Name: Cian Lawry
Age: 33 (looks) 6072 (actual)
Family: None
Nationality: Celtic
Species: Turned Vampire
Rank: Former Capital Guard
Faceclaim: Aidan Turner

Outgoing | Empathetic | Kind hearted
Self Critical | Runs away from his problems | Stuck in the past

Cian Lawry was nobody of importance. He had no land, no wife, and no children. In fact, save for the clothes on his back, Cian only owned the loneliness behind his wide smile. He filled his heart with dreams of a home and family, but he was nothing more than a traveling “merchant”; making a living by stealing from one man and selling to the next. He survived by running from his own mistakes and lying to gain others’ trust.

By nature Cian wanted to be a good man, someone who meant something. He did not want a life of lie and deceit, he did not dream of infamy and fear. Cian wanted only kindness and comfort; something that he did not know how to achieve.After years of migrating, Cian found a place that stole his heart. It was the sea that seduced him. The people were kind here, weathered by the salty air, and the life they lived was beautiful.

People liked him in this small fishing village. He talked loudly, smiled broadly, and made himself just comfortable enough to forget himself. Cian lied to them all as he laughed and broke bread in the homes of his new friends. He was acting as the man he wished to be, rather than the man he was. He was learning to care deeply again. He longed to love and to be loved. To become a man that would be missed. And this scared him.

What he learned from the town confused Cian more than he ever felt possible. His heart was found and filled by the people who lived here, and this time he gained by what was given, not what he took. Realizing this threatened his belief that people only lived selfishly and wished to take from one another. Cian was scared by how much he now cared, and by how truly alone he realized he was after all this time. He wanted to find a way to stay, but he knew he didn’t belong.

One night, torturing himself with questions of morality, Cian made a decision. He would leave the things he had already stolen and run from the settlement. Conflicted, he felt that this would ultimately be better for the people, protecting them from a person who might corrupt their harmony. Cian packed his things and slipped into the night, regret burning in his throat.

The guilty thoughts were enough to slow his retreat, remembering the kindness shared and taken for granted, not just now, but in the years before. It was in this headspace that Cian dropped his bag, surrendering a hoard of spoils that he had cheated over weeks spent blissfully by the sea. Burden finally left behind to be found and returned, Cian walked on with a guilty slouch in his posture, sneaking out of the small seaside settlement before the sun rose.

Well into the afternoon, Cian decided to stop near a stream to drink and rest before moving to the next settlement he could find. The cool water satisfied his thirst and ran over his hands as he drank. The man was too preoccupied to hear the sounds of hooves beating the earth close by. It was not until he heard voices that Cian snapped out of his exhausted trance.

“That’s him.” Spoke one voice to another. The familiarity of the it struck Cian. He knew he had been found. Surrendering, he stood with his back to the voices, waiting for them to approach.

“Little Lawry!” A second voice exclaimed. “Turn around and give your ol’ uncle a smile, yeah?”

“What’s it been? Eight years?” The third chimed in, as Cian thought back to all that time before.

***

When Cian was thirteen, the small village that he lived in was swept with sickness from a contaminated well. Cian’s father, mother, and older brother all took turns struggling to collect food and drink to keep them going, not knowing the source of their sickness was from the water itself. Most of the village perished. Word spread of people dying; some coming to help, although most avoided out of fear of bad luck. Of those few who came were Cian’s three uncles: Fáelán, Taliesan, and Aedrian; better known as the Ó hAodha brothers.

As far as his mother knew, her brothers were traveling merchants, trading and bartering for a living. But her love for them blinded her to their reputation as thieves and cons. When the Ó hAodha brothers came to town, Cian and his family had hoped that they would be looked after. But behind the smiles and half hearted kisses, something dark followed the brothers, a hidden motive.

