The mage walks forth as the Hell Gate closes Lightning strikes with his first order Energy spirals from his fingertips A spell does form upon his lips

Tall and dark, handsomely slender His silver eyes burn like lighted embers A power, a presence one cannot explain A drawing feeling that will not leave the brain

A longing, a yearning that burns like fire To be wanted and taken with heated desire The mage walks forth, unfolding his arms His victim comes quietly, succumbed by his charms

The embers of passion burst forth in flame As the mage draws heart's blood from deep within Consuming all, leaving no remains The victim languishes in untold pain

The mage, having taken body and soul, Now turns from the broken to seek one who is whole The pattern is set, the ending the same The mage needs heart's blood to be whole and remain

CHAPTER 1

Swirling mist veiled the mountains and crept into the deep forest, stringing layers of white through the snow-laden trees. Pockets of deep snow hid life beneath the cap of ice crystals and along the banks of the stream. Shrubs and fields of grass rose like statues, frozen in time. The snow gave the world a bluish cast. The forest, where icicles hung, and the stream, with its water frozen in bizarre shapes, seemed an eerie, alien world.

Clear, crisp and cold, the night sky shone bright with stars, and a full, glowing moon spilled a silvery light over the frozen ground. Silent shadows slipped through the trees and ice-coated bushes, moving with absolute stealth. Large paws made tracks in the snow, a good six inches in diameter, single file, the trail winding in and out through the trees and thick shrubbery.