Chapter 19: Chapter 19: Memento Mori

Chapter 19: Memento Mori

“What exactly Isabelle Gens Silva did in creating her “Homunculus Knight” has remained a mystery. Some even doubt the existence of such a being, but the records and witness statements are compelling. The evidence seems to indicate that Gens Silva engaged in acts of Necromancy related to the manipulation of Souls in a way unbeknownst to even her fellow Vampires. Creating an artificial soul and inserting it into a flesh-crafted Homunculus Body. A feat never since replicated, and perhaps for a good reason. Only a few years after publicly revealing her creation to Duke Drakovich’s court, Gens Silva suffered her infamous downfall. A series of events that left her dead, her creations destroyed, and her research obliterated” Excerpt from the text, “ Alchemical Abominations ” authored by Aureolus Bombastus, Master Alchemist of the Salted Citadel.

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Natalie had never seen a Dragon. She, of course, had heard stories about them. How they were as much magic as they were flesh. The epitome of power in all its forms. Capable of feats, even the mightiest Archmage and War-Master would balk at. While she had never seen a Dragon, the sight in front of Natalie gave her an idea of what a clash between two such legends might look like.

Stretching out before Natalie was a field of Lilies, the white flowers reaching the horizon in every direction. Only two things broke the eternal field, a winding stream that babbled behind Natalie and the warring monsters in front of her. Two colossal shapes of darkness and blood tore at each other in a frantic battle to the death. Each was larger than the Silly Goat itself and brimming with dark power. The monsters were composed of shadows that flowed like blood, constantly shifting forms as they struggled. Natalie saw the leering faces of hungry wolves, swarms of teeming rats, flapping raven wings, and other more twisted shapes in the whirling darkness. Ideas of nocturnal predation sculpted in black ichor.

A familiar voice from Natalies right caught her attention. “You have quite the artistic mind.”

Whirling to face the speaker, Natalie saw a wiry man in a broad-brimmed straw hat. The stranger carried a lily in his lips like a farmer might a piece of grass. Over his shoulder was a long fishing pole. Deja vu flooded over Natalie, and she blinked away the feeling of familiar confusion.

Speaking more to herself than the Angler, Natalie murmured: “I’ve been here before. I’ve met you. But how…?”

The Angler waved a dismissive hand and chewed on the Lily stem absently as he spoke. “It's a hard thing to remember dreams, which is roughly what this is. But it's even harder to forget them fully.”

Pulling the lily from his mouth, the Angler tossed it to Natalie. She caught it and felt something unlock in her mind. Her previous encounters with the “Angler” came flooding back. She was talking with a God, and this wasn’t the first time she’d done so.

Seeing her eyes widen and her mouth fall open in surprise, the Angler nodded in confirmation. “Dreams are technically not my domain, but Aunt Seeress lets me get away with things like this. Especially when the dreamer is more than a little bit dead.”

Natalie flinched at that last comment. She had no idea what to expect from the God of Death when she existed in a state of Unlife. The Angler had been helpful in their past conversations, but things were different now. The sound of tearing flesh and bestial screams pulled Natalie's mind from her worries to the battle raging nearby.

One of the monsters, the larger of the two, had ripped a piece of its weaker foe loose and tossed it into the field of Lilies. Where the pulsing mass of shadows hit, the Lilies turned blood red. On seeing this, Natalie realized huge swaths of the formerly alabaster flowers were now scarlet. Blinking in surprise, Natalie tried to find words.

The Angler put a gentle hand on her shoulder and pulled her towards the stream. “Ignore them for now. Let's find a quiet place to chat.”

Natalie obliged and followed the Angler to the bank. He sat down on the grass and gestured for Natalie to join him. Just then, Natalie realized she was wearing her favorite dress, not the bit of silk she’d last been wearing. Deciding this was not anyway the strangest part of this experience, Natalie sat down, ignoring the sounds of bestial battle coming not fifty meters away.

Gazing out at the stream and unsure what to say, Natalie let the silence drag on. Thankfully the Angler broke it. “You have questions; I can feel them bubbling in that wonderful mind of yours. So go ahead, I’ll answer what I can.”

Before she could stop herself, Natalie blurted out, “Are you going to kill me?”

The Angler just looked at her like she was slow. His eyes showed a mixture of annoyance and amusement as he answered. “You are already dead. Petar ripped your throat out not long after our last meeting.”

This time it was Natalie's turn to feel annoyed. She could do without having that particularly terrible memory pulled up. “Let me rephrase it, are you going to end my existence as it currently is?” Natalie clarified.

That got a bemused smile out of the Angler. “Of course, I will; I’m the God of Death. But not yet. You still have a role to play in all of this.”

Natalie actually relaxed slightly at that. It was strangely comforting to hear Death himself say you still had time. Moving on to her next question, Natalie gestured to the clash of titans happening behind them. “Is that Glockmire and the Alukah fighting?”

The Angler nodded in confirmation. “Yep, or at least it's how your mind is interpreting it. This whole place is, after all, an interesting mix of your unconscious mind, my domain, and the influence of those two old Parasites. You are seeing inside your soul and the effect Johan and Annoch are having on it.”

With his words, the Angler gestured at the flowers and how more and more were soaking up the Darkness and turning red. What he implied made Natalie feel sick. Not physically, she couldn’t be even inside her own soul, but it still provoked the mental component of nausea. Forcing herself to look over her shoulder, Natalie watched the two whirling storms of black blood fight.

A great stain of red lilies spread out from the battlefield. A clear marker of the contamination she was experiencing. “Am I going to become a monster like them?” Natalie asked, her voice weak with fear.

Taking a moment to choose his words, the Angler stared off at the river. “You could, you very easily could. But you don’t have to.” After another moment of contemplation, the God changed the subject. “Have you figured out why the Alukah isn’t burned by the Sun?”

Shrugging her shoulders and looking away from the fight, Natalie answered plainly, “I assumed it was because of how powerful it is. Just a side effect of it being the biggest monster.”

That got a snort of amusement from the Angler. “It's what Glockmire and most others who know about the Alukah assume. And it's a frightfully arrogant supposition.”

Lying back into the grass and Lillies, the Angler stared up at the sky. “The first Vampire, the being you call the Rabisu, committed an act of treachery so heinous it scarred the Beyond itself. Her actions caught the attention of both Noble and Fell Gods. For our part, we, the Pantheon, layered curses upon her in a ham-fisted attempt to punish her. While our malicious counterparts heaped blessings upon her as a perverse reward. That combination of curses and blessings curdled inside the spiritual wound she created. Turning her into the first Vampire”

Staring off into space, an almost haunted look in his eyes, the God continued. “Later bloodlines of Vampires came into being by echoing this original act, but none can match the first. Where Drakovich and the Strix Sisters managed to create a Spiritual Disease, the Rabisu created a Parasitic Spirit. Something that extended from her into her scions the Alukah and can survive past even their true deaths. In that early age, the Alukah were truly monstrous. Entire civilizations died in their wake. I’m sure you know the details from the Book of Miracles”

Natalie did indeed. She had read the Thirteenth Chapter of Lamentations alongside most of the Holy Book. But reading stories recorded in that dusty old tome lacked the gravitas of hearing it from a God’s mouth.

