Young noble is forced to become a son of the night and then pursues freedom only to find the demons of his past are not all that willing to let him go so easily.
Raven? No that isn`t my real name. Its a name i take to protect myself from my many enemies. I wish i could tell you my name but you see if my enemies were to find you and break you then they would have power over me. However i will entrust you with my story.
I was once a mortal like so many of them that inhabit this planet. Each worrying about the future as their lives begin and end like the turning of the day. It was some many years ago that i was once like them, when the country was dominated by the trees and the wolves raomed free. I was the son of a wealthy lord whom was only to pleased to boast his relation to the wearer of the crown. As a husband he doted upon his wife like she was Aphrodite incarnate but as a father he was Satan in the flesh. May a time i endured the harshness of his fury, sober or drunk it mattered not. He saw fit to hit me when he felt and i had to stand and bear. Long past the point of crying for help.
As i grew into a man my father`s brother took interest in my increasing skill in arms. Regularly he taught me what he knew and i received many a bruise from him but i cared not that they were there for the lessons dulled the pain. With each passing month my skill grew and grew until even my uncle yielded that he knew of nothing more to teach me. Continuously i honed the skills that my uncle had passed to me much to the disgust of my father but the fates shone for three days after my asession to manhood he died in his sleep. My mother of course was distraught and blamed me for all the problems he had suffered, not wishing to fight her i packed up my bags and along with my friend who had worked in the castle stables had headed out for my Uncles castle.[/br]
My uncles castle lay across the border of Mercia, an old fort to keep out the restless settlers of the neighbouring county. Trapsing through the midwinter snow we made slow progress by day and froze by night. Out in the wild the world was certainly different, there was no protection should a hungry bear come blundering across your path so all you could do was pray to the gods that you were spared such things and make as much headway as possible as quickly as you could. However the myths and legends of the times told of other dangers besides the wolves and bears. The legends ran that there were men who had died but lay not in the grave. They roamed the dark forests freely and could only be seen at the corner of your vision as they moved unless of course they wished to eat. My friend and i, being youthful, had regarded such legends as stories told from one generation to the next and nothing more. No mortal could move as quick as those described, or could they?