The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 11: Demon

“Someone once asked me how I could callously kill those taken in by a Demon. Saying they were misled or manipulated. That they deserved a second chance. I just laughed and said what I always say when I hear such idiotic questions. ‘Simple, I remember how my daughter died.’ My little girl never got a choice, and neither did anyone else in Mygdonia. Our Dux sold us, condemning a thousand-score souls to save himself. Once the Hells get their hooks into you, there are no second chances. Only a question of how much suffering a person will unleash before someone like me kills them” - Maedion of Thrax, Sole survivor of Mygdonia and one of the first Inquisitors.

The group followed the absent smell, trusting Cat-Eye’s nose to guide them. Cole had managed to get his fingers moving, the feeling wasn’t totally back in his left hand, but it was a start. Idly Cole wondered if investing in enchanted gloves to protect against the cold would be a good idea. He could do without getting frostbite every time he used his most powerful ability. Of course, better control over the Cold of Entropy would yield similar results. While he was certainly more adaptable with his power than he had been. Cole still lacked the fine control he needed to truly call himself a Paladin.

Around him, the Guards were physically alright but clearly shaken. Hellspawn were more than a little above their steel-price. Still, they had passed through two more caves without incident. The muck and stagnant water of the earlier tunnels giving way to coarse rock. These new caves were jagged hollows in the earth. Not carved by water or hands like previous ones but forged from tremendous destruction. Whatever battles Vindabon had fought in the Bloody Centuries had cracked and shattered the bedrock below the city. Leaving a bizarre and sprawling network of tunnels.

As the group slipped through one chamber; whose floor was composed of cracked basalt, Alia Cat-Eyes made a noise of defeat. “I owe Darvy a drink,” she said while smearing glowpaste onto a tunnel entrance. “The Warrens are hells of a lot bigger than I thought.”

Iron-Teeth grunted in agreement. “We are deeper than any of the tunnels I’ve patrolled. The city will need to send entire survey teams down here when we’re done.”

Frowning, Cole absorbed this information. Were the Vindabon patrols just that poor, or was more going on? Had these cultists found a new section of the Warrens?

Sucking in a breath, Cole shivered. They were close enough he could smell the Demon. It’s hollow odor, a wisp of something unnatural at the edge of his senses. Cole’s teeth were clenched and his muscles tense at the sensation. The memories he’d gathered seemed to say the Warren-Dwellers had found the Demon instead of summoning it, which made sense. Something like a Demonic summoning would have set off all manner of wards and watch-spells in Vindabon.

Still, that left the question of the Demon's origin. Maybe if it predated the city's modern defenses it would have gone undetected? Or perhaps Cole was giving the Ten Temples a little too much credit. No spell was perfect; could the magic simply fail to account for things deep below the surface?

As the group carefully moved down an angular crack in the rock, Cole continued to mull over the possibilities. The most obvious answer was this Demon was a survivor of the Bloody Centuries. Buried down here all that time until someone or something woke it up. Of course, other more… exotic possibilities filled Cole’s nervous mind. Down here in the dark with hundreds of tons of stone pressing in from all sides had the Paladin a little jittery. His mind conjuring up disturbing knowledge. Cole had heard stories of continent-spanning cave systems beneath the surface. The ancient home of the Dwarfs. An entire world hidden away and only accessible through ancient caves that stretched on for kilometers. A realm the Dwarfs called the Depths and spoke of with both awe and fear.

Could the Demon be a resident of that hidden world? Only now clawing its way up through tons of rock looking for new prey? Called to Vindabon from its chthonic origin by the desire for new victims. An ancient terror now so close to the surface it could taste it. Something Cole would now need to face.

Shaking his head vigorously, Cole pushed those thoughts away. He always tended to catastrophize when underground. Old fears feeding his imagination and making a stressful situation all that much worse. Looking around the tight stoney confines, Cole couldn’t help but chuckle. Here he was hunting a literal Demon and looking for ways to make the situation MORE disturbing.

Temir gave Cole an odd look. “Something funny?”

Cole shrugged and stepped over a fissure in the ground. “I hate being underground. Scares me worse than almost anything. Yet I constantly find myself in tombs, caverns, and worse. The irony is thick enough to cut.”

Oddly, Temir laughed as well. “I get that. My Pops is a miner out west near Valstem. I did two years in the below before deciding I needed to get out. Hoped to find my fortune in Vindabon. Didn’t find it, but managed to get a good job and some decent friends.”

The Orcblood punctuated his remark by clapping Fargo on the shoulder. “Even if some of them have an arm's length of iron up their backside.”

Fargo responded by making a rude gesture, a hard thing to do while holding a spear. Just then, a clatter of stone pulled the group's attention to the darkness around them. Instantly weapons went up, and nervous looks were shared. Cole and Iron-Teeth shone their lights in the direction of the noise. Not far behind them was a rat. Not an unusual sight in the Warrens, except this one was the size of a large dog. A number of open sores covered its patchy pelt, and its eyes had the same milky look of the cultists.

Opening its mouth, the rat started to speak. A high-pitched voice like a little girl echoed out from its maw. “Why do you want to hurt my family?”

Cole looked at Iron-teeth, and the Dwarf just gestured for Cole to take the lead. Slowly stepping forward, Cole asked. “Your family?”

The rat cocked its head to the side and spoke again. Its mouth didn’t move, just opening to let the words fall out. “We are happy down here. My family is safe and together. Why do you want to hurt my family?”

Slowly, Cole pulled up his Aether Sight to get a peak at this “rats” nature. Carefully like he was pouring water from a troublesome glass, Cole let a few drops of his power bloom. He’d hoped to not go as deep as he had with the newest murder victim, just get a sense of this new threat.

