-==-

A summary:

In the first installment of “Blood of the Lost” we were introduced to two
individuals both of the bloodline of the Imperial family, both existing in
vastly different worlds. The first, a young woman named Sinea rebelling against
her birthright after her brother and father died, the second a young man known
only as Ghost, held captive and tortured for the crimes of his family.

Those of the royal blood are never passive individuals. They make their mark in
some way and these two are no different. But what do the Fates have in store for
them? What path will they walk and will they walk it together? Will they find a
reason to be?

-==-

There is no escaping the Fates. They drape their web of destiny over whomever
they see fit and to struggle against them simply sees the bonds grow tighter
until the hapless tool finds themselves bound inexorably to one path. I know
this better than most. In my youth, I battled mightily against the bitter
chalice that was mine to drink. My birth was not of my choosing, I told myself.
My blood, was not my responsibility. Of course I could simply walk away. To
think otherwise was irrational.

So I did. I walked out of the estate that was my childhood home, no, my
childhood prison. I joined society as an orphaned waif, no family to concern
herself with, simply trying to make her way in the New World; nothing to
distinguish myself from the many others in similar situations. I apprenticed
myself to a Celestine. I had no interest in being bound to the Guild and its
political struggles and my Mistress had no interest in being bound to the idea
that the Supernals were beings to be worshipped. She, like so many others, lost
their faith when the dream died. Suddenly, the Supernals were shown for what
they truly are â€" half-formed beings, fallible, limited, and unable to
understand the reality of mortal life. This outlook suited me exceptionally
well. No higher power was going to tell me how I should live my life.

I was sixteen years old and like most sixteen year olds I knew all there was to
know about everything. The Fates decided to disabuse me of that notion. It
began, as it often does, with small things; gentle nudges reminding me of who I
was and what I was bred to do. I ignored them, naturally. It made no difference
that I was a born leader. It made no difference that I could readily see my way
to a solution that one hundred others might not see. It made no difference that
I had to suffer under the horrendously inept leadership of peasants who now
fancied themselves as nobility. None of this mattered as I convinced myself I
was free.

Yet, how could I ever be free as long as I was who I was? There is no escaping
your own blood. There is no escaping your own heritage. I am the product of
centuries of careful breeding. Such attentive husbandry had produced a line of
extraordinary individuals who were born for one purpose â€" to lead other
mortals. My blood screamed out in frustration each time I turned from
responsibility and in time the Fates began to show me the consequences of my
cowardice.

The question became how long could I tolerate the pointless suffering of my
people? How long could I sit and watch while those of lesser blood made a
mockery of my birthright? Three years. It took three years before I had seen
enough idiocy to take up the mantle of my birth again. I am an exceptionally
stubborn individual.

My final acquiescence was the direct result of several seemingly random events
that finally opened my eyes once more to the Light. The first was meeting the
leader of the Star Council, Baron Tuhil. To describe Tuhil as useless would be
an affront to all truly useless people in the world. His incompetence
transcends useless and reaches levels where no words can truly describe it.
Though it may seem I speak harshly I feel I am being generous in my description
of him. His mishandling of his position could be described as deliberately
malicious.

My primary complaint with him is his complete unwillingness to organize any
efforts against the Tainted. We have a very small window of opportunity in
which the creatures are for the most part unorganized bands of mindless thugs.
Crushing them would have been a relatively simple manner once our
reorganization began. Yet he stays our hand for sentimental reasons. “These
are our brothers!”, he has stated on more than one occasion. “Our wives,
our sisters, our children. To act against them is to act against ourselves.”
He is constantly spewing such nonsense. Yes, it is sad that he lost his entire
family to the Taint. I can feel some sympathy for that yet to cloud your mind
to the reality of the situation is gross irresponsibility. They are already
dead. We are simply burying them.

I do not trust him. Nor should I. The first time we met his dull eyes sparked
with recognition and a quickly masked loathing. I know he knows what I am. He
has never spoken of it though. I imagine he is biding his time as I grow in
power, waiting to unveil this shocking truth when it seems I might triumph and
seize control from him. His capacity for idiocy knows no bounds if he thinks I
would leave myself vulnerable to such an attack.

He was the first catalyst. The next was the attempt on my life. It was several
months after I had first met Tuhil and my mind was lost in debate with itself
over whether I had a responsibility to my people or not while I meandered
through the marketplace. Thus I failed to notice the dagger thrusting towards
my throat until a ray of light glinted off its dull metallic surface. I jerked
back on instinct, earning myself a scoring on my shoulder which while painful
was infinitely more appealing than the alternative. I stumbled backwards,
whipping my head around to get a glimpse of my attacker. He stared at me with a
gaze that still unsettles me to think of. There was no malice in his eyes. There
was nothing in his eyes at all. They gleamed dully in the faint light, their
lifeless gray matching the steel of the dagger he still clutched in his fist.
He was all bones, wrapped tightly in pale skin that showed the scarring of a
hard life. He seemed to me little more than a ghost and to this day, even with
all I have since discovered, that is all he is to me. The cries of the city
watch spun him away into the shadows he had spawned from yet the incident
lingered in my mind, gnawing away for reasons I could not understand.
Everything about the encounter unsettled me. His eyes, his movements, even the
strange dagger he carried. I was missing something but I did not know what.

