Ian Night stopped at the edge of the field, with the dark forest behind him and his team. The full moon hanging above the trees cast eerie shadows into the forest that they had just exited and lit the field with a silver light that fought for control against the darkness of the night. He wiped sweaty black hair from his brow and stared at the magnificent temple before them with dark brown eyes that shone with a mixture of excitement and fear. Fear, it was a word that he didn't use much and an emotion that he had once thought he was immune to. But with age comes experience and since he was a little over half a decade old, he had much experience stored in his mind. He had learned well over the many years to be aware of fear as a healthy emotion that could get a man killed. He had learned to fear his fear.
"Do you see that sight my friend?" Paul Algris asked with a smile, stepping up beside Ian. His black hair hung in his green eyes that studied the temple with the same awe that shone in Ian's. "Fifteen years of searching and we've finally found it my friend." His deep voice couldn't hide the excitement. He clapped Ian on the shoulder and laughed happily. "And it's even more beautiful then I could have ever imagined!"
"Indeed it is," Ian answered, smiling at the black marble building standing before them. He slipped his hands beneath the straps of the backpack that rested on his back and let it fall off of his shoulders. Turning, he turned to face the other four members of the team. "Well, we haven't spent all this time searching just to stare at it. Let's see if history is right."
"Of course history's right, Mr. Night," a short man replied, as he walked up beside Ian on the other side. "You shouldn't doubt the books good sir. I have read many a books about this temple. Many believed the Temple of Dar Kilwick didn't exist. You shouldn't be worried about history being wrong Mr. Night you should be honored. You're about to make history."
"That's why you're here Professor," Ian said, starting forward with the others close behind. "To research the importance of such things and then to record us in the history books." The short man laughed and pushed the black-rimmed glasses up further on his nose.
As Ian Night walked towards the Temple of Dar Kilwick, the Temple of The Cursed, he thought of the ancient sword that would be resting inside. He felt the familiar weight of his late father's war sword on his back and sighed in relief. Professor Alfred Gill fell back a little as the shadow of the temple devoured them but Paul matched Ian's strides with his own. Like Ian, Paul had once thought fear was only an emotion to be ignored but he had learned to fear it as well. In their profession fear was present at every corner and the only way to ignore it was to accept it for what it really was. Fear walked the earth and hunted them every night.
Ian stopped at the bottom of a stone flight of stairs and turned to the small team behind him. "Richard, Ryan, wait here. If we receive any unwelcome guests you know what to do." Both nodded, Richard removing the black bow from his back and Ryan unhooking the spear resting against his back. "We shouldn't be long. We all know what we're here for."
As Ian, Paul, and Professor Gill started up the steps, all with different thoughts running through their heads, Ian fought to control the excitement that quickly bubbled up inside of him. Paul touched the battle- axe looped into his belt and Alfred swallowed heavily in fear. "Are you two sure this is such a good idea?"
"Or course it is," Ian replied, taking his first steps into the temple with the others close behind. "When have we ever let you down?" The darkness of the temple welcomed them as the two outside searched the midnight sky in surprise. The first howl of the night echoed in the air outside and it was very close.
Old, cool air met Ian's skin making the goose bumps automatically appear and stay on his arms. He smiled into the darkness and pulled the stone and flint out of his pocket, quickly lighting a torch on the wall and taking it down. Even with Alfred's protests, both Ian and Paul started down the long corridor with the professor grumbling behind them. Neither knew where he was going but Ian could somehow find his way down corridors as if something was pulling him into the heart of the temple.
After ten minutes that felt like hours Ian saw a fiery light in the corridor ahead of him. He began to jog towards it with exploding excitement and stumbled into a large, high-ceilinged room with lit torches lining the walls. The three stayed around in surprise and relieved happiness.
"The history books were right," Professor Gill laughed happily, "it is real, The Sword of Dar Kilwick. The cursed sword Talron." He jumped up and down gleefully and clapped his hands together. "Well gentlemen, we have made history."
"Amazing," Paul whispered in astonishment. "I never thought I'd actually see it." He gave the other two quick side-glances and started forward with quick steps. "Let's not waste time. Richard and Ryan are out there and the sooner we have this thing, the sooner we can leave."
"No wait!" Professor Gill yelled in alarm, stepping forward with an arm raised. "Don't touch it yet! We know nothing about it!" He pulled a cloth from his backpack and tossed it to Paul. "Don't touch it with your hands. It is called the Sword of The Cursed. We don't want to take any chances until we can study it more. The ancient texts speak strongly about destroying it. Don't be foolish."