Instantly a wave of fetid miasma assaulted Cole. The smell of a rotten soul entangled with something unnatural. The rat appeared like a blob of oily tar. Roughly shaped like a rodent but bereft of all the nervous, jittery emotions seen in animals. In its place was naught but hunger and a sickening parody of love. Instead of a tail, the “rat” had a leaking string of thoughts. Snaking away into the dark, leading back to some terrible source.

Cole had seen enough. In one lightning-quick motion, he leapt at the “rat,” his axe swinging for its head. The thing didn’t even move, simply letting him lop off its skull. As the severed head tumbled down the slight rocky incline, its body started to spasm and thrash. It literally fell apart as it died. Bits of skin and muscle sloughing off. Turning into crusty black ooze as it collapsed. Until nothing but a misshapen skeleton covered in supernatural tar remained.

At first, Cole was confused by the skeleton. Years of fighting Rattlers and tramping through tombs had given him a good understanding of bones. He’d expected engorged rat bones, not what lay in a pile at his feet. While warped and bent, they didn’t look anything like a rat. In fact, they almost looked like…

Whirling, Cole found the “rat’s” head. Rolling it with his foot so the face was looking at him. Cole prepared to strike again. The same small voice came from the disembodied head again. “Why do you hate my family? We’ve done nothing wrong; just leave us be!”

Ignoring the words, Cole split the head in twain. False flesh melted away, revealing a child's splintered but still recognizable skull.

Squeezing his weapon so tight his numb fingers hurt. Cole felt new wrath rise in him. The Demon needed to die. It needed to burn, and Cole would happily strike the match.

The Guards looked at the shattered skull, and Temir suddenly started to throw up. Fargo and Cat-Eyes rushed to his side and tried to comfort the large man. Bleary-eyed, Temir looked at the bones and then at Cole. “Did…did you just kill a kid?”

Picking up half of the skull, Cole whispered a prayer and let the silver light burn the demon’s ichor from the skull. “No, that child was long dead. I just ended the abuse of her remains.” Internally Cole decided to not elaborate on what he suspected had happened. No soul was attached to the bones, and he doubted the Demon would let such a commodity go free. Death had been the least of the poor child's suffering.

Crushing the bone and letting the powdered remains fall to the ground, Cole took in a deep breath. He could see/smell the “rats” tail/trail slipping around and down the tunnel before them. The immaterial remnant was fast fading, but it told Cole enough. They were close, and the Demon knew they were coming.

“We need to keep moving; that was an attempt to distract us.” the Paladin said.

With his right hand, Cole fumbled with his bandolier and pulled out a small vial. Removing the stopper, he downed its contents in one. Wincing slightly, Cole felt the concoction burn his throat. Putting away the vial, Cole felt the drug work its way through his system. A slight warmth expanded out from his gut and into his limbs.

The stimulant mix he’d taken was a nasty thing. The Alchemist had frantically stressed to Cole it would shred his liver and kidneys if used in the dose requested. Mixing multiple mundane and magical ingredients, the drug, colloquially known as “Caps Last Stand,” would make Cole stronger, faster, more alert, deaden his pain and minimize blood loss. It would even last for three hours or so. A potent tool for a resurrecting immortal.

Moving past the rat-child’s remains, the group found their next path. One wall of the chamber had shattered, revealing an unnaturally dark interior. Holding up his Silver light, Cole grimaced as the “darkness” slithered away. Revealing a strange chamber of curious make. Hidden in clouds of shadow-spores were strange boney arches and mottled stone. Pushing forward, driving back the thick spores, Cole glanced around the new cave. The walls and floor had a distinctly organic feel. Somehow reminding Cole both of an insect hive and a hollowed-out gourd. Carefully, Cole reached out to the oily black wall and touched it.

He expected the damp moistness of living or once-living matter but instead was greeted by cold stone. Odd bumps and ridges defined the wall, and Cole thought about a merchant he’d encountered once. The man had been selling bizarre rocks that looked like this cavern. He’d called the stone “Coral,” saying it was the ocean's bones.

Where coral was brightly hued or sickly white, these walls were pitch black. Drinking in light as much as the shadow-spores filling the chamber. Willing the light to shine brighter, Cole entered the chamber, the Guards watching his flanks. Stepping over the nobby, uneven floor, Cole pushed deeper. Every stride seemed to intensify the darkness, the shadow-spores thick enough to see unaided. The hellspawn mold crowded away from Cole but couldn’t fully escape his power. Every second or so, a faint hiss would become audible as a tendril or cloud of shadow-spore was pushed too close to Cole and ignited. Raining small plumes of ash around the group.

Temir looked back the way they came and was disturbed to see the darkness had swallowed it completely. “Uh, do we know where we are going?” he asked in a whisper. Afraid to catch the attention of anything lurking in the shadow-spores.

Cat-Eyes nodded. “Aye, the smell is strong, even here. You all should be able to sniff it out pretty soon. Even with your shoddy noses.”

There was an air of false bravado in Alia’s words, the stress clearly effecting her. Cole could commiserate with Cat-Eyes. The Demon’s stink was gnawing on his nerves. Some deep-set instinct Isabelle had managed to copy into his flesh on edge from the odor. Telling him something bad was nearby. Something that filled the air and Aether with its presence. He couldn’t imagine how it must feel with the bestial senses Alia possessed.

Slowly, carefully they crept through the chamber. Blind to everything not within the six meters or so Cole could illuminate. After maybe fifteen minutes, Fargo let out a pained curse and stumbled forward. Temir quickly grabbed him and looked to see what had tripped Fargo. A startled shout erupted from Temir as he pointed at the ground. Fargo had stumbled over a foot. Or at least something that looked like a foot. Bringing his light closer, Cole let it shine on the obstacle.

A crumpled body lay sprawled on the floor. Deathly thin, the body was partially submerged in the black coral. Leaning down, Cole inspected the corpse. Only for its single uncovered eye to open. Milky white and sunken, the eye still somehow focused on Cole. Cracked dry lips parted, and the soon-to-be-corpse whispered a single rattling word. “Family.”

