By moonlight, the vampire stepped over the famed cobblestones of Britain, with some of the stones glaring back at him. Alien, seemingly shifting faces, some gentle, others malevolent. Nathan felt his gaze lock with a particular stoic stone face. Were those eyes? Time was relative, the vampire pondered, as if the world kept dissolving into a blur of sights and sounds, shrieks, and ecstasy. The vampire raised his hand, touched his icy cold face, and nodded, as if confirming he did indeed still exist. The tiniest of gestures toward the pavement, then he kept on walking toward the forest. Something was changing, the vampire feared. She was changing. But he realized life, or unlife, was never about building empires, becoming bigger, and more powerful. Instead, it was about appearing at the right time. Like a nomad. The vampire had moved around more often than he could count. Some places were almost forgotten. Memories both good and bad. Eternal loss, eternal sadness. And yet, a strange light. The only meaning he could find was always conceived out of emptiness. A gift outside of his own. Yet he felt something was shifting within her. The wood elf, she had seemed conflicted. Some deeply rooted magic was at play, the vampire feared, and only the forest understood. The canopy of the trees was thick now, occluding the moonlight. Pitch black, the vampire slowly kept on walking, until the tiniest of openings in the canopy revealed a bright beam of moonlight.
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