Legends - The Blood of Dawnwalker Database

The tales say we’re just a pale imitation of the past, an era known as the Golden Age. While we struggle just to stay alive, the champions of old feasted with the gods. They used to marry them and have children with them. They fought glorious battles against giants and demons, some of whom may have been ancient vrakhiri – and they had no trouble defeating these monsters.

Little is left of that world – mostly crumbling ruins of ancient tombs and temples. Those few who dare venture into their depths hope to find gold, jewels and other treasures… but mostly find death instead, and are never seen again. Do they just get lost in the ancient mazes? Or does something else prey on them there?

We don’t know much about ancient peoples who lived in Vale Sangora before us. Anca says they were called Arimaspians, and that some of them were nomads, while others built cities and temples… but that’s about it.

Were they anything like ancient Greeks or Romans whose works Anca let me read? What gods did they believe in? Did they value peace – which seems unlikely – or did they wage neverending wars? And what treasures did they leave behind in their tombs, mausoleums and shrines?

And then, an even bigger question: if once they flourished and now they’re gone, will the same happen to us?

Most of the war chronicles I’ve read were about valiant knights and their glorious deeds. But I know that isn’t what war’s really like. Many battles are fought by mercenaries, loyal to their king or knyaz for only as long as he’s paying them. And when he stops, they start looking for a new opportunity. They don’t always find it, though, and they become bandits, turning against the very people they were meant to protect. They rob and destroy villages, they kill and harass peasants. And they’re much worse than regular troublemakers, because they are usually skilled, and also numbed by the many battles they fought. There are places where they’re the ones who hold all the power, and terrorise commoners and rulers alike.

The plague, or ‘the great pestilence’, broke out two years ago. For all we know, it’s still spreading like wildfire through most of Europe.

In addition to being deadly, the disease causes much suffering. It starts with swollen lumps, or buboes, that appear in the groin or armpits. Some of those swellings grow as large as an apple or an egg. If you open them, they bleed. And from them, the disease spreads to all other parts of the body. After a while, black spots appear, followed by fever and vomiting. Most of the infected die within a few days.

People do what they can to avoid getting infected. Some stay at home and refuse to talk to anyone. Others flock to churches, praying for protection and seeking forgiveness for their sins, which – according to some – are why God brought the plague on us.

But, as it turns out, there is a remedy. Vrakhiri blood has the power to cure the infected and prevent others from catching the disease. That is how Brencis healed the people of Vale Sangora, but I don’t think he plans on sharing his blood with anyone outside the valley.

And so, the plague rages on.

After becoming the Knyaz of Vale Sangora, Brencis banned all religion – except for his own, which he calls the Blood Covenant. It is now the official and compulsory faith of all who live in the valley.

Though Brencis hasn’t gone so far as to call himself God, he clearly tries to paint himself as God’s messenger and His chief disciple. He claims he’s the only one capable of protecting us from the plague, outside influences and any calamity that may threaten us in the future.

The Covenant requires all Brencis’s subjects to feed him with their blood. In turn, Brencis feeds us with his own blood, which cures all our illnesses. Everyone has to attend Blood Mass, and – of course – nobody is allowed to criticise the Knyaz, for that is considered blasphemy.

And that’s it. Just a few simple rules, easy to remember. And yet, they have turned all our lives upside down.

Most of Brencis’s troops are just regular soldiers, but blood guards are different. They are strong, ferocious and tireless in a fight. Defeating even a single one of them is a remarkable feat - and they rarely fight alone.

But how did they gain their powers? Allegedly it is Xanthe’s doing. Her dark rituals made them who they are. They may have had families and ambitions once, but now they want but one thing - to serve Brencis. And they will rather die than abandon him.

Brencis’ forces are different from what other rulers have at their disposal. For one, there are the three vrakhiri henchmen: Bakir, Ambrus, and Xanthe, ready to fight alongside Brencis whenever needed. Beside them, the knyaz may also count on the fiercely loyal blood guards, created by Xanthe. And then, there are also uriashi - strong, obedient, and often eager to prove their worth.

But the majority of the troops are just regular soldiers, who two years ago were still loyal to knyaz Skender. I bet they wouldn’t fight anyone if they didn’t have to. But they’re still what stands between me and the vrakhiri, so - whether I want it or not - they are my enemies.

The Carpathians are a range of high mountains, stretching in a long arc through the heart of Europe. Even in the summer, they aren’t easy to traverse. And in the winter, when snow blocks the mountain passes, the Carpathians become an insurmountable wall.

I guess that is why Brencis chose Vale Sangora to be his realm. When it comes to controlling borders, it’s hard to think of a better place.

Dawnwalkers, like me… Who are we, really?

We carry a vrakhir’s fang in our hearts and share some of our creator’s powers, but we never fully transform. During the day, we’re still who we used to be, as if nothing happened - and it’s almost possible to forget…

But then, at night, the hunger kicks in. The rabid beast wants to be fed… An unnamed god demands a blood offering…

Will this kill me, eventually? Make me lose my mind, forget who I was? Am I damned? Beyond salvation?

