7. The judgment.

Apollo stood now In front of Zeus awaiting his punishment for speaking against him.

His eyes held no fear because he felt none. No punishment could make him regret standing up for his friend.

"Your son Lucius has been cast down to earth and his heart taken away." Zeus spoke.

Apollo moved closer to the throne not believing his ears. "What did you say!"

"Oh don't worry, he is still immortal but with him Is the dagger of the sun. Should he want to return one day all he has to do is extinguish himself." Zeus shrugged. "But then again all he will know will be earth. He won't even remember you. He shall be an outcast, a blood sucker and you Apollo will live everyday of your life with the knowledge that you are the reason why your son will forever hunt for blood in loneliness." He laughed.

"You cannot do this!" Apollo growled, rushing to Zeus with the intention to angrily tackle him down, but Zeus being a stronger god shoved him to the wall with a single breathe.

"I have already done it. But, not to worry the sun will never hurt your son." Zeus said, laughing heartily. "After all he is still your son."

And so it began.

Baby Lucius found himself on earth, and in the arms of a lovely couple in years so ancient in time. When earth was still healthy and people lived in cottages made of wood.

When there were villages clustered with people going about in their businesses not minding much about the things that Lurked beyond.

The childless couple had loved Lucius like he was their very own son. While ignoring his obvious differences to the other children in their little village.

He had eyes as golden as the sun, and lips as crimson as blood. His hair was tainted with purple and the dark of it was like an Abyss. He was simply beautiful and he grew more in beauty.

Thus, afraid of what he might truly be and what the villagers might think of him, they hid him in their cot protecting him from the outside world.

They were a poor family but they were happy and the farm they tilled served as food and revenue for them. Lucius was a hardworking young lad. From the age of eight, he had done most of the tilling and harvesting on the couples farm, working like a god who never tires or slumbers.

His parents loved him for it and knew then that he was something extraordinary. So they guarded him even more jealousy.

They had problems like every family but none that Lucius could not solve until the night of his eighteenth birthday where he was induced to a great slumber.

On that fateful morning Lucius had woken up to meet the body of his dead parents on the wooden floor of their small room.

He had screamed out so loud with all the anger and the rage he felt that the entire village heard of his pain and they not only heard of it but felt it.

He went on a killing spree wiping out the hundreds of people in the small village.

At night he was drenched in blood and his eyes had taken a reddish sheen to it. He buried his parents at the back of the cottage and flew away from the village without changing his blood stained clothes.

Decades and Centuries past but the rage he had felt that night never left him. Even though he had built a Kingdom in the heart of Oceania the town which his mother had spoken to him about when he was little.

She had said the town was filled with magic and in his innocent mind he had believed her anytime she told him on this tales sitting by his bed side at night.

Now more than ever, he believed her even more because he had seen with his own eyes the magic which the town possessed.

Witches and Wolf humans existed things that possessed strength that humans in their multitudes did not.

Amongst them he was the greatest, the most powerful and hence was referred to as The supreme, the king of all Kings.

He knew not their origin just like he knew not his and he didn't seem to bother. From the age of eight he had known he was anything when he Carried a tree and flung it like it was a mere wood. But his craving for blood only began on his eighteenth birthday and centuries after he still could not survive without it.

His kingdom of his likes also depended on it 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 but be 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.

As for the werewolves they were too insignificant to Lucius.

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

Until one faithful night when everything changed.