Just a sample from a new story I’m working on. (Context? What’s that?)
Notte’s family was a beautiful thing, born of blood and not of water, united by love of their immortal Father and a magical purpose that reached beyond individual paths.
Those among the Mythos feared them, but in a casual way – vampires did not tend to attack at random, but still.
It was a delicate balance.
The power of a Night-Child was indisputably frightening. They were a mystery, the only beings capable of turning a non-magical human into a being who drank blood, spoke with the wind, and never aged. They could go to dust, disintegrating on command and escaping any situation or harm. They did not age. They were also damned hard to kill.
The self-control required to keep Beast and blood lust in check made for dedicated, focused people. Notte’s children thrived. They honed their talents and skills.
If the Night-Children ever went to war, things would be bad.
Happily, they showed no signs of doing that, and instead made valuable employees, spreading through the world and making their homes wherever they wished.
They did not grow old. They never knew illness. They could be injured, but they healed, and they never simply lingered.
All this was why Jonathan made no sense.