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

The Fen was silent as a tomb as I marched through the subterranean warren of the immortal Uroborans. One of the guards from below must have preceded me, raced up the mountain to herald my arrival, for the winding passages of the underground city were a gauntlet of silent blood drinkers, their faces white and drawn, their eyes glittering with revulsion. I was the sworn enemy of their monarch, and they hated me.

The passages throbbed with the footfalls of my escort, but a scabrous rustling was the only other sound that accompanied me to the God King's throne room, the frail whisper of their garments as the t'sukuru shifted to watch me pass. It sounded to me like the rustle of bat wings.

I was somewhat disconcerted by their silence—no, that is a lie; I was extremely disconcerted.

I had expected them to taunt me, to cast stones and aspersions, to spit in my face, but they did none of those things. They just stood there and watched me stride by, but that was somehow more horrible than all the terrible visions my imagination had manufactured. It made them seem so much more inhuman.

I did my best to navigate the winding passages of the underground city, but the Fen was like a termite's nest. When I hesitated, lost in some passage or echoing hub, the gatekeeper pointed with his staff in the direction I should go.

I hoped to project an air of dignity and fearlessness as I went to surrender myself to the God King, but inside I was quaking. I was utterly terrified. I have never done well with pain or discomfort. I very rarely even denied myself the satisfaction of my desires. At heart I am and have always been a hedonist, and so it took every bit of my courage to march on, to go and meet my fate, to cede my life to my enemy.

Here and there I spotted a face I recognized from before. Cold. Watchful. Ugly with loathing. As I drew near to the God King's throne room, a mortal on a leash pointed and laughed at me. It was a female, her naked body caked with filth and dried blood. She laughed and pointed a wavering finger at me, and her master jerked back on her leash to silence her.

"Usurper!" a blood drinker whispered, and then they all took it up, and their hissing condemnation accompanied me into the throne room: "Usurper! Usurper!"

The gatekeeper prodded me forward, the tip of his spear stabbing into my spine.

"Go and meet your fate, traitor!" he snarled.

I stumbled into the God King's chambers.

Chapter 311 - The Divided God part 5