Prologue

The sultriness pressed down on the valley like impending doom, where Lake Geneva spread out with its deep water. The water was still mirror-smooth. No breeze brought relief, yet dark clouds were already gathering between the mountain peaks, veiling the stars. Black and ominous, they climbed higher and higher into the sky. The rumble of thunder bounced from one cliff to another. A first lightning bolt flashed across the sky, glaringly reflected in the water. And then came the wind, stirring the mirror into foamy waves and tugging at the branches of the trees. Like the howling of packs of wolves, it swept down from the mountains and roared across the valley.

The castle lay like a ship moored on the shore in the waves of the lake. Its walls merged with the rock, which steeply descended beneath it into the black water. Since the Middle Ages, the castle had guarded the road between the Great Saint Bernard Pass and Lausanne, demanding tolls from every traveler wishing to pass through the narrow passage between the steep mountains and the lakeshore. Then the castle had been used as an arsenal and armory, and also as a prison.

Nowadays, no castellan lived here anymore, and there were many who would have liked to use the massive walls of Chillon for the construction of the railway line. A clap of thunder made the old structure tremble. Rain poured down. "So, is the ground neutral and secluded enough for you?" a voice broke through the woman's thoughts, who had leaned over the windowsill and looked down at the turbulent water. The Viennese accent made the words sound longer and softer than they were pronounced in her homeland in the north of the German Empire. "I didn't pass on this theater!" She turned around and took the time to look at the other woman before greeting her.

"Antonia, it's been a long time," said the woman in the doorway, her voice devoid of both joy and rejection.

"Baroness Antonia, Dame Elina," corrected the woman in the doorway with a sour tone, approaching with rustling skirts. Ruffles of plum-colored satin cascaded over a wide-swinging crinoline* like a waterfall. Her ample décolletage was accentuated by a frame of black lace. Her beautiful face with flawless skin was adorned with makeup, and her dark hair was artfully arranged as if she were going to a ball at the Vienna Hofburg tonight. Her appearance exuded captivating perfection.

"Baroness Antonia," repeated Dame Elina with a suppressed smile, kissing the air on either side of the painted cheeks.

"Do they still wear these monstrosities of hoop skirts in Vienna? I thought even the Empress had discovered the bustle* ten years ago. - Though I can't say which is more uncomfortable," she added, grimacing.

"I'd rather not ask from which era your dress hails," retorted Baroness Antonia, pursing her lips disdainfully as her gaze swept down the plain dress of dark blue cloth, beneath which peeked the tips of riding boots. Dame Elina had tied her graying hair into a simple knot. She wore no jewelry and no makeup. Yet or perhaps because of it• All terms marked with * will be explained in the appendix. her features radiated a dignified, ageless beauty. Her skin, too, was flawless and very pale.

"It might not be the most elegant, but it's exceedingly practical and comfortable," she said deliberately with a hint of a Low German accent, causing the pretty features of the Baroness to distort even more. The two women continued to scrutinize each other with disdain when the door opened, and several men entered, differing in clothing and stature in every way:

A short, stocky man with a halo of gray hair shuffled toward the ladies and kissed their hands. "Baroness Antonia, Dame

"Elina, I hope you had a good journey. Has your esteemed brother also arrived, Baroness?" With every word, a sickly stench of decay emanated from his mouth.

The Viennese woman opened her fan. "But of course, Conte* Claudio, he is the Prince of the Dracas. I am merely his - shall we say, advisor."

Conte Claudio bowed as deeply as his corpulence allowed. His robes shimmered ruby red in the candlelight. As he straightened up, his gaze fell upon the man entering the hall. He was tall and athletic, his dark brown hair combed according to the prevailing fashion, his clothes elegantly cut and made of the finest fabric.

"Ah, speak of the devil! There you are, Baron Maximilian." He also shook hands with the two rough-hewn brothers Lucien and Thibaut from the Parisian Clan of the Pyras and greeted the handsome Lord* Milton from London.