A week after his uncles arrived, Cian’s older brother passed away. Despite the fact that one of his uncles always seemed to be bedside, feeding and nursing the family back to health, there was a coldness that the young boy noticed… And a scheme. At night especially, Taliesan and Aedrian would slip out, returning with pockets full of belongings from families who had perished. Pots, jewelry, coins, and even art piled into the bags that his uncles kept by the door. For this, he blamed his uncles for the death of his sibling, neglecting the needs of their oldest nephew, and so did Cian’s father. Once enough strength returned, Cian’s father left the home to confront uncle Fáelán. Later that day, his body was buried alongside his eldest son.

Cian’s mother lived only a few days longer, growing sicker and sicker as if the news of her husband’s “accidental” death pulled the sickness into her heart. Cian remembered his mother’s cold hands on his face as she wept in her last moments.

“You stay with your uncles.” She repeated, wiping her son’s wet eyes. “It will be ok. It will be ok.” But it would not be ok.

As soon as Cian’s mother breathed her last breath his uncles stood and began to pack their things, leaving the body of their sister in the bed that she had spent her last weeks in. The shock of their heartlessness left Cian in desperation, stumbling from his own bed as the men were preoccupied with their greed. Before any of his uncles paid him mind, Cian crawled across the floor, pulling himself up on the walls as he tried to escape the cold hearted family he had left. All at once, the boy stood and threw his weight into running steps as he dodged the grabbing hands and confused exclamations that came from his uncles.

Cian ran and didn’t look back. He was old enough to know that his family had been cheated, but young enough to feel guilty for surviving, and with this guilt the boy chose to flee, a survival instinct that seemed easier than fighting his murderous uncles with the little strength he had left. The screams that came from behind him as he passed the village limits echoed in his mind.

“You’re disobeying your mother!”

The boy did not stop running until his legs gave out beneath him. It could have been minutes or hours, he couldn’t tell the difference. Lying on his back and breathing heavily, he prayed that his uncles would never catch him, and that he would be with his family soon among the clouds above. As his vision went black he thought his wishes to be coming true, until he returned to consciousness, a sea of stars replacing the clouds.

“Oi, he’s up.” Taliesan was sitting across Cian’s feet, his mouth full of bread and a back bent with crooked posture.

“About damned time,” retorted Fáelán, sighing as he stood from his spot on the ground beside Aedrian, the two tending to a fire with the horses tied to a tree behind them.

“Where are we?” Cian managed to groan, noticing the pain in his wrists from the rope that bound them beneath his body weight.

“Paradise.” The joke from his standing uncle prompted laughter from the others as he approached. Spitting by Cian’s head, the boy winced waiting to be hit for running.

“Get up boyo.” Fáelán demanded gesturing that his nephew rise. Taliesan’s grip answered Fáelán’s request, tugging the boy up by his shirt. “Untie him.” Unsteady and uneasy, Cian kept as still as he could while one uncle unbound him, the other watching with a smile playing at his eyes. “Well, guess now’s the time to say sorry about your mum, huh?” Fáelán joked.

Cian rubbed his sore wrists and stepped away from the two towering over him. “You’re all greedy and selfish!” Cian shouted behind a broken voice, tears stung his eyes throwing his weight away from the tight grip on his shirt. Laughter erupted from his uncles again before Taliesan dropped him and shrugged.
“Oh, you don’t say?” A voice came from behind the two uncles before him. “Bring him here for a sec, will you?” Aedrian’s request almost seemed in mercy of Cian’s poor condition and broken heart, until he saw the look on third uncle’s face as he was dragged by both arms closer to the fire and the blanket Aedrian was seated on.

“Take a seat.” Aedrian patted the space beside him next to a pile of loot which glittered against the fire light.

“You greedy snakes!” Cian’s broken voice strained again to release the anger brewing in his chest. Wriggling against tight grasp, he began to cry.

“No no, let him go.” Voice softening, Aedrian reached into the pile of loot, pulling a clay pendant which hung from a leather cord. The uncles dropped Cian into a weeping pile of desperation.

“Look.” Aedrian spoke, as he stood up and walked to the fire. Cian watched his uncle toying with the pendant in his hand. “This was your mother’s, don’t you want to see?”

