She had thought she would be relieved when her feet finally stood on unmoving ground again. But the world continued to pitch back and forth, as if the entire world was a ship. Ionis stumbled against a pier piling with a curse.

"It will pass," Etsana said, stepping easily past Ionis. "You'll find your feet again, I promise."

The silver-haired woman followed a waddling man with a kind, round face to a small stone house near the jetty, bartering taxes, fees and bribes. They had anchored Etsana's sleek ship a little off shore before being ferried to the small harbor village.

"Keep your eyes down," Melan hissed at her.

"I know!"

But she couldn't help herself. The mountains were too grand. They towered in the distance, capped with thin strands of snow like lanky-haired old men, a cantankerous line of hunched, decrepit crags. She had never seen true mountains before. And there, to the left, stood a firemount. Although not the tallest, a black plume crowned its head, reaching far into the sky before merging with the perpetual haze of Yenfleyt.

She took a step and the world tilted despite not moving. The Set'glo bit back another curse and forced her legs to be steady.

"Everything is unmoored. Nothing is solid anymore," Melan said. She looked at him, ready to despise any pitying glance. But he had said it to himself, for he too struggled to walk in a straight line, only a few steps ahead of her. A sailor passed them with an empty water cask on his shoulder and laughed at their wavering steps.

She dropped her eyes to the cobblestone roadway that led from away from the harbor and followed. He was right. Everything was unmoored. All of it.

"You don't know anything," T'set had said. "And what you think you know is wrong."

Her feet moved automatically, poorly following behind the man who she had hurt so deeply. Her mind traveled back to Waiste village. Three bodies had disappeared while she slept after healing him. He must have taken them. Buried them perhaps.

Etsana said words.

Melan nodded.

Ionis just shrugged and followed.

None of it mattered.

Who were the missing bodies? Perhaps his wife? Children?

She hated that she couldn't remember. She couldn't remember any of their faces. They hadn't been people then. They were only bleeders.

Etsana led them down the cobblestone road, away from the sea. She said something about it taking a few days to walk to... wherever she was taking them.

Ionis kept her eyes down. The cobbles turned to hard packed dirt with two wagon wheel ruts. She just had to follow track and stay close behind the others. Was this her life now? To follow unfaithful bleeders? To where? A miserable life of pretending she wasn't what she was?

What other options did she have?

Days on the ship hadn't felt real. It was some strange dream that time overlooked, a place like a hallway or bridge. It wasn't anywhere, really. A middle place, where she could be anything, because it was just a dream. But now she was back on the hard and dry land, walking towards mountains she wasn't supposed to look at. She had to keep her red eyes down and her fanged mouth shut. She had to go towards a city where she'd need to hide. She must follow.

Where else could she turn?

The Set'glo were corrupted, defiled. T'set had said it. And, after having tasted lifeblood freely given, she knew in her heart that he was right. Everything she had been taught was wrong. So who was S'iklata? T'set had said entropy, not death. Who was the lord of death then?

Ionis frowned.

Did she even want to follow death anymore?

Did she need to?

"Melan?" she said. He looked over his shoulder at her, an eyebrow raised. They were alone on the road, Etsana a few paces ahead. Around them the chill air made the prickly plants stand out starkly on the gray soil. A fine layer of ash drifted down gently from the firemount, dusting everything. The arid climate would give them few plants and even less water on the road. But they were prepared for this and had provisions. Etsana had seen to that.

"What's a vampire?" she asked. He turned away from her and they walked in silence again. She didn't think he would answer, but she had to at least try to understand. They walked for a good while, the tension between them sharper than spines and spikes of the tenacious plants that dotted the landscape.

Long after she had given up on any response from him, he paused so she could catch up to him. He didn't look at her.

"A vampire is dead but alive. They are cursed to drink blood but are never satisfied. They have forgotten what it is to care for others, and only know how to kill. Stories say they burn up in sunlight, and live forever. But they're not people anymore. They've forgotten how and are just evil monsters."

"So the Set'glo are evil vampires?" she asked. She didn't feel anything.

"You tell me."

It was her turn to be silent. It wasn't a perfect fit, but overall it fit. Was this what it meant to be Set'glo? To follow S'iklata?

He huffed and shook his head. In a few steps, he was ahead of her again. She didn't blame him for not wanting to be near her. She didn't want to be near herself. She didn't want to be Set'glo anymore.

