Mary Annette

Chapter One: The Shadow Before Dawn

A new life coming into the world finds itself assaulted by a thousand new sensations: noises, colors, touches, smells. Overwhelmed by the realities of the world outside the safety and serenity of the womb, a child does the only thing it can think to do, cry. They cry out in confusion, in pain, and in fear. The very natural and necessary process of life requires the scene be replayed with each youngling born into this life. Their cries will always herald their recognition of this monumental transition from solitude to joining the multitude. It is a moment that, most often, is cause for celebration.

It is a terrible secret that many are born anew in this world. A birth infinitely more wondrous and more terrible than the first. For Mary Annette of Caiten, Illinois it was, in most ways, nothing like the blessed arrival she had once experienced. Her first life began as Barbara Oglebay, daughter of Robert and Helen Oglebay. Her childhood was quiet and simple, and blossoming into womanhood complicated her almost pastoral existence only slightly. She had a deep fascination with the Old Ways, the belief the magick, spirits, and much more skulked and stalked unseen through the warp and weft of our modern world. After much work, and a loan from a local bank, she had gathered capital to procure and stock a small occult shop in town. Her life was, while not so grand or glorious some others, was imminently gratifying. She was joyous over her place in life and radiantly hopeful at the thought of her future. Unfortunately, Miss Mary Annette could not know this course of events, nor would she ever know them for some cruel and merciful providence had thoroughly and irrevocably expunged all that had come before her "second birth" at the hands and fangs of one Louis Lavere, scion of clan Tremere.

In darkness was this second naissance. In the stillness and silence of the witching hour was she born again. No mother to comfort her; no swaddling to allay her fear. Darkness where light should have been, roughness where comfort should have been. Before her, a man she had never met knelt on the floor, watching her expectantly, worriedly. Her mind scrabbled to lay hold of anything which might quell the night-black tide of apocalyptic terror that threatened to consume her mind. The pale stranger reached out for her, worry and affection seeking to enfold her and comfort her. Mary reached for him, fear and suspicion seeking lash out and destroy this nameless menace. A torrent of thoughts raged and coruscated through the empty chambers of her mind, till finally, they breached the pallisade that shields the world from unfettered emotion and dread, irrefutable Will.

The wall behind Mary splintered and shattered, exploding in a cacophony that might have woke the dead, had they not already been wandering the Plutonian shore. Vitreous panes rippled before shattering  in glittering cascades. Metal groaned and shrieked as unseen hands tore at it. Wood creaked and cracked as though some hurricane gale swelled against it relentlessly. Vibrations as though the earth itself were enraged by her panic shook the small shop. Clattering, clanking, groaning creaking, cracking, rumbling and tinkling rose and welled like the grandest orchestra ever to play under some baleful, green sun, till one final, broken note sundered the whole of that small, fragile storefront. Ragged, jagged fangs of wood, glass, stone and metal swarmed and rushed towards Louis. They sought his heart, and during the withering, and seemingly endless, assault, a ragged length of wood found it's mark, bringing a somber quiessencse to one Louis Lavere.

The first night of a first life ends in the silence of comfort, this first night ends with silence of desolation...in the shadow before dawn.