How long has it been? The ancient Vampire had spent plenty of his time in a deep slumber, where time both stood still and moved so quickly. But this? This hell since he had seen Grendel? This was worse. He dropped to his knees on the muddy ground of the wasteland that the false god had sent him to to rot. First he had taken his connection to Caine, then to his entire Clan. When he severed the link and lifted Malkav’s curse, he did something that would forever change the former Disciple, for better or for worse. For that, Grendel would never be forgiven.

He pulled his hood up over his head to shield his eyes from the light of the moon and he cursed under his breath at his absolutely shitty circumstances. He remained there for a few moments, the cool breeze barely noticeable under his brown cloak, the silence both overwhelming and beautiful at the same time. Grabbing handfuls of the dirt that was under him, he forced himself to feel grounded. To think. He had never done quite so much thinking as he had since his curse was lifted, as he was now the only one providing the singular voice in his head.

He was an ancient vampire, stronger than most creatures in Faetasia with or without madness, and he was wallowing? What would Caine think of his Disciple if he saw him like this? Malkav pulled his claws from the dirt with a snarl and pushed himself back to his feet. It was time to take things into his own hands.

He would find the one he had heard about throughout his wanderings – the one cursing others. He would be Malkav’s saviour, he decided, because any curse would do.