Leudora Galbur headed up the hill, taking a forestry path and pushing branches away from her face. Travel took its toll on her body, leaving her tired and anxious. Wind tangled her cropped hair, rattling long silver earrings. Storm clouds gathered as she reached the cliff overlooking the Danube. The river sliced the land with its grey waters, creating a transparent embroidery on a dotted landscape of black and white. Winter tightened its grip over the land.

A solitary figure stood on the cliff's edge, his hands clasped behind a burgundy-colored trench coat and his head tilted to the side. In the dim light of a cloudy day his long hair was black and his hollow cheeks white as polished bone. Leudora's heartbeat slowed down, filling her body with dread and elation: "The demon hasn't changed one bit."

She stared at the gaunt man, noticing the knot of his long fingers stiffen behind his back: even his habits remained the same.

"Lady Galbur." He turned around, sending her a flash of his cold stare - the familiar sharp features and haunting glow in those glass-green eyes. "I see you've travelled well."

His head moved slightly as if in acknowledgement, but his long face remained blank. Leudora only noticed his mouth tighten. By an unwelcome twist of fate, she owed him her life. Had it not been for the Red Bond and its Red Leader, Leudora would not have lied convincingly to Lorei. Would she have survived without their presence? The question rang in the depths of Leudora's mind, not letting her go. Would the Alka Guard have consciously protected a Byzantine Blood?

He would never decline a challenge, and neither would she. She looked away, avoiding his gaze. That did not help. She still felt him watching her, waiting, biding his time.

"Lord Serpent... or should I say, 'Red Leader'?" She was surprised to hear how hoarse her voice sounded.

"Whichever you prefer." 

Leudora repaid his superficial politeness with an arched eyebrow and a fiery spark in her charcoal eyes.

"I see. I suppose this is my last opportunity to see you out of the Alka uniform." She shot him a speculative look, briefly meeting his calculating gaze.

"Indeed." He moved aside swiftly, inviting Leudora to join him with a barely noticeable gesture of his long hand. "I assure you I take everything into account when I make a move."

"That I don't doubt." She followed him down a narrow path, hoping the wind would stop howling in her ears. Her hand reached the pocket of her coat and found a miniature vial with dark purple liquid inside. She picked up the tiny bottle and stared at the light it reflected.

"Your recent escapades have drawn too much attention from those whom neither of us can control," she said.

"Is it so?" His thin lips quirked. "It is possible that I haven't exerted enough pressure."

Leudora felt his stare trace the line of her cheekbone. Wanting to do something, anything, to dispel the sudden foreboding that made her blood freeze, she pretended to examine the vial.

"Admirable tenacity, Lord Serpent. But you are forgetting that your kin does not approve of the Alka Guard."

"It is unfortunate. But not as irreparable as we both think."

Leudora's lips twisted in a bitter smirk. She flanked Drašković from the side, keeping her distance and taking her time to study his face. He did not resemble his relatives: the Dalmatian Serpent only shared the fine lines of his face and his narrow aquiline nose with his father. Other long and sharp features were his alone. Even his cadence was devoid of the beautiful Dalmatian accent.

"It is in your interests to entice your kin into the service of the Alka, not in mine," Leudora said.

"Our interests may not be as different as we have been led to believe. Certainly, half of our kind would eagerly exterminate the other half, but outraged crowds tend to lose focus easily."

"When given the opportunity," Leudora added, notes of cold warning in her voice. "And I do not intend to throw Slavoj Kosar away as a sacrificial lamb."

"That depends on what Magister Kosar intends to do," he said with calm determination, dangerous sparkles appearing in his strange eyes. "We all pay for our mistakes."

"Do we all?" Leudora scoffed. "Kosar, the Gothars, the degradation of the Veil and the dead Natives. All unpaid bills."

Dragomir Drašković nodded shortly, his blank expression not letting a single rogue thought slip through the cracks. It did not change when Leudora showed him the vial.

"I lack the necessary skills to discern the ingredients in this potion."