With a sniffle Cian nodded and clumsily rose to meet his uncle by the orange glow. “Really?” He inquired, a glimmer of hope hiding beneath the quiet question.

“Here.” Aedrian pointed to the swirls carved into the clay that appeared under the light, passing the pendant to his nephew. “Our dad, your granddad, made it for her. Said it was supposed to be the sea. His little flounder he called her. She was his favourite.” A small inviting smile wore Aedrian’s face as he passed the pendant to Cian. “Have a look.”

Cian was fixated on the pendant. Of course he knew this was his mother’s once he saw it, he remembered when she would tuck him in and the pendant would dangle from her neck, or the feel of the cool clay against his cheek when she would hold him when he cried. Slowly along with his memories, Cian held the pendant to his face and closed his eyes, the cold comforting in contrast to the angry fire raging in front of them. The boy opened his mouth to thank his merciful uncle before the pendant was pulled harshly from his grasp, eyes flying open. “No!”

Before Cian could catch the pendant, Aedrian threw it into the fire and spoke coldly. “But ashes to ashes, dust to dust ‘n all that, right?”

Cian’s hands reached towards the flames that ate up the leather and cracked the clay of the last piece of his mother that lived. “Why!?” He cried. “That wasn’t yours!”

“Oh? You want it back?” Almost as quickly as he had taken the pendant Aedrian took his nephew by the wrists, forcing his hands into the fire. “There you go! Reach in and grab it then.” Sadistic laughter erupted from his uncle’s lips as he reacted to the screams and tears which accompanied the kicking and pulling of resist that Cian demonstrated, wailing in pain. “You won’t run away again, now will you?”

That would not be the last time his hands would be burnt for punishment. For the next twelve years, Cian endured the abuse and manipulation of his uncles. Tied up if he ran, then burnt, scolded, and dragged to the next town. Eventually, he learned to work with the Ó hAodha brothers, avoiding what torture he could and listening to strict demands as they stole, conned, and moved on; it was what he was raised to do, it was what he did to survive.

It wasn’t until he was twenty-five that he finally decided to leave. It was not a punishment that pushed him over the edge or the fact that his hands were cooked to smooth shiny scars, he simply decided he had enough. One too many families cheated out of their wealth, women conned into helping the villains, and hearts broken by the greed of the bunch. Cian saw his uncles age, wrinkling and going grey slowly with each day that passed, the blackness of their souls finally showing in their appearance. Cian never wanted his reflection to resemble the last of his family, twisted by sin. So he did the only thing he knew to do in order to survive, but made a promise to himself that he would only take what he could from his uncles and flee. Not a perfect plan, but he thought it good enough until he got where he needed to go.

***

Cian slowly turned to face his uncles all the years after he left them, their appearances only more wretched than before. “How did you find me?” He asked in slight defeat. “What do you want with me now? Have I not done enough for you? Have you not taken enough?” The slow descent to rage in his tone did not exceed past an angry demand for answers, the fear of his family beaten into him even after eight years apart.

“Watch it boy!” Taliesan hissed, his finger wagging as the three of them stepped closer to water’s edge and to their nephew. “We practically raised you! We showed you how to live, show some respect will you?”

“Respect?” Cian spat at his feet and shook his head angrily. “You don’t even deserve the breath in your lungs.”

“Don’t you-!” Fáelán chimed in, diving towards the younger man and reaching for his throat. Cian froze by instinct, allowing his uncles to angrily crowd him, the oldest of them threatening to steal his oxygen as his hands wrapped tightly around his nephew’s neck. “I always knew you’d end up like this. Dirty leech. Use us then run home, huh?” Fáelán’s grip continued to tighten.

“Home?” Cian stammered, struggling for air.

“Where the hell did you think you got all this loot from, ah?” Taliesan presented a bag that he had been holding, dumping its contents onto the ground. It was the bag that Cian had left behind in the small oceanside settlement out of guilt. “You pillaged your own people, pumpkin!” The snickers at the irony of Cian’s actions were the last thing he heard before slipping out of consciousness.

