Heavy knocking woke Titus from his slumber. Though cramped, the tiny space had served him well. He only hoped the transformation had completed. Barely able to move within his sinewy web, he raised one hand and weakly rapped two times, the signal urging caution.

Three more answered from outside—the driver understood.

Several minutes passed followed by the soft bounce of movement. The carriage creaked as it slowly rolled forward. Thankfully, Titus had planned for such an abrupt transformation, but worried his legion would be poorly practiced in their response. If they exposed him to light it could all be ruined in an instant. After a bit more swaying and a few lurching stops, all movement ceased.

“Salvator!” a muffled voice called, a woman’s, and Titus felt his anxiety fade. She called him by his title known only to his legion, meaning his vampure had received his carriage.

A few heartbeats later the compartment opened. He flinched against any light which may enter. Thankfully, Diana knew what to do and had received it in the catacombs. She raised the lid slowly and gasped.

Titus again worried something had gone wrong. “How bad?” he asked his courtesan.

“Not bad at all,” she whispered. Her hands reached into the compartment, gently ripping the webbing from between his skin and the wooden walls of his prison. She took special care when freeing his shoulders, careful not to harm his wings.

“Is the process complete?” he asked.

She slowly turned his face toward hers. Only the faintest of light revealed her smiling eyes. Tears of joy misted their edges. She ran a finger along the crown of bony protrusions along his hairline and traced steep cheeks down to his long fangs, then replied, “The result is glorious, Salvator! Where did you find pure sanguis?”

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“In the least likely of places—under our noses in plain sight! They were infants, Diana! Firekin! Their mother, a child of the Ancient One, walking among humans and spreading his prophetic lies.”

“Why would he expose one of his own children in such a way?” she asked, shocked by the revelation. “He truly is as heartless as he is arrogant!”

“To breed with humans, to water down his bloodline in a desperate move to bond more vinculum!”

“Then Goro is indeed winning this war,” Diana realized.

“Yes,” Titus agreed. “The Ancient One grasps at straws while we continue to guide civilization toward prosperity. Someday Goro will reward us handsomely for our deeds.” A thought came on suddenly, causing him to try and lift his body to look around. He proved too weak and slackened in the arms of his courtesan. “Have they arrived?” he asked her. “Have my voltur brought them as I commanded?”

She shook her head. “No, Salvator, no one had come. Who should I expect?”

“My gift to you, Diana. The children you could not carry in your own womb. They will be yours to raise as long as Goro allows us both to live.”

“Thank you, my love,” she leaned in close and, unbothered by his fangs, kissed him deeply.

As she pulled away Titus asked drowsily, “What time of day is it?”

“A little past noon.”

“I need more rest, but there is little time to waste. We must perform the ceremony tonight.”

Diana agreed. “Legionaries!” she called. “Lift Salvator and convey him to our rooms.”

Two soldiers rushed forward, stepping onto the carriage and reaching into the compartment. Carefully, they braced his arms and pulled him to a standing position. The membrane around his body tore away as they did, slowly revealing two broad and leathery wings. The rest of his body had changed as well, taller and broader, more muscled atop his thicker skeletal frame.

As they eased him down from the steps onto the stone walkway, Titus stretched his wings, giving them a shake.

“Glorious,” Diana said again. “You’re nearly a visage of Goro himself.”