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Preface

August 1888

How e in a year

It’s one of those phrases that I’ve caught in conversation, one that rattles in e of hty, substantial It was filled with possibilities: ofIt was a stepping-stone on the path of life—a path that I no longer walk

A year was one thing Twenty years ago, whenelse entirely

A year ago, I caland, a land so steeped in history itAnd although the setting had changed, I stayed the same I still looked like I had the day I turned into a vahts—of Katherine, who turned me, of Damon, my brother, of the death and destruction that I could never, ever seem to erase—still haunted my dreams Time had been steadily

galloping forward, but I remained as before, a demon desperate for redemption

If I were a hue by now I’d have a wife, children, perhaps even a son I’d prepare to take over my family business

Before the Salvatore family business became murder

It’s a legacy I’ve spent the past twenty years trying to correct, hoping that soood deeds could make up for the mistakes I have made, the blood I have shed

And in soood for me Now, I’m an honest man—or as honest as a man can be when his past is as wretched as mine

I no longer feel guilty for draining the blood of woodland creatures I am, after all, a vampire But I am not a monster Not anymore

Still, time does not touch me as it does humans, nor does each new year turn over with the breathless anticipation of those who live All I can hope is that each year will carry me further and further from the destruction of my youth with no fresh pain on my conscience If I could have that, it would be my salvation

Chapter 1

Sunlight dappled the rough-hewn beams of the expansive kitchen of Abbott Manor, where I was eazed out the thick s at the verdant rolling countryside surrounding the hoh meticulously kept up by Mrs Duckworth, the Abbotts’ devoted housekeeper, I could see ht rays The ho renolia trees would drift through the open s and coat an entire room in a thin layer of dust

“Can you passhousemaids, asked as she flirtatiously batted her eyelashes at irl occasionally employed by Mrs Duckworth to coirl with curly brown hair and a s of freckles across her upturned nose, she reminded me of Amelia Hawke, one of my childhood friends from Mystic Falls Ae, I realized