Cold wind blew in through the window, tousling Iago’s hair. He watched the moon in its all its silver glory, painting the world a glistening grey. Iago followed the stream of light over the collapsed buildings, cracked streets. Far to the right a movement caught his attention. 

A person, thinking he was alone, unobserved, was swinging his sword against a dummy. Alec. It’s been hours since he started and following the normal pattern would last another few. If anything, that man had perseverance. 

Further, a white mansion loomed. In the dark of the night, it permeated an air of ethereal. Could be mistaken for a ghost. One that haunted Iago’s worst nightmares. 

Sound of wings snapping distracted him. He turned to see Scorpius land behind him. 

“There’s nothing unusual tonight.” 

Good, it meant the world was still intact. Cyana was yet to make a move. 

It was almost funny how she hadn’t recognised him. He was a different person now, not a shadow of the old one left in his visage but still. When entering, he had been certain she’ll know in an instant and blast him to smithereens.

He’d have done it to her had he could. 

But she watched him with interest, calculating how much use he could have. Not for a moment had a flash of recognition passed through her eyes. Not a flicker of knowing, of doubt. To her, he was a nobody. A new toy she found in this boring land. 

Fury coursed through him but he pushed it down. This was nothing new. Had she ever thought of him otherwise? No, not at all. This change, what he’d done - none of it mattered. In her eyes, even had she known, it was but a child’s tantrum. 

Yet Father was dead. Hopefully. He considered the possibility of that man being alive and a shiver ran down his back. No, it was impossible. He would not have left his daughter for a moment if he was alive. She was the precious jewel of the family, the whole kingdom after all. 

There was just her left. He wished he could go and strangle her, push a sword through her heart and burn the body but as always, he was but an ant in her shadow. This power he had, it was wonderful, exhilarating, but not enough. Not even close.

Seeing her, the way all currents rushed into her, not a drop remaining, was eye opening. Even with Shea’s help, he would be powerless. They were no match against that talent. The Energy currents listened to her like obedient hounds, without a thought of rebellion. 

But not all power rested in shaping. This time he was going to win over the population and not let it go to waste. There were hundreds of examples of wasted potential in his memories, all of them ending in ruination. They would serve as his stepping stone, the foundation for his play. 

“Why did you shape those kids? They could have died,” Scorpius ventured. His voice was low, uncertain. 

Iago tilted his head towards his only companion. The nosferatu stood a couple steps back with his head down. As always, the dark cloak hid his form and most of the body language. Still, the stooped form, downcast eyes were enough to know something was wrong. 

“Do you feel sorry for those kids?” 

“They did nothing to deserve risking their lives with a shaping…” 

“You worry too much,” Iago murmured turning around. He leaned over the windowsill, breathing in the cool air. His head was like a minefield, every other thought bringing fury surging through him. How could she survive? “There was no risk. I know the human body as a blacksmith knows his forge.” 

“But if you’d made a mistake! You yourself said it’s dangerous to use the shaping!” the young man cried out, breaking his calm. “It’s unstable!” 

The shaper sighed, pushing his hair back from his eyes. “Shaping itself isn’t unstable. It’s the person who wields the power that is.” He turned, giving Scorpius a strained half-smile. “But I know my limits. You don’t need to worry.” 

There was a grunt from the nosferatu, one that didn’t sound convinced, just out of arguments. 

“What Shea said, you don’t need to think about it. Using the raw currents is dangerous, aye, but not as bad as she made it sound. As long as one doesn’t overstep, he can reach old age shaping and see no problems.” 

“When why did she fear it so? Do shapers envy the power of those with less talent?” 

Oh, he was asking good questions today. Ones Iago wasn’t fond of thinking about. 

Reaching old age with his way of shaping was a possibility, he hadn’t lied, but a very thin one. Soldiers became old too. But the problem was in how many of them. One bad placement, air-headed commander or simply an unattended armour, weapons could snap the thread of life. Even when none of those happened, it wasn’t certain. 

