United States, Airport JFK New York, February 26, 2004, 9:00 AM (Feb. 26, 4:00 PM GMT -7:00)

Milo was following the lieutenant of police Helen Meltz the best than he could through the crowd of the airport. They had left Los Angeles the day before, around midnight, and had arrived around 6 in the morning at JFK. They had spent two hours in a coffee shop, to discuss of all and nothing.

Helen was a woman withdrawn on her, and that had been difficult for Milo to establish communication with her. She had been assigned to his security from his arrival to the hospital, and had passed long hours, seated on her chair or the back leaning against the wall, watching the door of the room.

At the beginning, they had practically not spoken to each other. But one day, Milo had broken silence, and had started the conversation. And they had discussed a whole day. When time had come to split for the night, they knew each other almost as if they were the two best friends.

Milo felt very sorry for Helen. This policewoman on her forties had joined the Order of Ermengardis with only single goal, which had become the most important thing in her life: find the werewolf that had assassinated her family. Her husband and her daughter.

And she was still searching.

Milo and Helen approached the bank number 18; the meeting point confirmed five minutes earlier by phone to Helen.

Milo felt a new pain assailing his brain, and pressed his right hand against his forehead.

“Is it hurting again?” asked Helen.

“Yes, always the same thing…”

Milo smiled to her, trying not to worry her more. The last thing he wanted to do was to worry Helen a few minutes before leaving her. New smile, to convince her Helen that everything is all right...

The attention of Milo was suddenly caught by two men who were standing close to the meeting point. One of them, with blond and buckled hairs, had his back turned to Milo and held the other man by his wrists, shaking them along the conversation. The second one had long and straight chestnut hair, falling down below his shoulders.

Milo stopped, rolling round eyes. Images were hustling in his head: Temples... Armors...

The man with the chestnut hairs affected an amazed expression when he saw Milo, and made a sign to the buckled man

The surprise of Milo was at his peak when he saw this feminine face turning to him and throwing him an interrogative glance.

Milo, Aphrodite and Mu had just met in the crowd of the airport J.F.K. New York City.

France, Paris, Airport Roissy Charles de Gaulle, February 26, 2004, 8:30 PM (Feb. 26, 5:30 PM, GMT+3:00)

Ambre put back her newspaper on the bench of the waiting room, obviously upset. Shura, Camus and Angelo, who were whispering not far away, started.

“I can’t believe it! We’ve been waiting here for more than an hour, now! And nobody comes to tell us what’s happening! No information! Nothing!” exploded Ambre.

She moved towards a hostess of reception, who was almost sleeping on her seat.

“She’s really bad-tempered!” commented Shura.

“Awful is more appropriated than bad, I think!” corrected Angelo.

“Hue, Angelo… you’ve got nothing to critisize about!” poked Shura.

“No, she is absolutely lovely!” protested Camus.

Shura and Angelo looked at him, skeptical.

“Hey! What? Ice Heart is in love with the spicy red-haired woman.”

“Mister Freeze, you changed a lot!”

Shura and Angelo burst in a great laugh. But Camus didn’t take this comment that fun, but rather seriously.

“Yes, I’ve changed… so much that I am not able to recognize myself…”

The hilarity of Shura and Angelo died out at his words.

  “We know, Camus. I believe that we do not know any more who we are, too…” confessed Shura.

Ambre sat on the bench, and crossed her legs, definitely upset.

“Unknown delay! ... They really make fun of us!”

She rejected her head behind, and sighed.

“I knew it, I knew it…!  We should have taken a Japanese company!”

Flight AA167, somewhere in the Sky of Alaska (Feb. 26, 6:00 PM, GMT -7:00)

His glance had first stopped on Mu.

The young Tibetan, usually so calm, couldn’t prevent himself to run in his direction and had thrown his arms around Milo’s neck, like a child, happy to see a schoolmate after a long absence. Then Milo had looked at Aphrodite, this man he had always disliked when they were at the Sanctuary.

This queer guy, these man who was looking more than a female than a male!

He had first felt embarrassed when he had realized that he had the same blond hairs that the so-called “queer guy”, and then felt compassion when he had seen the left cheek of Aphrodite, disfigured from the arch of the eye-brow to the chin by a deep scare. And finally, he had felt the simple joy to find one of his companions alive, and had stopped to ask himself too much questions. He had taken Aphrodite in his arms, screaming with him how he was happy to see him again. They had remained like that certain time... Bursting in laugh or in tears... Milo preferred not to imagine the spectacle they had given to the other passengers of the airport. Three blondy boys in tears, surrounded by their luggage...