“Home?” Cian thought, “All this time I had actually been home?”

***

The smell was horrid. Then came the pain. The memories of burning palms flooded the young man’s mind. The blisters. The burning. Oh god the pain again.... and again, and again, and again. Then the light. It was only a moment that he woke, his hands bound again, and his feet, even his mouth was tied with a cloth to muffle the screams that Cian wasn’t even aware he was producing until he saw his uncles through the flames. They stood there watching him as if it were a show. They watched him burn, standing over him and laughing as their nephew was swallowed by the flames that punished him in the past. He could almost hear his mother’s voice in his head behind his own screams.

“It will be ok. It will be ok.”

***

“Ok, no stop. Your eyes aren’t even open yet. Take it easy.”

A voice spoke in the dark as hands held down hands, Cian resisting while his tired groans chimed in.

“Breathe. Open your eyes. Look at me, Cian.”

The voice coaxed Cian to comply, candle light flooding in as if it were the sun. “What? Whe-?” Cian tried to question before making hazy eye contact with a slightly familiar face. “Dughall?”

“Hey buddy.” Dughall smiled.

Cian remembered this face: the inn keeper. The one from the town. His home. And he was back in the room he had rented out.

“What happened?” Cian sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes and recalling the last brutal moments of consciousness he had before waking up in a bed back in the town that he had left behind. Swinging his legs off the side of the bed, he made for the window to pull the curtains open. “What day is it?”

“NO NO NO!” Dughall ran after Cian grabbing him by the shoulders before he could let the sunlight in.

“What the hell do you mean?” Cian laughed turning to the innkeeper who seemed to have rescued him. “What’s going on?”

“Just sit down for a second and get away from the window please? Please?” Dughall plead with the other before leading him to the bed. “You don’t need another burn.”

Burn… Cian’s head tilted in question, and suddenly he looked down at his hands and arms. Burn. He had been thrown in a fire and now somehow felt no pain; not a single wound interrupted the appearance of his skin. And his hands. They were no longer scarred.

“Dughall, what is going on? What did you do to me?” Cian became confused. Why had the innkeeper helped him? Where were his scars? And why could he not look at the sun?

“Look.” The kind man sat next to Cian putting a hand on his shoulder as he moved away from touch in distress. “I don’t do this very often. But hear me out.”

In short, Dughall was a vampire, so he explained, and had worried when Cian had not returned the second night after slipping away from the town. Out of concern and confusion Dughall followed Cian’s scent out past the town’s limits and down a valley not far from there; he could already smell the burning. As fast as his feet could take him and as much as his powers would enhance, Dughall made his way down the valley only to find his new friend tied up and burning as three thieves watched him with dark and terrible pleasure in their eyes. Dughall made a quick decision, the only decision he had thought, and descended upon the thieves beating and tying them to submission. He did not understand what Cian had done but he didn’t have time to think about it. In the midst of wrangling the criminals, the vampire noticed Cian’s screams had stopped, only the sound of the fire left crackling away at it ate at his skin. Even if he had half a chance, even if Cian would likely die, at least by turning him he would have a sliver of hope.

Cian’s turn had been brutal and drawn out. Not only did he have to suffer from the burns inflicted before Dughall turned him, he also had to somehow survive through the pain of stepping from alive to living dead. If the screaming from the fire had been bad, what came next was much much worse.