But how could she stop being what she was?

It was impossible to undo the initiation or give back the blessing.

She followed these people she barely knew deeper into a world where everything was inverse of the way things were supposed to be.

For two days they walked uphill, drawing closer and closer to the foot of the mountains. The land was cool, dry, and empty, as most Yenyi lands are, with scrappy scrub brush and gnarled black trees dotting the gray landscape.

To Ionis' mingled relief and disappointment, they were moving away from the firemount. She tried to hide her interest but caught Etsana grinning happily at her as they walked.

"Perhaps when we secure a new home, we will climb it," Etsana squinted at the mountain. "I want to climb a firemount before my strength leaves me."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Ionis couldn't help but ask.

"Of course it is," Etsana laughed. "But there are ways to survive. Or so I've heard."

Ionis couldn't tell if Etsana was serious or not, but a wagon was rumbling down the road toward them from the opposite direction, so she lowered her eyes and continued walking.

"Ah, there. We can see it, finally," Etsana said several hours later, as they crested a hill. "Look, small islanders. Midwood awaits us. We should arrive before nightfall."

Ionis and Melan stood behind Etsana and looked where she pointed. In the distance, a mountain broke off into a stark cliff. An intimidating, heavy castle clung to the highest point in an affront to gravity. The windows of the tallest tower stood above even the mountain's peak. Below, buildings small and large clung to the cliffs and cascaded down to the valley floor where they piled up, like a haphazard mound of confusion built to keep the castle from tumbling down. An immense wall kept the base of the city from spilling into the valley.

It seemed to Ionis that all the buildings on her entire island wouldn't make up a tiny fraction of the buildings in Midwood. But Ionis didn't understand why metal spikes protruded skyward everywhere in the city and on the surrounding cliffs. She could not make sense of them, for they seemed useless for any defensive purpose.

"They've expanded," Etsana nodded in approval. "I doubt either of you were born when I was here last. But it seems mostly the same. Just a little bigger. Let's hurry. I'm hungry!"

The moment waiting before the gates of Midwood stretched beyond what any single moment should. Ionis counted the houses on the street that curved away from the city wall. Thirty-five. Two had green doors. One red. Most had three stories that leaned out over the cobbled street. She could see four turrets lodged in the stone walls that stretched away in either direction. Waiting at the gate, she couldn't see the buildings stacked above them against the cliff face, for she dared not raise her eyes. But she knew that at least eight archers watched their every move. She had counted the soldiers as they drew near to the city and felt their eyes for the last several miles. Four guards in burnished plate armor stood ready at the gate, waiting for three others who had left to get permission for their entry. Four that she could see, at least. She expected there were many more that she couldn't see.

She hadn't even passed through the city gates, but she already knew that there were too many people. She had heard cities were big, but this? This was beyond large. And Etsana had called it a small city. She couldn't even begin to imagine what a large city would be, if this was small.

Dusk had given way to night as the clank of armor announced the return of the guards.

"You will come with us," one said. It was a command, not a request.

Melan nodded and followed. Ionis took her place behind him as his bodyguard and felt Etsana fall in step behind her. Knowing that the captain had her back was a comfort. With a start, Ionis realized she felt safe around Etsana—a safety she had not felt since the night she left her village. So much had happened. It felt like ages ago, but it had not even been a year. It felt like an entirely different life.

With each step further into the city, Ionis felt more and more trapped. It was too similar to the dungeon. Everywhere she looked was only stone and more stone, the darkness of night blanketing everything in monochrome hues. And she was right, there were far too many people, all coming and going too quickly. She kept her eyes down, but the sounds and smells of this many people living so closely assaulted her senses. Their heartbeats pounded in her ears like flocks of birds pummeling war drums. Their blood called to her, an intoxicating pull.

Only one thing sustained her and held her steady. Etsana's calm, slow heartbeat was close, and she could smell the captain's blood. Even the felt presence of the older woman soothed her panicked hunger. She could resist the blessing of S'iklata, for she knew in her soul that her needs would be met.

The claustrophobic cobbled street opened upon a small square with an immense central fountain. Ionis attempted to keep her eyes low, but she couldn't help but stare at it. The fountain was a mechanical wonder. Silver ladles dipped into the pool at the base, then traveled up a system of belts and gears to the top of a twisting bronze dragon. The belly of the sculpture was open, and it held a fire of blue and green flames that lit the square. The ladles poured water into the dragon's open mouth, sending up puffs of steam in an almost continuous cloud. Ionis had heard of the inventions of the Duthoa, but this was unlike anything she had ever imagined possible.