Wars were meant for people to die in them. So, was the shaping. You sold your body for power, an ability to see the world as you wanted it before expiring. There was no way of escaping this bargain. 

“Is it a shaper secret?” Scorpius asked, not receiving a reply for a long time. 

“No, not at all. Power has a price. The more you want, the costlier it gets.” He shrugged. “As long as I don’t need to do extraordinary feats, there’s little to no danger to me.” 

Somewhat of a lie. Every shaping was a risk. A smallest distraction, stray thought and he could be done for. This was playing with something much much worse than fire. 

“I will make sure you don’t need to then, I swear it!” Scorpius declared, raising his head to look straight at Iago. Their gazes met and the shaper was surprised by the intensity in the youth’s eyes. He was being serious. 

“Thank you,” Iago whispered, turning away from Scorpius. Not able to hold his eyes for long. 

There was too much sincerity, genuine feeling in them. Iago didn’t deserve such dedication and he knew it. Damn, what was he doing? Was his revenge against her worth the sacrifice of this young man, so full of life and foolish trust? 

Bitter laugher bubbled in his chest, but he held it down. Once more he was walking the same path, another mistake in the making. The image was clear in his eyes - bodies strewn in death with relief on their faces. All of them satisfied to have died for his goal. None would fault him for being unreasonable, sacrificing friends and foes alike to rid the world of one person. Neither would they voice a word against him being the only one surviving, finally able to break the chains enslaving him to the past. 

Instead they’d be proud of it, relief escaping with their last breaths. It had been the true goal, after all. 

He knew this would happen. He was certain of it. It had once already. 

And yet the fury raged in his soul. How could she live? Nothing would ever change with her alive! This world didn’t deserve to be enslaved once more by her and her kind! The lineage of her family had to die. It needed to be eradicated from this world once and for all! 

They would corrupt everything. 

Old aches awoke in his body, personal knowledge of her touch, even as he knew it wasn’t real. The damage had been healed by Kallum himself. This body was in perfect health, full of energy from working days and nights to earn every coin possible. Yet he felt a memory of a thorn crown on his head, horns getting in the way of his side vision. 

Shadow limbs ached, that extra pair of hands he’d learnt to utilise only after a month. They had never gotten comfortable but at least he managed to get them out of the way. Pain laced through his back as spikes grew, or a recollection of them. For half a year, winter mostly, he couldn’t wear anything because of them. 

Cold night air suddenly became chillier. Or was it the memory of those nights spent curled up in a ball, shivering as everything got torn from the sharpness of the spikes? She had later added some on his arms and legs too ‘to make it match’ as she had put it. 

It was a wonder he hadn’t frozen to death. He was a lively fellow if nothing else. 

Back then he had still believed, he was certain he could make it all right. Foolish dreams, something that would bring all this about. He spared a look towards Scorpius and regretted it. The nosferatu hadn’t moved, watching him with unsuspecting eyes. Trust shone in them like the sun after a seemingly endless night. 

“Thank you,” he whispered again, his throat clogging up. This wasn’t right. It was monstrous of him to ask this and yet he knew he won’t push him away. His need was too great to let assets go, to make them leave because he felt sorry for them. 

No, this was a war he couldn’t lose no matter what. Winning was the only way he could honour such dedication. It would mean nothing, a pointless endeavour but it would have to be enough. It had to be enough. 

He’ll take her life and if it cost him a thousand lives, so be it. She was worth the price. Her end that is. 

“Leave the mansion alone for now, she won’t be making a move until she learns more about me. Focus your scouting on the soldiers and survivors that think me a pretender. Maybe even check up on Scavengers if they come closer to the camp.” 

The nosferatu nodded. “Is there anything specific I should listen for?” 

“Anything that might turn them my way. I need them to trust me if I’m to change this place.” 

Scorpius inclined his head in understanding and was about to shift into his bat form when a pang of hunger washed over him. His body tensed, fangs elongating at the scent of life in the near vicinity. An unsuspecting human was standing before him, defenceless and ready to be drained dry. 