Some say we’re living in the end of days.

At the moment, almost all of Europe is being ravaged by the great plague – an unstoppable and merciless pestilence that wipes out entire towns and villages. Meanwhile, two great powers, France and England, are warring over the French throne, possibly willing to set the entire continent on fire to get what they want. And any day now, the Mongols or the Turks may come from the East, burning and pillaging. Nothing is certain anymore, the world seems to be crumbling beyond repair.

But even without any of these things, our lives would be far from easy. We work for our lords, who feed off us like leeches. Most of what we produce, we’re forced to hand over to our masters, who have little to no sympathy for our suffering. It doesn’t matter how smart or hardworking we are – if we were born peasants, we’ll die as peasants.

It’s hard to wonder that in such a world, the new order Brencis has established in Vale Sangora might seem like a blessing, even if it’s just a clever lie.

Vrakhiri may have powers humans can only dream of, but it turns out that there are other arcane arts out there… And Anca showed me how to access them. To cast a hex you first have to carve its symbol on your skin, and then draw some of your own blood. It feels… wrong, but also good.

And the cost? For one, it’s forbidden. In places where the Inquisition operates, casting a hex or even being seen with symbols on your arms would put you in prison, or worse. And besides, who knows what the source of these powers is, or what we let into our souls when we practise this dark art?

But I don’t have a choice. If it helps me defeat Brencis, I’m going to use it, no matter what.

Soon after Brencis’s coup, people started whispering about a group formed to bring him down. At first, they were just called ‘the rebels’, but after a few months a new name started popping up: ‘the manumits’.

They have a leader, known as ‘Crake’, but his true identity remains a well-kept secret. Some even say he doesn’t exist at all.

They are too few and too weak to oppose Brencis openly, at least for now. Instead, they try to make his life harder by destroying his supplies, attacking convoys with prisoners or blood transports, and by killing his soldiers, whose ears they cut off and take as trophies.

Vale Sangora is a place of many riches, some of them – like silver – hidden deep underground. It’s this precious metal that first drew people to our remote valley – and the foundation upon which the city of Svartrau was built.

For hundreds of years, Vale Sangora was a land of miners, but all that changed two years ago. Since silver is one of the few things that can weaken a vrakhir, Brencis ordered all the mines to close. As for the men who had worked there, they became farmers. And not many of them complained, since there’s hardly any tougher job than mining.

Still, the silver is there, waiting to be used against Brencis and his court.

Until Greifberg Castle was built, the most impressive structure in Svartrau was its cathedral, dedicated to St. Mihai.

It stands where the first church in Vale Sangora used to be – the one built by Tobias, the patron saint of the valley. The cathedral replaced the old church almost two hundred years ago. Over the years, it’s been rebuilt many times and additions have been added, so as the city grew bigger, so did its church.

And then, a year after Brencis took over (almost to the day), one of the towers started to crumble. Nobody knew why – it hadn’t been struck by lightning or weakened by heavy rains… But of course, people started whispering it was a bad omen, or a punishment for trying to cover the saints’s images with Brencis’s own likeness.

This only made Brencis double down on his efforts to reclaim the cathedral for him and his new faith, the Blood Covenant. He is adamant about rebuilding the tower before the winter – larger and sturdier than it was before.

Our home, Vale Sangora, is a secluded valley in the Carpathian Mountains.

From what I know, it’s had a troubled history, constantly being fought over and passed from hand to hand. At times it’s belonged to the Moravians, the Kievan Rus or the Serbian Voivodeship. It’s been pillaged by Hungarians, Mongols, and Tatars. In the last decades before Brencis, it belonged to the Dragosti family, who ruled it with an iron fist.

Nowadays, under Brencis, Vale Sangora is cut off from the outside world. With all the bridges destroyed and the mountain passes blocked, there’s almost no way to get in or out.

Vrakhiri blood may look just like ours, but it’s much, much more. For one, it is where their power resides. They say when one vrakhir is killed and drained by another, the killer gains the victim’s talents.

For humans, the blood works differently. A few drops, mixed into wine, will heal you from any illness.

If you drink more, you’ll get even stronger. That’s how blood guards, Brencis’ elite force, are created. It’s believed they’re fed Xanthe’s blood regularly, and become fully dependent on it.

This also happens to others who drank too much vrakhiri blood. They start craving it - until it consumes them entirely and makes them lose their mind. This may sound like a horrible fate, but the streets of Svartrau are filled with addicts willing to risk it.

Brencis doesn’t rule alone. I don’t know if all vrakhiri do the same, but in Vale Sangora they’ve formed a court, consisting of the knyaz and his three boyars: Bakir, Ambrus and Xanthe. Not all three of them were sired by Brencis, but they all obey him. Could they stand up to him? Could they kill him? Could he kill them? I have no idea, but they clearly share some sort of a bond.