The Vampire & Her Witch

”What if it didn’t have to end that way?”

Zedya’s words hung heavily in the carriage and for what felt like several minutes, Lennart forgot to breathe, uncertain if he was hearing the offer he thought he was. His mind raced, conjuring images of Savis, Tausau and the misshapen Clanless progeny he’d created. Despite their defects and deformities, Lennart only dared to face off against the weakest among those vampires, to say nothing of someone like Savis. But, was that really what Zedya was implying?

Before he could open his mouth to ask, the carriage clattered to a stop outside of a well lit, upscale establishment.

”We can speak inside,” Zedya said as she smoothly exited the carriage with a fluid grace that left Lennart feeling momentarily awkward, as though he had grown a size too large for the delicate palace carriage that clearly hadn’t been designed for people with frames as large as members of the Clan of the Great Claw.

”Madame Zedya,” he said, trying to recover his composure as he held out an arm to escort her through the artistically coiled, wrought-iron gate. The entire establishment, despite it’s location in one of the busier districts of High Fen City, was ringed by well tended gardens and at this time of year, the leaves of several ornamental trees seemed to have draped themselves in the colors of flame from deep yellow to brilliant orange and even dark crimson.

”As beautiful as the gardens are at night,” Zedya said as she allowed Lennart to escort her inside. ”I think it would be better for us to dine inside tonight. They’ve prepared a private room for us,” she added when they stepped inside the building.

Polished wooden floors paired with long swaths of soft fabric hanging from the ceiling to give the restaurant a sense of warmth and closeness. Despite the number of patrons occupying the tables, the sounds of conversation were dull and indistinct, broken only by occasional outbursts of laughter or delight as well dressed servants moved about, delivering platters heaped with tasty delights from all corners of the Eldritch world.

The private room that Zedya requested for them was decorated with simple, refined taste. The oil lamps that hung above the table were dim, casting a circle of gently dancing golden light over the small table for two while leaving the rest of the dining space in shadow. Plants in the corners gave the room a hint of life, as though they’d brought the gardens inside to escape the cold evening breeze to enjoy the comfort of each other’s company.

”I visited here once with Lady Nyrielle,” Zedya mentioned. ”The owner retired some years ago, but her daughter assured me that even if the menu isn’t the same as it once was, their standards haven’t fallen from where they were. I hope you don’t mind an evening of tastings with me,” she said with a gentle smile.

”Of course I don’t mind,” Lennart said almost automatically as he took his seat. ”But, Zedya, what you said in the carriage...”

”Hush, Lenny,” Zedya said with a smile as she relaxed into the soft, overstuffed armchair. ”At least until we’ve had our first taste of tonight’s delights,” she said, hoping to give him some time to sit with the idea before she made it more real than it had been in the carriage. In truth, she needed some time to steady herself as well. She’d meant to wait to broach the topic until they’d at least sampled a few cups of wine but with the flow of conversation in the carriage, she’d gotten ahead of herself.

”That’s not fair,” Lennart protested with a wounded expression on his face. His ears twitched awkwardly as he tried to sort out the storm of feelings sweeping through his heart while they waited for a servant to arrive with their first course. ”At least tell me what prompted this. After all these years, why now when Lady Nyrielle hasn’t taken any Eldritch progeny since the fall of her forty-seven champions?”

”You said it yourself, Lenny,” Zedya said, pausing as the door opened to admit a servant carrying a tray with nearly two dozen small cups. Half of the cups contained a small measure of wine, little more than a single swallow, while the other half held artfully arranged morsels of fresh autumn vegetables, cooked in half a dozen different ways and placed in a way that made it clear that each morsel was to be enjoyed with a specific cup of wine.

”The Vale is changing now that Lady Ashlynn has arrived,” Zedya said as she helped herself to a spoonful of soft parsnip puree followed by a sip of bright, fruity white wine. The puree itself was sweet and nutty with a hint of pepper that clung to the tongue until the fresh, fruity wine cleansed her palette, leaving her wanting more. But tonight, there would be no more of anything as the chef served only a single bite of each dish.

”The Vale is changing and some things that feel like they’ve ’always been that way’ will be that way no longer,” Zedya continued, her eyes shining in delight as she caught Lennart becoming momentarily distracted by the explosion of flavors on his tongue when he sampled the second dish, a delicate piece of roasted squash rolled in honey, walnuts and savory spices.

”I’m sure you’ve noticed how Lady Nyrielle is changing,” Zedya added after savoring her own portion of squash and the sharp, almost citrus-like wine that had been paired with it. ”Lady Ashlynn has brought priceless gifts to all of us and as long as she is at Lady Nyrielle’s side, nothing will be as it has been for the past hundred years.”

”Ha ha,” Lennart chuckled with a warm smile. ”So love really does change a person. I’m happy for Lady Nyrielle. She’s been more, alive I suppose, than I’ve seen her before. But that’s all the more reason to admit when my time has passed,” he said with a heavy sigh.

”The future they build will belong to the heroes of the next war and people like you,” he concluded, taking a sip of a rich, chocolaty red wine that seemed to suit the bitterness that accompanied the statement. ”If Lady Nyrielle is going to offer a chance to become one of her progeny to any of us, it should be one of the younger up-and-coming soldiers like Harrod who stayed behind to defend young Ollie.”

”Lenny,” Zedya said, reaching out and taking his free hand before he could reach for another bite of food. ”This isn’t about Mistress Nyrielle. Truthfully, I don’t know if she’ll ever take another person as her progeny unless one of us falls. But Lenny,” she said, her amethyst eyes growing moist as she clutched his large paw with both her hands. ”Mistress Nyrielle isn’t the only one changing because of Lady Ashlynn’s gifts.”

”And... Mistress Nyrielle isn’t the only vampire who can create progeny of their own,” she added in a voice that was so soft, that Lennart almost asked her to repeat herself.

For as long as Lady Nyrielle had ruled the Vale of Mists, her progeny had occupied almost all of the positions of leadership in the Vale, but not once had any of her progeny given rise to progeny of their own. There were always rumors. Some said that Lady Nyrielle had forbidden it, others speculated that, because her progeny were originally human rather than Eldritch, they weren’t capable of making progeny of their own.

But now, Lennart realized, Zedya was talking about breaking with more than a century of tradition and taking someone as her first progeny. And the person she’d chosen, was him!