Then had come the time to check-in. The time also to say Good-bye to Helen. Milo had finally taken her it in his arms.

“I will return Helen… And I will help you that day!”

He had kissed her on her forehead. She had looked at him, astonished, but her eyes were filled with hope. Then Milo had to go. Swearing to himself that he would hold this promise to the beautiful Helen.

Milo half opened the window and saw a vast blue area glistening below the plane. The Ocean? But which one? Milo tried to remind his geography when a moaning drew his attention. He turned the head, and saw Mu was was agitated in his sleep, his face contracted by pain. Milo approached him and shook him gently.

“Mu... Wake up! It’s only a nightmare!”

Mu beat lashes and opened the eyes. He instinctively carried his hand to his temples.

“This pain! I can’t bear it any more! Please, make it stop!”

Mu shook his head. Tears were rolling on his cheeks. Milo took him in his arms, trying to calm him.

“Everything gonna be alright! Easy, Mu... Easy... Everything gonna be alright!”

Milo started just by hearing his own words. English words had come to him naturally. However, he could remember that he had never studied English, and was just able to speak Greek.

Keleus?

Greece, Terrestrial Sanctuary, February 26, 2004, 8:20 PM (Feb. 26, 6:20 PM, GMT +2:00)

Temple of Elision

Glaucus looked at the landscape plunged in the darkness of the night, sitting on the ledge of one of the windows of the apartment that Persephone had offered to them.

A glass prison, actually. For Glaucus, there was no doubt about that... Ishara and he were more prisoners than guests.

Looking at the shadows of the wall, drawn by the moonlight, Glaucus guest it was height or nine o’clock in the evening... Usually the time for vampires to leave their hiding-place, hunger torturing their veins and their throat. Glaucus closed this eyes, and imagined himself, walking with his companions, in the twilight, at the edge of a wood, ready to swoop down on a village and its inhabitants. Where was it? France, just before they had reached Paris. Almost nine hundred years ago... Marius, Deianeira, Ishara, Glaucus, Adorjàn, Lòrinc, Luitgard, Amalric and him, Glaucus. Nine messengers of death. Nine gods.

Glaucus reopened the eyes. His glance stopped almost instantaneously on Ishara, who was sleeping on a triclinium⁷, close to the statue of Amalric. She had fallen asleep there, a smile on her lips, very close to her beloved one. Glaucus swore once more that he would not leave them, there, prisoner of Persephone and the curse of Adalbert.

But before leaving these places with Ishara and Amalric, he had to discover who had drawn them from their sleep. Glaucus entirely trusted his sharpened senses of vampire, and was sure that somewhere in this temple, there was another vampire. Almost as powerful as him, and perhaps, more. A vampire who had already fought on the same side as him...

Marius? No, it couldn’t be Marius, Glaucus couldn’t recognize his aura.

Glaucus threw a last glance to Ishara, and then left the room discreetly. The corridor was dark, hardly lit by ghostly torches.

“Let’s the hunting starts…” he murmured.

And he slipped in the darkness.

France, Paris, Airport Roissy Charles de Gaulle, February 26, 2004, 9:30 PM (Feb. 26, 6:30 PM, GMT+3:00)

One more hour to wait... A damage on the plane had caused its return to hangar, and the preparation of another plane in haste.

“It’s a shame! Why do we have to travel by plane like all the other people, whereas the Order has largely enough money to pay private jets!” groaned Ambre.

She looked around her. The majority of the passengers had set out again towards the duty-free zone and the restaurants. Only the most tired had remained in the waiting room, some of them already sleeping on the benches.

Like two of her protégés. Shura was dozed off, arms crossed on his chest, the head rested on the edge of the bench. At his sides, Angelo had rest his head against his coat, and was curled up, almost in foetal position, occupying three seats.

Amber had to admit that she had been nicely surprised when meeting the two men. She had feared the worst when she had read their files. Shura was described like a fanatic, an asocial, and an aggressive with a disproportionate pride. However, the man she had met was polite, neither too cold, nor too cordial. Distant, certainly because he was dealing with an unknown situation. In addition, he was very calm. She had been even more surprised by Angelo. His file was describing a violent pervert, recalcitrant to authority and deprived of moral principles. But to her surprise, she had met a rather sensitive man, gentle and respectful.

This radical change of personality was an effect of the "ritual".

