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“Fear is power,” the eldest did confide,
“Mortal minds with thoughts can bend;
Home is darkness, where I hide,
Every beginning must start with an end.
Touch not the sun, oh poisoned light,
But embrace the silver temptress moon;
Make your sanctuary the velvet night,
The wolf’s howl is your mother’s croon.
Blood is wine, flesh divine,
Nary a prayer will halt your will;
Garlic, silver, nor holy sign, --
Only the sun makes your blood stop still.
So be wary, child of the night,
Let no mortal know of your bloody endeavor;
Sleep with the rising of the sun, tainted light,
Safe with the thought that you’ll live forever.”