"Well, does our meeting place meet with the approval of the esteemed gentlemen and ladies?" asked the Briton, surveying the gathering.

Dame Elina approached him and allowed him to bend over her hand with a hint of a kiss. "Remote and neutral, indeed, and almost ethereally beautiful, as if built for us," she said with a touch of mockery. "I have already visited the torture chamber to enjoy the view over the water. And if I have deciphered the carvings in the dungeon wall correctly, even Lord Byron admired this view during his lifetime."

Lord Milton nodded. "Oh yes, his poem The Prisoner of Chillon is very accomplished."

"I hope he is well?" inquired Dame Elina politely. "I have not had the pleasure yet, but one hears rumors…"

The tall Briton smirked. "Yes, he has been a valued member of our community for more than fifty years now."

Dame Elina's gray eyes flashed. "I heard of his death. Weakness and too much bloodletting, they say."

Lord Milton displayed his strong white teeth. "Yes, one could say that the loss of blood robbed our great poet of his life."

They turned to the two remaining arrivals. Conte Claudio already greeted the wiry, older man in the Irish kilt. "Donnchadh, greetings to you. How are things on the Emerald Isle?"

The men shook hands, but instead of looking into his counterpart's eyes, the stout Roman stared at the woman who had stopped a bit behind the Irish clan leader.

She was beautiful, with pure white skin. Thick reddish curls cascaded over her shoulders. Her silky garment flattered her slender figure. She returned his gaze with dark green eyes, but remained silent and did not offer her hand.

In her human life, she could not have surpassed twenty. However, neither Dame Elina nor Conte Claudio could say when this life had been or when it had ended. Now she was no longer human, but a vampire, like all the others gathered tonight at Chillon Castle. Yet there were differences. Significant differences!

"She's a Shadow!" stuttered Conte Claudio, pointing at her. The other vampires now also became aware of the woman and openly stared at her.

"Send her out," growled Baron Maximilian. "We won't discuss such important matters in the presence of an impure one. What were you thinking, Donnchadh? Haven't you seen that we left all our servants in the hall?"

The Irishman turned to the young woman. For a moment, they looked at each other in silence, then she lowered her long, dark eyelashes.

"I'll await you downstairs," she said with a surprisingly deep voice, nodded once, and then silently left the room. The door closed with a soft click.

Dame Elina pulled back a chair and sank onto the leather cushion. "Everyone is here. Shall we begin?" She looked around. The others followed her lead and settled around the heavy oval oak table. For a while, silence prevailed. Assessing glances wandered through the room, intersecting and skimming over the attendees. The tension was almost palpable.

Lady Elina of the Vamalia began to formally introduce them to each other. She nodded to the handsome blond vampire with angular features at her side. "Lord Milton of the Vyrad Clan." He half rose and indicated a bow. Lady Elina turned to the two vampires to his right. "Seigneurs Lucien and Thibaut de Pyras." The two rugged vampires from the labyrinths beneath Paris showed no expression, Lucien growled softly, but Dame Elina remained unruffled. Her gaze moved on to the small, stocky vampire from Rome. "Count Claudio de Nosferas!" He smiled and nodded at her.

The faces of the next two, however, showed disgust. Nevertheless, Dame Elina also greeted the siblings from Vienna. "Baron Maximilian and Baroness Antonia of the Dracas Clan." How beautiful they were! One could hardly resist their allure. Finally, Dame Elina turned her gaze to the Irish clan leader, whose hair had already lost its last reddish shimmer. "Donnchadh of the Lycana Clan." He didn't smile, but returned her gaze with an intensity that made Dame Elina shudder from his dark eyes. She cleared her throat and looked back to Lord Milton, who spoke before she could finish her greeting.

