Love in the Age of the Shade

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This book can be collected by Defiants and Guardians.

Rewarded from the Artifact Set: Love in the Age of the Shade. You can hunt for these Artifacts in Gloamwood.

Book Text

“Beryl” Said vampire Jeb in that low drawn out voice that sent chills up her spine, “I care so very deeply for you, and while I have suppressed my bestial nature, the sight of you tempts me into acts that I had long put behind me.”

“Oh vampire Jeb, You’re so elegant and refined, like a Mathosian knight of the old kingdom.” Beryl grabbed hold of her ancient, bloodsucking boyfriend. She loved him so much that she thought her heart would burst. He wasn’t like the other boys in Gloamwood, not piggish and grabby, he was dangerous in a way that made her feel safe in his arms. His fangs lightly traced the nape of her neck, she shivered. “Oh vampire Jeb… I want you to turn me. Right here, right now.”

“Beryl, that would mean you would become a thrall of Regulos. His great rage would course through your being, and you would be a monster.” Vampire Jeb stared intently into her eyes. “Besides, tonight of all nights I would be unable to perform.”

Beryl frowned, and rolled her eyes. She had thought that dating a vampire would have been a little more adventurous. While she appreciated the long nightly walks, and the talk about how special she was, and her father totally hated him, sometimes she wished he’d act like those piggish boys from Gloamwood. A girl does have needs.

The clouds above the town parted and the full moon shown down upon them. “Oh no! Beryl you must run from here!” cried vampire Jeb, leaping back from Beryl, and shielding his face.

“What’s wrong vampire Jeb?” cried Beryl, running towards him. She was so worried. It seemed that the list of curses and hexes he suffered under grew daily. The Hag gave him a soul to punish him for not mopping up the blood from a kill, the Gedlo Conclave hexed him for writing love poems while crying at Tearfall Creek, those Guardians arrived and put all number of debilitating spells upon him, and then last week he got hit by a full blast of sparkling faerie dust. Now he sparkled in a most unmanly way.

“It’s the curse of Gloamwood!” cried Jeb. Instead of his perfectly smooth alabaster skin, he was covered in patchy fur, his beautiful face now lupine in nature.

“Wait, you’re a vampire and a werewolf?” asked Beryl incredulously. “Really Jeb, this is just getting stupid.”

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