Stepping back, Cole looked over to other bumps and shapes in the chamber. They weren’t random, but bits of bodies coated entirely in black coral. Some were human, and most were not. Rats, insects, and other vermin had ossified into an unnatural mass. Each lured here and consumed as the person Fargo tripped over was being. Clenching his jaw, Cole brought his axe down on the trapped Cultist’s spine. “Find peace in the next life.”

Cat-Eyes shivered at the sight of the emaciated Cultist. So withered and starved she couldn’t even tell the gender. “What’s this about families? Why do they keep talking about families?”

Cole gently shut the Cultist’s exposed eye and turned to her. “Demons are born of suffering. They feed on it and are molded by it. Each Demon is ‘themed,’ if you will, after a different type of pain. This Demon is probably born of some pain related to family. Losing it, never having it, or something else entirely.”

Whispering a prayer, Cole put a hand on the withered corpse and tried to free the soul within. Clumps of gray-green soul-stuff puffed out of the corpse in an uncertain stream. Normally a freed soul was like a cloud of silver smoke, billowing free into the Aether and fading into the Beyond. The Cultist in the Black Coral was being eaten mind, body, and soul. Their soul, a shredded sickly thing, matching their desiccated body. Cole hadn’t just euthanized the cultist; he'd cut the Demon’s meal short.

Creeping through the dark, they found two more Cultists in similar shape. Giving them the mercy of steel, Cole felt disgust and hate bubble in his soul. Family is such a simple but powerful desire. Warped into a lure for easy prey. An utter perversion that Cole would not let stand. The Demon would die permanently.

To that end, Cole started crafting a weapon. You could destroy a Demon, shred its essence, and cast it back into the Hells. But eventually, the Demon would reform, congealing back into existence, perhaps in a new configuration but still “alive” if such a term could even be applicable in the first place. To truly kill a Demon, you needed to destroy and negate it. The “easiest” way to do this was to hit the Demon with its bane. Concentrated and focused emotions opposite the Demon’s nature.

This Demon was related to Family or at least some toxic version of it. From what he’d seen, Cole guessed the pain of an abusive or utterly enmeshed family had spawned this Demon. The emotions of a healthy, happy family would be its bane.

Looking to the Guards, Cole started to prepare his weapon with little tact. “Which of you has the best home life?”

All four of them looked at Cole like he was crazy, then, after a moment, they pointed at Fargo. Confused, the tall(ish) Dwarf asked, “Me? Why me?”

Temir shrugged. “You are married with two kids and another on the way. The only time you ever actually open up is to gush about your whelps.”

Alia added. “Yeah, and the Captain’s married to his job. I can’t seem to keep a girlfriend for more than a month. And Temir has slept with half the eligible women in the fucking district.”

Smiling despite himself, Cole spoke gently. “Do you love your family?”

Fargo almost looked insulted by the question, “Of course I do!”

Nodding, Cole asked, “Do they love you back?”

Fargo actually laughed. “I hope so. They let me stay in the house at least.”

Cole gripped onto Fargo then, leaning down, so his eyes met the slit in the Dwarf’s helmet. The silver light of Cole’s amulet washed over them both as the Paladin spoke. “I need you to think about your family, the emotions you feel for them. Your love, your affection, I need you to imagine your kids grown up and happy. Think about them being the best versions of themselves. Imagine the pride and joy you feel for them.”

Confused, Fargo started to ask, “Wha-?”

Cole shook him slightly. “Can you do that for me?”

Uncertain but unwilling to question a Holy Knight, Fargo shut his eyes and focused. An unconscious smile split Fargo’s face. As his mind escaped the horrid moldy lair, and returned to his family. Returning the smile, Cole pulled up his Aether sight and looked at Fargo. Streams of blue-green bubbles danced around the City Watchman. Each bubble holding flickers of happy memories, floating on a breeze born of laughter. Exactly what Cole needed.

“Good,” he said. “You can stop now, but keep those memories close. When we face the Demon, I’ll need you to bring them up at my signal.”

Fargo looked confused, so Cole elaborated. “I can use your emotions to hurt the Demon. Much like fire, sunlight and silver can destroy Vampires, those thoughts and feelings can kill the Demon.”

Swallowing nervously, Fargo nodded. Cole clapped him on the shoulder and kept moving. That should be enough for what Cole had planned. In the previous Demons he’d faced, Cole could either banish them or provide the needed emotions. But Cole’s origin as a vat-grown abomination made his family-themed emotions either warped or utterly absent. While he’d found companionship with Natalie, the emotions that relationship produced would be better used against a Succubus than this ‘Buried Knight.’

It took the group another hour or so of slow-moving to make it through the black coral caverns. They found and euthanized three more Cultists in the process. Each a ruined shell with a mutilated soul. The Demon’s stink was potent enough for the entire group to now smell. The false-odor put them all on edge as they approached the heart of its lair. A heart now seemingly unreachable.

The trail led to a solid wall of mottled black coral. Slightly concave and covered in a scale-like pattern, the wall lacked any seam or obvious portal. After maybe five minutes of prodding and poking, Cole decided brute force was necessary. Trading weapons with Temir, Cole swung the war pick with all his might. A crunch and wet splat reverberated around them as Cole punched a hole in the wall. Pulling the pick back, Cole held his light up. Sizzling smoke started to pour from the hole. Whatever he’d exposed reacted to the silver light. As Cole prepared to widen the hole, the wall twitched.