"If they have that just for a fountain, what other marvels do they hide?" she muttered quietly to Etsana. The older woman only laughed.

The guards led them to a stately looking building that towered over the others in the square. It boasted a large porch with heavy spiraling columns. The first two floors were stone, but an additional three wooden stories stacked high above that. Warm firelight poured out from expansive balcony draped in olive and mustard velvet looked over the fountain. A wooden carving of a shield with strange crossed trumpets hung over the door, bright with gilding and painted detail work of vines and bizarre creatures.

Guards ushered them inside and led them through several doors to a large banquet hall with heavy chairs and a long table. The immense was two stories high, with a balcony along one side and had a high vaulted roof. Tapestries hung on the walls and an iron candelabra hung over the table, wider than Ionis was tall and lit with dozens of candles. The guards left them alone beside a fireplace big enough for half a dozen men to stand in, the warmth and light of the fire filling the hall. Ionis didn't hear a door lock, but she had no doubt they remained heavily guarded.

"This is insane," Melan hissed to Etsana.

"It's a bit late to play the coward," Etsana said.

"You said this place would be big, but... but this? I don't belong here."

"No, you don't," she said. "And don't ever forget it. If you do, they will remind you and I promise it won't be fun. Yet, you are still one of them."

Melan opened his mouth to reply, but the door opened at the same instant.

Two guards stepped inside, rigid and formal.

"Presenting Lady Vesso of family DuFoyti, Ruling Elder of the Iths Line and Overseer of the Gatehouse."

A wrinkled DuFoyti stepped into the room, her deeply ridged ram horns curving so much they almost circled back a second time. Richly embroidered silks draped her thin body, and her snowy hair was perfectly swept into a high bun, with delicate tendrils falling around her horns. A wide sash wrapped around her waist, secured by an ornately tooled leather belt. Where a sword should have been on her hip, the Elder wore one of the strange trumpets Ionis had seen on the carved sign outside. The Elder's pale cheeks were hollow and her hawkish eyes sunken. Deep frown lines etched a dour expression on her face, and a scowl and a sneer that were carved as though in stone did not lessen this impression. Four guards filed into the room behind the elder, and they automatically took up defensive positions. Their eyes were harder than the stone of the cliffs, and no light shone from them.

Melan straightened, his jaw as rigid as his spine. The Elder examined him, sniffed, then turned away. She squinted at Etsana, who stood behind Melan meekly, as a steward should. Ionis remembered to drop her eyes a split second before she felt Lady Vesso's gaze fall upon her. The Elder drew so close she could smell the onion on the woman's breath and sense the weak throb of her blood. This Elder had the same heavy presence and feeling of danger as Invisor Nilithi. But the unknown threat of this Lady Vesso terrified her as Nilithi never had.

A strange contraption reached for her neck, and she realized with a start that it was a mechanical hand. Cold metal fingers grasped her chin and lifted her head. She kept her eyes low as best as she could, but the metal hand insisted, and her eyes met the Elder's for a split second. They were clouded with age, but she felt fear pierce her heart.

"So my spies were right," the Elder said and released Ionis' chin. "Well go on then. What lies were you told to speak?"

Ionis swallowed, her eyes darting to Etsana uncertainly. They hadn't planned for this.

Lady Vesso followed her gaze and moved to stand before the captain.

"My Lady Vesso," Melan began with a bow. "I have come to-"

"Silence, pawn," the Elder cut him off, not even bothering to look at him. Etsana did not react. The captain only stared straight ahead, much as the guards did. "You're in charge, aren't you," Lady Vesso said with a satisfied smirk. "You're not a steward. You have the feel of command on you."

"I am no pawn," Melan stepped forward, scowling. "I came to find my family, and these two are here to help me do it."

"And found them you have!" The Elder barked a harsh excuse for a laugh, then nodded to one of her guards. He closed the heavy doors and Ionis heard an iron latch fall into place. Her heart thrashed about in her chest, and she immediately began searching for an exit. That was the only door, but the high balcony had to lead to somewhere. Small windows dotted the wall across from the balcony, but there was no way to get up to either balcony or windows without help.

"Oh my long-lost son," Lady Vasso said so loudly that Ionis visibly startled. "Back from the dead, my boy!"

