Sabine roamed widely, arriving in cities like Paris, Athens, Berlin, Vienna, Budapest, Belgrade, Krakow, Amsterdam, and Algiers. Her path spread like roots, reflecting an existence without clear beginning or end. She traveled solo but carried her old companions’ teachings: Renata’s savoring of prey, Hector’s caution to stay ahead of bodies, and Matteo’s tactics for infiltrating society and claiming space. Wherever she paused for weeks or months, she made herself a familiar presence before hunting.

Years passed without touching Sabine’s immortality. Periodically she woke to find some piece of herself gone—a sliver of insecurity or regret. She could not name the absences, but the losses felt welcome, replaced by sharper urges. The hunger never diminished; it was a constant backdrop to her wandering.

In Prague, Sabine indulged in the thrill of the chase, letting a man run merely to savor pursuit, confident he could not escape. Moments like these underscored her predatory power and the pleasurable discipline she had honed since leaving Venice.

Over time, independence lost its charm. Sabine recognized a quiet longing—not quite loneliness—for someone to share her existence. She remembered pairs she had known: Renata and Hector’s gaze, Alessandro’s love for Matteo, and imagined what might have been if earlier figures in her life had remained.

Her games with prey sometimes lasted nights or weeks, and increasingly she wondered what it would mean to spare one, to turn a mortal and keep them. Yet at the decisive moment, terror dominated her victims; they screamed, fought, or fled. Her hunger prevailed, and the opportunity for willing transformation vanished.

Realizing that desire without consent could not bridge the final step, Sabine continued her solitary path. She remained defined by insatiable hunger, honed methods, and a slow, deliberate shedding of human feeling, with only the faint ache for different company persisting.