of evil.

* * *

Maneden leaned against the closed door and involuntarily wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. He knew his capricious student was very talented, but he never would have thought it would cause him so much trouble. He didn't want to lie to the asemr.and, as Dakhanavar had said, it was for her own good. She couldn't know the truth, that was certain. Maneden had been Sahirah's teacher from her earliest years. He knew her better than anyone else, even her guardian, and could always decipher. He guessed how she would react. He had spent her entire life preparing her for this unique moment. This was the only thing that should occupy the mind of the young vampire, who truly knew nothing about life. The Camarilla Council ordered her to be isolated from the world as much as possible, and all the dark secrets of the palace were carefully hidden. Maneden wouldn't allow Sahirah to form any closer contact with anyone from the court. Even a thin thread of sympathy could ruin everything. If she had known the world better, she would surely have forgotten her calling. Nevertheless, forbidden fruit tastes sweeter, something the master had forgotten. As a younger woman, Sahirah often rebelled against various things, for which he later punished her harshly. However, this only had a temporary effect. He was certain the resentment would be difficult to eradicate. A resentment of the inevitable. She rarely spoke of her true desires now, and Maneden believed she had resigned herself to her fate. He didn't know that, having grown wiser, she had decided to lull the guardians' vigilance.

The Master regained control and left the Training Hall. He headed for the chambers in the western part of the castle. They were prepared for special guests who visited noble members of the Ventrue clan. This time, the guest was quite special. He wanted to speak with him again, for tomorrow might be too late. He debated whether to mention Sahira's attitude toward the world, but finally realized that sooner or later, he would figure it out.

* * *

The cool, stone walls of the chamber. The windows, usually tightly covered with dark shrouds

to block out even the slightest ray of the setting sun, now let in a faint, colorful starlight. Completely harmless, in contrast to the light of the fiery sphere. Sahirah shuddered at the thought. Even though she was a higher-level vampire and the sun's rays couldn't kill her, she still felt immense pain when they touched her pale skin. They left scars that took a long time to heal.

To welcome the night, the vampire took a refreshing bath. She gently lathered her sensitive skin. With a wet comb, she combed her long, black hair. She relaxed, lying in the hot water. However, the inevitable approaching haunted her. Her name, Sahirah, meant "Pure, Flawless" in Egyptian. And that was precisely what she was. No man had ever touched her, not even Maneden and Dakhanavar. Destiny had condemned her to an eternal, lonely existence, even for a vampire. Her small body would likely never be ignited by passion. She belonged to the Ventrue, one of the seven major clans of the Camarilla. It was undoubtedly the most numerous and powerful clan. From this clan, as well as from the Tremere, came the priests and servants of the deity. It was an aristocracy in itself. Once every ten thousand years, an asemri

, literally the incarnation of the deity, the Lady of the Night , was born . That's why Sahirah was special. Vampires were independent, free beings. However, they had to abide by the laws of nature, just like other creatures living in the darkness. Therefore, the deity had numerous Priestesses and Priests who worshiped it. It was certainly a privilege not afforded everyone. Such a being began life anew, on a completely different, deeper level. She never tired of the thirst for blood; she had everything she desired. She was utterly devoted to her deity. However, Sahirah saw only the negative side. She had spent her entire life preparing for the moment when the Lady herself would inhabit her body. Everyone believed that only a chosen being could be bestowed with such an honor. However, Sahirah didn't want anyone to live her life... She had been marked even before her birth, as is often the case with prophecies. This one, however, was not unique. It became a ritual repeated every ten thousand years. Although this Destiny had been known for centuries, her mother had tried to deceive it. By betraying the Lady of the Night, she paid the ultimate price, and it wasn't a death that offered solace... The remnant of her soul suffered eternal torment, and nothing could free her from this torment. Sometimes Sahirah heard someone calling her. The Egyptian name lifted her gently above the ground, yearning to fly into the sky. She followed this heavenly voice, illuminating everything, unconsciously through the dungeons. But it was only an illusion; the voice faded into the darkness after a moment...

The arrival of her servants interrupted her reverie. Sahirah emerged from behind the thin white curtains that concealed her naked form. The vampires helped her into a black, ruby-adorned gown, revealing one shoulder and thighs. They pinned red gems into their gleaming hair and stepped out of her presence, sparing no bows. Sahirah sighed, watching them with sad eyes. She knew her servants were of the lowest rank and longed only to survive. Unlike her, they weren't born with the gift of eternal existence; they had been called to this new life by other immortal beings, which is why they were so weak. In their eyes, she saw a constant thirst for blood and world-weariness. It was a miserable existence... But truth be told, Sahirah didn't consider hers any more magnificent.

The vampire left the chamber and headed for the great hall. She rarely had the opportunity to be there. She usually ate her meals alone, in a specially designated room. Maneden sometimes accompanied her, but mostly when he wanted to discuss her progress with his training. They exchanged very few words as she entered the Battle Hall.

She expected it to be something important. Otherwise, they wouldn't have exposed her to the sight of other vampires.