Seeing her frown, the Angler continued. “But then something happened that none of us ever expected. Something that fell out of the records for one reason or another. The Rabisu, that traitorous monster, she felt remorse for her crimes. True and utter remorse for the oceans of blood she spilled. Even we Gods don’t know why. But we know the remorse was strong enough to alter the very nature of that original curse. The weaknesses we’d given her diluited by that fact. Letting her and her children see the Sun once more. ”

Grimacing, the Angler raised a hand up towards the illusionary sun overhead. “She didn’t get to enjoy it for long. Her scions, the Alukah, tore her apart only a few months later for the crime of doing good and asking them to be better. Which, all things considered, was a poetic end for the Rabisu. Still, it proved something that I think you should find incredibly important”

Sitting up from where he lay, the Angler smiled at Natalie. “The power you are claiming was born of evil and used for evil. But that does not mean it cannot be redeemed. You have been cursed, Natalie, but that does not mean you have to be a Curse for others.”

Slowly, Natalie responded. “It’s possible to be a Vampire, the new Alukah, and not be a monster?”

The Angler answered with a wry smile, “Yes and no. You are already a monster, just with a lower-case M. You don’t have to be a Monster with an uppercase M. And that’s okay. Plenty of monsters run around this world and help make it a better place. Cole is a great example of that. He’s a monster, everything about him defies the rules of the universe. His origins are steeped in atrocities even *I* don’t like to think about. But even with all that. He tries to be a good person, and I believe you know as well as I that he succeeds.”

Natalie actually smiled at that, the God of Death’s words bringing back warm memories. Memories that died as quickly as they lived as other more terrible ones replaced them. Of how she’d assaulted Cole, ripped open his throat, and drank him to death. The mind-crushing guilt she’d experienced earlier had been greatly tempered by Cole’s resurrection, but it wasn’t totally gone. Natalie might not have truly killed Cole, but she had still done something horrible to him.

A sigh escaped the Angler, and Natalie looked up to see him watching her with pity in his eyes. “They would have grabbed Barnabas if Cole hadn’t attacked the Castle.” Natalie’s eyes widened at the horror implied in those words. “It is a tradition in the Blood Duchies to feed a Fledgling their loved ones. If it hadn’t been Cole, it would have been someone who would have truly died.”

the Angler gestured to the raging battle behind them. “In fact. There are much worse people to inherit this power. You are afraid of what the power might do to you, and what you might do with the power. Which easily puts you head and shoulders above all other available candidates.”

Finally getting to his feet, the Angler gestured for Natalie to rise, and she did. Watching the two titans of blood fight, the Angler remarked, “Your response when you truly got to know Cole was to try and help him. And that was before you even fell in love with him.”

Natalie opened her mouth to protest but felt her denials die on her lips. Even she wasn’t bull-headed enough to argue with a God. The Angler flashed her a knowing smile and continued. “He’s falling hard for you too, y’know. Which all things considered is good. If you are going to exist with this power and not let it corrupt you, then you’ll need help. And I can’t think of few people better qualified to do so than Cole.”

Elation filled Natalie's chest, not accompanied by the usual flutter of butterflies but still there all the same. Having a literal God confirm your feelings are reciprocated did wonders for the heart. Of course, the elation didn’t last long as another worry percolated.

Isabelle, she was still haunting her skull, and Natalie doubted Petar’s Minions did anything as convenient as destroy her. Thinking about Cole’s lover and creator, Natalie was suddenly struck by a realization. Just as Cole’s company might help her resist becoming a true Monster. Her company would help Cole move away from his creator's influence. It was perfect. It fit together like a master-crafted wood joint.

Turning away from the battle, Natalie set her jaw in outrage. Everything had aligned in such a way it felt too perfect. Seeing it from this exterior perspective, things clicked into place, and Natalie felt a mix of rage and confusion overwhelm her.

Natalie leveled an accusatory finger at the Angler as she spoke her thoughts. “You planned this,” she spat. “You set it up so all this would happen! You are using me to fix Cole and keep the Alukah locked away! This was all organized by you!”

The Angler just shrugged. “Yes and no. I had an idea of what might happen. And my perspective is…less linear than yours, so arranging things was possible. Yet these events were going to play out no matter what I did. All I did was make sure the least damage happened. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

A biting retort started to grow in Natalie, but the Angler didn’t let her. “What do you think would have happened if Cole never came to Glockmire? What would happen if the Alukah’s power fell into Johan or Petar’s hands, or Fixed Stars Forbid was set free? My conservative estimates put the casualties in the millions before it could be stopped. Millions Natalie! Entire cities consumed, Nations brought to their knees and a War the likes not seen in a millennium.”

Natalie’s anger was stifled by his words but not fully quenched. Giving her a sad smile, the Angler spoke in a consoling tone. “I’m sorry you’ve suffered in all of this, Natalie. And I’m sorry for what the future might hold for you. If you want to hate me, that's okay. I won’t hold it against you. “

A pained shriek in the distance made the Angler pause. “It seems I’m almost out of time. Before I go, let me leave you with this. In all the futures I can see involving you, Natalie Striga. Ones where your story has a happy ending are not uncommon. You can make a life out of your undeath, and a good one at that.”

As those words filtered into Natalie’s mind, the sound of tearing flesh caught her attention. She turned to see the twin spirits of the Alukah and Lord Glockmire tear each other apart. They exploded in a shower of black rain as they died. Flitting between a hundred hungry shapes as they melted away. Vampire Blood spilled out across the lilies and rushed towards Natalie in a great tide. As it got closer, the wave grew in size until it became a wall of black ichor ready to swallow everything. Natalie looked to the Angler, attempting to scream for help. The God-in-Disguise tipped his hat and smiled just as the blood enveloped her.

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The first thing Natalie noticed when she awoke was the smell. Coppery blood and coarse ash filled her nose. Flitting her eyes open, she realized she was lying on the tomb dais. Ash covered her hands and mouth, its sooty texture unpleasant against her lips. Pulling herself to a sitting position, Natalie looked around the tomb. Dazed and trying to sort through half-remembered dreams and memories not her own. Examining her surroundings, Natalie tried to understand what she saw.