There was no written text about the Babylonian ritual that these three men had undergone. But there was more texts on the torments that the "patients “were to endure thereafter. James had forwarded her all the available information on the subject, and she could understand more or less what was happening to them.

This ritual had been settled during the last centuries before the destruction of Babylon. Imagined by declining priests who sought the secrecy of eternal life. A means to ensure them to have always a young and strong body. An exchange that requires driving out the soul of the receiver from his body. Before locking up another soul.

But the ritual was imperfect. The driven out soul was never completely out. The resurrected were to undergo dreadful cerebral pains, sometimes madness or dual personality. They could be prey to hallucinations, giving them the feeling to revive the memories of whose they had taken the body.

There was not any doubt that Angelo and Shura were suffering from the physical pains. Camus, he, seemed to suffer from a greater evil...

Amber joined him, close to the boarding bank. Camus had remained there for nearly one hour, observing the planes passing each other in the cold sky of Paris.

  “Camus?”

He didn’t answer.

Amber stopped beside him and looked at him. His beautiful profile, turned towards the sky, was slightly enlightened by the moonlight. A motionless face, like a statue...

Ambre torn herself away from her contemplation.

  “Camus!”she called again.

The young man beat eyelids, and threw her an astonished glance.

  “Yes, we’re embarking?”

Amber sighed and shook the head negatively.

  “Come with me… Don’t stay here. . We still have to wait…”

Greece, Terrestrial Sanctuary, February 26, 2004, 9:00 PM (Feb. 26, 7:00 PM, GMT +2:00)

 Glaucus had walked for several minutes in this temple plunged in the darkness. The only temple of the Sanctuary where almost no light was shining. The temple of the Master of the Dead, Hades.

Glaucus smiled to the evocation of this name. The so-called “Master of the Dead” had always been completely powerless toward the un-dead that they were. Us, the vampires of Marius.

 A ray of light and laughter drew him from his thoughts. And again, he felt the cold aura of the vampire. Glaucus wrinkled eyebrows. The vampire he sought was there. On the other side of the wall. In this lit room, the only one in this temple where lights were shining.　

Glaucus approached silently, and pushed carefully the half-opened door. He sneaked silently behind a column, then behind another. He came discreetly closer to the atrium of what looked like a private chamber, and stopped behind a statue, representing God Hades, and had a quick look around. An enormous basin occupied half the surface. It was surrounded by a kind of tiers. A marble door cut out in the wall, certainly opened on other rooms.

Glaucus took his attention out of the basin, and its occupants. A woman was sitting on one of the steps, three quarters of her body immersed in water, her arms laying on the edge of the basin. She leaned her head behind, her long chestnut hair undulating around her. Her laughter had changed into small moaning of pleasure. Glaucus concentrated to check if the aura was coming from the woman. This one was cold, almost oppressive. And he had already felt it in the past. But it was different from the aura of the vampire..., which was coming from very close to the woman.

Glaucus looked at the basin again, and saw a human form floating under the water.  The lover of the woman was completely immersed, and was lavishing erudite caresses. Glaucus left his hiding-place to the shadow of another column, closer to the scene of the two lovers. He wanted to see the face of the vampire. He would certainly find his name if he saw his face.

He didn’t have to wait a long time. The mysterious lover emerged suddenly from the water, in a shower of foam. He rejected his hair behind in a gracious movement of bust. He was quite tall, his robust back marked with large scars, in diagonal, from his shoulder to his waist.

The man had his back to him, and was almost hiding the woman to the vision of Glaucus. However he managed to make out the face of the woman when she looked up, contemplating with rapture her lover coming back to the surface.

Persephone!

Glaucus, lengthened his neck, an ironic smile on the lips.

I really want to know the identity of the undead who dared to seduce the wife of the God of Dead... He is not short in humor... or trully crazy ! thought Glaucus.

Two steps from him, the man seized Persephone by the waist, and held her firmly against him. Persephone passed her arms around his neck, and her head leaned on one of the powerful shoulders, drowned in ecstasy.

“Now, turn around!” whispered Glaucus, waiting for the moment the vampire would turn and reveal his face.

As if he obeyed this injunction, the vampire raised his head, and then turned around slightly, showing only his profile. His face remained hidden in the half-light. Glaucus moved back to the darkness created by the column, and stretched his neck to try to see the face.

Waste of time and effort. The man looked at Persephone again, and took her in his arms. He left the basin and moved towards the marble door and the room where they could continue their “games”.

The door closed behind them.

Glaucus punched the column. But he hadn’t said his last word. The next night, he would discover his identity!