Paul caught the cloth, nodded, and soon resumed his steps. His heavy black boots rang on the stone as he neared the platform where the sword rested. With a wide smile on his face, he stopped next to the platform, leaned down with eager hands, and jumped back in pain and fear. Apparently his many years hadn't taught him everything about that simple emotion that many took as weakness. To know your fear was to be clever.
Three orbs materialized in the air, one dark blue, the other two dark red, and began to slowly spin around the platform. "What the hell are those?" Paul asked in surprise, catching his balance again and watching the spinning orbs.
Professor Gill uttered a soft noise and shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think I've ever heard of anything like this. I can only guess that it might be the evil held within the sword. Three orbs for three emotions; possibly evil, anger, and fear. I'm only guessing, I can't be certain." He paused and rubbed his chin briefly. "Beware of the orbs though Paul. Don't let one touch you. I've read stories about this sword that would make killers look like bunnies. There is more evil there then either of you have ever seen in your professions."
The cursed sword Talron glimmered in the light of the three circling orbs; shone with all its ancient glory. The blade of deep dark silver shone with what could only be described as moonlight and the black handle hung like darkness in a mid-afternoon day. A silver chain fell from the end of the handle and connected to its end was a snarling wolf's head with red eyes. A black sheath, as deep as the handle, with immense gloom, rested next to the slightly curved blade of the ancient weapon.
Paul ducked and held the cloth out as he approached the platform again, this time much more carefully. He quickly draped the sword in it and gently lifted it from the stone surface, keeping a watchful eye out for the three orbs. He was nearly thrown back as he lifted the sword; the three orbs stopped and flew into the blade making a dark red light flow across its surface. Straightening his back with a relieved sigh, with the sword in one hand, Paul picked up the sheath and turned back to his two companions. They watched him with excited eyes and as they started back up the corridor towards the outside world, the torches on the walls of the chamber began to slowly fade away; their hellfire had been unexpectedly yanked away from them.

Ian's body met the warm midnight air as he left the cool aired temple behind him but he paid no heed to it. The excitement coursing through his veins was too great to ignore. He turned to see Alfred and Paul quickly emerge behind him, Paul still holding Talron and Alfred studying it closely as they all started down the many stone steps again.
His eyes were quickly pulled to Ryan, who stood straight-backed and rigid, on the edge of awareness. His spear was gripped in firm, strong hands that had never yielded to any foe. "What's wrong? What's happened?" Ian asked quickly, unconscious of his hand quickly wrapping around the hilt of his own sword.
"We heard howls close by sir," Ryan replied quickly, letting his eyes scan the dense forest surrounding the temple. "As soon as you entered we heard the first one. It was close and after that at least four others answered, possibly more. We don't know how many of them are out there but we know they're close."
"Blood Runners!" Ian Night cursed under his breath angrily. He unsheathed the war sword on his back and held it steady at his side. He raised his voice to be heard over the wind. "Damn, they never give us a break. Ryan, Richard, take a lookout for now." They both nodded and took a couple steps forward with alert expressions and weapons ready. Mr. Night turned to the other two and spoke quickly, "Paul, you know what to do. But Professor, you shouldn't get yourself involved in our line of work. We need to move fast and make it back to camp before we get ambushed out here." He smiled and looked at his oldest friend. "Paul, you know how fast these Blood Runners move. We need to be quick!" Another howl, close this time, echoed throughout the forest. It was quickly answered by not just other howls.
"Father!"
In an amazed surprise, Ian Night spun on his heels to see his ten year old son running across the moonlit field towards him with young legs moving and eyes wide with fear, arms swinging at sides. Behind the young boy came another howl, very close, and then five more howls to answer that one.
"Alec!" Ian yelled, frantically starting across the field towards his son with sword swinging at side and muscles pumping hard. He was unaware that Paul had dropped the ancient blade to the ground and was close behind with his axe ready for what was about to emerge from the dark trees. "What did I tell you? To stay at camp with the others!" He started as he neared his terrified son. "I warned you not to come out here. Of all the times, this was the one you needed to listen to me the most!" An arrow whistled past his head, and he could picture Richard behind him drawing another.
