Future Perfect

His siblings called him 'the oracle.' As a Holy Champion imbued with clairsentience, it was appropriate. His desire to serve Mor'ganth was so pure, he chose not a name for himself, believing himself to be a living embodiment of Mor'ganth's will. His duty as the divine seer was so absolute he tore out his own eyes because they impeded his inner sight. (“It is hard to see truth, when my eyes only see reality.”) To prevent them from healing, he enslaved two demons and implanted one in each eyesocket, so the wounds would remain fresh. He took a square of black fabric, enchanted it, and placed it over his eyesockets to prevent the demons from escaping should his mind not be able to contain them. Now, he faced his ritual of manhood. Most Priorese vampires around ninety to one hundred turns old go on a journey of discovery and must slay ten vampires before returning as adults. Holy Champions are held to higher standards.

At thirty turns, Mor'ganth personally tasked to him to go to a remote stronghold, on a frozen patch of world, and defend its citizenry from an onrushing barbarian horde. “The horde numbers two thousand. Not a single citizen may be lost, nor a single invader may breach their walls, or you will fail. Do you understand?”

“Yes, morganth'shu.”

“Here are your weapons.”

He put out his hands and was handed two perfectly weighted, exquisitely latticed mithril war fans.