The passing years were not idle for Roth. Though time meant little to him now, its slow rhythm brought a quiet kind of fulfillment. His people—his children—were thriving. From the seed he had planted, a race had flourished, and what had begun as an experiment born of defiance now stood as a civilization in its own right.
What pleased him most, however, were not the numbers, nor the growing reach of their culture. It was the emergence of the hybrids—those born of vampire and human blood, beings who retained the strength, longevity, and instincts of their full-blooded kin, yet walked freely beneath the sun. These were not mere anomalies. They were, in many ways, a refinement—what many began to call the perfected kind. They represented a future unshackled by the ancient weaknesses of vampirism. To Roth, they were both blessing and omen.
