The night was thick like lead, the starlight barely piercing the heavy blanket of clouds. The city's noise was only a fading echo behind Dareth's silent footsteps as he moved swiftly through the deserted streets. In his arms was Elara. Her body felt light, almost weightless against his shoulder, but every step reminded him just how close he had come to being too late.
He was never late. Not ever. But something had gone wrong this time. Maybe it was because emotion had clouded his judgment. Maybe because he had believed too much in his ability to act in time. This night... had not ended the way he imagined it would.
The vampire who attacked Elara hadn't simply been a thirsty lunatic. He was an outcast—one of those the Council had long since exiled. Creatures like him skulked near the bord
