Ilara led a calm life within her city's Nosferatu network before arriving in Berlin. She had her childer, her clan, her court, and Lucien by her side, and it was decent. That changed when Thomas, Lucien's touchstone and beloved ghoul, disappeared.

When video and audio messages began arriving on Lucien's and Ilara's phones, recorded by Fish—a Malkavian rival—taunting them with what he had put Thomas through, Ilara knew she had to act. Tracking the video's coordinates, she and Lucien formed a small coterie of two and set off for Berlin at first sunset.

Berlin's Nosferatu network lay in the tunnels connecting the least welcoming group of subway stations of the city: Kottbusser Tor and Hermannplatz were thick with drug-sick mortals and their dealers.

Ilara thought it a blessing: any Nosferatu, even her childe Efendi, could walk the stations in a hoodie and a blanket and none of the mortals would bat an eye at the presence, avoiding like they would any homeless addict. Without the human interaction, her boy would most likely descend into the sewers and never leave again.

Ghost was another beast entirely. 120 kilos of hulking, deformed muscle, there was no hiding him at all. Ilara didn't worry about him nearly as much as she did for Efendi though, as Ghost's embrace was one of business rather than compassion. The man knew how to take care of himself, and how to cause chaos.

As a trafficking survivor, Ilara's mind was already broken. Then came the Embrace, the isolation... Eventually, with the death of her mortal daughter, she wouldn't have survived if it weren't for the teachings of Lilith.

Ilara was never quite sure which came first: her belief in the cult, or Lucien himself. She wondered if the same was true for him. With the introduction to the Bahari, she found solace in pain and found her place amongst the twisted.

But in the end, Ilara knew her true worship was not of Lilith herself, but of Lucien. She was infatuated with the man, and her love was not selfless nor holy; it was selfish and hungry.