He pulled his fangs back, turning away shame faced. “I-” 

“Hey,” Iago said coming to stand before him, arms crossed. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?” 

A lie was on his lips but one look at the man’s eyes told him it wouldn’t work. That question apparently was more of a statement than anything else. 

“I told you I’m fine with it so why hide and weaken yourself?” The shaper pushed his sleeve up, revealing the bare flesh of his wrist. Blood pulsed. Scorpius could see it, hear it, smell it and - he was half-certain - already taste it. That delectable life saving liquid. Nectar stolen from the goddess herself.

It was torture to hold back when his whole body screamed to jump, sink his fangs into the pulsing vein. Beckoning him to come forward. 

“I don’t want to weaken you,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “It’s wrong of me to ask this… I don’t… It’s not right!” 

Iago hit Scorpius’ head with the back of his hand. “Don’t you think I know better whether I can spare some or not? I’m not weak enough that losing a glass of blood would endanger me.” 

Those words barely registered the permission in Scorpius’ mind as he lunged forward, grabbing the hand with its tantalising blood within. Fangs sinking in, he revelled at the marvel of the crimson substance. 

With each mouthful he felt his body rejuvenating. What was once good became excellent. He was certain he was twice as strong, no three times. His body kept on changing, improving right as he drank. Each drop was used to make him an even more formidable predator. 

Energy surged through him, he could no longer stay still. A need to raise, hunt surged in his mind. No prey could elude him when he was this powerful! Brimming with energy! 

“That’s enough,” a voice murmured and he found himself forcefully shoved off. Licking his lips to savour the last traces of the sacred nectar he watched his prey sluggishly hobble through the room. 

No, not prey! His mind reasserting after the feeding haze, Scorpius saw Iago slump over the bed. Not moving. 

Had he killed him? Horror fuelling his steps, he dashed to check up on the shaper. 

Iago turned his head, blinking slowly. “I’m fine. Let me sleep it off and I’ll be like new tomorrow.” 

“I’ve taken too much! I’m so sorry! I didn’t..! It’s…! I’m so so-” 

“Enough!” The shaper snapped but his voice lacked strength. It was no louder than a sigh. Without his enhanced hearing, Scorpius wasn’t certain he would have heard it at all. “Go and do something… Let me… rest.” 

“As you say…” 

He whirled, shifted into his bat form and left through the window into the dark night. He didn’t want to think about what had just happened. How could he have done this? Once again Iago showed his trust in him, and he betrayed it in the worst possible way. 

There were no excuses. 

He was a monstrosity, someone not deserving to live. Never before had he understood the hidden truth behind it. Always he had thought it was strange how his kind needed the blood of others to sustain them but it had meant nothing. Drain a bit of blood and leave. 

Now he saw the real horror of the act. He hurt his friend. Knowingly. And it won’t be the last time. Whenever he got hungry, it would be the same until one day he grew strong enough to disregard the push and drain his victim dry. 

Victim! Even now, clear headed - or so he saw himself - he still referred to the only person that actually cared about him that way. What did that make of him? 

No, he couldn’t think about it now. Iago would be furious were he to find out and order him to focus his attention on the tasks ahead. Maybe that was the right way. If he figured how to become actually useful, it would atone for his sins. A laughable goal, nothing could make it right hurting those close to you. But maybe it would let some of the guilt rest. 

Hopefully. 

Sending a sound wave ahead, he let echo location paint the world for him. Nothing was out of the ordinary so he flew towards the only interesting location. 

Most people were sleeping at this time. It was closing in on midnight, the dead of night when spirits were said to wake and roam the earth. A silly superstition, he’d never seen anything of the kind, but it kept the majority of people inside. They preferred the dubious safety of having others close to them, the sound of their steady breathing. 

Far enough away from the barracks to not be heard, Alec was swinging his sword. He fought without armour, nothing to weight him down, but sweat was running down his face in rivulets. His breath came in ragged gasps as he swung and swung. 