"I'm sorry father," Alec called back as they neared each other. "I just wanted to see where your explorations took you!" As Ian looked past his son's small shoulder, his eyes falling across the vampire wolves, the Blood Runners, that had emerged from the forest and started towards his only son's back, already craving sweet blood, the slayer realized that he could lie to his son no more about the job that he did. Exploration was to keep the boy away from Ian's work but apparently the boy was too much like his old man, curious, brave, clever, and thinking that he was immune to fear as well. Ian was a vampire slayer, like Paul, Ryan, and Richard and had kept it a secret from his son. His family was dead, all save his son, and he would not lie to his son anymore. He raised the sword in anger and fear and ran forward with the speed that only a father could muster.

Alec Night moved closer to the oak tree that would cover him from the sight of the two men standing outside of the large building before him. At the age of ten he didn't know the names of such buildings but since his father was an explorer, he knew more then most children his age knew. He thought back, closing his eyes briefly, and muttered, "Temple." Is that what his father had called it? A temple? He didn't know, nor did he really care.
He ignored the soft sounds of twigs cracking beneath his light feet as he neared the oak; all his concern was on finding his father. He knew the two men standing outside the "temple", knew them but not their names. One carried a bow and the other a spear as if they were guarding against something. What, Alec didn't know, but he was aware that they both looked alert.
His hopes rose as he saw his father emerge from the entrance with that professor that traveled with them and Paul Algris, his father's oldest and closest friend. Paul was like an uncle to Alec, since most of his family was dead and Alec knew that Paul was a kind-hearted man that was loyal to his father and his work, exploration as well.
Alec smiled at the sight of his father but the smile quickly faded as his father's back straightened and he looked around the field in surprise. Alec watched him exchange a word or two with one of the nameless men and then with Paul and the professor.
With all his attention focused on his father, Alec heard the loud howl from behind him and gasped in fear, spinning on his heels to peer into the darkness behind him, unaware that he had jumped nearly a foot.
More howls echoed the first, each making Alec's ten year old heart skip a beat and before he knew what he was doing, he began across the small field with all his muscles pumping energy into his legs. "Father!" He yelled in wide-eyed fear. He watched, with restored hope, as his father turned towards him and started across the field to meet him. Alec pushed his young legs even harder as six more howls pierced the darkness of the midnight sky.
"Alec!" The young boy saw his father start towards him with quick speed, the sword unsheathed and at his side; Paul was close behind with the axe in his hands. "What did I tell you? To stay at camp with the others!" Alec heard his father yell to him as he neared him. "I warned you not to come out here. Of all the times, this was the one you needed to listen to me the most!" Alec saw the one "nameless" man move his arms and then he was briefly aware of an arrow streaking through the air, past him and towards the woods.
"I'm sorry father," Alec called back as they neared each other. "I just wanted to see where your explorations took you!" He heard quick footsteps behind him, many footsteps, but was too afraid to turn around.
Alec's father rushed past him with the sword raised and as Alec turned on his heels in confusion he saw the six wolves that had emerged from the woods, with furious grins on their red-eyed faces, and saw them meet his father's blade.
"Alec, what the hell are you doing here?" Paul asked, briefly slowing as he neared him. Alec didn't answer, only looked up at the man with fearful eyes. "Alec, go to the temple with the other three. Stay there, they'll watch over you. You don't need to get caught up in our affairs." A quick smile crossed his face as he pushed Alec towards the temple and then started off after Alec's father. Alec didn't stay long, his legs were pumping again and before he knew what was happening, he was at the "temple" with the three other men.

Ian Night took down the first vampire wolf with a swift swing of his blade, the reddened blade glowing in the moonlight. He heard Paul say something to his son and then his old friend was at his side, swinging the mighty axe with furious strength.
"Well, well, well," a deep voice said, followed by laughter as a tall man with gray eyes and long black hair strode out of the forest. "It's good to see that I finally have to two slayers within my grasp. And not only that but they were kind enough to retrieve and bring the ancient sword to me." He threw his head back and laughed again. A sword swung from his belt and hung from behind the long black cloak on his back.
Mr. Night turned to the man with anger on his blood stained face. His breathing had quickened and when he spoke, his words seemed breathless. "You're never getting Talron, General Urhon!" Ian knew the vampire that stood before them; he knew him very well. General Taldrin Urhon, Head of the Dark Moon council, right hand man to Lord Dal'Nax. "We found the sword, it's ours. It doesn't belong to you or Dal'Nax! We'll die protecting it!"