Bits of black coral fell away as the wall pulled back. A great moan echoed through the cave, and unnatural wind sucked into the newly opened cavern. Disturbed shadow-spores burned on the edge of the light as Cole held up his amulet to illuminate the newest chamber. The first thing Cole noticed was the bodies. Fifteen or so people sprawled out on the floor, each sallow-skinned and painfully thin. More cultists. These looked (relatively) healthier than the ones stuck in the earlier chamber. They shifted and pulled themselves up from the cavern floor like so many restless sleepers. Black gunk covered their mouths, and signs of disease riddled their bodies. Cole could see inflamed skin bulge and warp as the things inside the Cultists reacted to his light.

Beyond the Cultists, another sight dominated the chamber. A massive humanoid corpse lay sprawled against the far wall. The chamber was maybe ten meters across, and the corpse was easily four meters tall. At first, Cole thought it might be an Ogre or similar consumed by the black coral, but that idea died quickly. Six-limbed and covered in dark chitin-like armor, the corpse was fused with the wall. Wing-like waves of growth stretched from its back and covered the cavern walls.

Blinking in surprise, Cole realized he had it wrong again. The corpse wasn’t attached to the walls. The walls had grown from it. Its vaguely insectoid wings stretched out into a protective shell Cole had disturbed. Numerous wounds covered the hulking corpse. Rents in its carapace that sucked in air and expelled flecks of the black tar. A fluid Cole knew to be a corrupted ectoplasm. Of all the wounds, none could compare to the massive bolt impaling the corpse. A tree-trunk-sized shaft of ancient wood stuck from the corpse. Cole could taste a gentle warmth coming from the giant spear. Powerful blessings had been laid on it. A power perhaps yet rekindled.

They had found the Buried Knight or its husk, at least. Holding up his amulet, Cole willed it to brighten, shedding light over the Cultists and their false-god. Faint witch-light stirred in the Demon’s empty sockets. One of its legs twitched, sending a shower of black coral flying. But no other movements came from it. Cole had once heard that even Dead Gods could Dream. Perhaps a crippeled Demon could still spread suffering?

Out from between the Demon’s legs, a new figure arose. Covered in the same Hellichor the Demon leaked was the Shepard. Wild jaundiced eyes blinked away the black muck, and a boney finger stretched out towards Cole. “They come! They come to destroy our family! Stop them!”

As one the Cultists charged forward. Unarmed and unarmored, they came in a tide of grasping hands and gnashing teeth. Reclaiming his weapon from Temir, Cole rattled off a benediction and plea for forgiveness. “Master Time, protect our allotment. Master Time, forgive me for cutting theirs short.”

The group met the charge. Their weapons flashing in the twin lights of Cole’s amulet and Iron-Teeth’s lantern. Cultists screamed and wailed as they died. Lacking even the meager weapons their predecessors had, they proved a bigger moral threat than physical. Soon the uneven chamber floor ran thick with clotted pus-filled blood. As Cole cleaved through another Cultist, he set his eyes on the Shepherd. The Cult Leader was on his knees, a rasping stream of alien words issuing from his mouth as his hands clutched at the black coral ground.

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Cole pushed closer to the Shepherd and made a startling discovery. The Hellichor covering the Cult Leader wasn’t coming from the Buried Knight. It was leaking from the Shepherd. From his eyes, mouth, ears, and nose. A never-ending stream of corrupted false-matter. Blackened, rotten teeth showed as the Shepherd smiled. Even through the screams and crashes of battle, Cole heard his words.

“I hear you, my God. I know what you wish of me. We are family. You share your soul; let me share my flesh.”

Realization struck Cole, and he barreled through Cultists. Trying to reach the Shepherd in time. Yelling to the Guards, Cole said: “It's trying to possess the Leader! Keep the Cultists off of me!”

Stalwart Iron-Teeth smashed another Cultist’s head and followed after Cole. “Hi-Ho! Breaking skulls I go!” he bellowed, falling back to the old Dwarven battle-chant as he killed. No matter the people, soldiers always found bleak levity in the face of death.

Squeezing his axe tight, glad feeling had finally returned to his fingers. Cole started dredging up more of his power. The Dragon’s share he’d been saving for this moment. Channeling the divine energy into his amulet and then into his Axe, Cole willed silver flames into existence. Blue-white sparks flared from his weapon, the same power he’d used when fighting Petar of Glockmire returned. Of all his powers, this was the only one Cole had failed to practice over the past few months. No matter how he tried, the soul flames he’d called up then hadn’t returned. Cole guessed they would only come to him when he was fulfilling his duty. A guess proven correct as they faced down the Cult Leader.

Hellichor swirled along the Shepherd’s body, covering his arm and congealing into a mantis-like blade. Black-coral shaped and sharpened by unholy will met dwarven steel coated in divine fire. A keening note echoed out from the impact. Cole could only watch as the Shepherd twitched and convulsed even as he swung his “weapon.” Flesh ruptured and bones twisted as the Shepherd started to transform. Chitinous plates of black coral formed into a half-finished suit of armor while his other arm was encased in a second mantis blade. A second pair of stunted arms pulled free from the Shepherd’s chest. His formerly sickly-yellow eyes hollowed out into solid black pits. Pools of hellichor gleaming with alien malice.

Screaming in fury, Cole launched a gout of fire at the possessed Shepherd and swung his axe for its face. Stumbling back from the fire, the Shepherd caught the blow on his chin, and it splintered its jawbone. Blue-white sparks started to dance on the torn flesh, burning it away. Hissing in pain, the Shepherd-Demon gripped its jaw and pulled. With a wet splat, ripped off its own jaw. As the burning bit of bone and meat sailed away, Cole could see a fresh set of mandibles replace it.

Demons, like most Spirits, lacked true bodies. Requiring a container to manifest outside the Beyond. Stolen mortal flesh was the preferred medium, but it often proved lacking for stronger Demons. Their spiritual mass leaked from the body, eventually bursting like an overstuffed sack. Stronger bodies, natural or crafted, could be used to circumvent this. Cole had heard of Archdemons taking the bodies of Giants, Dragons, and War-Masters for their own. Walking the physical world and bringing devastation until banished from the stolen body. Until now, the Buried Knight had refused to possess its followers, even to escape its ruined form. This told Cole it was too powerful for a sickly Cultist to hold for long.