The blade sang as it whooshed through the air, slamming against a training dummy. Again and again. Thousands of cuts already marred the wooden surface of the dummy but the man was intent on tripling that number, or breaking the equipment. Couple of those lay shattered to the side. 

Hanging on the ledge, wings tucked tightly around his body, Scorpius wondered what would it take to turn this man. He close to hated Iago for being a shaper, doing what he wanted, insulting his hero and goddess only knew what else. Worst of all, Alec hid none of that. 

Everyone by now should know about his dislike for Iago. 

But his assistance could be invaluable. He was the leader of the soldiers and they followed all of his commands. If he shifted his views, the majority would follow in his lead. 

There were also other survivors to consider. They weren’t dependant on Alec but all trusted in him to do the right thing. His distrust of Iago was viewed with worry, leaving people unable to decide. They wanted to believe in a saviour, a shaper that cared about them, but if their leaders were against it… 

Mala was doing a good job of converting people into her religion but it was a double-edged sword. They would required miracles from Iago soon enough, that was the way of cults, but it would endanger him. Scorpius had promised to prevent that but could he really make that happen? He was just a nosferatu. 

If he only showed his face, they would call a holy war on him without hearing a word he said. There wouldn’t be a moments hesitation and Iago would suffer for either trying to stop everyone, or having to let him die without doing anything. Either way was unacceptable. Hadn’t he hurt him enough? 

It would be much better if Alec came to join them of his own free will. Then people would flock to their cause without expecting miracles or legends re-enacted. Greatness could be achieved through simple leadership, sound commands. 

But what was it that drove this man? He trained at day with his soldiers and then three times the amount alone each night. It was an extremely rare occasion not to find him here beating the defenceless training dummy. 

Scorpius pondered it until the man exhausted himself to the point the sword slipped through his fingers but no revelation came to him. The person before him, kneeling on all four, hair hiding the expression on his face while he caught his ragged breath, was as unfathomable as ever. 

Unwinding his wings, Scorpius was ready to fly off when a sound in the distance caught his attention. It was very quiet and indistinct but not wind for sure. What could it - 

A shrill scream cut the air. 

Loud and thin, it must have been one of the children. 

The soldier pushed himself upwards but Scorpius had no time to waste on him. He was already flying towards the origin of the sound near the survivor camp. It was two streets over from where the sleeping building was which brought a question of who was still up at this time. No one should have been wandering the streets. 

His flight took him through two groups of people, each seven men strong. They halted, scanning the night for what had passed them but seeing nothing continued on their way. They were people on a mission. No mere superstition could deter them from completing what they set out to do. 

But Scorpius had no time to wait and see what it was. The survivors upon who’s building the Scavengers, it must have been them, converged will have to take of it themselves. 

The sound of the boy’s cry was just a bit further away. Silence reigned there and that quiet sunk Scorpius’ stomach but he veered from thinking anything. He would be on time. Those people had no reason to kill a child. Had they? 

Descending on the scene, he saw the boy lying limp in one man’s arms. Soft breath left his lips but the rapid signs exchanged between his captors didn’t promise anything good. Another flutter of hand movements and the man sighed, taking a step back. His companion took out his dagger, ready to slit the boy’s throat. 

The child meant nothing to Scorpius. He’d first seen the boy when the kid was searching for Iago along with the rest of the survivors. After that the boy flitted through his vision a couple times as he watched the camp but not once had he paid any attention to him. 

Yet anger inflamed in his chest. This boy had done nothing to deserve this kind of fate. He was supposed to continue living, grow up and make something of himself! Everyone had to have a choice in what future brought to them! 

And these people had chosen theirs when they decided to prey on the weak. 

Shifting mid-air Scorpius dropped on the knife-man. He crumbled from the weight, and for a quarter of a second Scorpius marvelled at how quick, how fluid the transformation had been. This was the power of the blood! 

While the man’s companions were too stunned to move, Scorpius dashed to the kid, grabbing him by the hand. It would hurt no doubt, leave a definite mark, but that was a better choice than having him killed. 

