Abruth

Russia, November 15th 1895…
The country was in a joyous uproar. The Tsarina had given birth to the oldest Grand Duchess, who would be christened, Olga Nikolaevna Romanov. The Tsar ordered a grand ball in St. Petersburg in celebration. As a nineteen year old bachelor, I received an invitation. Of all the reasons to go to a ball, dancing was a reason not to. But mother says I may find a bride. While it is pointless to try to find someone who is not snippy, or self-centered, I hope to get an offer from Annastasia Smirnoff. I go but it is with an air of resignation.
As I walk, I hear the most pleasant laugh and I look up to see Katirina Ohmstadt though I am unsure of her name at the present time. The only thing I notice is her exquisite beauty. Slowly walking up to her, she meets my gaze and I marvel at the golden hue of her eyes as the chandelier catches them. As I reach her, I hold up my hand and ask, “May I have this dance?” She considers my request for a moment. For that split-second I think I see a cold, calculating hunger in her features. In the next second, it’s gone. She takes my hand and we dance to the Viennese Waltz. Absorbed by her beauty, I fail to register her taking drink after drink of Champagne. Pretty soon she leads me to the shadowy balcony, complaining of dizziness. When we reach the balcony, she retreats back into the shadows. Speaking, she chills my blood, “There are many monsters that feed on the blood and flesh of humanity, but there are very few humans that are changed into these monsters so that they can experience the senses of the predators. Would you like to feel these senses, Aberoth?” I instantly feel wary of her tone. Then I realize that she did not use my birth name. I turn to leave, but faster than I can follow; she is in front of me. She pushes me into the wall. I put up my arm and her mouth clamps down on my wrist in a vice grip. I have no voice to scream as memories and emotions surge through my mind. I collapse and awaken in a few minutes. She is watching me. “How do you feel, Aberoth?” She has successfully turned me into a Lyco-Fera, though I will not learn the term until centuries later.
Russia, 2011…
I walk along the Volga River, though it has changed little in the hundred and sixteen years that I have been immortal. I have a new scar on my chest leading from my right hip to my left shoulder. The Majai that gave me that scar has turned into dirt in an unmarked grave in the Ural Mountains. To be honest, I have seen little of Katirina and I solemnly hope she did not survive the only other Majai that had sensed our presences in Petersburg. Majai originated in Egypt in the twenty-seventh century BC during the reign of Djoser. They were tasked with defending the Pharaohs from both supernatural and physical threats.