But not long was relative; it might take hours or days depending on the Demon and host. Cole couldn’t play a game of attrition. He needed to end this quickly. Dodging a scything blow, Cole lept for the Buried Knight’s original body. His Aether-sense could see the steady flow of curdled power moving from the Buried Knight to the Shepherd. A flow he now meant to disrupt.

Swapping his axe to his right hand, Cole scrambled up the crippled Demon and onto the massive spear, impaling it. The Shepherd lept after him, unnaturally strong legs launching it towards Cole. Cole caught it with a brutal swing of his axe, catching it mid-jump and knocking the Shepherd back. Soaked in holy power, the Axe cleaved through the Shepherd’s armor and stuck hard into its chest. Rapidly healing Hellichor armor sealed around the impeded axe and pulled it from Cole’s grip. Cursing wildly, Cole could only watch as the Shepherd fell to the ground, his weapon stuck in its torso.

Refusing to waste another second, Cole brought his amulet down on the giant spear and forced his power into it. The effect was instantaneous. Hundreds of runes carved into the shaft came alight with power, and a deep hum echoed through the chamber. All faces, Cultist and Guard alike, looked up to Cole. The glowing runes spread down the shaft and into the Buried Knight’s chest. A brilliant golden glow started to erupt from the hole. The warm light of a nice summer day flavored with a woman’s laughter. Priests of Sister Sun had made this weapon. Mentally thanking those long-gone Warrior-Worshippers and their Goddess, Cole poured even more of himself into the spear.

A wet squealing rip echoed from inside the Buried Knight as an idea tore apart. The giant Demon’s corpse started to crack, its body collapsing as the sun’s rays sliced it apart. A yellow flash erupted as the Buried Knight’s first body died. Riding the falling spear to the ground, Cole stepped away from the destroyed husk. A furious shriek greeted him as the Shepherd lunged toward him. Cole barely ducked under the Demon’s lunge.

Whirling to face him the Shepherd’s mandibles hissed and clicked. Producing an uneven, broken speech. “I am Gaol-Gru-Mapa! Atriarch of the Unwanted! Know me, and know I will accept you into my family!”

Cole answered: “Fuck you”

Gaol-Gru-Mapa slithered forward, swiping out with a mantis blade. “I will still forgive you. Even after you ruined much. Join me and I will love you!”

Cole answered: “Fuck you!”

As the Paladin dodged another blow, the Demon continued. “I offer you, Family! Love! Acceptance! Just surrender and join us!”

Cole answered: “FUCK YOU”

Lunging forward, Cole pulled a handful of silver powder from his bandolier. Frantically he sprayed the Demon with the shining substance. Cracking screams escaped the Demon’s maw as the silver burned its skin. Tackling the Demon, Cole gripped his stuck axe and pulled it free. He didn’t get his weapon back for free. A line of fiery pain erupted across Cole’s back. The Demon had landed a clean blow. Sturdy as Emma’s armor was, it couldn’t match a Demon’s malice. Gasping in pain, Cole rolled away from the Demon and brought his axe up in a guard.

Shouting over the din of battle, Cole bellowed, “FARGO! NOW!”

Fargo pulled his spear out of a dead Cultist and looked to Cole. As Temir and Iron-Teeth moved in to Guard him, Fargo shut his eyes and concentrated. To Cole’s utter relief, the Aether bloomed with the memories of family. Storms of blue-green bubbles erupted out from Fargo. Spitting a gout of fire at the Demon, Cole ran towards Fargo. The screaming Demon right on his heels. Focusing on the blood dripping down his back, Cole rasped one of the first spells he’d ever learned.

“Blood begets blood. Iron begets iron. A piece of my life for the power to bring death.”

His weapon extended into a Halberd, and Cole poured his power into it. Blue sparks erupted from its head as unnatural hoarfrost coated it. To the shock and horror of the Guards, Cole swung his Halberd at Fargo. Temir tried to jump in the way but was too slow. The halberd’s head flew over Fargo’s startled head, passing through the bubbling memories only Cole could see.

The Cold of Entropy was not simple ice magic, it could freeze ideas and concepts just as easily as it could blood and flesh. So as the enchanted halberd touched Fargo’s swirling emotions, they froze to it. Coating the weapon in the congealed stuff of love and family. Much like an assassin might dip their dagger in poison. Cole had lathered his halberd with the Demon’s bane.

Spinning around, Cole brought the enchanted halberd to bear. Gaol-Gru-Mapa, in its new body, lept for Cole. Mandibles open, yellow bile splattering from its maw. As Cole’s halberd, glowing blue-green with borrowed emotions, came close. The Paladin could see fear erupt on the Demon’s mutated face. Frantically the Demon tried to block the coming strike but unused to its new body, it was too slow..

Faster than he’d ever moved before, Cole struck. A Paladin’s Halberd cleaved through possessed flesh while a Family Man’s love shredded infernal malice. An explosion of white eye-searing light erupted as the blow landed. A bubbling shriek erupted from the Demon as it died. Bisected shoulder to opposite hip the two halves tumbled to the ground. The withered remains of the Shepherd and Gaol-Gru-Mapa both splattered to the ground.

For good measure, Cole brought his halberd down again, splitting the Cult Leader’s skull. Silver-blue flames spread from where Cole cut, consuming the body and Hellichor all. The wrath of Master Time’s chosen Knight purging the Demon from reality. Slamming the butt of his halberd onto the Black-Coral floor, Cole felt words pour from his lips. Words not quite his own. Words belonging to the mantle of Paladin.