Melan looked as shocked as Ionis felt. The Elder raised an eyebrow, waiting.

He blinked. Then frowned.

"Yes... mother," he said just as loudly. "It is I, your son, returned to you at last."

"That's a good little pawn," Lady Vasso said softly, cackling. "Let them gossip about that. Play along and your betters will let you live."

"I'm no pawn," he nearly growled.

"And yet I am playing you like one. Now you," the Elder turned to Etsana. "State your plans if you want to live."

"We are here to help Melan DuFoyti find his family," Etsana said with a slight bow, keeping her eyes on the floor.

"Who sent you?"

"Melan DuFoyti."

"Right. And I am the high queen of Mulderwort," Lady Vasso said. Her eyes flicked to a guard, and with nothing else the brute backhanded Etsana. The blow flung the captain into the chairs, and the silver-haired woman collapsed on the ground, holding her cheek. Rage poured into Ionis and she took a step towards the Elder before she felt a hand on her foot. The captain's grip on her boot was iron.

"We are just servants," Etsana said in a wavery voice, so very different from the force of the grip holding Ionis back. Realization hit Ionis that Etsana was faking being hurt. "I am nothing but his steward, she is only his guard." Etsana sniffled, for extra effect.

"Nothing more is happening here. It is no plot." Melan helped Etsana to her feet.

"Everything is a plot," the Elder said flatly. "For all I know the afke dragons themselves sent you."

Ionis couldn't help but gasp at this. Was this all T'set's doing? Instinctively, her eyes darted to the high windows. Even a city such as this couldn't stop a creature like T'set.

"I thought so," Lady Vasso said coldly. Ionis looked back to find the Elder studying her, shaking her head. The Elder turned back to Etsana. "You really should have trained your vampire better. Well done with him, though. It's a good start."

She turned away and began to make her way towards the doors, with an absent wave of her hand. "Kill the steward. Take the vampire to my laboratory and chain her well. My 'son' can decide what sort of life he wants. Kill him if he makes the wrong choice."

"Wait," Melan said. "This is wrong..."

A guard sliced at Etsana, drawing his blade and attacking in one smooth motion. But the captain hurled a chair at him in the same instant. His sword struck deep into the wood. Etsana rolled across the table and grabbed a red hot iron poker from the fireplace. The guard wrenched his blade free and tumbled after her as the other guard drew his blade and stood between Melan and the Elder. Lady Vasso locked the door, then turned to watch with a smug look of satisfaction on her face.

Two men closed in on Ionis, but she felt a cold calm settle about her. These men with their dead eyes, they were nothing but bleeders. But they also were more, a small voice whispered in her head. They were people. A uncomfortable lump hardened in her gut. They rushed her at once, but she ducked to the side. Swords sparked off stone where she just had been. She caught the scent of one of the men's sweat and filth as she brushed past him. And his blood. Her fingers drifted over his neck as she passed, a feather-light touch on the vein that throbbed there.

Both guards spun to face her, one cold and hard as before, but the other's eyes held something new. A new scent entered the air, one she knew intimately from the village of Waiste.

Fear.

Ionis knew a weakness when she saw one.

"Do you know what a vampire is?" she moved like a snake, easily dodging their blows.

"I can't die," she lied. They faltered.

"You are nothing but food," she lied. One hesitated, and in that split second, she twisted in close and snapped his sword arm. The sword clattered to the floor as the man screamed. Without thinking, she buried her teeth in the man's neck and drank deeply. His terror poured into her body in the sweetest rush of euphoria she had ever experienced. He kicked her away, sending her stumbling back. The euphoria tore away from her violently, leaving her nauseated.

The second guard swung at her, but she skittered across the floor to grab the dropped sword. Steel met steel as blood dripped from her mouth. The first guard lay crumpled on the ground, weakly trying to stop the blood pouring from his torn neck, whimpering. She knew he would be still soon.

"I'll be your pawn," she heard Melan plead. "Just stop this!"

"Oh my son!" Lady Vasso said loudly enough to be heard by all the servants on the entire floor. "They have betrayed you! We will save you, but you have to trust us!"

Pounding came from beyond the heavy doors.

"Lady Vasso!!! Elder! Let us in!"

The Elder only leaned casually against the wall, a guard still between her and Melan.