He accepted the reluctant 'compliment' with a condescending twitch of a slanted eyebrow. When it came to chemistry, few could rival his expertise.

"It is not the kind of weapon that any of us is used to. It is inventive. Ingenious even." The Serpent studied the vial in Leudora's hand with undivided attention, his neon eyes narrowing. "I look forward to meeting that Glasscracker."

"He may disappoint you," Leudora said carefully. "Unless you destroy his invention to save yourself from that disappointment."

"I have no expectations. I can never be disappointed. And I will not destroy the potion. I will use it."

The sudden paralyzing terror that got hold of Leudora's limbs spread slowly and steadily through her bloodstream. When he took the vial from Leudora's hand, he accidentally brushed her fingers, sending a radiating wave of heat through her body. He had the self-control of a Byzantine Blood, shrewd perceptiveness of a time-master, and maddening heat of a gravity-switcher – he was, undoubtedly, the most terrifying man Leudora had ever met.

"This purple goo is based on the blood of my kin." She approached him so closely she could almost breathe into his long white neck. "I will not allow you to spill a drop of it." Even if he did hear the implied threat in her silky voice, he ignored it.

"This potion cannot harm an Offcast," he said matter-of-factly, "If the original design is achieved, the result will be... interesting. It has the potential to turn a Native into one of us. The Glasscracker wants to repopulate the Veil with non-Psychics. I do see the value of his idea, I must admit. With the right numbers, your enhancement can be rendered irrelevant, and peace will ensue. Ironically, his machinations brought the exact opposite result. The Veil does not accept and recognize the lives he is trying to introduce - it responds with disintegration instead."

Leudora shook her head with stubborn resolve. "The potion does not work. Once you discover the ingredients, you will see it for yourself. All Natives injected with the goo were found dead. It destroys both our people and the Veil. We cannot use it."

"For now." A faint flash of recognition dawned in his cold eyes. Leudora could catch a slight twitch of the Serpent's thin lips: Drašković could withhold his emotions, but not his curiosity. A scientist always remained a scientist, and two people cursed with inquisitive and judgmental minds could never change their nature. Leudora stepped aside, more annoyed by the Serpent's towering height that she would have admitted.

"The Glasscracker lacks an ingredient. He knows it. So do I. He could use chemically enhanced pure blood – Lascari or any other. I suppose he could even find access to the blood of a lightning-bearer. Yet, there is only one person whose blood combines both qualities. You." When their eyes met briefly, Leudora shuddered. "I have your blood. And he does not," he said.

A cold memory washed over her, sending shivers through her veins. Did he keep the sample he had obtained a decade ago? Of course, he did. The realization overwhelmed her body and mind. As if hearing her thoughts, the Serpent nodded.

"You have created a hero. Now you are facing a villain," he paused, letting the words sink in, "You have no one else to turn to. Your Hungarian friend will never accept you for what you are. Neither will your cousin, or your family. They will always fear you."

"What do you want?" Leudora asked, schooling her face to blankness.

"What I want is irrelevant. What I need is to leave the Realm in peace. With or without your people." Leudora's heart sank when she caught a tragic spark in the Serpent's unnatural eyes. He was serious. Always.

"I don't intend to surrender my kin to you, Lord Serpent."

"You stubborn but not stupid, Lady Basilisk. You'll come around. I remember how reasonable you can be."

"I would be disappointed if you didn't." The feverish gleam in her eyes reflected dangerous flames, but her face remained calm. Drašković accepted her challenge with a considerate nod. Leudora watched his long fingers lightly tap his temples. His persistent headaches were not gone.

"I never forget a thing, Lady Basilisk." He stopped and clasped his hands behind his back, returning to his habitual pose of detachment.

"Memory is a curse, isn't it?" Leudora asked.

"We remember what we wish to forget. And we forget what we desperately need to remember."

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The Author Has Something To Say: 

The Serpent, one and only. Without a mask. Without excuses. Alive and...not so well. It's time to show how this all started. Stay tuned, leave a comment, and don't forget to vote if you have come so far already. Thank you.