“Demon! Defiler! Spawn of the Dark! You who feasted on the innocent! Break upon your banes and be beaten by all that is good! Die as all things must! Doomed in certainty and perpetuity”

As the words finished echoing off the chamber walls, Cole looked back at the stunned Guards. Surrounded by the slaughtered cultists and the ashes of Demons, a heavy silence fell. Only broken by Cat-Eye’s “Fire-and-Iron… You really are a Paladin, aren’t you?”

Cole almost laughed but couldn’t bring himself to. Shrinking and sheathing his halberd, he got to work on the Cultists. Freeing their damaged souls with quick prayers and magic fire. Fargo rubbed his head and looked around at the carnage. “Is it over? Is the Demon really dead?”

Nodding, Cole shut the eyes of another victim. “Yes, I’m sorry for surprising you like that. I originally intended to weaken the Demon and let you strike the killing blow. But things got messy, and I was forced to improvise.”

Still rubbing his helmet, Fargo asked, “I…I saw you do something. Your halberd, it touched me, not my body, but me. I felt it touch those memories you said to think about. How did you do that?”

Cole could only shrug. “Hope and a prayer.”

Iron-Teeth passed by the Paladin and approached the tree-sized spear. Lying amid a pile of ash, its runes still glowed faintly golden. Leaning down to touch the shaft, Iron-Teeth let out a low whistle. “Slag and Soot, I think this is one of Saint Arka’s Arrows”

The various Guards all made different motions of reverence. Cole just asked, “A what?”

Iron-Teeth didn’t take his eyes off the giant arrow; something like awe in the Dwarf’s eyes. “Saint Arka, she’s the patron Saint of Vindabon. She was the City’s Champion back during the Volgo incursion. One of the greatest Archers ever, a Bow-Paragon and War-Priestess of Sister Sun. They say she killed seven Archdemons during the Ninth Siege with arrows blessed by the Goddess’s touch.”

Looking at the massive ‘arrow,’ Cole asked, “Was Saint Arka a Giant by chance?”

Iron-Teeth scoffed at his remark. “No, she was human. Her arrows just changed size to match her foe.” glancing at the colossal shaft, Iron-Teeth added, “Or at least that's the story I heard”

Cat-Eye’s eyed the Arrow. “If that’s really one of the Saint’s Arrows… Does that mean the Demon was from the Volgo Incursion? It’s been down here since the Bloody Centuries?”

Looking at the pile of ash that had once been the Buried Knight, Cole mused on this. “The Demon survived her attack and was sealed down here. Maybe it buried itself to escape the Saint? No matter how it happened, why did it wake up now?”

Reaching down, Cole touched the arrow and started to say, “Maybe the magic in the arrow started to weak-Wha!”

At his touch, the tree-sized arrow started to shrink. Squeezing in on itself with a groaning sound. In a matter of seconds, the mammoth arrow was replaced by a normal-sized shaft. Gingerly, Cole picked up the arrow. As he did, a warm breeze tickled his neck, and a faint feminine laugh echoed on the edge of his hearing. Looking at the rose-gold coated arrowhead tipping the shaft, Cole said, “It seems the legends were true.”

No sooner had the words come from his mouth than the arrow rolled out of Cole’s hand and shot forward. It flew with lightning speed and smashed into the chamber wall. Leaving a trail of golden motes behind it. The arrow struck where the Buried Knight had laid. Near the place, the Shepherd had come from. Glancing at the Guards, Cole unsheathed his axe and cautiously approached the spot. The arrow was half-buried in half-formed Black Coral. A wet clay-like substance that was rapidly hardening. Reaching out tentatively, Cole tried to pull the arrow free. It didn’t budge. Its flared head caught on something.

Eyes widening in realization, Cole swung his axe against the wall. Moldy and moist black coral fell away, revealing a new room. Grabbing the arrow from the collapsing muck, Cole entered the exposed chamber. Much smaller than the Knight’s tomb, its cramped interior was covered in strange glyphs and patterns. Layers of Black Coral had been used like plaster to make the occult shapes. Looking at them made Cole’s head hurt slightly. Quickly, Cole started lashing out with his axe, cutting up the sigils. Hoping to disrupt whatever magic was at work. A shrine to the Dark could easily hold many horrors.

So distracted by the glyphs, Cole didn’t even notice the main focus of the chamber. An uneven pile of mud-like black coral. Shaped like a half-melted candle, the pile had the horrified attention of the Guards. For good reason, people, or the remains of people, stuck out of the black coral Butte. Maybe five or so half-mummified bodies hung out of Butte like the tattered wicks of some malformed candle. The freshest of them was wearing a guard uniform.

Iron-Teeth yelled, “Yakobson!” and charged forward. They had found the Guard assigned to watch the Under-Building entrance. Before Iron-Teeth could try and free his subordinates' remains, Cole grabbed the Guard Captain. A furious Iron-Teeth whirled on Cole. “What!”

Eyeing the corpse Butte, Cole said, “He can’t be dead more than a few hours. But he looks utterly desiccated. Something’s not right.”

Reaching to his back, Cole dabbed the long gash the Demon had given him. Being able to use that injury to alter his halberd had been a real breakthrough for Cole. He’d always needed to actually bleed on the halberd before to change its shape. Just as he had much to learn about being a Paladin, blood magic held more secrets even he could unlock. Fingers covered in fresh blood, Cole flicked some droplets onto the pillar of bodies. Instantly the blood died and dried. Leaving brown circles on the black coral.

Frowning, Cole looked to the chamber floor, where knotted roots of coral led to the wall and the Buried Knight’s resting place. “It was feeding on them.” looking out into the previous room and the dead cultists, realization struck Cole. “The Demon, it drained its followers slowly. Getting as much use out of them as possible. While devouring these unfortunate souls in the pillar without delay.”

