Rogan sensed the future closing in on him, a trap tightening every day, his time rapidly running out. Caidir Olc had become unsafe ever since the blooming of a mysterious flower: large enough for a wolf to curl up and fall asleep on, its pelts the deep color of wine, the blossom exuded a scent that struck nameless terror into normal varg and tortured vampires with violent bloodlust. When Rogan first breathed its perfume… he shuddered at the memory. A hunger like he had never experienced before pounced on him like a vicious animal. It was as if something had sliced through his abdomen and ripped out his guts, leaving a yawning hole behind. His jaws had ached so much he thought they were fracturing under the pressure of his clenched mandibular muscles. His fangs jutted sharp and dangerous from his rows of teeth. He had been wild, insatiable, running through the territory until his limbs ached because he needed to feed or else he would die because the pain of his starvation was too much to bear -

And then he and Diosa had left the border behind them, where the flower’s scent did not reach. And all at once the horrible, tormenting hunger had turned off. Dread had seeped into Rogan’s bones when he realized what that meant: their pack, the place where they were supposed to be safe, was uninhabitable for vampires. They were homeless.

Who would take them in? And where would his maker allow herself to live? Rogan had no particular qualms about joining a pack… except for the fact he saw Diosa as his only ruler, and probably would not have respected any other alpha. He’d pledged himself to Caidir Olc, to the Vampire monarchy. If Diosa was not welcome somewhere - or if she isolated herself willingly - then Rogan would not abandon her. The jungle territory, before the blooming, had actually be absolutely perfect for the midnight predators; even when the sun hung in the sky, the thick foliage provided plenty of protective shade. Winter never touched Caidir’s center, chased away by its continuous humid warmth. To be run out of their castle when they needed it most… they were vulnerable. And Rogan hated that.

For seasons now he’d returned to Caidir Olc, checking the boundary to see if he could still smell the blossom’s insidious perfume poisoning the wind. For seasons, a single shred of the flower in his nares had his gagging and stalking away in disgust. But slowly… that scent was fading. Soon it would be safe to live in Caidir Olc again. When that happened, Rogan wanted to be prepared to take the kingdom back for Diosa and the rest of vampire kind - before anyone else had the chance to slip in, and thus close the gates of the rainforest pack to those that needed it the most. He needed a pack before he could have a packland. This was why he was currently trailing through the forest, hoping to find lone varg he could recruit.

It was a beautiful summer night, warm and alive with the sounds of chirping insects. Fireflies glittered in the darkness, although their yellow glow could not compare to the flaming rubies set in Rogan’s eye sockets. He’d been walking for about an hour when the smell of a lone female caught his attention, her path weaving through the woods toward where he knew the caverns waited. What could she possibly want at this hour - and at such a volatile site? The caverns were electric with magical energy; sometimes Rogan saw fissures pulsating in the shadows, throwing off odd colors as magic worked itself through the stone. This was where, he’d heard, Draven had awoken as the first of their kind. The so-called “Vampire King” had once lived in the bowels of those caves… but he had long since left them for somewhere else. The only reason Rogan knew this was because he had not “felt” Draven’s presence there. It was a tiny, shivering thread of awareness - nothing compared to his connection to Diosa, or even for his grand-maker Lucyne - but, since Draven had turned Lucyne and was therefore part of Rogan’s “bloodline,” he still could tell where the black demon was and where he was not. Reaching out with his mind told Rogan that Draven was not in the immediate area - but this femme was treading close to danger nonetheless.

He decided to track her, large paws carrying him effortlessly, silently over the forest floor. When he finally caught up to her, Rogan saw that she was not only about to slip into the caverns, she was actually calling out to Draven. She WANTED the first vampire to find her. The russet prince couldn’t help himself: he had been blunt and direct from the day he was able to speak. He had to say something.

“Miss… what do you think you’re doing? If you want to be eaten, well, I am a vampire. And I could give you a much more merciful, much more honorable death than the one you seek.”