"You have no idea how hard I've looked for a gift to bring You.

Nothing seemed right.

What's the point of bringing gold to the gold mine,

or water to the ocean.

Everything I came up with was like taking spices to the Orient.

It's no good giving my heart and my soul

because you already have these.

So I've brought you a mirror.

Look at yourself and remember me." (Rumi)

He was standing in front of the mirror but all he could see was... nothing. He tried to take closer look. He still remembered that his eyes looked like the frozen heart of Death's River where he was born at a time long forgotten by men but the candles' light passed through him and bounced back from the mirror as if he wasn't there. Yet there he was, licking the last drop of blood on his lips.

Summer in Egypt was unbearable even in the nights. All that heat was suffocating him, night after night, season after season, year after year, even though he could just open his window and watch the Nile giving birth to life in the damn dessert. He once believed that since he was born into Gates of Death it would only seem proper to move into Alexandria where people seemed to prosper still. Nile's mud was turning the desert into gold and humans were thriving in commerce and arts.

People seemed to have forgotten the old ways in the rising of the new era but their music still nurtured them. Dancing was still a mystic prayer connecting what's seen and felt with the spiritual world of the unseen. He turned around and took a look at this luxurious dancer's suit. His mothers and fathers would look down to what he had become if they could only see him dancing for the ones who were wealthy enough to pay for this experience. They would have ostracized him. On the other hand he was the only one left alive beyond any logic or sanity.

His blond hair along with his pale skin made it obvious at first sight that he wasn't born in Egypt. Since he hated giving away any details about his identity, he used to say that he was the bastard son of a sailor and port's hooker who died when he was a kid. People were taking notice from time to time that his impeccable manners didn't seem to fit the story of a homeless, poor buy that had been begging or stealing in order to survive throughout his youth but none made any questions whatsoever.

All that they desired was the privilege of watching him dancing. Musicians kept writing music for him, hoping that he would dance their melodies one night under the full moon, converting them from a sonic sounds into an a transcending experience. Egyptian women used to be the most famous belly dancers of the world. Their hips were seducing anyone who watched them dancing. Their lust for life and sensuality had been the most powerful calling for submission he had ever seen.

Hadn't it been for Zahir's dance that blue moon, years ago, he would have never stayed in that breathtaking heat. It was Zahir who taught him how to dance and later on she introduced him to Sufi whirling.

An old lady was picking up his clothes from the floor carefully, as quiet as possible. It felt as if it was just like a passionate kiss' time ago when this old lady was the most desired woman of Egypt. Her beauty had faded but magic was still there even though the former Queen of the Nile had fallen from grace. Zahir had begged him on her knees and tried to blackmail him in every way possible. She even tried to make him kill her since he wasn't willing to offer her eternal life. His path was his own. It wasn't meant to be shared but for a short part of it. She belonged to the Valley of the Dead Pharaohs. He belonged to another river, land and tribe. Bloodlines define our destiny long before our births.

He knew that Zahir could never betray him from the moment she found him feeding from Naima. Naima was her best student, far more beautiful and ambitious than any dancer she had ever met. Naima would have outbalanced her teacher. She could have even become her own legend, hadn't it been for Naima wanting not only her teacher's merits and fame but himself as well.

Whenever she was dancing it seemed like Lilith had never left Eden, time never existed and everything was offered to you to get a taste of what first Heaven used to be. Well... This Lilith's daughter tasted a bit salty yet he enjoyed it far more than he could ever dare to confess even to himself.

He wasn't expecting Zahir to enter his bedroom while he was drinking Naima but Zahir was nothing like any other woman. She was able to gamble everything and everyone within a blink of an eye, lose everything and then start all over again without any guilt or regret. That night Zahir gambled their relationship. She had been a mentor to him, a mistress, a secret protector in a country with zero tolerance to diversity, a bridge and a key to unlock East's secrecy. She wasn't so stupid as to expect any kind of fidelity from him. On top of that she didn't mind sleeping with anyone who could make her a tempting offer. She had been loyal to him yet he doubted he could ever be loyal to anyone... or anything.

He could have chosen Naima to take her place. She was younger. She was a student ready to overcome her mentor. Yet he valued loyalty more than anything else. He had no respect towards anything and anyone that money could buy but deep inside his frozen heart, he respected Zahir and valued her presence in his life. So when Naima showed up to him offering herself to him along with the proposal to take her down, he didn't hesitate. Hubris was never tolerated by him.

Zahir didn't make any sound once she saw him feeding from Naima. She saw in his eyes that it was his gift to her. He had crashed the snake's head before it could be strong enough to bite her. She was told by her mysts that her fate was aligned with that of a man who had died long before her birth. A man she would look at but she could never see before the time was right. A man she would nourish but she wasn't meant to feed.

She fell on her knees and cut her flesh with a knife.

He stood in front of her, smelling her blood in the air. His lust for her blood was excruciating. He leaned over her as if he was a newborn and he was reliving his birth's agony. Naima vanished into oblivion along with the taste of her blood. He was so thirsty as if he had been the desert all his life and that blood line on her flesh was the Nile. Zahir had surrendered herself to him. She was offering herself to him and her blood was there to seal the deal.

Temptation had never hit him stronger before. He could barely breathe. All that he longed for was just a taste of her. He would have been merciful. He would have been kind. Zahir would have stayed in people's memories in her most glorious highlight. But she has always been loyal and loyalty was where he draw the line, he would never cross. So he ran away, leaving her bleeding on the floor, close to Naima's dead body.