Puddles of blood and smears of ash covered the black-granite floor of the tomb. Bones and broken armor littered the ground. Unnatural fog hung in the air, and hoarfrost covered nearly every surface. Steel rang on steel, and a vague sense of unease filled Natalie. Forcing herself to focus, Natalie looked to the sound of battle and saw her defender.

Cole stood upon the steps of the dais, scavenged halberd in hand, dozens of wounds leaking blood onto the stone below them. Chest heaving like forge bellows and clothes slick with blood, the Paladin faced down a monster. Standing taller than even Cole while hunched over was a figure of malformed muscle and oily darkness.

Vaguely humanoid in shape, the monster’s body bulged with unnatural muscle. Leathery hide colored like old parchment covered the body, except for the numerous wounds that leaked black blood onto the ground. Limbs of shadow erupted from its back, forming into bladed tendrils, each of them lashing out at Cole. The monster looked like some terrible amalgamation of every nocturnal terror mortal kind had dreamed up. As she stared at the monster, Natalie felt something, a slight tug in her heart toward the monster. It was a bizarre sensation like her blood was trying to pull itself free.

Eyes widening, Natalie reached a hand up to her chest, right over her heart, and felt the tugging sensation grow in strength. As she focused on it, Natalie “felt” a connection between herself and the monster, a string of magic linking them. It wasn’t a physical thing, not anything Natalie could touch, but a sensation, a feeling born of the spirit, not the flesh. On closer examination, the “string” was more like a rope or a vein, a large connector that bound her soul to the monster. Branching off the vein were dozens of capillaries that went in myriad connections, each providing a subtle tug on Natalie’s soul.

Something was trying to pull at Natalie, trying to pull her soul out through this connection. A sudden spike of anger hit Natalie; she had suffered enough. She had lost enough already. She was not about to let her soul be ripped out by something she didn’t even understand. Following some instinct not quite her own, Natalie pulled on the connection. Reaching out with her mind and intent, Natalie imagined herself pulling on the rope like she was hauling a bucket up from a well. To her incredible surprise, the rope moved, she felt something flow into her and the Monster fighting Cole stumbled.

Cole opened up an ugly gash on the thing’s torso in that moment of weakness, forcing a roar of pain from the monster. The monster turned its focus to Natalie and spat words at her. “You! What have you done!”

Natalie expected the hungry growl of a monster, not the nasal rasp of Petar, to come from the creature. The words confirmed her suspicion about what fought Cole. Petar had taken on a more monstrous form to do battle. A form at least partially powered by stolen blood. Blood now belonging to Natalie. Reaching out to the connection, Natalie pulled again. This time Petar had enough warning to resist, and the power barely budged. Still, the effort seemed to have taken something from Petar. The twisted Vampire had a hand clutched to its chest while ruby-red eyes stared at Natalie with horror.

Responding to the monster, Natalie smiled and said, “I’m avenging my Father, my Mother, and every other person you’ve killed Feeder.”

Cole didn’t react to her words or even her presence; he simply continued his attack, lashing out with his salvaged weapon in a flurry of blows. Cole couldn’t react; he didn’t have the time or energy to do anything but fight. An avalanche of pain and exhaustion was bearing down on him, and if he paused for even a second, it would overwhelm him.

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He’d gambled when this fight started. Driving a knife into his spine to“reset” him. But if he failed to instantly kill himself, he would be paralyzed for hours. It had been an incredible risk, and Cole had seen no other option but to take it. By some small miracle Cole had aimed his dagger perfectly, restoring himself but not without cost. Cole was left with the aftershocks of pain a normal person could literally never experience. Then in the wake of that, he had faced down seven bloody Vampires.

Without his tools, his enchanted Halberd, or even a decent night's sleep, Cole took on the monsters. On some level, Cole thought attacking first was just a fairly elaborate form of Suicide. A desperate ploy to buy Natalie a little bit more time. What Cole hadn’t counted on was how utterly unnerving his presence and nature would be to them. Vampires, by definition, fear death. Nothing stops them from committing suicide and hoping for the Pantheon’s mercy. Only those willing to continue an existence of stolen life and predation chose Undeath. Fearful of what came next and unwilling to move on. These Vampires held tighter to their existence with each passing decade. When you have an eternity to lose, Death stops being a tragic fact and starts becoming the enemy.

With that in mind, these Vampires had seen Cole face down a Varcolac, something any of them would have difficulty doing. Beat it using an unknown form of Ice Magic and then cleave his way through a cohort of Castle Guard and dangerous undead before finally falling to sheer exhaustion. On top of that, they now saw him return and fight side by side with the Lord’s Executioner. Killing a score of Vampires and Guards with that same Ice Magic before commiting suicide and returning from the dead.

To the Vampires, Cole seemed like something out of a nightmare. A monsterous immortal terror with dark powers who desired their heads. So when Cole charged them, the Vampires flinched. These weren’t trained warriors like Dietrich, nor were they bound by any real sense of loyalty. Fear and greed motivated them. Hoping to avoid Petar’s wrath while leeching part of the prize form him. In that brief moment where Cole attacked, eyes wild with manic zeal. Fear of Death surpassed all other motivations for the Vampires. They hesitated and paid for it.

Cole brought the halberd down onto the shoulder of one of the Vampires. He’d been aiming for its head, but it had enough presence to dodge slightly. Still, the halberd sunk into desiccated flesh and dead bone. Using the leverage provided by the weapon, Cole hauled the stunned Vampire towards him. Reaching up to his neck, Cole pulled his medallion free. Its holy properties would have had little use on the armored Rattlers of before. The Vampire he’d snared wore only fine fabrics and jewelry, no protection other than its own abilities. Hauling the Monster towards him, Cole slammed his open palm and the medallion it held into the Vampires neck.

A red-hot poker would have been less effective. In fact, the Medallion burned stronger than it had ever before. Blue flames erupted where worn steel and undead flesh met. Searing the Vampires throat to ash in moments. Cole shoved his hand through the disintegrating Vampire and grabbed its spine. Yanking the blackening bone back towards him and killing the Vampire in a single brutal tug.

The first Vampire was still dissolving into ash and bone when Cole struck the next one. Holding the halberd with both hands, medallion clenched between his palm and the stolen weapon. Cole slashed at the nearest vampire's waist. He’d hoped to catch the monster's spine but instead got its belly. Tearing open withered organs and spilling long unused guts to the floor. To Cole’s surprise, sparks of silver-blue fire flashed along his weapon’s head and licked the vampire's wound. Searing the flesh and stunting its healing. This bizarre sight distracted Cole long enough for a third Vampire, this one a big Strigoi, judging by the claws, to barrel into him.