He used the guttural language of the vampires that had connected them since the beginning of time. "We have gathered here because it should be clear to all of us by now how serious the situation is. I believe we are in agreement..." "We are not in agreement at all!" Baron Maximilian interrupted sharply. "By what right do you assume the chairmanship?" "Well, someone has to speak of the misery," Lord Milton retorted just as sharply. The men glared at each other. Seigneurs Lucien and Thibaut hissed and bared their fangs. "It is a fact that the survival of our families is alarming!"

Lady Elina raised her voice. "Oh yeah? And that's why you encourage your Impure to seize power," Baroness Antonia called out. "We live freely and equally with our servients - we prefer to call them that! But with your behavior, you practically invite a revolution!" "Slaves must be treated as slaves," the baroness's sharp teeth gleamed. "They are our shadows, serving us, yes, but not slaves," Count Claudio objected, folding his hands over his round belly. "Slaves, servants, revolution, that's not the point," Seigneur Lucien ranted. "It's about the children. Our children!" "I'm not surprised that a revolt in France doesn't scare you," Baron Maximilian retorted. "You have plenty of experience with that. In Austria-Hungary, the conditions are still as they should be, and everyone knows their place!"

Lady Elina laughed brightly. "Your Emperor would certainly like that! His clinging to Hungary, Bohemia, and Croatia will break his neck and bring him more revolutions than France ever had! And then the Herzegovina too! He can't get enough. Austria should have let the peoples go and joined the great German Empire. So the decay has already begun for you. Look at Italy! It has reclaimed its lands and freed itself from the hated Austrian yoke!" "Woman, be silent and do not speak of political matters you know nothing about!" Everyone was talking over each other. "Silence!" Lord Milton shouted and struck the table so hard with his fist that a crack ran through the oak wood. "What do we care about human politics?"

Suddenly, Seigneur Lucien jumped up. "Human blood." The vampires fell silent. "I can smell it. Down in the hall." Conte Claudio shook his almost bald head. "Seigneur, you must be mistaken. In the hall, there are only our shadows." "He is not mistaken," confirmed Seigneur Thibaut. His eyes glowed red. They stared at the doorknob, which slowly descended.

Everyone jumped from their chairs. The door opened, and a figure in a dark green robe entered. At first, the gathering could only discern that she was unusually small and slender for a human. The features of her face remained hidden under a hood. Two wolves followed her and sat down on either side when she stopped.

The two predators sat upright, only their yellow eyes moved, scrutinizing the vampires intensely. "I thought as much, that you would go for each other's throats as soon as you gathered here," said a warm voice with a laugh. A wrinkled hand emerged from the wide sleeve and pushed back the hood. The small woman regarded the attendees with green eyes, the same color as her flowing garment. Her face was emaciated with age, deep furrows creased the skin, tanned by the sun, into wrinkles. The woman smiled and stood remarkably straight as she approached an empty chair. She certainly didn't need the staff in her hand for support. Donnchadh placed his hand on his chest. "Tirana*, it is an honor." He approached her, but she sat down before he reached the chair. "You know I am not a landlord. The land is free! It belongs to the animals and the plants. We are only tolerated." "Yes, Lady Tara," he said and returned to his seat. Lady Elina craned her neck. "So, you are the Druid Tara." The vampires resumed their seats.

The old woman nodded. She showed no fear. "Human blood," Seigneur Thibaut said softly once more. Dame Elina could smell the blood of the old woman, but she sensed something else as well. Strong, ancient magic, the kind that had long been absent in the free Hanseatic city of Hamburg. She discreetly let her gaze wander. The other clan leaders stared at the old human woman. In their faces, she could read mistrust or even hostility. Only Donnchadh seemed relieved.

"So, you've all gathered here at Chillon Castle - at least those who have recognized the signs and perhaps are willing to act and do what is necessary!" Interested, Dame Elina leaned forward in her chair and listened to the words of the old woman. She felt like she couldn't afford to miss a single one. Was that the magic that enveloped her like a cloud?