But the Demon was dead. Cole had felt it die. Was this just a leftover piece of its magic? Something that would decay and die like the Hellspawn infesting the tunnels? Holding up his Amulet, Cole knew he wasn’t about to take the chance this ‘drinker pillar’ would survive. Shutting his eyes, Cole shoved much of his remaining power into the Amulet. Calling up the silver fire and cloaking his hand in it. Cole thrust his arm forward. Grabbing the pillar and letting the flames spread. No Demonic power protected the oily muck; its corruption burned like tinder. Silver fire spread fast as thought and consumed the pillar in seconds.

Leaving only a pile of withered corpses and blessed ash. Panting, Cole stumbled forward slightly. His vision swam, and his body felt hollow like some organ had been scooped out. There wouldn’t be any more divine fire or cold from him for a while. Trying to reclaim his breath, Cole gestured to Yakobson’s body. “It should be safe.”

Iron-Teeth went over to his dead subordinate and shut his withered eyes. Clenching his jaw, Iron-Teeth asked, “His soul… is it…?”

Cole winced. “I’m sorry.”

Iron-Teeth flinched like he’d be struck. Temir looked nauseous, Cat-Eyes disturbed, and Fargo was on the edge of tears. Voice cracking like old stone, the Dwarf Captain asked, “What… what will I tell his wife?”

The certainty and security the Pantheon provided were rarely double-edged. Death held few mysteries. Everyone knew about the cycle of reincarnation and purification the Gods oversaw. How a soul would live a thousand lives and experience countless worlds. Until it became so pure, it was Anointed and entered the High Holies. Or was so utterly corrupt it was damned to the Infinite Hells. That beautiful infinite was now denied to Yakobson. All that made him shredded and consumed by a spiritual cyst once known as Gaol-Gru-Mapa.

This is why Demons are feared above all monsters except perhaps the Sidhe. They did not simply kill. They destroyed you so thoroughly that not even the Gods could save you. Perhaps if Cole had been faster, this fate could have been prevented? Maybe if he had reset himself instead of waiting to heal, Yakobson would be alive? Or at least capable of reincarnation? Squeezing his hands so hard it hurt, Cole tried to push away the guilt.

Swallowing uselessly, Cole broke one of his personal taboos. “Tell her he died a hero. Say his soul was lost saving the city from a Demon your patron Saint sealed away. He can only live on in memory now, let's make sure that memory never fades.”

A silent agreement flowed between the five. Instead of being grabbed and pulled into the darkness. To be slaughtered and consumed like so much meat. Yakobson had joined their expedition and died protecting his home. A good story to make the bitter facts easier to swallow.

The Guards took their fallen comrade aside and laid him in gentle repose. A clean cloth covering his face. Shoving down his guilt, Cole got to work examining the other corpses. Yakobson had died from a spear to the chest. Of the five other bodies, two were also spear victims. One had taken a crossbow bolt to the skull, and another had been bashed to death by something heavy. Leaving a single outlier, whose chest had been ripped open. The missing victim.

Withered as he was, details of the victim were hard to tell. Cole guessed he was similar to the others. A young adult, drugged and vivisected. The victim’s clothes were of poor make, little more than rags. Considering the victim hadn’t been put with the other drained cultists, Cole assumed he wasn’t a cult member. Perhaps another warren dweller caught by them? Most of the bodies seemed to match that description, their tattered clothes and damaged flesh speaking to such a life.

Leaning down, Cole started checking the body. His morbid questing was rewarded when his fingers found something hard and cold in a hidden pocket of the victims shirt. Pulling it out, Cole was stunned to find a large gold coin. About the size of Cole’s large palm, the solid piece of precious metal was slightly warped. One side held a large symbol of some kind, while the other was completely smooth. The coin was slightly oval in shape, and the metal’s thickness tapered off at the edges. Like someone had tried to flatten the hunk of gold. While it matched no currency Cole recognized, its sheer size spoke to its value. How on earth had this warren-dweller gotten it?

Turning back to the Guards, Cole held out the coin. “I found this on the body. Do any of you recognize it?”

Temir swore in surprise. “Moons! That’s a lot of gold.”

Iron-Teeth took it and held it up to his lantern light. “Strange, I don’t know the badge… but the other side, how smooth it is. I recognize that.” eye’s widening, Iron-teeth bared his teeth in a grim approximation of a smile. “Yes, Elza Farman, the fifth victim. She had two small silver pieces like this.”

A knowing look passed between Cole and Iron-Teeth. They had found something. Small and maybe inconsequential, but it was still something. Laying out the bodies to give them some dignity, Cole and the Guards got to work checking the rest of the chamber. Taking time to deface any sigil or mark on the walls. Cole had no idea if the glyphs had any magical potency and had no desire to find out. Eventually, Cat-Eye’s made a breakthrough, literally.

Running one of her knives along the wall, she found another patch of the unset black coral. The black gunk caught on her blade. At a nod from Cole, Temir used his war pick to tear open the patch. Revealing another entrance. Cole held up his amulet and shed light into the ragged hole Temir had carved. To the Paladin’s surprise, the light shone far. The shadow spores, already starting to settle. Without the Demons' power to buoy their mutant existence, the Hellspawn were dying off.

Small clouds of shadow spore still hung in places, but the tunnel floor was covered in a fine carpet of greasy mildew. Aside from that, this new tunnel seemed unblemished by Demonic influence. No black coral covered its walls, and it seemed to be carved from stone. Something that inspired a whole other set of questions.

Looking back at the bodies, Cole grimaced. “Taking the remains back will be difficult. We might be able to carry Yakobson with us.”

Iron-Teeth shook his helmed head. “No need; I’ll stay with him until you all return. It's the least I can do for these poor souls.” shutting his eyes, the Captain let out a labored breath. “I was supposed to protect these people. I failed them in life. I won’t in death.”