The kid weighted nothing and Scorpius caught him in his arms, jumping up the building wall to deposit him on a flat roof. He should be safe here as long as those humans had no shape-shifting friends. 

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When he dived back down to finish his work, the men had found their wits. Raised swords awaited his arrival, a couple shields to block his attacks. 

He caught the first swing with his hand, twisting the weapon from its owners hand. The bearded man stared at him, disbelieving, the look not changing when he got knocked out cold. 

Others in the meantime surrounded Scorpius, watching him with weary gazes. He returned the stares, loosening his fangs so those unfortunate men knew what they were facing. Fear overtook one and he blanched, his sword arm wavering in front of him. 

That was enough of an opening and Scorpius stepped in. Grabbing the sword hand he twisted it, hearing the bones snap. Sword fell to the ground and he punched the man in his chest. The swordsman flew a couple feet, landing on his back unconscious.

The remaining Scavengers slashed for his back but they moved at a snail’s pace in his eyes. Twisting to dodge three he blocked the fourth, lunging into the man’s space. The man raised a shield to block him but Scorpius tore it loose.

He was so powerful it was exhilarating. These people were like dry twigs against the hurricane of his boundless energy. There was nothing any of them could do but fall in his path. 

His opponent flailed, trying to bring in his weapon but the sword was too long, unwieldy when the enemy was in your face. Scorpius used the side of his hand to hit the back of the man’s neck and watched him crumple to the ground. 

Finally understanding they had no chance, the rest darted in all directions to save their hides. Scorpius caught them all in no time, incapacitating them for the moment. This way they won’t be able to hurt anyone this night. 

He hoped they would leave and never set foot in here again but that wasn’t human nature. Having lived long enough watching them, he knew they never did the sensible thing. In one way or another they twisted the logic to suit their crazy ideas and plans. 

The child whimpered atop the roof and Scorpius ran to him. Taking the boy into his arms, he leapt off the roof towards where the other survivors were. He would leave him near them and it would be over. It would be the safest place for someone so young. 

His run was halted by the sound of metal clanging against something. Was it stone? Battling on his own, he had tuned out what was happening farther away. Now the noise assailed him in full throttle. 

People were screaming, pain and horror mixed interchangeably, fire crackled somewhere and he could taste the smoke in the air. Taking a longer route for cleaner air he listened to the voices, trying to determine what they were saying. 

Most were just screams but a few were orders, “Fight! Surround them! Don’t back down! Surrender! You have no chance of winning! Save your people and lay down the weapons! We can’t! No! Yes!” It was hard to differentiate between the voices in the cacophony of noise but he was almost certain the survivors were losing. That baritone didn’t belong to anyone in the camp. 

He jumped onto a remainder of a roof, trying to get a vantage point to see what was happening before the sleeping building. The child squirmed in his grasp but didn’t try to escape. Nor scream. Only now Scorpius considered how quiet and accepting the boy was being. 

But he didn’t have time to wander about that. The scene in the street around the building could have been brought by some twisted priest’s depiction of underworld where the worst of all races resided. 

Wood had been dragged to one side of the building to smoke out the inhabitants. A couple of them had been cut the moment they left outside, before the survivors understood what was going on. After someone had managed to control their panic, forming a tight ball of people with women, elderly and two children on the inside. 

Blocking their path were the two groups of Scavengers Scorpius had passed on his flight towards the child. All of them were men from fifteen to fifty with swords, shields and light leather armour to protect them. 

At their front stood a bulky man with a scar on one cheek. He watched the proceedings with small, beady eyes. By his side another man kept on shouting for survivors to spread out and surrender. They won’t be killed he promised but that word alone made the human circle shiver, tightening their grips on table legs and stones picked from the ground. 

The leader man glared at his spokesperson but the damage had been done. Now everyone was certain they were going to die the moment they let those strangers get closer. 

“Boss, the children militia is almost here.” 

“Are they alone?” 