Flight AA167, somewhere in the sky of Alaska (Feb. 26, 8:30 PM, GMT -7:00)

Mu had calmed down for a couple of hours now. The pain had passed, and he was sleeping peacefully on his seat. But Milo couldn’t sleep. He rose, and came to Aphrodite, who was watching vaguely a video. The story of a clownfish that seeks his son in the oceans, or something like that.

Aphrodite removed his earphones when he minded Milo.

“What?”

“You don’t want… to know?”

“You mean… to ask her what’s going on?” completed Aphrodite.

Their glances turned to the woman who was sitting a few meters from them, and who was absorbed in the reading of a report on her computer.

The guide sent by Ermengardis: the former silver Eagle Saint, Marine.

Milo and Aphrodite came to Marine. She raised her head, a little surprised to see them in front of her.

“Marine, we would like to ask you questions…” murmured Milo.

“On what?”

“Everything you know!” claimed Aphrodite, wrinkling his eyebrows.

Flight AF279, somewhere in the sky of Northern France (Feb. 26, 8:30 PM, GMT +3:00)

“We’ve taken off… That was time!” exclaimed Ambre, removing her seat-belt.

She rose and stretched her arms, a smile on the lips. Angelo and Shura looked at her, slightly astonished by her behavior.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Hum, I don’t think that we can remove the seat-belt… yet” slipped Angelo.

“I don’t care!” answered Ambre, categorical.

“You do what you want!”

Angelo preferred not to insist. He turned towards Camus, sit on the seat beside him, ready to send some good jokes, like "Good luck, your future girlfriend is really bad-tempered ", or "Be careful with the domestic fights... You might not survive to them ".

But his smiled froze. Camus was obviously overcome with a terrible headache and held his head in his hands. His face was contracted. A tear rolled on his cheek, as an evidence of the violence of the crisis.

“Camus… Can you hear me?” asked Angelo, laying his hand on his shoulder.

Camus didn’t answer, but placed his hand on top of the hand of Angelo, tightening it like if he was in search of help.

“I’m here… Don’t worry… The pain will calm down soon…” the young Italian tried to reassure him.

Camus closed the eyes, trying to drive out this pain and the feeling of faintness that was settling in him.

“What’s happening to him?” questioned Shura, who was sited on the seat behind Angelo.

“One of these cursed crises…” answered Angelo, surprised by his own reaction.

What was this new way of behaving? Has he ever taken care of the other saints before?

The glance of the three men slipped on Ambre.

Time to give some explanations… though the young woman.

Flight AA167, somewhere in the sky of Alaska (Feb. 26, 8:45 PM, GMT -7:00)

“Everything? That might take a very long time…” objected Marine.

  “We have seven hours of flight or more. Enough time, I think…” retorted Aphrodite, sitting down on an unoccupied seat, in front of Marine.

Milo half sit on the back of the same seat, arms crossed on the bust.

Marine sighed.

“Very well, then let’s start from the very beginning…

The Order of Ermengardis was settled at the time of the builders of Cathedrals, on the site of Notre-Dame of Paris. At that time, the gargoyles were not only statues or decorations of the pediments of churches, and cathedrals. There were real creatures, living in the building sites, devouring the craftsmen and workmen who had misfortune to disturb them.

The name of the Order comes from the posthumous name of its founder, the wife of one of the workmen killed by the monsters, who had sworn on the body of her husband that such a murder would　neither remain unpunished anymore, nor would happen again.

The Army of the Companions of the Light - it is the first name of the Order - brought together warriors, but also wizards and other magicians. Their first mission, to eliminate the gargoyles from the roofs of Paris, was a success, but also the occasion to realize that the gargoyles mains were not the only hostile creatures to populate the cities of the men. Vampires, demons come from parallel worlds, werewolves, and avenger spirits, were poisoning the life of the human, without nobody paying attention to them, or trying to stop them.

The first members of the Army thus decided to extend their activities to the protection of all the men who would have had to suffer from any supernatural creature. And swore that the Army would last during centuries and centuries, for the achievement of this mission.

But less than ten years after, Marius the Vampire, the general of a horde of demons, arrived in Paris. The massacres multiplied in the capital, Marius and his similar besieging whole districts from the fall of the night, and leaving only bloodless corpses at the first lights of the sun.

The Army of the Companions of the light decided to act as fast as possible and sent soldiers and magicians to ensure the protection of civil in Paris.　Each night was the theatre of bloody battles between the two camps, until the ' autumn 1176, when Adalbert, the wizard and lieutenant of Ermengard, cursed Amalric, one of the general of Marius, and transformed him into a stone statue.”