Etsana cried out in pain, Ionis' red eyes snapped towards her, distracted. The guard Ionis was fighting lunged and caught her in the side. With a scream of rage, Ionis threw herself onto him and bit into his jugular. She silenced his gargled cry of agony as she fed on his flesh, pulling his life into hers. Intoxicated by his blood, she threw him away, not feeling any pain as his sword fell away from her side.

"I will drink you dry!!" she screamed at the Elder, sprinting across the room. Lady Vasso's face was blank as she lifted the strange trumpet from her hip and leveled it at Ionis.

"No!" Etsana threw herself into Ionis, sending the smaller Set'glo sprawling sideways. In the same instant lightning burst from the trumpet, striking Etsana in the place where Ionis had just been. The smell of burning flesh filled the room as a thunderous clap deafened them all. Etsana's charred body clattered lifelessly to the floor.

Ionis tumbled, rolled and was back on her feet before she even knew what had happened. She stood in utter disbelief, staring at Etsana's smoking body. It felt as if a part of her own heart had just been ripped from her, a living thing in her flesh had suddenly ended. She gasped for air, uncertain if her own heart was still beating or not, trying to force herself to think and breathe.

The guard near Melan charged Ionis, and she suddenly felt the wound in her side blaze into furious torment. She parried, but he was fast.

Etsana...

Swords locked and the guard pushed, pinning her against the table but keeping well away from her fangs.

"The Elder will take you apart," the guard leered. Then gagged. The point of a dagger sprouted from his neck, spraying blood across Ionis' chest. Melan stepped away from the guard, pulling the guard's own dagger out of his throat. Ionis kicked the dead man's weight off her and looked for the fourth guard. He lay dead beside the fireplace, an iron skewer in his heart.

"Fool," Lady Vasso said, raising the lightning thrower. Melan stepped in front of Ionis. "You could have been my heir."

"No, mother, please!" Melan said loudly over her words, scowling, and Ionis was aware that the pounding at the door had unified into a regular battering THUD. They were going to break it in, any second. "The vampire is too strong! She will kill you!" he shouted, his ice cold steel eyes locked on the Elder.

Fear showed on the woman's face for the first time. She pointed the lightning thrower at Ionis, but she was ready for it. Blinding light and deafening sound exploded into the room. But Ionis dodged and felt the pull of S'iklata weave her safely through it in a flowing dance. Every tiny hair on her body stood on end, every fiber of her being pulsed with the rampant energy of her god and reality itself. Then it ceased and she stumbled for a half-second, blinking.

Her vision snapped back into focus to see Melan wrench the lightning thrower from the Elder's hands. In an instant, Ionis was at her neck. The thin flesh gave no resistance, and the blood was bitter and weak.

"No," the Elder said, struggling. "Help me!!"

"Help us!" Melan shouted, but revulsion filled his face. He firmly held the Elder as Ionis stole the lifeblood from her body.

A heavy THUD cracked the door, but it still held.

Lady Vasso wilted, then went slack.

"Mother, no!!" Melan dropped the elder in disgust as Ionis turned and vomited. She hated everything about what she had just tasted. She vomited again, the pool of blood and bile spreading wide across the floor.

THUD.

Etsana didn't get to hike the firemount.

"You have to run," Melan whispered frantically. "They'll kill you."

"Perhaps that is best." Ionis slumped against the wall, feeling her own blood ooze from the wound in her side. There was so much blood.

THUD.

"No, you have to live," he pressed his hand over the wound, tears welling in his eyes. "You have to. If you die, it will all be for nothing."

She met his eyes. Steel and blood.

He... He cared for her.

THUD.

"I can't fix what happened," the words caught in her throat.

"No. But you can keep it from ever happening again."

She nodded. She could try. She had to.

THUD.

He helped her stand, then heaved her up towards a high window. She reached it, wincing at the burning wound on her side.

"One, two... three!" Melan said and then pushed, giving her the shove she needed to pull herself into the window. Blood smeared the wall where she had scrambled up.

THUD..

"Melan," she looked back down at him. "I'm sorry."

Tears overwhelmed him.

"Prove it," his voice broke.

CRASH!

Soldiers swarmed into the hall as the doors splinted open. In seconds, Melan was surrounded by a sea of spears. He simply wept and collapsed to the floor, holding the lifeless body of the Elder. A guard pointed out a smudge of blood leading to an empty high window. More shouting and half the soldiers rushed out.

