When you open your eyes again, you're no longer in bed. You're not even in the same room. Magnificent floor-to-ceiling windows look out over a cityscape not immediately familiar to you, twinkling lights and high rises as far as the eye can see through the night-shrouded horizon. Across the room, two women are arguing dramatically, silhouetted against the city backdrop. You try to stand up and intervene, but find that you're rooted to the spot. Somewhere in your subconscious, you know that this is a memory—you won't be able to alter the course of events, but you can learn from them. The scent of blood pulls your attention to your right where you notice the body of a recently killed mortal woman. It's hard to make out the face unless you focus in on that portion of the memory.
You focus your willpower and forcibly alter your perspective, examining what would likely have been in your periphery view during the memory. Your vision swims as a sharp agony overwhelms you. This isn't a random victim—some mortal on the wrong side of a feeding gone bad—you know her. Had feelings for her. And you killed her just moments ago.
"Agad the Imperishable, are you there?" A voice intrudes on your memories. Your vision swims and then re-solidifies as the disagreement quickly descends into violence and the disembodied voice is forgotten.
The woman on the right pulls a bulky handgun from her purse and fires twice. In the light of the muzzle flashes, you know the murderer for exactly who she is—your sire, Eden Corliss. Her victim falls back against the window, streaking it with Blood, two massive smoking holes burned through her chest. At first you're certain that she's dead, but when Corliss lets her guard down and kneels over the body, the victim lurches off the floor and shoves her against the glass, stabbing Corliss mercilessly with a hidden weapon as she sinks her teeth into her neck. You try to crawl away as they struggle, but there's nowhere to go—the doors are locked and you don't have the key.
By the time your memory's vision shifts back to the fight, Corliss has turned the tables again, and this time she's drinking deeply from her victim's neck. You try to call out, desperate to prevent a mortal sin that you instinctively know is wrong, but you're powerless as a babe. As a fledgling. For several minutes, all you can hear is the sound of a messy vampiric feeding, not the discreet sucking of blood you've since become accustomed to, but a more bestial ravaging—the draining of a life-force. And then the door behind you bursts open, flying off its hinges as another vampire rushes into the room and flings Corliss away from the already-decaying body.
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