“Wait a minute! I know this name...” murmured Milo.

“Yes, me too, I’ve already heard this name somewhere… But where?” agreed Aphrodite.

He sought in his memory... The images of his aggression resurfaced almost instantaneously.

Flight AF279, somewhere in the sky of Belgium (Feb. 26, 8:50 PM, GMT +2:00)

“Almaric... It’s the name this woman had called me before I lost consciousness!” exclaimed Angelo.

“Me too, she called me by this name… I remember it!” assured Shura.

Camus just nodded. He also remembered this name. And another name also...

“Yes, I know. Well, it’s a rather complicated story, and myself, I still haven’t recollected the different parts of the puzzle... It’s better you don’t interrupt me, or I will mix up everything!” said Ambre

“Go ahead, we’re listening to you.”

“The reaction of Marius was terrible and almost immediate. The following day, he and his army, attacked the headquarters of the Army of the Companions of the Light, who was in the current Marais. He killed by his hands Ermengard and Aldabert, ignoring that the wizard was the only person able to break the curse on Amalric.

After this offensive, the defenders of the Army of the Companions of the Light escaped in London, where they rebuilt their headquarters. The army took the name of the Order of Ermengardis, in commemoration of Ermengard.

Nearly eighty years later, Landoald, the Great Master of the Order, created the Black Militia, which mission was to track and eliminate any malefic creature on his way. And to be prepared for the confrontation against Marius, which was raising an army in all Europe.

But Marius attacked only two hundred years later. He attacked by surprise the headquarters of London, and massacred its occupants. Then he burned the castle.

The survivors escaped, for Greece... for a destination that is not unknown for you...The Sanctuary!”

 “It is incredible!” slipped Angelo.

“However, it’s true. Ermengardis had come into contact with the Sanctuary as of the 13^th century, after the first confrontation against Marius, and had identified the saints of Athena like potential allies. And when Marius seemed to take the top, it was quite naturally that the survivors of the Orders turned to the Sanctuary.

The Sanctuary refused to welcome the survivors on its territory, but offered refuge to them on an island, a few hundred kilometers more in the south of the Sanctuary, the island of Telemny.

There, the survivors of the Order of Ermengardis reorganized as quick as possible their defense. To be ready for the attack of the army of Marius, who seemed well decided to eliminate the Black Militia, the armed body of the Order.

Athena, fearing a defeat of the Black Militia, and an attack of the armies of Marius on the Sanctuary, sent to Hademar, the chief of the Militia, five saints.

Five Gold Saints: Capricorn, Aquarius, Scorpio, Pisces and Cancer.

The battle burst almost right after their arrival on Telemny. Thanks to them, Hademar overcame the Army of vampires, and captured Marius and his seven Generals, Geldis, Deianeira, Ishara, Glaucus, Adorjàn, Lòrinc and Luitgard. They were condemned to be locked up in platinum coffins, and buried in the temple of Victoria of the island of Telemny, under the guard of the Black Militia.

The soldiers of Marius were hunted and eliminated for the majority. The survivors came in hiding. Then centuries passed, during which the Sanctuary and the Order of Ermengardis kept more or less thin close relations. Until 1993…”

Flight AA167, somewhere in the sky of Alaska (Feb. 26, 8:55 PM, GMT -7:00)

“What did happen in 1993?” asked Milo, more and more confused by the story that Marine was relating.

He looked at Aphrodite and Mu, who had awaked. Their faces were marked by the same surprise.

“The God of War, Ares, attacked the Sanctuary of Athena, which had been attached to Olympia a few years before. Zeus took this attack as a rebellion of his son, and punished him personally, by locking up the soul of Ares in a sacred amphora.

He also decided to stop definitively the struggle of Gods for the possession of Earth and its inhabitants, giving up to humans the responsibility of their own defense. He prohibited to the divinities of Olympia to venture apart from the Sanctuary of Athena, renamed the Great Terrestrial Sanctuary of Olympia. He also ordered the dismantling of the Order of the saints of Athena, and their transfers to the Order of Ermengardis, designated thus like the new defender of Earth.”

“No, that can’t be! I can’t believe that the Order of Athena’s saints is not anymore!” shouted Milo, rising abruptly.

Aphrodite seized his arm and forced him to sit again.

“Let Marine speak!”

Milo calmed down, a little surprised by the reaction of Aphrodite.