The scout answered with a wicked smile. 

“Deal with them swiftly, then. Don’t leave a single one of them alive.” 

“Got it,” the scout saluted with a wide grin. He shouted out some foreign word and a group of men separated from the main body. None of them looked as eager as their leader to go slaughter teenagers but neither did they oppose the command. 

Hefting their weapons, they moved to intercept the approaching militia. 

Two, three seconds more and they came out from the bend with their own swords glistening in the moon’s light. It would have been a sight worthy of a royal painter had the soldiers looked the part as their weapons. 

Armour put on haphazardly: gauntlets rattling loose, shoulder guards missing while helmets stood crooked. They ran without any order, slightly faster than a normal human walk. Very slightly. 

Alec at their front moved with a dead man’s vigour. His armour was the most well put, missing only unnecessary components but there was no energy to his step. He was running on borrowed time.

Knowing what he had been doing up till now, it was no wonder. He was in no shape to fight. 

Scavengers advanced on them with four people at the front and the other three couple steps back. Scorpius had seen fights like this before and knew they would wait for a perfect opportunity to join in. When they entered, the battle would be over in an instant. 

The soldiers blocked the first few attacks from the Scavengers first line but their defence was a tragic sight. They tripped on their own feet, used swings requiring more space when they had and getting in each others way the rest of the time. Their number advantage was used against them with a frightful precision. 

Not long after one fell, and then another. The others stepped in to cover them but it was a doomed endeavour. They couldn’t hold for much longer. The difference in skill was as wide as the ocean. Those children soldiers never had the smallest chance of winning. 

Scorpius lowered the boy in his hands to the steady part of the roof he was standing on. There was no other way. He would have to interfere without a care for people finding out about his existence. It would sadden Iago but he would understand. These were the people that didn’t deserve to die. They had been kind in their own way. 

Through following them on a daily basis, Scorpius had learnt about them and started to like what he saw. These people might not accept him for what he was but they were good in their hearts. They fought to protect those they cared about, help those that no longer had anything and prove to the world that there was a reason why they were spared by the destruction. Something he was quite familiar with. 

Before he jumped down, another soldier fell, his helmet rolling away. One of the younger ones, no more than fifteen. He grappled for his weapon but a Scavenger stood on it, watching the boy with a scowl. Seeing him not ready to push the advantage, the scout with his twisted grin rushed in for the kill. 

It was too far for Scorpius to interfere and he braced for the sound of skin being cut, blood rushing out with a smell tempting him to feast. He was so glad he had just been filled or else he wasn’t certain he would be able to hold out. But now, it will be okay. He was almost certain of it. 

Blade reached for the neck, Alec tried to free himself from his opponent without success, another soldier kicked his or hers opponent and ran when the knife slipped from the leader man’s hand. He watched it fall with a dumbstruck expression, stopping in his track. His hand was a finger’s length away from the boy’s neck, one that would have been torn open had there been a blade in that hand. 

“Stop right there,” a soft voice ordered from the darkness. Iago walked towards the fighters with a steady step but even in the darkness Scorpius could see the paleness of his face. Sweat collected on his forehead but the shaper didn’t pay it any heed. “Leave if you want to keep your lives.” 

“Tch, who do you think you are?” the smirking guy asked, straightening out. 

Iago ignored him, coming into the middle between the frozen fighters and bending to check-up on the kid who was paler than him. “Grey, are you all right? Can you move?” 

The boy stared for a long moment, then nodded with hesitation. He crawled away and Scorpius could see relief on Iago’s face. It was short lived as he turned to face the enemy. “Leave. I won’t repeat it again.” 

“Men, kill this joker!” The scout picked up Grey’s sword and twisting it in his arm a couple times advanced on Iago with all six of his followers. None of the soldiers tried to stop them, staring starry eyed at Iago and wandering, just as Scorpius was most likely, what will happen now. 

Scavengers surrounded him, and raised their swords in unison. It would have been dangerous had the militia any will to fight but they were out of it. Scorpius wouldn’t have paid them any attention had he been the enemy either. 