Spinning to redirect the momentum, Cole danced away from the Strigoi, ignoring the stinging pain in his side. The Vampire’s claws had left a mark. Lashing out with the butt of his halberd, Cole heard the crack of wood on bone as the Halberds haft struck the Strigoi’s skull. Looking at his opponent, Cole was surprised to see a huge burn along the Vampire’s face. Where the wooden haft had hit, it had torn open a furrow of skin from cheek to ear. Cracking the vampire's cheekbone and skull. Also Surprised, the Strigoi reached up to its injury. Red eyes widened in surprise, and the Strigoi took an involuntary step back from Cole. It was one thing for Cole to proclaim himself a Paladin; it was another to use their powers.

The Silver-Blue flames leaping from the halberd were something new, a power Cole had never used before. But he had a vague idea of why they came now. He was fighting a desperate battle against Undead monsters in the hope of saving the world from an ancient horror. This was exactly where a Paladin was supposed to be. In his ten years of service, Cole had never been in a situation of such magnitude. So his powers had been small things that he barely tapped into. Now in the heart of this crisis, more of Master Time’s gifts were at his disposal. Cole had risen to the occasion, and his powers had joined his new heights. The mantle of Paladin fit just a little bit better on the scarred Homunculus’s shoulders.

With this new boon and his returned strength, Cole cleaved through the Vampires. Dodging gouts of false-fire, leaping over hungry shadows, and matching blades with undead duelists. Individually they proved no match for Cole. The stolen power they’d become bloated on was fading; and their own skill was lacking. These were the younger, more pathetic members of the court. Who had quickly become dependent on their enhanced abilities. Now with waning strength and shaken confidence, they fell quickly.

If they had attacked him all at once, instead of shying away, hoping for an opportunity, then Cole would not have stood a chance. Instead, the cowardice and selfishness bred into these monsters triumphed, and they were each reduced to ash and bone. Leaving Cole alone with Petar. Covered in a new collection of wounds and panting heavily from the exertion, Cole put himself between the Feeder and Natalie. Petar, for his part, just clapped. A slow sardonic sound that echoed throughout the tomb.

Looking at the piles of ash and bone surrounding him. Petar remarked. “I was planning on killing them once you were dealt with. They’d outlived their usefulness and would just squander any more of the Alukah’s blood. So thank you for dealing with them.”

In the time it took Cole to blink, Petar had rushed up to Cole and had him by the throat. Icy fingers wrapped around Cole’s throat and squeezed with slow, relentless pressure. Eyes wild with hate, Petar hissed: “But that does not make up for all of the trouble you’ve caused me. So I’m going to rip open that little mind of yours and rearrange it. Paladin or not, I’m going to make you cut off your own fingers and eat them! But before that, I’m going to make you watch as I take my inheritance back from that stupid usurping bitch!”

Petar locked eyes with Cole. It's not just a good bit of poetry when people say “the eyes are the window to the soul” Eye contact is crucial in many forms of mental magic, including the form of psychic domination Petar was attempting. The Vampire pushed on Cole’s mind and found resistance. Not something uncommon, a strong will could shield a mind from most forms of arcane influence. But only to a certain point. With enough power, any will could be broken. Something that usually left a drooling husk in its wake. Not that Petar cared as he increased his assault. Lobotomizing Cole wasn’t his original goal, but the Vampire wouldn’t object if that was the outcome.

As Petar pressed against the resistance in Cole’s mind, he felt it start to give. Like ice cracking on a frozen lake. Eager to ruin his enemy, Petar pushed harder. Pouring a tide of blood into the effort, enhancing his magic into an unstoppable wave of power. The Aether around the Vampire and Paladin started to curdle under the intensity of the magic at work. The purely mental spell becoming something visible to the naked eye. Even the most magically inept person would have been able to see bits of what was happening. Streams of darkness poured from Petar's eyes and into Cole’s like a river of blood.

Baring his fangs in triumph, Petar felt his newest victim crack under his assault. Cole hadn’t lasted as long as Petar expected. The Vampire had seen the strange magics of ice and spirit Cole used. But Petar had expected more from a Paladin. As he mentally sifted through the debris of Cole’s will, Petar sunk his will into the metaphorical meat of Cole’s mind. Petar expected a rush of memories and a babble of damaged thoughts. He did not expect the pain that came.

Pain the likes of which Petar had not felt in centuries of unlife. It rushed up from Cole’s mind and into his own. Burning like knives in the dark and freezing like the bitterest winter gale. An explosion of suffering crossed over the psychic bridge linking them and straight into Petar’s mind. Letting go of Cole’s throat like the Homunculus’s flesh was made of hot iron, Petar broke the connection. Returning his focus to the physical just in time for Cole to headbutt him right in the nose.

Cartilage broke with a dry crunch, and the stunned Vampire raised his hands to his face in surprise. A screaming Cole swung his halberd and took one of Petar's arms off at the shoulder. Then with a swift kick to the gut, Cole knocked the Vampire back onto the ground. Petar reacted quickly, scrabbling back to his feet and manifesting a glob of shadows in his remaining hand. Eyes wild with pain and hate, Cole advanced on his enemy. Nostrils flared and teeth bared, Cole looked more like a feral animal than anything else.

There are upper limits to what a mortal mind can experience. Extremes of pain and suffering lead to madness and inevitably death. In his short time alive, Cole had been pushed to those limits many, many times. He’d been tortured, murdered, violated, exsanguinated, and mind raped. Cole had tried to go insane during those terrible years in the Vampire Larder. He’d truly had hoped to die, either in mind or body. Only to learn such freedoms were denied him. Some quirk of his origin or nature prevented Cole from fully dissociating from reality. No matter what he experienced, no matter how much he hurt, he would always find his way back to sanity. Something as much a blessing as a curse.

Once he escaped that terrible dungeon and found a new purpose Cole had spent much time recovering from those terrible events. Like so many other people who suffered unbelievable horrors, Cole built a wall in his mind. Separating those memories and experiences and locking them away. Sealing them away where they couldn’t do any more damage. Unbeknownst to Cole, he had help in this effort. Every night when he dreamed, Master Time had let the fog of memory work just a little stronger on Cole’s trauma than it should have. Softening the edges of those memories and diluting their potency. Turning bloody raw memories into dull echoes safely locked away. A small mercy for the God’s newest champion.

In attempting to break Cole’s will, Petar had breached the mental wall and touched those dark memories. Sending a psychic backlash into the Vampire and putting a crack in the metaphysical dam. Releasing a flood of pain into Cole’s already-addled mind. As Petar clutched at the stump where his arm had been, he faced down a monster. An immortal warrior empowered by Death itself, whose mind had been filled with suffering and hate.