Dughall kept Cian near the valley, finding a small cave like spot dug out in the side of one of the hills to hide as the sun rose, dragging the three tied men behind them. The combined pains threw the turning man into a frenzy, kicking, wailing and thrashing against the tight grip of the vampire. It was not even an hour before Cian needed to feed, the innkeeper could tell as the man that he held became more panicked and desperate seeming through the pain. Without speaking, Dughall knew what needed to be done and how justice and redemption would be satisfied. One by one Dughall untied the older men, dragging them as they plead, to the lap of the transitioning vampire. It took almost no time to drain the first… second… and the third. All that was left of the thieves would be their bags of stolen goods, and the horses that had long since fled once Cian’s guttural cries began. After feeding his friend, Dughall waited. He waited and hoped that Cian would survive the transition, but by the sounds and the fact that he could not even form words let alone open his eyes, there was little hope. Until about halfway through something began to change. Slowly, as he resisted the growing strength of the newly turned, Dughall noticed the raw and weeping wounds from the fire disappearing, the features of Cian’s face returning, and scars smoothing out to cool white skin. By the time the transition was over it was almost nightfall again and Dughall took pride in his ability to save the man that had been so horribly wronged in his last hours of humanity; but that was over and something new was about to begin. Cian had slipped into an exhausted defeat of a sleep as his transition came to an end, carried back to his room at the inn by Dughall who waited by his bed.

Cian could not comprehend any of what was being said. Dughall was a man that he always spent his evenings with, drinking and talking until the first sight of the sun when they would both say goodbye until the next evening. His friend really.

Dughall smiled and reached for Cian’s shoulder yet again. “I thought you kind of deserved a second chance.”

“Vampire. Right.” Cian shook his head and went to the window, but as his fingers curled around the cloth of the curtains to open them, the sunlight burned his skin, sending the new vampire jumping away in shock. “No. Way.”

Cian did not know how to react, he was conflicted really. He was not dead as he so wished to be, although the only reasons for him to wish this were dead themselves. Maybe this was a new chance, a new life, and he had forever to make it right. Like Dughall said, a second chance. “So you’ve been a vampire all this time?” Cian quietly asked, thinking through the impossible circumstances he found himself in.

“Yeah, sorry for not telling you.” Dughall joked, standing to stretch. “Ah, it’s good to know I still have that life-like glow about me!” He laughed and elbowed Cian. “In all seriousness I was hoping you might be able to help me, I mean, even before all of this. I was going to tell you, promise.” He smiled before pulling a chair up to the bed and taking something from his coat pocket. “Really though, I need your help Cian.”

Dughall explained that a friend of his lived near a castle on the mainland, a place run by vampires, a haven for them. He asked Cian to deliver a message to him, to tell him that he wouldn’t be able to join him as they had planned because Dughall had found a home of his own.

“He owns a little textile place in the kingdom and he wanted me to go with him to split the rent and work at the market. Business has been doing well it sounds.” Dughall smiled as he stood returning the chair to it’s place. “No need to answer really though, I know someone who can take you there, heading to the kingdom anyways. Just show him that note and you’re good to go. It’d really help me out, Cian.”
“It really is the least I can do.” Cian nodded and tucked the note away. “When do I leave?”
“Tonight if you can, the sooner the better. I’ll pack up this stuff here, those guys kind of owe their worldly possessions to you after what they did, the brutal sickos.” The innkeeper walked to the corner of the room and grabbed the bags that represented what was left of Cian’s past.
“It’s really ok, keep it. You’re giving me a fresh start Dughall. Think of it as a gift.”

***
After about a month of traveling, Cian had made it to the kingdom, making friends with the other vampires that took him safely to its border. Along the way they explained to Cian the lifestyle that went along with his new form and how to keep safe and stay fed. He appreciated his new friends and all the while thankful for Dughall bringing him this new start.

Once arriving at the kingdom, finding his way to the friend of a friend was far from easy. Cian had never been in a place so busy and so filled with life, despite the irony in the thought. He got lost more times than he would ever admit, but the vampire enjoyed every moment of it. Finally after discovering the streets and people that filled them with every wrong turn, he found himself on the doorstep of the textile maker, a candle lit in his window.

Almost immediately after Cian explained to the craftsman who he was, he was welcomed with open arms, even before the note that Dughall sent was read. Within only a day of arriving at the kingdom he had a job, a home, and a new friend. The young vampire felt that he was finally catching a break after twenty years of suffering by the doings of a false family.

Starting the next day, Cian was sent to the market to sell the fabrics that his housemate would make. He not only admired the quality of his new friend’s work but also the pride that he felt in sending it out to be bought. It was the kind of honesty and kindness that he had dreamed to achieve and now he represented this wholehearted work.