Because of the encirclement he could no longer see Iago’s face but his voice was clear as day. “I warned you!” His words were followed by seven swords falling to the ground in a loud clang, seven bodies right after with a heavier thump.  

Then Iago turned and raised his hand towards the remaining Scavengers. They didn’t have time to shout or scream, run or beg as they followed their companions’ example. In a heartbeat everything was over. A dozen or so bodies littering the now quiet street. 

Iago turned, lowering himself to one of the fallen soldiers from the militia. He deftly opened the armour and checked on the bruises, wide gash on the left arm. “Someone bring me bandages! And clean water!” 

For a moment Scorpius thought that his words will be ignored but after another heartbeat Alec dropped his sword, helmet and ran off. He returned having lost the rest of his armour with a box of tinctures, bandages and herbs in one hand. The other held a bucket full of water. 

After inspecting the bottles, Iago cleaned the wound, shaped it closed and spread the ointment in silence. His charge squirmed, gasped but was held in place by Alec and a large man having joined from the survivors. “Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked when Iago was finishing. 

The shaper raised his head with a look of such profound exhaustion, guilt tore at Scorpius’ chest like the claws of a lycantrope. If not for him, Iago wouldn’t be this weak! He wouldn’t need to be pushing himself, acting normal when he was about to fall off any moment. 

“I was apprenticed to a healer.” He tied the bandage and ensuring it held true, moved his gaze to Alec. “Keep him from any strenuous activities or using that arm. If he does that, he’ll be able to use it in no time.” 

“Thank you,” Alec said with a nod. “Hugh, how do you feel?” 

“All tingly…” the boy murmured, his eyes blinking slowly. They were closing for longer and longer periods of time until they didn’t open at all. 

Noticing the looks levelled at him, Iago explained. “There’s a relaxant in that ointment and I thought it would serve him well to have a good night’s sleep.” He then moved to other victims. They shied from his approach but he was quick with removing their armour and gently examining the damaged parts of the body. 

None of the others had any large wounds so he picked a salve from the box, passing it to one of them “Spread it over the worst of the bruises to soothe the pain and quicken the healing process.” 

Denni picked it from the boy staring at his hand as if it was a snake. “I’ll make sure they do it,” she promised. 

“That’s it then.” Iago stood up, harder than was natural for him, and faced the path to the tower. It wouldn’t have been that far on a normal day, but now Scorpius feared he would not make the journey. 

He followed his slow progress until he reached the bend and then returned his attention to the crowd below him. There was so much information to miss here were he to leave. 

“Shouldn’t you follow him?” the boy by his side asked in a quiet voice. Scorpius shifted his eyes to him, having forgotten about his existence. The kid was squatting at the edge of the roof, looking up at Scorpius without any fear. “You’re friends, right?” 

“He wouldn’t want me to.” It was true, he was certain of it. There was little Scorpius could do for him if he followed after. Help him up were he to fall? It would be great but Iago would most likely rather sleep by some building, wrapped in his cloak than have his plan be delayed by a day. 

The way he was after meeting the mistress of the house, it wasn’t normal. She must have done something inexcusable, worse than death itself to deserve such a deep seated hatred. It couldn’t be anything short of killing a precious someone. 

Scorpius hated her without knowing anything about her. It was a fault, he knew, but at the same it he was sure it was the correct choice. She couldn’t be a good person if someone loathed her as much as Iago did. 

“Who are you, mister? Why haven’t I seen you before?” the kid asked with curiosity. Not a shadow of fear was evident in his expression or voice. 

“No one. You should forget you ever met me.” 

There were sounds of people walking, trying to be sneaky behind them. Scorpius turned to see seven shadows flitting from one building to another. They would reach the defenceless survivors in ten heartbeats. 

He crouched down, wandering which alley would be best to ambush them. He didn’t want to reveal his presence to the rest of the camp if there was a chance of avoiding it. 