He returned no time sooner than the second full moon. Zahir was waiting for him. She didn't ask any questions. She gave up dancing for others and became his Confidant. She even brought him the finest young women she could find so that he could feed when it was too dangerous for him to get out. Her dark hair turned into grey and then into white, little by little, full moon after full moon. Her body figure turned into a mass of wrinkles and fat but her eyes had kept their wicked spark.

He didn't know how many years she had yet to live but he was certain that Zahir would serve him even when she would have to crawl on her knees to do that. In her mind he was an ancient God from the North. It was her great honor and unique privilege to serve him. He had never told her about her past life before Egypt. Zahir had never dared to ask him anything. She had no clue whether anyone else was aware of his existence or if he had any kind of a family beyond the Nile and the dark Mediterranean Sea... up to the day that a letter arrived and it had written his full name on it.

She held the precious letter as if it was holy; a reflection of a mystic Heaven which wasn't meant for her. She was waiting in agony for the hours to pass by one after the other, like the waves of the Nile in the lazy summer. The night came bringing a familiar breeze along with it. She knew he would go hunting. So she had to wait some more hours for him to return. She was obliged to offer him the only things that she could never posses; time.

Zahir entered the room and saw him standing naked in front of her with his long blond hair failing miserably to cover his divine nudity. His cold blue eyes could see through her soul. For a moment she thought that in case she turned around, she would see Naima's naked dead body lying on his bed. Zahir turned but the bed was empty. She took a closer look at the envelope. Her hands were no longer pretty but he was still there standing in front of her, beyond time and mortality. For a creature despising Hubris, he had been the greatest hubris she had ever witnessed. Deep inside, she knew that no one could escape Nemesis forever; neither the% blessed ones, nor the damned ones.

She came closer and handed the letter to him. Zahir had escaped his blood thirst years ago but she knew well that she couldn't escape what was even more powerful than that. So she surrendered once more... to fate this time.

She didn't say a word. She just gave him the letter, turned around instantly and vanished silently. The oracle had told her what was yet to come but she couldn't dare to whisper it to him. After all it has always been his path. He had no choice other than walk it as soon as the call was delivered on his doorstep. It was full moon again and the new era had just begun.

He took the letter. His fingers recognized the sealing wax simple by touching it, moments before he saw it. He could recognize smell its scent among all the spices of the East; a rare mix of wax, blood and perfume. The Prince's Chevalier was used only in one occasion and that would be to call the Nobel's of each clan for a gathering. He looked at the front page of the envelope.

" Mister AAH, son of None

Palace of the Nile's Moon

Egypt"

He turned the envelope and looked at its back side.

" Oudeis, Son of Pelasgus

Acheron River,

Bridge between the living & the dead"

None would ever dare to call him by his true name unless the Prince was dying. He took a step back and used his mystic powers. The ones he had been avoiding to use for decades now. No, Prince wasn't among the dead Vampires. He searched for him among the undead ones. He couldn't point out his spiritual sign either. This could only mean one thing. The Prince was hibernating in another world, out of his reach.

He didn't need to read the letter to figure it out. Hierarchy was at risk with the Prince dying. Clans would start fighting for power and anarchy would be their damnation. His lustful nights in Egypt were over. He turned around and looked at his luxurious outfits, his sensual perfumes and his musical instruments. This era of his existence was officially over. He had to leave it all behind once more like he always did.

He stood in front of his closet with a vague hesitation in his steps. He wasn't ready for one more war. He had already seen so many of them that he could count them no more. He outlasted all of them thanks to Acheron's powers. Nevertheless he suddenly felt so exhausted just by contemplating a new one that the temptation to just lay there till he could watch the sun rise for a first and last time seemed irresistible.

A voice shouted inside his head

"Oudeis! Stand up!"

He had no choice but to open the closet, throw his glorious outfits on the floor and grab his old travel bag. Night after night he was hoping that he wouldn't have to take it out of the closet. The ancient Gods had been merciful and have offered him many years of absolute freedom. Those years were already a memory. He opened the bag and started wearing his true outfit; that of a mystic warrior. Aah was already dead by the time he had dressed up. Oudeis, son of Pelasgus was back to serve the Prince and the legacy of his clan.

Zahir entered the room once more. She gasped as she saw him in his outfit for the first time. She didn't make any sound. She didn't even have the time to move as Oudeis was feeding from her. He couldn't take anything or anyone along with him. He couldn't leave her behind either. He didn't care whether it would be Acheron the one to take her to the land of the dead or Nile. She was running free in his veins; from his lips and tongue straight to every inch of his frozen body. She would stay with him forever even though he would soon forget that she even existed.

He disappeared under the moonlight on his way to Alexandria's port. It was a long journey from Egypt to Spain but he had to make a stop there and join Calista Noite. She must have received her own invitation as well. This dark and sinful seductress was the most powerful Queen of Shadows and he needed to join forces with her before they arrived at the Prince and faced the Clans. He despised travelling by boat. Sailors' blood tasted like rats' blood but he had no other option.

He found out which ship was on its way to Pyrenees and got on board without anyone taking notice. There was hardly any sailor from the crew left alive by the time the ship entered the Spanish Port. Nobody ever figured it out what happened to all those missing sailors. As soon as the moon was up in the sky he was on his way to Calista's castle.

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"A Prince of Crows" is a Vampire story written by a team. Due to unforseen circumastances this story was never completed so I share only my fragments of the story which were parts of a bigger picture.