"Very well slayer," General Urhon laughed happily. "If you want to die protecting a sword, be my guest."
Ian heard the growl behind him and spun with the sword raised. A sharp pain shot up his side as the Blood Runner sank its fangs into his side and then it's blood sprayed his face as he cut its neck. In utter horror, Ian Night looked down at his torn shirt and bleeding side, already aware of the cursed vampire poison that had entered his veins; a poison that would turn anything into darkness.
With his attention focused on the gaping wound in his body, Ian barely hung the swinging of metal, a swinging that sounded so close, but he was violently yanked back to reality as the cracking of bones met his ears and the blinding pain intensely covered his chest.
Ian looked down at the axe blade in his chest as his strength gave way. His sword clattered to the ground and his knees buckled from underneath him. He hit the ground hard as the dark seeping blood began to pour out of the wound. With wide eyes, filled with both astonishment and pain, Ian Night looked up at his friend Paul, who held the handle that belonged to the blade buried in his chest.
Paul Algris stared back with teary eyes and pulled the blade fell with a single yank. Ian could barely feel his breath, he couldn't breathe, and he could barely see or hear as the darkness quickly began to flood his mind. "I'm sorry my friend," Paul whispered sadly, as he stepped away from Ian. As death pulled him away, Ian saw his oldest friend look down at him in sadness, watching him.

"NO!" Alec yelled angrily in sadness and fury as he saw Paul, his father's oldest and supposedly best friend, drive the axe blade into his father's chest. "Father!" Alec watched his father fall to the ground, somehow weak and small now, not the commanding presence that he always had over people, and then slowly drift away towards death. Paul whispered something and then began back towards the "temple" where they stood.
The six wolves were dead and the black-clad man that had emerged from the forest to speak to Alec's father left in a hurry as one of the other men's arrows sank into his shoulder. The field was once again quiet and empty; empty of the sounds of battle and four men and a body stood there near that building, with Ian Night lying dead on the ground nearby.
Paul Algris slowed to a walk as he neared them, wiping both sweat and blood from his brow and returning the bloody bladed axe to his belt loop in sadness. His head was down and he refused to meet Alec's eyes. "I'm sorry about your father, Alec," he whispered softly, sadly, as he finally met the young boy's stare. "It had to be done. Everyone here knew it. We couldn't let him live like that. Your father would have wanted that, you know that."
But Alec couldn't believe that, he couldn't believe Paul. His father's friend had murdered him in cold blood and Alec was not going to let him live for that. He didn't believe any of it. It wasn't happening, his father was still alive! He had to be.
In blind anger, with tears running down his face, Alec ripped the cloth from the sword on the ground, wrapped his hands around the black handle and heaved upward with all his strength, swinging it towards Paul. "No! Not the sword! Don't touch the sword," his father's friend tried to scream before the tip of the blade struck him across the face. In it's fast motion, the sword swung Alec around, he lost his balance, and they both fell to the ground.
Alec looked up to see Paul's face bleeding badly. The sword had slashed a gap in his face running from his left cheek, down across his lips, and then down his chin and upper neck. It was deep and bleeding badly, his lips were busted and cut apart but he didn't utter a single word of protest. Instead, he merely nodded to Alec and gently wiped the blood away, but in vain.
Alec didn't feel the chain, with the wolf head on it, wrap around his right wrist and then the wolf head settle on the back of his hand but he screamed when it burned and branded the wolf head symbol onto his hand. Still screaming and crying, he dropped the sword and backed away with wide eyes.
The professor picked it up in a cloth with a worried expression. "Paul, we should get back to camp. You're calling the shots now. Ian left you in charge. What should we do?"
Paul kneeled down, showing no pain on his face, and pulled Alec into an embrace, the kid shivering all over in disbelief. "I'm sorry kid." His voice sounded heavy and split, he had trouble speaking with the split lips. "I'm sorry but it had to be done." Alec nodded reluctantly and wiped tears from his eyes. Paul looked up at the professor and replied, "First, we bring Ian's body back to camp and give him a true burial. The burial that a slayer deserves." The other two "nameless" men nodded and went to pick up Alec's father's body. The four men and the boy traveled back to camp carrying their fallen leader in sadness.
Alec watched the next morning as his father was buried in the forest. He unconsciously ran his fingers over the wolf head that had been branded onto his hand and knew that he was the only one in his family left. Paul Algris took him in and trained him to be a slayer.