Sanctuary

     Her name was Lenore. With hair the color of ripened wheat and eyes as blue as the sea, with her porcelain skin and fragile body it was easy to see that she was bred to perfection. The knee-length white dress she wore was reminiscent of angels, and her silken hair flowed to the small of her back, unhindered and beautiful. When she wasn't in her Mistress' chambers, she wore delicate ivory slippers- but they were stowed away, as most of the time she didn't find it necessary to wander outside the designated rooms. For outside her sanctuary was a world of darkness.

     Newly captured persons, slaves like herself but entirely less fortunate, were worked like dogs, beaten like savage animals, and sold and traded like cattle. Outside was a world of pain, and she wanted no part of it. And all of the misfortune and despair was brought about by one single group of people, if people were what one called them. They were monsters, wolves in sheeps' clothing.

     They were dressed like kings because they could afford it. They lived in luxury, atop the toil and grief of slaves because they thought themselves the ruler of men. They laughed and mocked the heavens, killed innocent children for fun, and even drank the blood of the victims. They drank the blood because it made them strong, immortal.

     They did not go out into the sunlight or eat the food because they chose not to, but despite these things, they lived for centuries on end. Lenore's Mistress herself was aged by four-hundred years. Most did not integrate into the 'mortal' world, as they called it, as they were more than happy living in the unholy sanctuary that was the only thing Lenore had known as home. Unlike the other slaves, she was treated decently by her Mistress. She was given actual clothing, three square meals a day, and if she was good, a walk through the gardens. While the other slaves were starving, she was resting comfortably on her cot after supper. While they were screaming for deliverance and mercy, she was listening to the chirps of the birds or smelling the flowers along the shaded pathways. She led a fortunate life, and at times her Mistress would act so kind and caring to her that Lenore would sometimes forget what she was.

     They called themselves the Kindred, or the Childer of Caine, because they shared in Caine's eternal damnation. But they all viewed that damnation as a blessing. Taking pride in the fact that they murdered others to survive, they took to the extreme that they shared in supernatural abilities and an unnaturally long life that could not be destroyed. They considered themselves far above the lesser humans, so they devised a place where they could transform the mortals into the cattle they were. This was the place where Lenore was raised. It was an explicate order from her Mistress that two of the more well-behaved and beautiful slaves procreate, and the result couldn't be more perfect. Lenore had her mother's heart and her father's looks, leading to the best possible combination. And unlike the other slaves that were bred and born here, she was kept as a pet by her Mistress. To some of the Kindred it was an outrage, to others it was a cause of interest, but to the slave herself it was a blessing.

     She never grew up with work on her delicate shoulders, or death, or as a knowing victim to her masters. All she did was please the Mistress. She never got bored staying within the confines of her Mistress' chambers, and she never felt the need to venture out into the forbidden outside. She never communicated with anyone other than her owner, and did not bother any of the Kindred with her thoughts. She knew they could read her mind, even through the stone walls of the sanctuary, and maybe even from distant lands. But she was a pleasant and well-rounded girl, so had no fear in that or any aspect.

     The one and only thing that she feared was the Kindred besides her Mistress, the Kindred that despised and loathed her, that thought her unworthy. The BloodDrinkers were hateful, spiteful, jealous creatures. But there was a hierarchy in the sanctuary, one that usually went from youngest to eldest. Lenore's Mistress was on the top-most half of the order, so she was naturally respected and feared- save by one. His name was Israfel, and though Lenore's Mistress was nearly one-hundred years older then him, he still openly disrespected her for her 'foolish insolence' at 'keeping the unclean human like a beloved pet'.

     To Israfel, such things were abominations and were not fit for any of the Kindred. Why pamper the mortals, even for amusement, when they were nothing more than food? It was the Kindred's birthright, and it was how Caine intended for the Immortals to live. A few of the Kindred shared in Israfel's radical views but a few didn't, causing a rift in the sanctuary. A rift that a mere slave created.