• Death, or the death of his dearest friend. Death by the hand of his truest companion, or the death of his truest companion by his own hand. Two choices. Two horrible, heart wrenching choices. Lukus Oborian slowly and painfully got to his feet, feeling his gaping wounds burn intensely as he moved. When he lifted his head he had to jump back quickly, avoiding a glancing blow and nearly falling to the blood covered ground again. His hand tighten on his broadsword with fury when he heard Aarons sickeningly joyful laugh. He looked over to where the sound was coming from, at the auburn haired man. Aaron, vampire, coldhearted killer, master of mind control, and his greatest foe. It was he who had caused all this trouble. Aaron was the reason he was bleeding from his face. Lukus spat out a gob of blood and spit and turned back to his friend, or, his friends’ empty body, as his mind was controlled by Aaron. He looked into the blank eyes of Ashby Conrad, his best friend, who had save his life on many occasions. How could he bring himself to kill him? Would that be any way to repay him for his friendship?