Somewhere to the south, in the shadow of great mountains, just a few hours earlier

There were many names for the huge mountain range that dominated the center of this continent. Toran’s Bulwark, Akkam’s Throne, Arrgash’Vhakmur, and many more. Because there was so little agreement about what to call it, it was often just informally referred to as “the peaks” in daily parlance.

In the foothills of these massive mountains, a little village looked to be sleeping peacefully. Technically these lands were part of the Toranian Empire, but imperial authority mattered little here. The land so close to the peaks was thinly populated and produced little value. As such, the Exarch of the province they were nominally part of didn’t really bother with them. This meant the scattered little communities in the foothills had to look to themselves for policing and protection. They did not mind, these were independent and self-sufficient people, they had to be to live out here. It also meant they didn’t pay imperial taxes, which suited them just fine.

In this seemingly peaceful little village, the door to one of the houses stood ajar. A strange thing to see in the middle of the night. Especially in a place such as this, where tradition (or perhaps superstition) dictated one keep all doors closed and locked at night. Tonight was, perhaps, proof that this custom had its merits. Or perhaps that it did not, as the previously locked door now stood ajar, the lock smashed. It had proven little obstacle to the nightbloods. Neither had the man of the house, a seasoned hunter and veteran of multiple skirmishes with bandits, been able to put up any kind of fight. Few were the humans who could take on a mature nightblood. Both the hunter and his family lay on the floor, their pale corpses completely drained of vitae. This was unusual, as nightbloods rarely fully drained their prey. Dead prey could produce no more blood, after all, and could never be fed from again. But tonight, even the oldest among them had trouble controlling themselves. They had been in hiding for so very long, living in caves and surviving on scraps. Fresh, warm, blood. It had been too long. Too long to hold back.

Similar scenes were repeating throughout this village. By the time dawn came and Vel’s sisters entered his room together to relieve him before breakfast, almost none of the villagers would be left alive.