And so it was that Serapha and Alan Rhiannon set out one fine evening to travel to the Dragon Queen’s tower. They went first overland to Snowcap village, both flying through the darkening sky with wings spread. Serapha wore her father’s medallion still around her neck. “Don’t worry,” he’d assured her when he insisted she take it. “I can stay in during daylight for a few weeks while you’re gone. But you never know if you’ll be able to find shelter by sunrise or not. Take it.”

Alan wore no jewelry. He flew near Serapha, the tips of his wings mere inches from hers. Serapha’s wings were the white-feathered wings of an aerian, but Alan hadn’t inherited his wings from his father. Folded at rest they were vividly patterned with yellow, red and orange, but when he spread them to fly they were even more splendid, for his wings were the literal fiery wings of a phoenix. A nimbus of flickering flame hovered around each feather, lithe tongues of fire trailing behind him as he flew. The wings, along with his vivid amber eyes, marked him as a throwback, a genetic anomaly that harkened back to the earliest days of his mother’s clan, when a phoenix and a firecat had dared to fall in love. Now their many-times great grandson flew through the night on wings of flame, with his sister, immune to fire and unafraid, close by his side.

They made good time, reaching Snowcap not long before dawn. Serapha hesitated for a moment when Alan headed for the nameless little inn where their family had always stayed when they visited Snowcap but eventually she followed behind him with an inward shrug. Alan landed in the dusty street in front of the inn, blurring upright into human form as he did so. He was a good foot taller than Serapha and in fact he towered over everyone else in the family, including his parents.

A middle-aged human was sitting behind a battered desk just inside the door. He smiled at Alan and Serapha and gave them a cheery wave. “Looking to stay for the day?” he asked.

“Only if there’s nobody sailing out today, Mr. Alderman,” responded Alan. “We need to catch a ship to the eastern continent.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to forgo your custom today then, for there’s a merchantman sailing out this afternoon,” said the innkeeper. “You’re more than free to spend an hour or two down in the commons room,” he added. And then smiled as he said, “I know that someone who just happens to be down in the commons room right now would be happy to keep you company.”

Serapha flinched slightly at Mr. Alderman’s words. She didn’t feel at all up to speaking with his son, Michael, at all. She didn’t know how Michael would react to the news that she was undead. They hadn’t sworn eternal love, or anything like it, but they enjoyed each other’s company quite a lot, and both of them were aware of the potential for something more. But now… her mother had stayed with her father after his transformation, but then they’d been married already. The relationship she had with Michael was still in its infancy, and she wasn’t at all sure it would hold up under the news. Still, she decided, there wasn’t any way to avoid seeing Michael now, so she might as well get it over with.

Mr. Alderman eyed her oddly when she took a deep breath moved determinedly into the inn. Alan, on the other hand, simply nodded. He knew very well what was worrying his sister.

Serapha went into the dim commons room of the little inn hesitantly. She could see every corner of the room clearly; her night sight more than sufficient to pierce the gloom, and it took her only a second to spot the shape of Michael behind the bar. He was dusting off glasses and setting them on the shelf behind him, a small lamp next to him providing just enough illumination. In an hour or so when the inn’s patrons began to rise the big lamps would be lit, but until then there was no need to waste lamp oil. She looked at him silently for a long time. He was fairly average in appearance with sandy brown hair, warm brown eyes, and a fair complexion with a dusting of freckles across his nose. He was of average height too, which actually meant he practically towered over Serapha, who was barely two inches over five feet.

“Serapha!” Michael’s less sensitive eyes picked her out in the gloom long after she’d spotted him, but her hesitation let him make the first move. He vaulted enthusiastically over the bar and trotted across the room, his eyes lit up at the sight of her. He reached out his hands to take hers, and stopped when she didn’t reach out in turn. “Serapha? Is something wrong?”

Serapha sighed, trying to think how best to tell him. “Not exactly,” she said at last. “I mean I’m all right, and there’s no emergency or anything, but…”

“But?” he prompted, trying to guess where this was going.

“But some things have… changed since the last time I saw you. I’m not sure how to explain, and I don’t want to upset you.”

“Serapha,” said Michael, with a faint tone of frustration and confusion in his voice, “just tell me whatever it is.”

She sighed again. “I just don’t know exactly how to say this…” She looked down at the medallion around her neck and ran her finger over the stone. “Do you know what this is?” she asked.

Michael looked down at the medallion and blinked in surprise. “It’s your father’s pendant, the one he always wears. Why are you wearing it?”

“Do you know what it does?”

“It… it has something to do with his being a vampire,” said Michael softly, a sudden sinking sensation forming in his stomach.

“Yes. It protects him against sunlight. Him and now… now me.”

Michael said nothing, unsure of what there was to say. There was a long, uncomfortable silence and then finally he reached out again and took Serapha’s hand. “This is kind of sudden, and well, I’m not sure if its going to change things, but I’ve known your dad for a long time, and he’s always been a decent person, so I don’t think you being a…” he hesitated over the word a moment, “a vampire is going to make you some kind of monster. I mean everybody knows your dad’s a good person…” he trailed off awkwardly and then simply smiled at her, unable to think of anything else to say.

Serapha smiled back, squeezing Michael’s hand gently. “Thanks,” she said simply.