Episode 45: Chance Encounter

Three bodies existed together, clustered, bound by origin and mission, yet divided in spirit. Three philosophies. Three perspectives. Three reasons to break apart. And so they did, scattered into the wilds of a new world, each carving a path shaped by choice, circumstance, and consequence. Their timelines would never align, not truly, but their ripples would collide in ways none of them could foresee.

Rah’s life ended in the 1664. Anu’s in 1853. But Ezath’s line did not fade. While the clones of their species spread across the world, she would become the final pure-blood remnant of her kind...the Endling.

And then there was one: (L to R) Anu, Ezath (Elizabeth), and Rah - © 2025 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC

And though the arcs of Rah, Anu, and Ezath spun at different speeds, in different centuries, the gravity of their choices mattered all the same. Now, returning to Ezath’s winding path, her orbit would draw the rest of the story into sharp focus.

By the mid-1700s, mankind had changed by leaps and bounds. Enlightenment was the prevailing philosophy, emphasizing the individual, reason, promoting ideas of liberty, aimed at the monarchies of the world. An indictment against authority, and an elevation of “self”.

The year was 1761, and Ezath, living under the name Elizabeth Jovan, moved effortlessly among London’s upper class. She played the role of a refined widow, a Duchess by rumor, appearing only at night, drifting from salon to soirée like a jeweled ghost. She never hosted gatherings of her own. Instead, she rented a modest but elegant hotel room, remaining untethered, as a traveler might who simply hadn’t decided where to root her life next. Centuries of practice had made her performance impeccable. And wealth, acquired over dozens of lifetimes never failed to smooth suspicion.

Elizabeth holding court with the Londoners, complete with powdered wig - © 2025 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC

She fed discreetly. Targeting a drunken commoner slipping into an alley...or a vagrant no one would miss...Their bodies left as regrettable casualties of London’s endless nights. Society fancied itself too mature to believe in vampires. Such things were for folktales, not the enlightened mind. So Elizabeth was dismissed as nothing more dangerous than a charming reveler with expensive taste.

Yet loneliness crept in again. Her attempts to create Underlings had always been a gamble,  some loyal, some rebellious...and some simply not built to survive the night. Many had met tragic ends. And so Elizabeth fed alone, roamed alone, existed alone.

But Enlightenment had altered the landscape of human thought. Romanticism stirred beneath its surface. Stories of soul bonds and emotional truth were everywhere. And Elizabeth, who understood existence on a metaphysical level, longed for that rarest thing among her kind: companionship not born of blood or servitude, but of something like love.

There was no component of sexuality for Elizabeth when it came to choosing any member of her past Brood. Her species procreated differently than humans, so as far as gender roles were concerned she always looked past that. Attraction was not of flesh but of mind, of spirit, of resonance. She had sought such unity before, most notably with Elizabeth Báthory, whose intellect and passion nearly aligned with her own. But the countess’ madness proved too volatile, too dangerous...even for a vampire.

London’s rigid hierarchies offered her no path forward. The poor, trapped by systemic rot. The rich suffocating beneath arrogance and inbreeding. No one she met stirred the deep, ancient chord she was searching for.

What Elizabeth needed was a change of venue. Someplace pure, untouched by the corruption of refinement, worship, and ranking...and so she decided to head to America. Not only were the religiously persecuted leaving England in droves to join what was being called the “New World”, but so were hard working, enterprising spirits, tired of all that the European aristocracy doled out.

“Opportunity” Advertisement from The Britannia Gazette, 1761 - © 2025 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC

Word had it the ever-expanding cities and towns also bordered on untapped wilderness, ripe with indigenous tribes who lived off the land. It could be like it was back in her days in France, while providing the stability of an evolved, budding society like Greece. It was an adventure she was excited to embark on.

Elizabeth booked passage and set sail for America...But the journey got off to a rocky start. A once-in-a-century storm slammed the vessel after it left Cardiff. Waves like black mountains hurled the ship onto rocks. They limped to shore, forced into an emergency stop in Ireland. It would take weeks to complete the repair to the boat, and so America’s golden shores would have to wait for the wanting vampire.

While in the sleepy seaside village of Dungarvan, Elizabeth procured suitable quarters in the town’s square and contemplated how she would feed. Being a visitor in a small town was a dangerous spot for a vampire to be in. All eyes would surely be on her. Townsfolk were curious, and any mysterious murders turning up on the darkened streets would certainly and immediately turn heads her way.

Elizabeth keeping a low profile in Dungarvan - © 2025 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC

While vampire’s might not have been on everyone’s mind, Witches certainly were. An outsider woman, alone, mysterious, was at risk of both suspicion and superstition. So she would have to stay incognito, and creep past city limits by the cover of night to feed. Sustaining herself on the blood of animals was not ideal, but it would suffice.

Night after night, under the light of the moon, Elizabeth would make her way passed fields and farms, visiting a pasture filled with a herd of Kerry cows. She’d control her portion, not wanting to kill them, just feed enough to keep her strength up. She would think back to Rah, his discipline, his restraint, wondering how he ever tolerated such bland sustenance...

Forced to sustain herself on cow’s blood - © 2025 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC

…Deep in thought and feeding, Elizabeth was caught off-guard, discovered by a farmhand wielding a musket in his shaking hand. The man, Seamus Dillon, a local farmer, was unable to sleep and had ventured out on a walk.

“Reading” his thoughts, Elizabeth could feel a great loss and melancholy. Seamus wasn’t just out checking on his herd, he’d recently lost his fiancé and was on his way to end his life. Seeing Elizabeth’s fangs, having heard lores and legends of the vampire, Seamus begged her to take his last breath from him. Hungry, she seized him by instinct, but something happened in that moment neither expected. Souls brushed. Loneliness met loneliness. Two beings, one ancient, one mortal, both starving for connection...Elizabeth stopped feeding on him.

Portrait of Seamus Dillon - © 2025 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC

They instead, walked the pasture together, talking beneath the misty Irish night. He confessed his heartbreak, his weariness with the life he’d been dealt. She spoke, for the first time in years of her true self. Her age. Her wandering. Her longing. They understood each other without fear or masks. And as dawn threatened the sky, they parted with quiet reluctance.

The next night they met again, and again, each conversation deeper than the last. By the end of the week, there was no question between them. Elizabeth’s time in Dungarvan was ending. So she offered Seamus a choice, remain in Ireland and surrender to despair...or begin a new existence at her side.

Seamus and Elizabeth forging a connection - © 2025 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC

Seamus accepted her invitation for a new life. He drank her blood, becoming her Underling...but something more than that, something rare. A partner, a vow-bound guardian, a spirit entwined with hers. She promised him a shared life. He promised her loyalty, protection, and devotion. Not as master and servant, but as equals walking the same endless road.

Days later, Seamus staged a farewell gathering with family and friends, claiming he’d secured a granger position on a farm in America. It would be the last time they saw him. A year later, word would arrive that he had died in an accident, a lie crafted to give closure and sever suspicion.

When Elizabeth and her new consort set foot on American soil, the future, their future, was finally rich with possibility.

TO BE CONTINUED…