Magnus couldn’t say why he had decided to join the fire show, nor why he was dancing around the bonfire with a torch in each hand. Maybe it was a reminiscence of the old days when he had pretended to be a god of the forest, a demonic spirit who had demanded human sacrifices. The golden glow that emitted from his naked body seemed to be more than ordinary paint. Or was it just an illusion? Magnus spun around and around for what felt like hours until he collided with another dancer, a wolf in human clothing. It happened before either of them could react. A bright light hit both men and Magnus felt a strange pull, his feet loosing contact with the ground. Was he floating through midair? But the moment was over as fast as it had come and the vampire groaned as his body hit the hard, cobbled ground of an English fortress. “What the...?!” He looked up and right into the masked face of a shifter before his eyes were drawn towards something else. A group of soldiers that was standing around them, threatening them with their crossbows. They were wearing armors... “Oh fucking hell no.”