The final impetus to my rebirth was the discovery that I am not alone. I am not
the last. I literally stumbled over the first of the blood. He was lying in an
alley in a pool of some substance I chose not to examine very closely; a young
aristocrat, sleeping off the excesses of the night before. I made to simply
walk around him but a chance glance down arrested my movements. His bleary eyes
were open and staring in confusion at me. The stab of recognition was inevitable
as I see the very same eyes in the mirror each day. He became the first of my
companions, Yurbin, son of Durnil, cousin of the Emperor. He told me a most
interesting tale of a Ghost attempting to slay him. I do not believe in
coincidence and the same man attempting to slay the only other member of the
blood I had met thus far? The Fates were meddling again.

The clarity with which my path revealed itself was startling yet I knew it to
be right the moment it occurred to me. As I had been told my entire life, I was
here for a purpose and that purpose was now transparent. I would gather unto me
the blood of my forefathers, the blood of the lost. Together, we would retake
our rightful places and as our fortunes rose so would those of the Basin. We
are the Basin. There is no separating our blood from the fate of the world.
When we triumph, the Basin triumphs. When we falter, the Basin falters. This is
how it has been for five centuries. This is how it is now. This is how it will
always be.

No ghost will stop that which the Fates have woven. We will find him and we
will destroy him much as we will destroy any other that oppose the natural
order of things. We are risen and we have work to do. Glory is ours to embrace.

-==-

I do not know when the beatings stopped. I only know that they did. I do not
know why the beatings stopped. I only know that they did. Time is not my friend
and I have rejected it. It is of a reality that is not my own.

I do know that it was after the beatings stopped that he came. He spoke to me
softly and his hands were gentle but not in the carnal way I had come to
expect. He did nothing to me except speak. But that is not a trivial thing. His
words were truth. They were food and I was a man who was starving.

He spoke to me of my heritage; of the foul blood that coursed through my veins.
Oh how I long to be free of it. But not yet. I have purpose. He gave me purpose.
I am a wretched thing, worthy only of contempt and scorn. This I already knew
but he explained it again to me. He explained why it was. Much I already knew.
My family had destroyed the Basin, condemned countless lives to an existence of
suffering that went beyond all comprehension. But he told me more. He told me of
the crimes my blood had committed through the centuries. The power mongering,
the persecution of those who were different, the warping of the glory of the
Light for their own means. Our existence was an affront to Creation.

I begged him to kill me. To end my existence. I was the last. I knew this to be
true. It was the cornerstone of my life. I knew that when I died, it would be
over. Justice would be done and no longer would my blood taint the Basin. He
told me death was too good for me and I knew it to be true. I must suffer, it
was the only way. But then he told me more and he gave me purpose.

I was not alone. I was not the last. He had seen another with his own eyes. How
did I feel about that, he asked. How can I describe the rage or the
helplessness? My one foundation was crumbling and oblivion lay under my feet.
Yet he offered me salvation and redemption in one breath. I wept for the joy of
it. I would do what he asked. How could he doubt that? We must be destroyed.
There is no other way.

He had given me so much yet he continued to give. He gave training. He watched
attentively as shadowy figures turned me into the tool I must be to fulfill my
purpose. He gave peace, speaking quietly for hours on end of my duty, my
penance, my salvation. He soothed, his gentle hands chasing away the nightmares
that pursued me relentlessly. Finally, when my training was finished, he gave me
my companion.

He explained how it was forged but I forget. It was of my blood, that is all I
needed to know. It burned with the same need that consumed me. To find my
blood, to free them, to free the Basin. My companion never leaves my side. I
wear him around my neck, always touching my skin, always burning me with our
need. The pain is a comfort to me.

My companion leads me to my penance. It led me to her, that first time. A girl,
wandering in the market. I trembled in excitement, knowing she was so close. She
tried to look normal but she blazed like a bonfire to my eye. My companion
blazed with her, wanting to consume her blood as he had mine but I held back,
waiting until she was near my embrace. The Fates must have been laughing that
day for she avoided my strike. Impossibly she avoided it and she looked upon me
and I saw my madness in her eyes. But I had to flee. To be caught by the Watch
would interrupt my mission.

He was understanding of my failure but I was not. How could I pay my penance if
she still lived? And my companion hungered as I hungered. I fed it of me and
bided my time for another strike. The girl, I avoid. I do not know why but it
seems right to me. I watch her sometimes. I know what she is trying to do. She
makes my job easier. Her blood clouds her mind as it once did mine but when it
abandons her at the end, she will know the truth.

My missions lately have been far more successful. I hold them in my arms as my
companion nestles inside them. Their struggles weaken as their accursed blood
flows over my hands and as it abandons them, they too have the understanding I
have. We must die. It is the only way.

Let her gather the blood to her. As they answer her call, I will be waiting to
take them into the darkness. I will show them the truth that was shown to me.
I will save them and I will save myself. Salvation is ours to embrace.