Baron Maximilian opened his mouth to interrupt, but the Druid raised her hand, and he silently closed it again. "You'll have plenty of opportunity to argue later. In that regard, you clans have always been more than proficient!" This time it was Baroness Antonia who wanted to interrupt, but once again, the Druid prevailed. "Let me summarize the problem in brief words: Your powers are dwindling, your influence is fading, and soon you too will be wiped from this earth. Not even the memory of you will remain." The vampires cried out in outrage.

For a few moments, the old woman let them have their way, and the words reverberated from one massive stone wall to the other. Then the Druid raised her hand again, and the voices subsided. "Tell me, when was the last time a child was born among you?" She looked around. "Ten years ago or eleven?" "Nine," Dame Elina said softly. "Our youngest son, Thankmar, is nine." "So, nine," the Druid nodded. "For a long time now, there has been no sound of children's laughter. Your halls have aged. How many venerables do you have to care for who no longer wish to move and only night after night lament the waning of their powers?" "Oh, we can provide with children's laughter," Conte Claudio interjected. "Is that so?" The Druid raised her eyebrows. "You mean to tell me that a pure of your family bore a child last year?" The portly Roman lowered his gaze. "Uh, no, not that." "So, she acquired a child because she couldn't have one herself? She turned a toddler into a vampire, thus condemning it to remain a helpless infant for all eternity? And now she will care for the being she created until she grows tired of it. Is that it?" Conte Claudio muttered something incomprehensible.

The Druid fixed him for a while, then looked back at the circle of clan leaders. "You fear being displaced by the beings you yourselves created? Yes, you fear rightly! You have dug your own graves early. And it is neither the servients nor the humans who will banish you there forever. You have ensured it yourselves! For centuries, you have been at war with each other and ensured that your families keep their bloodlines pure. You only nurture the powers and knowledge that your lineage has produced and have displaced and forgotten everything else. If you continue like this, then I see no hope for you." "Why do we have to listen to the talk of an old human woman?"

Seigneur Thibaut hissed softly. "We don't have to," Dame Elina retorted. "We can continue to close ourselves off from the truth, because it's hard to deny that she speaks the truth!" "And what does that bring us?" Baroness Antonia asked, opening her fan and yawning boredly. "Perhaps insight and the will to change?" the old Druid suggested. "And what would that be?" Baron Maximilian demanded to know. "Give up your isolation and learn from each other. Combine your strengths and eradicate your weaknesses." She paused for a moment before pronouncing the enormity: "And allow your bloodlines to mix."

The vampires stared at the Druid in silence for a few moments, then a protest storm erupted. The mutual hatred among the clans, which had been fueled for centuries, tore through the thin veil of politeness they had donned for this evening. Fangs were threateningly bared, human voices turned into the roar of wild animals.

The Druid rose and slowly made her way to the door. Her wolves followed her. As she stood in the doorway, she turned around once more and raised her staff. The vampires fell silent. "I suspected that you are lost. You are too old - not your bodies, but your minds! Your hope lies in your children - your last children! I will now take a stroll along the shore and contemplate the full moon, which is reflected in the water after the cleansing storm. It's a beautiful night! Before the sun rises, I will return. Then tell me if you are willing to heed my advice." She closed the door, her footsteps fading away.

The voices of the vampires rose again, but they lacked strength. Dame Elina sank into her chair and listened to the raging emotions within her, which were even stronger than the thirst for blood upon each awakening. She felt a gaze upon her and lifted her lids until her gray eyes met the dark pair across from her. Donnchadh didn't shy away from her gaze. "Will we succeed?" Dame Elina asked softly, knowing that he could understand her despite the cacophony of voices. "Only if we no longer resist every change.

The world is changing ever faster, but we have long remained stagnant," replied the old Irishman. "Can we do it?" asked the leader of the Hamburg clan almost pleadingly. The old Irishman considered. "Lady Tara is a wise woman. I think she is right. Our children can do it!"