“Unfortunately, it’s the truth… This is why Shina, I and ten of other saints joined the Order of Ermengardis…”

“And Seiya, Shun… And the others?” asked Aphrodite.

“They’ve declined the offer…”

“It’s impossible!” protested Mu.

The three men looked at themselves. How to imagine that Seiya and his companions didn’t choose to join the defenders of mankind?

“It is however the truth…” sighed Marine.

“And us… What is our role in this entire story? Why have we been brought back to life?” questioned Milo.

“We don’t understand very well the reason of your return… It looks as if God Apollo freed Glaucus and Ishara for this purpose. Ishara was the daughter of a Babylonian priest, transformed in vampire almost two thousand years ago. She knows the rituals of resurrection that took place in the noble courts of declining Babylon, and used them to bring you back to life.”

“A ritual of resurrection?”

Mu opened largely frightened eyes, as if he was reminding terrible memories.

“Yes. The ritual consists in driving out the soul of the "receiver" and attracting the soul of a "guest", in the “empty” body.”

“It’s completely weird! ” Milo was indignant.

“What’s going on with us?”asked Aphrodite,“What’s going wrong?”

His face had become white of fear.

Marine hesitated to continue.

“We must know! Marine!”insisted Milo, “it’s our right!”

“I can’t tell you lie. The ritual is imperfect... It ‘s possible that the soul of the” receiver" was not entirely driven out... The majority of the texts on this ritual speak about endless cerebral pains, hallucinations... It‘s also possible that you had absorbed a part of the memories of the “receiver"... Perhaps this will be reflected on your character also... ”

Milo, Aphrodite, and Mu looked at her, completely crushed by her explanations.

“But it’s also possible that you have no any sequel!” she added, trying to be more reassuring.

Japan, Ermengardis Headquarter, February 27, 2004, 7:00 AM (Feb. 26, 10:00 PM GMT +9:00)

James had staid awake all the night, imagining the craziest scenarios regarding the awakening of Glaucus and Ishara.

Then, one of the scenarios had become more and more plausible and detailed. James had gone to the silo of the library, to excavate some files, repatriated from the rubbles of London Headquarter, 10 years ago.

Portraits were now spread out in all his office. Sketches that the soldiers of the Black Militia had drawn five hundred years ago, representing the vampires identified before or during the battle of Telemny.

James had also gone through the reports of the battle. Lot’s of vampires were noted as “missing”. Some of them had certainly back to piles of dust on the battlefield. But some others had certainly succeeded in fleeing. To better strike back the Black Militia.

James was persuaded that the awakening of the two Old Ancients was the work of a vampire, a survivor of the army of Marius. A several-centuries-old vampire. .

Two arms intertwined his shoulders gently. Eleny planted a tender kiss on his cheek.

“Still working?”

“Yes… But I think I found a track…”

“Really?”

Eleny threw a glance on the sketches.

“Do you recognize one of them?” questioned James.

Eleny shook the head:

“No. I’ve never met any member of the army of Marius. Deianeira and Ishara had escaped from the battlefield when they took refuge in the castle of my father. When we split, 20 years later, I went ahead for France, whereas Deianeira and Ishara joined the army of Marius in London...”

James sighed.

“I am certain that it is a vampire of the army of Marius who drew Glaucus and Ishara from their coffin…”

“Who could have the power? ”

“It is not a question of power, but of knowledge... The knowledge that the keys still exists...”

“But... they’ve been destroyed, haven’t they? It is written in all the files of the time!” protested Eleny.

“No, they’ve never. For a reason or another, that we are still unaware of... And this creature knew it. He or she found the keys of the coffins of Glaucus and Ishara, and released them. And I fear that this creature has also the keys of the other coffins…”

“But who could be this vampire! He must be a fool!” murmured Eleny.

A fool... yes!

An idea crossed the mind of James, and his memory spilled two names.

Wolrad, lieutenant of Adorjàn, had tried to reconstitute an army of vampires and to free Marius in 1585. The Black Militia had pushed his army back, thanks to the help of the Saints of Athena, because Wolrad had dared uttering threats against the Sanctuary of Athena.

And Bàlint, lieutenant of Luitgard, who had tried to assassinate the Great Master of the Order in1602, but who had been stopped in time. It was said that the Council had wanted to make of his execution an exemplary punishment. He was whipped to blood and was placed in a well, exposed to the daylight. But the vampire managed to escape from his destruction, nobody knows how.

Bàlint, a vampire particularly unstable and accustomed to blows of glare. James knew it better than everyone to have met him in London, four centuries before...

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