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Screaming in rage, Cole swept his weapon at Petar again and again. In wild flailing strikes lacking any discipline or focus. Recovering himself, Petar dodged these easily and took a different approach. The mental magic he’d unleashed had backfired spectacularly, so instead, he channeled his power to a more brutish purpose. Black blood poured from Petar. From his mouth, eyes, nose and ears. Covering him in slick black ichor. The ichor started to foam and turn into red mist. A crimson fog that swirled around Petar. Cole aimlessly hacked at the scarlet cloud, his weapon passing through it without resistance.

A massive taloned hand shot out of the cloud and blocked one of Cole’s strikes. Gripping the weapons wooden haft, ignoring the silver sparks that licked the inhuman digits. The red mist faded, revealing the monstrous war-form Petar had taken. This form combined the cruel intelligence of humankind, with the vicious power of nocturnal hunters, bolstered by black magic. The perfect representation of a Vampire untrammeled by any pretense at nobility or morality.

Over three meters tall, hunched over and swollen with muscle, a cloak of unliving shadows clung to it. While the tatters of Petar's clothing covered its pale leathery hide; evidence of the rushed nature of the transformation. Skilled skin-changers could incorporate their garments into the transformation. Petar had neither the time nor patience for such subtle magic. He took a form designed for brute violence and nothing else.

As Petar’s cloak of shadows congealed into tendrils of darkness, Cole recovered himself a little. The changing threat caught his attention and pulled him out of the mindless rage he’d been drowning in. Still worn and wrathful, Cole fought with the abominable Vampire. Refusing to back down and ignoring the rapidly growing number of injuries he was sustaining. While he dodged the worst of Petar's attacks, the Vampire had the advantage of reach, weight and even number of limbs. As the black tendrils lashed out with scythe-edged tips.

Blood trickled down Cole’s arms, legs, and chest. His new cloak was already a tattered mess, having not even survived a week intact. It was an unwinnable fight. Cole couldn’t call upon the Cold of Entropy again, nor did he have access to his usual set of tools. Against such a superior opponent, Cole could only buy time. Which was what he planned to do. He was a Paladin and would stand between the helpless and the monstrous.

As he fought Petar, old words resurfaced in Cole's mind. Ones he had taken on as a battle cry years ago. “Magni Mortae Mundus,” or in the Western tongue, “Death is the Strength of Mortals,” A paradoxical statement that Cole had laughed at the first time he’d heard them from a now dead friend. Then that friend explained it to Cole. How the ability to die gives people the ability to live. It keeps people from the complacent and unfeeling eternity of Spirits. Death grants the ultimate protection from suffering. While also offering the chance for new beginnings. The ability to die is what separates mortals from the creatures of the Beyond. It is the blessing hidden as a curse that ensures the world grows and changes.

This strength that defined mortalkind, was denied in full to Cole. Yet he spent his life defending it for others. True, he could die, and experience all the pain and terror of it. But he couldn’t experience the finality of true death. Something that gnawed at the Paladins mind and soul. Separating him from the living he protected and the dead he fought. Except Cole misunderstood why that old friend told him that phrase. The ability to die and be reborn from it was what set Cole apart, giving him the power to die in anothers place. Death is not just the strength of Mortals. It was Cole’s strength as well. A truth he himself could not see.

In the state he was in, Cole lacked the ability to shout his war cry. He couldn’t spit it in the face of the Undead as a challenge and rebuke as he had so often. Instead, all he could do was fight. His focus couldn’t waiver from the effort of holding the monster back. Every thought and effort needed to concentrate on staying alive and keeping Death at bay. So when Petar stumbled and Cole took his opportunity to make the Monster bleed. Cole didn’t even know why the Vampire faltered. Unbeknown to the pain-maddened Paladin, he no longer fought alone.

---

The words shouted between Natalie and Petar went unclaimed by Cole’s mind. They were just another annoyance to tune out while he fought. As Natalie grabbed onto the power that connected her and Petar, she forced the elder Vampire to make mistakes. Redirecting his focus away from Cole. These moments of hesitation or failures to react evened the fight. Soon more cuts and burns appeared on Petar's parchment-pale body. Rivulets of black blood and ashen scorch marks dotted the Vampires skin. Testaments to Natalie’s influence and Cole’s skill.

As she struggled with Petar, Natalie found it easier and easier. She pulled on the magical connection, and with each attempt, she had more success. Petar’s ability to resist her pull had decayed dramatically. More of the stolen blood flowed through the Aether and back into Natalie. A wild smile split Natalie’s face as she started to understand. She was the host of the Alukah now, the power was hers, and she could reclaim it with ease. Petar seemed to realize this as well as he leaped towards Natalie.

Half of the tendrils of shadow Petar had been manipulating coalesced around his right arm. Forming into a gauntlet of darkness and then a massive umbric sword. The killing edge forged of blood and darkness came down towards Natalie like a falling tree. Panicked, Natalie leaped back, and to her surprise, shot across the tomb. Slamming into the far wall with enough force to make her ribs creak. Sliding down to the ground, Natalie landed smoothly on her feet. New strength coursed through her limbs, and eager confidence came with it.

Pushing off like she was preparing to sprint, Natalie launched herself towards Petar. Hurtling through the air, she slammed into the monster's chest with a bone-crunching impact. To her utter horror, Natalie watched as her arms snapped on impact with Petar. Shrieking in pain, Natalie was sent sprawling. With a series of wet pops and cracks, Natalie’s forearms reset to their proper configuration. As her arms healed, Natalie learned two important things about being a Vampire. First, she still felt pain when she was injured, a lot of pain. Second, while her raw strength had increased to incredible heights, her body's durability hadn’t improved much at all.

Pulling herself away from Petar, and letting the monster turn its attention back towards Cole. Natalie noted that her “leap” felt less like a jump and more like she’d been catapulted from the back of a bucking stallion. She had power now, raw physical power leached from Petar, but zero experience in using it. Backpedaling away from the rampaging elder Vampire, Natalie was forced to shelf her short-lived fantasies of killing Petar with her own hands. That task fell to Cole, and giving him the opportunity to do so still fell to her.

Frustrated at Natalie’s escape, Petar changed tactics. His remaining tendrils wrapped around his other hand, coating his arms in liquid shadow. To match his sword created from magical darkness, Petar manifested a Targe of the same pseudo-material. The round shield was as large as a sitting table and sported a meter-long spike in the middle. Petar had created it not just as a tool of defense but something easily capable of impaling Cole. Free from the mental burden of commanding half a dozen tendrils, Petar could attack in a more classical fashion.

Lashing out with blows so quick, Cole had to rely more on instinct than vision to dodge them. Petar snarled at Cole. “I lived through the Bloody Centuries! I fought in the Night War! I’ve been spilling blood since before this gods-forsaken town bore Glockmire’s name! I will not be stopped from claiming what is rightfully mine!”