“I won’t talk but you have to meet me again!” the boy declared as Scorpius found the place he liked. It was close enough for the Scavengers to get a look at their fallen comrades but with a corner alley he could hide in, and fight if necessary without attracting too much attention. “In one weeks time! Otherwise I talk!” 

A petty threat. No one would believe a child saying he was saved by a man in a heavy woollen cloak that could scale three floor buildings on foot. He grabbed the child into his arms and jumped down. Bending knees lessened the impact but it still reverberated through his bones. 

Depositing the child on the ground he ran off with a smile on his face. He was so much stronger than before. It was like someone had improved every muscle, strengthened the bones until nothing could break them. His reflexes were razor sharp and he rounded the turn like a gust of wind. 

Scavengers were exiting a corner street, ready to make their way towards the survivors. The men were quick to notice his form, a shiver passing through more than a few. 

“Look, understand and then leave. I won’t hesitate to take your lives the second time.” 

He really hoped they won’t force his hand. If they did, he could knock them out and then make some noise to attract the survivors? It would be simple but would that change the fate of these men? Doubtful. 

They were nobodies. He didn’t know any of them. It should have been easy, he was a nosferatu, after all! His kind was notorious for killing everyone and everything that got in their path. It didn’t matter whether they were children, virgin maidens, fighting men or old crones. 

Yet the thought sickened him. Everyone had only a single life so who was he to take it? He was powerful enough to survive without resorting to such measures. 

“You’ll let us pass?” the bearded man asked. He was the oldest in the group, carrying an axe now instead of a sword. 

Scorpius nodded, taking a step to the side. They should see and then leave. It was the best for everyone. He didn’t want blood staining his hands this night. Hurting the only person that cared about him was enough damage he’d wrought upon the world as it was. 

The man alone went past him. He kept on looking back, glancing Scorpius’ way. 

Then the sight in the street to the right stole his attention. He swore under his breath, face twisting into something disgusting. “I told them this was a suicide mission. I said we wouldn’t make it.” He rounded on Scorpius. “What happened there?” His voice was loud, it would soon attract people but there were still a couple moments. 

“A shaper.” 

“Bloody hell! We heard rumours, but…” 

“You should leave now,” Scorpius advised. “There’s nothing left for you here. Stay out of this place.” 

One of the other man stood forward, younger, more hot-blooded. “We should kill them all! Avenge our kin!” 

Scorpius tensed, growling with his fangs on full display. It brought everyone’s eyes back to him. “Leave. I won’t be giving you a third chance.” 

The men’s grips tightened on their weapons and they moved to stand near the bearded man. From that position, all glimpsed the massacre in the street. More than a few turned away grey or green faced. One took a step to the side and vomited. 

“Why is someone like you protecting them? Why don’t you just kill them all if you’re hungry?” 

Survivors were mustering in the street over. They had taken notice of the voices, sound of feet moving. He was too close with these Scavengers to remain hidden for long. There was little time left. 

”It’s not about the blood. There’s a person in this camp that I owe my life to.” He shifted his head to hear better. “Now go! They’re almost here!” 

The man locked eyes with him for a heartbeat, then secured the axe to his back. “Let’s move out! We need to bring back the news of the failure!” he ordered his men. Then for a moment returned his gaze to Scorpius. “Now we owe our lives to you. If you ever need anything, find us.” 

They ran off in an orderly fashion, taking the first turn they could. It would hide their presence from the pursuers and the chase won’t be started. None of the survivors would be eager to venture into the shadow filled streets of the city this night without sound reason. 

He watched the disappearing backs of the Scavengers for a moment longer, wandering what had come into their leader’s mind, saying they owed him, and then shook the thought off. There was enough trouble as it was, no need to look for more. 

It was about time he left too, and he shifted into a bat, flying to find a good spot for watching the survivors. At least for once there was something to break the boredom of the peaceful nights. He should have been thankful for that. 

But he wasn’t. 

*****

Author's Note: 

Finally some action! Hope you enjoyed it and comments/reviews are very welcome!