When the vampire returned from the hunt and saw what they had done, he raged against a God he knew didn't exist. In his despair and grief he tore down the house she had filled with love. The home where two hearts, one beating and one still lived in beauty and grace. As she lay in a shroud of crimson, congealing blood, he cursed the fates for bring him to her door. Then he cried tears of blood, aged by a hundred years of living, whilst lighting the match. As the flames caught hold, he sat with her dead body in his arms and waited for oblivion.
The Three stood on the hill watching the little cottage in the woods. Finally the house and contents became a raging inferno. The Three did not smile, were not happy with the work of this night. They were merely enforcing, they had no power or will, other that given to them by their lord. Beyond mild pity for their dead brother, the three felt nothing. As the sky darkened before the dawn The Three walked back to their car and in that moment far from home they took their first step into legend.