Chapter 1
Tobias sighed as he locked up the shop, exhausted after spending most of the night struggling to keep up with orders for winter boot repairs. He pocketed the key and started down the street. There were still a couple hours until sunrise, and he planned to stop by the Temple of Clea for prayers and then the café to grab a quick bite.
The streets of Cesvic were busy with people preparing for the high holy days next week, when they would celebrate the longest night of the year. The moon was partially hidden behind wispy clouds, but the streetlights provided plenty of illumination, their orange glow flickering off the cobblestones.
The temple was only a ten-minute walk from Tobias’s cobbler shop. He smiled when the spire came into view over the rooftops. Tobias’s life was mundane—pretty boring, if he was being honest—but the temple always managed to cheer him up.
“People of Cesvic!” someone called.
Tobias’s good mood instantly soured, and he rolled his eyes. Not one of these nuts again.
“The end is nigh! Lebne will return very soon to perfect his creation! You must prepare yourselves!” The man shouting was thin and short, with a flattened nose and a fevered gleam in his eyes.
Tobias was about to walk past when a hand shot out and grabbed his arm. He twirled with a snarl to meet the eyes of the zealot.
“You! Have you dedicated yourself to Lebne, to the Father?”
“No,” Tobias said shortly, trying to shake him off. He was surprisingly strong for his size, and Tobias couldn’t loosen his grip.
“You must, brother! You must prepare for the Father’s return!”
“Let go of me.” A current of unease gathered in Tobias’s belly. “I’ve had a long night, and I’m really not in the mood for your ramblings.”
The zealot’s face darkened. “Ramblings? Oh, no . . . The words I speak are from the Father himself, the one and only god.”
Tobias gritted his teeth. “I am a follower of Clea, and I don’t appreciate your blasphemy.”
The zealot released his arm in disgust and made a gesture to ward off evil. “Heretic,” he hissed. “You worship death herself. The Father is merciful, but there are some things even he won’t forgive.”
Tobias turned without another word and walked away, fighting to keep his temper in check. His heart pounded as he ducked into the first alley he saw. He collapsed back against the stone wall and breathed in deep, trying to calm his racing heart.
The man was clearly crazy. But all the same . . . Tobias had heard rumors. Rumors about how just over the border, the Lucians were persecuting the followers of Clea. That they might soon ban the worship of her entirely. And while Cesvic was known for its tolerance, hostility was spreading even here.
Tobias clutched the sun pendant that hung at his chest under his shirt. He took one breath, then another. Then he stepped out of the alley and continued on until he reached the temple’s marble steps. The ornate metal handle was cool in his hand as he opened the door and slipped inside
The interior of the temple was lit by hundreds of candles befitting the goddess of fire. Tobias made his way toward the altar. The statue of Clea stood behind it, golden and majestic. There were only a couple other worshippers present. Tobias knelt.
I kneel before you, Goddess, in thanksgiving. The words of the prayer came easily, his lips moving silently.
Clea was the goddess of day, of fire, and of humans. She was the sister of Lebne, the god of night, of water, and of vampires.
Tobias didn’t understand the people who were so vocal about Lebne being the one true god. The twin deities balanced each other. While Tobias felt closer to Clea, he still worshipped Lebne and had shrines to both gods at home.
Tobias sighed, closing his eyes. His run-in with that zealot had bothered him more than he’d thought. A wave of exhaustion rolled over him. He stood up, bowed to the altar, and left the temple. What he really needed was to eat and go to bed.
It was a short walk to the Crooked Vein, a café that sat on a quiet tree-lined street. The bell above the door chimed as he walked into the dim cozy interior peppered with plush sofas. Tobias breathed a sigh of relief.
“Why hello, stranger,” Matthew said from his post at the front counter.
Tobias flashed him a smile. He had been visiting this café for years, and part of the reason was Matthew.
“How have things been?” Tobias asked.
“Can’t complain. We got a new shipment in a couple days ago. Three new humans, and they are all very sweet. Would you like to try one of them?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, I’ll send you to Number 7.”
Tobias nodded and headed to the designated alcove. Seated on the sofa within, knees pulled up to his chest, was a human.
Tobias sat down next to him. “Hello.”
“Good evening, sir,” the human said. His accent was Torin, and he couldn’t have been older than twenty years. Tobias smelled a bit of fear on him, but overall,
he appeared relatively calm.
That was another reason Tobias liked coming here. Matthew treated his humans decently, ...
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