Cole didn’t respond, his mind still buried under a mountain of pain and trauma. Natalie did, however. “Why? Why do all of this? What is the Jagging point of all this death?”

Petar whirled on Natalie, who was now questioning the wisdom of speaking. Instead of charging her like Natalie feared, Petar answered in a shrieking furious voice “Because someone needed to! Johan was content to waste away here, sending eternity doing nothing! I spent centuries as his loyal servant, gladly helping him create and rule this fiefdom. Just for him to idle away the decades like some foppish Lordling. My sire was a lazy bastard who was content to keep the greatest treasure of Vampirekind to himself just to do nothing with it!”

Swinging his sword in great ruinous arcs, that Cole barely dodged. Petar kept talking. Secrets and confessions pouring out of him like the power Natalie steadily leached. “I asked him what he intended to do with the Alukah. He told me he would do nothing, NOTHING! He planned to become the most powerful of our kind seen in millennia just to cement his decadent existence! An existence I would be shackled to, forever his faithful servant. My life and centuries of unlife were spent in service to him!”

Petar seemed to falter a moment, some painful truth leaking from his lips. “I was content in servitude for most of that time, I won’t deny that. I just refused to spend an eternity like that, is that such a terrible crime? I just want to be free, and freedom is a privilege of the strong. With the power of the Alukah, no one could ever bind me! The night, the day, all of it would be mine! Never again would another rule me! I would be free.”

Crimson eyes focused on Natalie as Petar finished his rant. In a half-whisper, Petar added. “I will be free. Johan won’t take this from me. No matter what stupid final gambits he pulled.”

Petar launched himself at Natalie, some terrible mix of bestial roar and psychotic scream escaping his lips as he did. Sword and targe dissolved into flickering shadows as Petar pounced. Dagger-sized fangs ready to sink into Natalie and consume her. The hooked underside of the halberd’s ax-head caught one of Petar's legs as Cole shoved it into the Vampire’s way. The dulled metal couldn’t cut through the Vampire’s whip-cord muscle, but it could catch itself in Petar’s skin.

Physics laughed at both Petar's effort to attack Natalie and Cole’s effort to stop him. The added weight and resistance sent the Vampire slamming into the granite floor. While Cole was pulled off his feet and sent sprawling. The halberd pulled free from Cole’s grip and sent the large man to the ground so hard it knocked loose two teeth. The halberd and Cole’s medallion sailed away, clattering against the stone as they skidded in opposite directions. Cole and Petar pulled themselves up and faced each other. Natalie was momentarily forgotten by both of them.

Screeching in fury, Petar swung one oversized arm at Cole. Black flames erupted along his claws as the Vampire tried to tear Cole in half. Diving forward, Cole leaped between Petar’s legs. Barely dodging the strike and reaching his dropped halberd. Cole rolled forward and came to his feet, halberd tip pointed at Petar.

Snarling in fury, Petar spun to attack Cole. The old Vampire stumbled as Natalie pulled upon his stolen power right as Petar moved. Taking advantage of the moment of weakness, Cole swung his halberd into Petar's knee. The axe-head of the weapon sunk halfway through the tree-trunk-sized leg. Snapping tendons, shredding cartilage, and cracking bone as it went. Yanking the weapon free, Cole planted a solid kick into the damaged knee’s side. The weight of Petar’s war-form proved too much for the ruined leg. It buckled, and Petar toppled sideways, lashing out with his taloned hand as he did.

Slowed by his wounds and mounting exhaustion, Cole tasted the claws. Each was like a dagger raking across his chest and head. The Paladin let out a pained gasp as red sprayed out from his wounds. Stumbling back, Cole realized he couldn’t see from one eye, and his entire torso felt like it was on fire. Blinking away the blood dripping into his working eye, Cole looked at Petar. The Vampire’s body looked warped, its chest bulging forward, its eyes empty. Parchment-pale skin tore as the war form’s chest ripped open in a shower of ash. Petar's true form erupted from the hulking false-body.

Like some grotesque parody of a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, Petar discarded the larger but damaged body for his humanoid form. Red eyes wild with hate, Petar launched himself at Cole. The Paladin didn’t even bother to try and dodge. He knew what was coming and accepted it with open arms. Petar plunged a newly human hand into Cole’s belly. Shoving his digits deep into Cole’s intestines.

Cole screamed in pain, a cry that was cut off as Petar's other hand found his throat. Pulling Cole’s face down to his level, Petar hissed to the Paladin. “I told you, didn't I? I am going to strangle you with your own guts. I don’t care what boon the Tenth God has given you; I will kill you as many times it takes.”

Natalie matched Cole’s scream with one of her own. The sight of Cole impaled through the gut was too similar to what happened to her father. Hate and grief overwhelmed Natalie, and she charged Petar. Bounding forward on unnaturally strong legs. Keeping enough focus not to catapult herself into him like last time, Natalie still struck the monster hard. Slamming into his side, her hands wrapping around the arm, choking Cole. Testing her new strength, Natalie squeezed tight and felt bone crack under her grip. As she did, Natalie pulled on the connection harder than she’d dared before.

As her hands rended Petar’s flesh, her soul ripped into his. Squeezing a lake of power out of Petar, in a deluge that stained the local Aether red. Crimson fog steamed up from Natalie’s fingers, and she screamed in a mixture of hate and triumph. Stunned and equally furious, Petar knocked Natalie back. Letting go of Cole’s throat and sending her flying with a bone-crushing backhand.

Even as she soared through the air, her ribs and sternum shattered, Natalie didn’t let go of the power. She sunk her spiritual fangs into Petar and would not let go. Draining his power in vast quantities. Centuries-old and a long-time user of the Alukah’s blood, Petar was powerful. With enough raw magical energy to animate and bind a small army of undead monsters. An army he’d spent in his Coup and against Cole. Leaving him depleted and desperate to claim the Alukah in its totality. Now with his expenditures fighting Cole and Natalie draining what was left, Petar was weaker than he had been in centuries. Weak enough to not sense the growing tension in the Aether as Cole worked a spell.

Throat freed from Petar’s grip, Cole chanted under his breath in rapid saint-speech. Teetering on the edge of Shock, disemboweled, and rapidly losing blood, Cole found himself returning from the pain-mad state he had been in earlier. His body and mind pushed so far that it simply gave up on processing all that happened and defaulted to something resembling normalcy. Leaving Cole lucid enough to cast one last spell.

Cole had used up most of his barely-healed soul in freezing the Monsters in the tunnel. What had survived was strained to its limit when Cole used his medallion against the second wave of Vampires. Now Cole intended to use that last little scrap of Grace-touched Soul. Doing so would kill him in a way even he’d never experienced. But the effects would be minor, he barely had enough strength to summon a puff of Cold, let alone kill Petar. However, Cole was also rapidly bleeding to death, spilling liters of blood onto the black granite floor. Rolling the dice in one final gamble, Cole fed his soul and his blood into the spell. Combining his two magical arts into something new and dangerous.

