Zeuberg

"My legal name where I currently reside in the city of Liege, Belgium, is Gaspar Valessi. But that is not my real name. The name I was given some 30,000 years ago, when I was born in a Paleolithic settlement in the region that is now called Germany - the name my father gave me shortly after I was voided, bloody and howling, from my mother's womb - is Gon."

So begins the saga of the immortal Gon, a 30,000 year-old vampire. He recounts his mortal life in prehistoric Germany alongside his male companion, Brulde, and his two wives, the Neanderthal Eyya and his Cro-Magnon mate, Nyala. It details the fearsome events that lead to his transformation from man to undying monster.

Chronicles Of An Ancient Vampire

So we ran-- no, we flew! Up into the forest canopy, we flew. As fast as we could, we flew from Uroboros, four powerful blood gods, racing through the woods like frightened hares. Vehnfear kept pace, pelting along the forest floor beneath us, as we leapt from tree to tree, shot like arrows across clearings and chasms, wherever there was a break in the forest.

So desperate were we in our retreat that it seemed that we were swimming through the wilderness, scooping the tree limbs in our hands and sweeping them behind us. We were slashed and stabbed a hundred times in our reckless flight. I blundered into a jagged limb, putting out my right eye. Zenzele caught me as I fell and propelled me forward, screaming, "Go! Go!" Half-blind, I obeyed without thought, trying to push the agony out of my mind. I clawed my way through the forest, my eye socket burning, then itching, as the Strix healed my injury. And then I could see again, the pain diminishing to a dull throb, then even that was gone.

We fled until the mountain had fallen away beneath the distant curve of the earth, and then we stopped and dared turn back.

"Are they still there?" I asked. "Are they still in pursuit?"

Zenzele threw back her head and closed her eyes, reaching out with those invisible tentacles. I felt the air around her stir. It was a feeling that was almost hearing, almost touch, but not quite either one. It was her Eye, sweeping out before her like a gust of wind, but one that made no sound, that did not disturb the swirling snow. I felt it pass into the distance, stretching, growing thin, and then it came rushing back to her.

"Yes!" she said. "They are still coming!"

"I don't know," she said. "Many. And there are Masters among them. One, I think, is Edron."

"Masters?" I asked. I had Shared with Zenzele, but Shared memories do not leap to the forefront of your thoughts like your own memories do. You must dive for them.

"Clan Masters," Zenzele explained. "They are true blood gods. Ones who cannot die. They are like us, Gon. Eternals."

Goro did not linger. His eyes bugged out and he raced away at once.

"So how do we fight them?" I asked.

"We don't," Zenzele answered. "We run. We run until they lose our scent. That is the only choice we have. We cannot stand and fight. There are too many of them. They will tear us to pieces, and bring the pieces, still living, back to Uroboros."

You have heard the term "a fate worse than death"? I imagined being ripped apart, brought back to Khronos like some grisly trophy, to be mocked, tortured-- ancestors knew what he'd do to us!—and I had to stamp down on the fear that threatened to overwhelm me. A living, thinking head, helpless, without a body-- and at the God King's mercy! No, I could not bear the thought!

Chapter 257 - Blood Gods in Exile part 2