Cian poured his heart into his job, he smiled widely at passersby and cracked jokes to the vendors that took up the booths beside him. He was honest with buyers and gave deals when he could, always looking forward to seeing people again; and that is where he met Kostadin Du Val.

Used to seeing all kinds of folk who passed through the market every day, Cian was always excited to learn more about the residents of the kingdom, making friendly conversation and asking questions to learn more as he could, and that is what drew him into Kostadin. Cian did not recognize this vampire but knew by the way that he held himself and the fashion that he dressed in, that he must be important. The first few times he saw the stranger, Cian used the fabrics to try to initiate conversation, asking the man if he was looking for something for his wife, if he wanted to see the newest edition to the collection, and offering low prices for an “important looking fellow”. Every time a polite smile and a shaking head would indicate that Kostadin was not interested, but eventually Cian bothered the stranger enough to interest him to conversation.

Once a week or so when Kostadin would find himself in the market Cian would call him over, ask him about gossip and tell him some funny stories about the man he shared a home with. The conversation was light and their friendship grew from gentle banter that the young vampire always looked forward to. Eventually the topic of an opening on the general guard was brought up, Kostadin suggesting that the salesman give something new a try. After all, food and housing would be included. Almost immediately, Cian decided to see what he could do to join. He always admired the members of the guard, and felt that he would do well in protecting the kingdom that he was happy to call his home.

Within a few days, Cian was accepted into training, leaving the textile merchant on a good note, promising to visit as a friend when he could and always buy fabrics “from the best”. In the guard Cian truly found his calling. He was put on beat patrol most of the time which allowed him to explore and know the kingdom on an even deeper level, and help people when he could. Cian believed that despite his undead form, his soul was still with him, and that it was healing.

After months of the guard teaching him new discipline, a sense of brotherhood, belonging, and what it meant to do good, Cian felt he owed his heart and happiness to the kingdom. There was never a day that he woke up feeling as empty as he had in his human life, and he had a real home. This was until the foundation of his new life was shaken by a plot he was informed of one evening as his shift began.

Two other turned vampires on the guard conversed quietly as Cian approached them to take over their beat. Greeting them with a smile he shook their hands and thanked them for their work before taking over.

“Are you in?” One of the vampires whispered to Cian as he leaned closer as if not to be heard.

“In?” Cian asked, confused and slightly alarmed. Of course he was in, he loved his job. But in on what?

“The plan Lyle’s going to have us get in on. The rebellion?” The vampire smiled and turned to the other nodding before elaborating. “We’re finally going to show all these born vampires that us turned aren’t as weak and pathetic as they say we are!”

“They do?” Cian asked, feeling almost betrayed by the words the other guard spoke.

“The whole kingdom turned upside down. It’s going to be great, I hope you’re with us Cian.”

Cian did not know how to react. The very concept not only offended him, but threatened the new life he had made for himself and the new people that he loved. Nodding to end the interaction, the young vampire knew exactly what needed to be done; tell Kostadin.

That very evening, Cian searched for Kostadin, desperately hoping to find his friend and member of the knights who would be able to thwart the plans that dangled like a knife on a thread. What was a guard going to do on his own? After an anxious frenzy took Cian around the kingdom without any sight of Kostadin, he had decided to wait until later in the week, until he knew the knight would visit the market, but only days later, the rebellion came.

It was on a day shift, Cian was in the market that he used to work at, chit chatting with the same ladies that he loved to joke with before as they packed up their things to head home. It seemed to be a normal day, a quiet day. Until the walls of the castle began to crack and crumble under great rocks that fell from the sky. Close by, one of them fell, the canopy that protected vampires from the sun coming down with it. Once the screams started they would not stop.

Cian did the only thing that he could think of. “Everyone get underground! Get to the paths!” He shouted, his voice breaking as he attempted to project volume above the cries of the vampires suffering and stricken with fear.