Clutching onto the arm impaling him, Cole finished his spell, spitting out the words “Mortae Argu Pania. Death Knows All”

The spell was similar to the consecration spell Cole used on the cave the Vryko-Ghouls had been created in. Magic that touched the local Aether and flooded it with Master Time’s power. Except this time, Cole was not pouring his power into the Aether around him but the soul before him. Petar resisted, his own will challenging Cole’s and threatening to break the spell before it could do its work. Which is why Cole had further modified the spell by mixing in some pyromancy.

It had been easier than Cole expected. The spiritual connections between consecration and fire were strong. With liters of shed blood to power the spell, Cole could work magic he’d only known in theory, never in practice. While anything complicated was likely to blow up in Cole’s face. Creating fire was the easiest of magical feats, so the flames came to the call of Cole’s blood. Fire leaped from Cole’s blood, erupting like the ichor was animal grease. It shot along Petar’s arm and ignited the Vampire in a terrible blaze.

Soul already pulled taught by Natalie’s effort, and his body set on fire by Cole. Petar’s defenses broke, and the power of a Paladin’s soul was poured into his own. It was like a snail had been buried alive in salt. Fire and Divine Power, the true universal weaknesses of Vampires consumed Petar. A terrible shriek erupted from the Vampires rapidly burning mouth as he pulled away from Cole. Red flames covered Petar as he thrashed and wailed. Silver sparks danced around him as greasy smoke poured off the dying Vampire.

Screaming in fear and horror, the Feeder of the Dead fell to his knees and clutched at his chest as he burned. A new blue-silver flame shone from inside him, illuminating charred ribs from the inside and flooding the Tomb with argent light. Petars' screams reached a new deafening height, sounding more like a warped tea-kettle combined with a dying rodent than anything human. Then the silver flames erupted in a detonation of sacred flames. Reducing Petar to ash in a single moment of divine retribution.

A blinding white flash filled the Tomb, and Natalie let out a pained scream of her own. Searing heat struck her and burned through her. She could literally feel her veins ignite as the fire coursed through her undead flesh. Falling to the ground, Natalie whimpered in pain as the fire danced through her body for a few moments more. Before ending as quickly as it came. Racked by aftershocks of pain, Natalie refused to open her eyes. Expecting them to be burned or boiled away by the flames.

Curling into a tight ball on the ground, Natalie clutched her arms and was surprised by what she felt. Not burned ashen skin marked by blisters, but cold smooth flesh. Shooting her eyes open, Natalie looked down at herself. She was unharmed, no burns or seared skin. Just her pale Vampire body. Stunned and a little uncertain, Natalie checked herself for any injury and almost didn’t believe her own fingers. She had felt herself burn, but she was unharmed. Slowly getting to her feet, Natalie took an uneven step forward and nearly fell. She’d been prepared for the overwhelming strength of earlier, and found none of it. Recovering her balance, Natalie realized she had been burned, just not physically. The power she’d stolen from Petar was gone. Scorched away along with him.

Blinking in surprise at that realization, Natalie looked over to where Petar and Cole had been. A star-like pattern of ashes marked where Petar had stood. The explosion that ended his unlife had spread his remains in shape remarkably like a snowflake. Not far away was a burned pile of rags and flesh. Unsteadily, Natalie ran over to what was left of Cole. Looking down at him, Natalie flinched at the terrible sight. He’d been sliced, disemboweled, and burned. Cole had kept his oath and willingly died in a terrible way to protect Natalie and stop Petar.

Leaning down, Natalie put her hand on Cole’s forehead. Ignoring the foul feeling of freshly burned skin beneath her fingers. Taking in a deep pointless breath, Natalie spoke to the corpse. “You said you were immortal. Now would be a good time to prove it.”

Looking over Cole, Natalie expected she would have to wait. That thought was not a pleasant one. Especially when accompanied by the worry that maybe whatever Cole had done to kill Petar, had truly killed him. Crouching down beside Cole, Natalie shut her eyes and tried to let some of the tension flow out of her. Petar was dead, his minions slain, and the Alukah’s power outside the reach of monsters. Despite all she had lost, despite everything that had happened. They had won.

Alone with nothing but her thoughts and Cole’s corpse. Natalie retreated inwards and realized something. Whatever Cole had done had burned away her stolen power. So maybe it had taken the weakened Alukah with it? That idea made her feel simultaneously elated and miserable. The idea of not having that terrible burden was a wonderful one. But the thought of never seeing the Sun again stung almost as bad as the spiritual fire had.

On a guess, Natalie focused herself on the distant but never gone feeling of hunger inside her. As she did, a strange sense of vertigo struck her. Like she was standing at the edge of some massive cliff. Ignoring it, Natalie kept on pushing on the hunger. Until a mixture of memories and metaphor struck her.

She saw herself kneeling over Cole, her fangs in his neck. Yet as that terrible memory played out from a different angle. Natalie seeing it as an observer. From her vantage point Natalie saw a basalt basin in front of her. Which had most certaintly not been the cell she’d killed Cole in. The basin was the size of a small sink and steadily filling with blood. When in the memory Cole died, and she stopped drinking, the basin stopped filling. Turning away from the unpleasant vision, Natalie was greeted with the sight of Lorena. The arrogant Vampire drinking blood from a glass. This was also accompanied by a basin, except this time it was the size of a huge bathtub.

Next came the sight of Lord Johan Glockmire standing across from Petar. Each stood on the edge of a lake of blood. Which Natalie realized was the natural evolution of her little basin. Just as that thought settled, her vision changed again. This time it was her standing on the edge of a cliff that stretched out to either side of her. On either side of the narrow clifftop was an abyssal drop that went down forever. Up in the sky, a red moon glowed bright, and droplets of blood steadily rained down from it. Into the endless depths before her. Looking at her feet, Natalie realized the cliff she stood on was made of black basalt. She was standing on the edge of the Alukah’s basin, her new basin. An ocean of blood, now empty and ready to be filled by her. She hadn’t kept any of the Alukah’s power, but she’d kept the possibility of its power.

A low wet crunch pulled Natalie from her disturbing visions. Looking down at Cole, she saw his body start to knit itself back together. Burned skin melted away, revealing pink fresh flesh below. Ribs cracked back into place as intestines slithered into position. Natalie looked away from the foul sight. She was relieved that Cole was healing, but Natalie had no desire to watch it happen.

