The Chronical of the Altoi (ePub)

The year is 1879, the stars shine brightly this night, the chill of autumn drifts silently by. They will burn three witches come morning. Are they witches? How should I know, I don't come this way very often and when I do, it isn't witches I'd be looking for.

I'm the Altoi, this is my story, my life if you will. These are my words how oddly written after all these bitter centuries. This is the story of my world, my lust for man and his desire for the unknown.

In life, I was a worthless creature of the night, perhaps a drunkard, perhaps a thief but whatever I was, I needed more. I sought the darkness of the edge of the world, but it found me instead.

I was not the willing partner I thought myself to be, for when the bitter truth of death came upon me and the creature of my creation asked which I desired "Life" or "Death," I chose to become a creature of darkness, soulless, endeavoring to seek out in the evils of man what I could not find for myself, Love.

I am not a witch, I am not a vampire, though that is what they call me. I am not the devil or a demon. I am what I am. I came here long ago, long before man.

I have already lived two thousand years; I need little of this world and least the care or entanglement of man. I saw long into the future, and what I saw raised little interest in me. Who cares, let them all die, what is mankind to the passing wind.

But the wind, knowing me so well, would always reply; you do. Wars and death made it possible for me to hide in any city, but in Paris, and London, I live on the edge of society as if it were my family.

I walked the streets seeking those willing to be taken, and take those who were not. Perhaps you know me, perhaps you've seen me, perhaps we'll meet again.

The solemn tones of an old cathedral clock have announced midnight--the air is thick and heavy--a strange, death like stillness pervades all nature. Like the ominous calm which precedes some more than usually terrific outbreak of the elements, they seem to have paused even in their ordinary fluctuations, to gather a terrific strength for the great effort.

I pause to acknowledge a faint peal of thunder coming from far off. Like a signal gun for the battle of the winds to begin, it appeared to awaken them from their lethargy, as one awful, warring hurricane swept over a whole city, producing more devastation in the four or five minutes it lasted, than would a half century of ordinary phenomena.

It was as if some giant had blown upon some toy town