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It had been well past curfew when the sounds from the forest close by had begun to scare us. Dusk had fallen only an hour or two before and we were all happily playing on the bank when we started to hear the cracking of leaves and snapping of twigs. We were, as any other would be in similar situations, more frightened than we?d ever been. My friend Paige and I decided to go check it out. Living for my entire life in the fiery bowels of hell could not have prepared me any better for what I was about to see.

Upon entering a small clearing in the dark forest Hek-To Radrida, or Forest of the Saints, we came upon an image that most people would consider the most horrifying thing ever seen on the mortal and immortal plains alike. Paige and I were no exception. I simply stood, shocked at the sight that lay before me. I am not going to say I wasn't scared, or that I did not want to vomit, or that my eyes did not burn at the awful sight, but I certainly did not show it, and I would not have dreamed of running away.

My knees had become weak, and my feet rooted to the ground on which I stood. My heart raced as I looked on. In the clearing, not far from where I was standing, was my best friend's father, Marcus. He and Michael, my best friend in the world, whom I had loved like a brother, had the same eyes and hair. If I had not known him so well, I never would have been able to recognize him by looking at him. For his eyes, once a pale blue were now blood red and his nails had grown more than a half inch, and in his pale hands there lay an even paler boy, not much older than me and Paige. I had never seen the boy before, but I was sure that he was from our clan. He wore the same yellow band around his waist and his eyes were outlined in bright yellow paint.

At the first instant upon seeing them, I thought the boy had been wounded and completely missed the reason Paige was silently crying while standing beside me. I thought Marcus was helping him. But, upon further inspection, I saw the scene for what it really was. Marcus, the noble Marcus, was holding the limp boy in his arms, slowly tearing at the boy's blood stained flesh with what I now recognized as fangs and lapping up the thick red pools that rose into the delicate surface. The boy was, dear gods, he was still alive. I will never forget the look in his eyes. Glazed over with lust, seduction, hurt, betrayal, but no pain. He was hurting, but there was no pain. He was in love, but he felt betrayed. ?And,? I had thought, though the mere idea of it made me sick. ?he?s still alive.?

I could not turn away as the respected official slowly drank of my fellow clansman's warm, dark blood. I stood, mesmerized as I watched a murder being committed, a new feeling, breaking into my numbed emotions. I felt as if this was the way it should be. I could not help but thinking that as soon as his fangs had pierced the young boy's skin, he was no longer a victim. He was just part of the food chain. ?Survival of the Fittest? kept ringing in my ears. It pounded into my brain as if someone were trying to sear the words into my memory and eventually it enveloped me. I collapsed, confusion and exhaustion overcoming my desperate attempts to stay awake, I let the darkness consume me.

I woke a few nights later on the banks of the Tamadai. It took me a few minutes to realize what had apparently happened. I confirmed my suspicions when I ran my fingertips over a sore spot on my neck. When I saw blood on the said digits, I knew. For some reason, I had not died from the attack, I was grateful then, but later, it was going to be the worst thing that could have ever happened to me.