The Dark Sire Issue 3 (Spring 2020) | Page 17

number of life forces being added to her own. Napier had been a substantial hunter. As a mist, she entered the Baron’s stronghold. With the calm, assuredness of a master thief, armed with all the information gleaned from Napier, she floated through the hallways of the keep, moving ever closer to the Baron’s private chambers. Once aware of all the defenses, they were easily circumvented. The Baron’s habits, clearly defined in Napier’s memories, had been crucial in her planning. She had learned that he rarely rose before the moon, so her arrival had been just after sunset. She knew that no one was allowed in his private chambers, for his most prized possessions were stored there. She knew that it had been over a hundred years since the keep had been attacked. Watchfulness will have eroded. She materialized inside his chamber and he was immediately aware of her, as she knew that he would be. Such was the magnitude of his rage that the mahogany sarcophagus, which for years had sheltered him, exploded into thousands of splinters, flying through the room, and he stood before her. ‘He is magnificent,’ Lisle, could not help but think to herself. At his full height he rose seven feet. His shoulders were broad and, even wearing the light silk tunic in which he frequently rested, she could see that his chest and arms were heavily muscled. He screamed at her, leaning toward her, his fangs dripping spittle. 15