"M'lord," a soldier with a gold chain draped around one shoulder knelt beside Melan. "We have failed you and the Lady Elder, your mother. Tell us who did this and I vow we will make them pay."

"A vampire," the word caught in Melan's throat. "She..." He looked down to the face of the Elder, and gently closed the woman's eyes.

"I never got to know her. I should have," his voice broke and he closed his eyes. "I should have tried sooner. I... She's gone now. But everything is different. I wish..."

He swallowed hard. Then sniffed and opened his eyes. Gently, he lowered the Elder's body to the floor and stood with the soldier.

"I am Melan of the Dufoyti. Lady Vasso claimed me as her heir. I know you heard her," Melan stared down the soldiers who eyed each other nervously. But they hesitantly lowered their spears and stood at attention before him. "The vampire betrayed me and my steward, killing her along with my mother and your guardsmen. No doubt you'll find her soon and bring her to justice." A muscle clenched in his jaw, but the soldiers nodded grimly.

"I do not know Duthoa customs," he continued. "But I know the weight of death. Send word to the DuFoyti about the Elder, if you haven't already. But also find the families of the guards who were slain. They are to be taken under my family's care and provided for."

No one moved. The soldiers seemed shocked at the order. Melan's lips pressed into a hard line, but tears threatened.

"Did you not hear her proclaim me her son?"

"Yes, m'lord," a soldier said. "But she would never..."

"She is gone. Dead!" Melan cut him off. "If I am now a lord, then I will be a lord who cares for his people, living or dead. So unless there is a damn good reason why we should not have mercy for those who mourn, then obey me. Now!"

The gaping soldiers snapped from their confusion. Orders were barked and most of them hurried from the room in a clatter of armor. Some began to gently tend to the dead.

The soldier with the gold chain Melan approached him cautiously.

"Speak," Melan said, his voice even and his face flat.

"M'lord," the soldier said hushed tones. "You seem a man of honor, but the Elder had many enemies. You will need help to keep your claim."

"Your point?"

"I will serve you, as long as you serve our people."

Melan met the other man's eyes, recognizing the threat and the promise. He gave a small nod, and the soldier visibly relaxed.

"M'lord... Shall we call off the search for the vampire?"

Tears burned Melan's eyes for a split second. But an older Dufoyti man stepped into the room, scowling deeply as he took in the carnage.

"Your uncle," the soldier whispered. "A good man. Make him your ally. Go!"

With a grim set to his jaw, Melan stepped forward.

It is said that Melan DuFoyti, the lost heir of Lady Vasso DuFoyti, single-handedly foiled a horrible plot of afke dragons and vampires to steal the secrets of the ingetz lightning throwers. The vampire escaped, but failed in her mission. She was never seen again, it is said. The kindness of Melan DuFoyti became the stuff of legends, but he never married. He spent his life caring for the poorest of Midwood and fighting the corruption he inherited. He died peacefully in old age, surrounded by beloved friends.

It is also said that in this time, a schism split the Set'glo faithful and calls for reform echoed across all K'azni lands. Invisor Ionis Lenylsha, survivor of the Scabbands massacres and highly blessed by S'iklata, was instrumental in destroying the heretical death cults that had come to dominate Set'glo traditions. She died young at the hands of a powerful Invisor who opposed her. But news of her death sent shockwaves throughout the Set'glo, turning opinion against the death cults and changing the course of history. She is the only vampire martyr that ever was or will be, and all Set'glo believe that S'iklata warmly welcomed her into a peaceful oblivion of eternal rest.

Eventually, S'iklata taught his Set'glo the rituals of giving and receiving, creating a symbiosis that benefited not only the faithful but also those who came to be known as Givers. Captain General Etsana Altashild was the first blood Giver. She will always be celebrated and honored by all the Set'glo. The Givers also honor her, for many have followed her example and came to be protected and provided for by the Set'glo. In time, the life of the Giver became an envied position, and many sought to become Givers for comfort and prosperity.

Debate still swirls about the true nature of the Devourer S'iklata, the Vlosado of Entropy. Some Set'glo still follow the old path of the death cults in what is now known as the Blood Call, claiming the term Vampire for themselves. But most reject this label and live in harmony with Givers and other peoples. calling themselves the True Set'glo. Be very cautious with either of these sects, for neither will appreciate being mistaken for the other and both are incredibly deadly. For in every Set'glo is the shadow of the vampire.