Pulling her hand away, Natalie waited until she heard a deep, rattling breath from Cole. Looking down, she saw life start to return to the Homunculus. Covered in dried blood, filth, and ash, Cole looked terrible, but he also looked alive. New patches of burned skin dotted his body, and five long lines of scar tissue crossed his chest and head. Another layer of disfigurement to an already brutalized body. Cole’s pained sucking breaths became faster and more even as life returned to him. His reborn pulse started to beat loud enough for Natalie’s sensitive ears to pick up. The slight pang of hunger that sound triggered in Natalie made her feel ashamed.

She pushed those thoughts away as Cole opened his eyes and stared vacantly at the ceiling. Gently, Natalie placed a hand on the side of his head. Cole looked at her, his eyes still empty, glazed over like a man asleep. Instinctually, Natalie recoiled, pulling her hand back. Grime-stained fingers shot out and gripped her retreating hand. Cole's grip was vice-like, and his eyes still stared unblinkingly. Startled, Natalie tried to pull away to no avail. Cole had always been strong, but now his grip was enough to prevent even a young Vampire from pulling away.

The grip tightened, and Natalie whimpered under its strength. Looking back at Cole’s eyes, she was stunned to see hate there. His face contorted in an image of wrath. Wild-eyed and snarling, it frightened Natalie more than the hand crushing her wrist.

Gritting her teeth in pain, Natalie begged. “Cole, stop, please!”

Her words seemed to break whatever madness held Cole and his eyes focused on Natalie. Letting go of his grip instantly, Cole pushed himself away. Confusion filled his mind, and an apology formed on his lips. Natalie didn’t let either truly manifest as she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. After a moment of hesitation, Cole returned the gesture. Filthy, exhausted, utterly emotionally spent by everything that happened. They found comfort in each other's arms.

After a wonderful eternity that ended too soon, they ended the embrace. As he pulled from her, Cole realized something startling. “You're naked!”

In everything that had happened, the flimsy nightgown the Court had put Natalie in had been utterly destroyed. Leaving her nude. Incredibly beautiful even when covered in ash and filth; Cole couldn’t help but admire her. Curvacious and lithe, with her pale skin Natalie looked like some ancient aspect of Sister Sun captured in marble. Seeing his eyes trace across her form Natalie smiled and rolled her eyes. Gesturing at Cole she remarked “You aren’t much better yourself”

Glancing down at himself, Cole realized was true. His shirt was a burnt rag ready to fall off him, while his pants had been reduced to a shredded kilt covering most of his lower body. Coughing in embarrassment, Cole pulled the remains of his cloak off and handed it to Natalie.

Natalie just looked at the strip of burned fabric that had survived everything by a minor miracle; and broke down laughing. Cole's offer of a scorched rag and his attempt at being a gentleman struck Natalie as truly hilarious. She playfully batted aside the proffering hand and embraced Cole again. Pressing himself against his scarred chest and enjoying his warmth. Gulping in sudden nervousness, Cole was relieved his sheer exhaustion prevented any… physical reactions to having such a beautiful woman embrace him in the nude. Turning away from that mortifying line of thought, Cole asked, “Did I hurt you when I awoke?”

Natalie didn’t let go of him and shook her head in the negative. “You scared me, that's all; what happened?”

Glancing around the Tomb, Cole asked, “How long was I dead?” Natalie stiffened at his words, the matter-of-factness of them making her want to shiver in discomfort.

“Not long, maybe half an hour at the most,” she answered. “It's hard to tell time down here.”

Cole shut his eyes for a second and let out a worried sigh. “That was too fast. After what happened to me, I should have regenerated much slower.” shaking his head to dispel a bad memory, he continued, “And when I awoke… I felt such hate. Strange hate, not like what I’ve known.”

Natalie didn’t answer for a little bit. Pulling away slightly, enough to look Cole in the face but not enough to break the hug. “I don’t know enough about your… ability to say what that means. But I know whatever it is, we will figure it out.”

Stunned, Cole asked. “We?”

Slightly wilting, Natalie let go of Cole and backpedaled. “I mean, I just. Well, I don’t have anywhere else to go. And I thought. Well, I thought.”

Cole took a leap of faith and broke off her worried diatribe with a kiss. He had a million worries, and he expected Natalie had even more. One thing he didn’t want her to worry about was the fact he’d fallen for her. Ignoring the taste of ash and blood, Cole enjoyed the feeling of Natalie melt into him. The cool sensation of kissing a Vampire was not an unpleasant one and Cole had known little else in his life. After nearly a minute of passionate kissing, Cole realized that Natalie didn’t need to breathe or end the kiss. Finally breaking it just so he could take a deep breath, Cole looked down at Natalie. Her eyes were alight with passion and mirth, but below that was a sense of fragility and worry she was trying to hide.

Holding her hand, Cole said the words that had been building in him since the first time Natalie hugged him. “I love you, and I’m happy to have you come with me.”

Natalie melted a little more at those words and replied. “I love you too, Cole.”

Staring up at the large scared man, Natalie felt safe in his presence. He was a bulwark against a terrible world through his strength and kindness. While her emotions concerning everything that had happened were a raging storm of conflicting notions. The affection she felt for Cole was a port in that storm.

After a few seconds of just enjoying his pale blue eyes, Natalie frowned as a bitter thought crossed her mind. She was a Vampire and not a normal one at that. She was host to an ancient power that slumbered within her. Natalie wasn’t foolish enough to just hope nothing would come of what she’d done with Glockmire. She’d seen that empty ocean in her soul, the basalt mountain range ready to hold nations' worth of blood. For now, she was still Natalie Striga, but would that change?

“Cole, will you promise me something?” Natalie asked in a small voice.

Setting his jaw in worry, Cole nodded in assent. Grimicing slightly, Natalie spoke. “I need you to help me not be a Monster. I…I need you to protect me and everyone else from what's inside of me.” Glancing away, she bit her lower lip in a nervous gesture that accentuated her fangs. “It's hard to remember but… I spoke with something when I consumed the Alukah.”

Cole’s eyes widened in shock, and he started to say something. Natalie cut him off. “No, not the Alukah. By the time it fought Glockmire, it wasn’t sane enough to talk. I think I spoke to Master Time.”

Nodding slowly, Cole mused on that. “It's happened before. During near-death situations, but never to a Vampire, I don’t think.”

Looking around nervously, Natalie continued. “Like I said, it's hard to remember, but he told me what I could become. How dangerous an Alukah could be, but he also told me I didn’t have to be like that. He said… he said you could help me be a monster and a good person.”

Musing on that for a moment, Cole answered. “Master Time has tasked me with many duties, few pleasant ones. I think this could be one of those rare exceptions.”

Paladin and Vampire just smiled at each other. Enjoying the bond between them and the comfort it provided. After that peaceful moment, Natalie resumed looking around the chamber and asked the question that had been brewing in the back of her mind for a while now.

“Now, how do we get out of here?”

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