Running to the entrance of the underground paths, mainly used for transporting good and quick routes for the guard, Cian stood by the steps as he helped others into the safety of the darkness as it was only a matter of time before the catapults would eventually destroy the market too. But it was sooner than he thought. As people poured into the tunnels, Cian stepped further and further in with fewer people left in the marketplace to help. His hands reached above the tunnels to help anyone who needed it, down to safety, when suddenly a projectile broke the canopy above.

Within only seconds, the screams became closer, part of the tunnel collapsed along with the canopy, many vampires either stuck beneath the rubble or exposed to the sun, Cian included.

As the burning started in his hands, Cian froze. Suddenly his mind was back to when he was a boy, his hands cooking over the fire. For longer than he would have liked, Cian took the pain, forgetting who and where he was, the screams drowned out by how he was trained to react. He felt that he was being punished. Somehow his uncles came from the sky to burn his hands over the fire of the sun. He had done wrong. It was his fault this was happening. That the rebellion did happen after all, he should have tried harder to tell someone. He always did something wrong. If it wasn’t for the vampires beneath him pulling him from the light, he would have stayed there burning forever.

Once he snapped out of the trance that consumed his mind, Cian saw what he was responsible for. Half of those whom he had helped into the pathway were exposed to the sun through the hole left by the catapult behind him. He had lead them to their death. Those who were left were trapped underground, terrified and relying on him for help. In a confused daze of desperation, Cian pointed away from the sun. “Just go!” He cried. “Go and get out! Find somewhere safe!” He froze, overwhelmed with guilt and the pain that he exposed himself to, shrinking against the wall nearest him looking to one side towards the dead and to the other at the fearful living. “Just go!” He shouted, watching the last of the desperate survivors disappear down the path and around corners. That was when the blackness came again.

***
Cian woke when it was nighttime. Even despite the darkness, the light from the moon illuminated the remains of those who had been burned to demise by the sun, giving a view of mistake and regret. That was when the anxiety set in again. As fast as he could stand, Cian stumbled up looking back and forth trying to navigate the pathway to try to meet with the group that he left to flee. It wasn’t long before running slowed to stumbling again, bodies littering the floor just up the pathway from him as fate was spelled out through the remains of those trapped in the pathway and killed by the rebels who had found them. Cian could barely see behind welling eyes as he recognized many of the faces that lie lifeless and still on stone floor of the path that he hoped would protect them. The kingdom was silent, the attack was over, but he could hear the screaming in his ears all over again. He abandoned his new family out of fear, out of shame and cowardice. Not only were the deaths he could see his fault, so too was the entire rebellion. He knew and he knew and he knew in the back of his anxious mind that he could have stopped this massacre if only he tried harder.

From that day on, after stumbling from the path and into the night, Cian ran. He ran until he found the next shelter, and the next, and the next. Shame ate away at Cian before he could understand what truly happened, self blame all that he wore as he left the guard uniform behind. How could he wear the uniform that represented protection and loyalty knowing all of the death that he caused. And how could he face those who survived the torture that he could have prevented. He owed them his absence.

For thousands of years, Cian lived the life of a nomad. No one place was his home and he lived as he had in his human life, resorting to wandering as if he had never known any other way. On some level he wished to forget the kingdom completely, and as the years past he almost had, until news of a city in North America reached him. Evermore felt like a new beginning; a new, new beginning, and after working up the courage, Cian decided to get into contact with a friend that he prayed would have followed the new King to the contemporary vampire world.

After getting in touch with Kostadin again, and assuring that he would be welcomed back into the vampire community in Evermore, Cian bought a plane ticket. With the hope to be forgiven and his shame to heal, Cian made plans to open a shop, selling antiques which resembled that which he sold in the past, keeping the few connections and friends that he made over the years in Europe.

Present day, Cian has just moved to America and opened his antique shop called “Dughall’s Antiques” a tribute to an old friend. With shipments of pieces coming in to fill the store, he hopes to draw in the new shoppers of Evermore, meeting new people and finding a new family in the city that offers him a well needed second, second chance.