Fargo and Temir exchanged glances. The big Orcblood speaking for both of them, “We’ll stay with the Captain. Just to make sure there aren’t any stragglers or surviving Hellspawn.” after a pause, Temir added. “Don’t take too long; it's damned creepy down here.”

Part of Cole wanted to argue he should be the one to stay. But seeing the three men’s expressions, he knew it was pointless to argue. They wanted to stand vigil over the fallen, not out of some practical reason but for honor’s sake. Both the dead’s and their own. Shrugging, Cole fished out a few vials from his bandolier.

“The one with the gray cap is silver mixed with a few other common banes. Throw it at anything big and nasty. The green one burns really bright; dump it into the lantern if you need more light. The two red are combat drugs; only take them if you have no other option. I’ll want them back when this is over.”

Looking at the red-capped vials, Fargo asked. “Isn’t that the stuff you took? Is it dangerous?”

Pausing for a second to pick his words, Cole nodded. “Yes, it won’t kill you when it wears off; just make you wish it had. Just keep it for an emergency.”

Turning to Cat-Eyes, Cole asked, “Should we retrace our steps or try this new tunnel?”

The Werefolk woman didn’t respond for a second, just sniffing the new passage. “The air smells fresher this way, and I smell something else… I can’t quite make it out.”

Absently, Cole asked, “Is it tea?” Cat-Eyes gave him a strange look and shook her head in the negative. Shrugging, Cole muttered, “Nevermind. So should we try it out?”

Cat-Eyes nodded, and after making some final checks with the rest of the group, Cole and the City Warden left. The Demon’s feeding shrine connected to the tunnel wall, giving the pair two directions to travel. Following Cat-Eyes’ nose, they took the right path. Running a hand along the wall, Cole was increasingly certain skilled diggers had excavated the tunnel. With just Cole’s light to guide them, the new tunnel took on a sterile, cold look. The scrapes of excavation highlighted in the silver light.

After maybe five minutes of creeping through the man-made tunnel, Cat-Eyes coughed awkwardly. “I owe you an apology, Paladin. I’ve been haranguing you pretty hard, and that’s been shit of me to do”

Glancing at the sheepish Werewoman, Cole nodded. “I accept. This has been a difficult situation. It makes sense it would wear on you.”

Cat-Eyes shrugged. “It’s not just that. We’ve been busting bones trying to figure this out for weeks. Trying our best and getting nowhere. Then you just kinda fall out of the sky and offer to fix everything. It just didn’t smell right, especially considering how we found you. So I’ve let you have my worst and hoped to push the truth to the front. Except, you really are what you say. An actual, Gods-chosen Paladin.”

Scratching her nose, the City Warden looked away. “So.. uh… Thank you for helping us, and again, sorry about trying to word-flay you at every chance Paladin.”

Lips quirked in a smile, Cole offered her his hand. “Just call me Cole.” She took it, and they exchanged grips before continuing along the way.

The tunnel started to curve upward and slightly to the left. Frowning, Cole asked: “Do you know these tunnels? They don’t seem to be natural.”

Taking a moment to run her fingers along the tunnel wall, Alia just shrugged. “No, these are definitely not part of the normal guard patrols. Do you think the Cultists dug them?”

Shaking his head, Cole said, “Doubtful, they would have neither the time nor resources for something this big. Let's keep moving and see what we can find.”

They moved in silence for another fifteen minutes or so. The tunnel branched multiple times, but Cat-Eye’s kept following her nose. Soon there were no traces of shadow spores or anything else malign. Cat-Eyes stopped at one intersection and looked genuinely confused. “I know what the smell is.”

Sniffing the air again, “Wine, fruity good stuff. I thought I was imagining it at first, but there's no mistaking it.”

Surprised, Cole glanced down the tunnel. “Could a wine cellar be connected to these tunnels?”

“No,” answered Alia. “Not unless someone has spilled a bunch of their prize vintage. I… I think someone is drinking down here?”

Getting their weapons ready, the pair crept forward. Soon Cole could smell the wine as well. The scent was strong enough to overpower even the musty, dusty tunnel odor. Next came strange sounds, murmurs, and cries echoing down the tunnel. Coming to a junction, they realized the sounds and smells were not far. Maybe a dozen meters down the new junction.

Crouching down, Cole whispered, “I’ll go in first. Cover my back.” The City Warden nodded, and they lept into action.

Exploding out from around the corner, Cole charged the source with a furious roar. A roar answered by a panicked shriek. Flooding the tunnel with light, Cole was shocked to find a mess of discarded clothes, empty wine bottles, and two very startled youths. Maybe eighteen at the oldest, they were lovers caught in a very… intimate position. Panicked, they tried to disentangle from each other and flee.

Lowering his axe, Cole shouted. “What in the Fixed Stars are you doing down here?”

Realizing they weren’t being attacked, the lovers slowed their escape and looked at Cole. The man, or boy really, was blond with wispy facial hair and a slightly too-long chin. The girl was teetering between gangly pubescence and womanhood, her long red hair covering a freckled face. Grabbing a dueling dagger from among the discarded clothes, the boy brandished it at Cole. “I could ask you the same thing! What do you want, yeoman!”

Cat-Eyes then decided to appear. Looking over the saucy tableau, she muttered, “At this rate, people are going to think I’m a peeper.” approaching the lovers, she answered for Cole. “I’m a City Warden patrolling the Warrens, looking for criminals and the corrupt. Would you, two, fall into either category?”

The boy lost a few shades of color at that, and the girl quickly started to gather up her clothes. “We… we were just trying to get some privacy. No rules against that.”

Tossing the girl a petticoat near her foot, Cat-Eyes raised an eyebrow. “There are rules against trespassing or indecency. Which I think you both are in violation of.”

Waving his hands frantically, including his ornate dagger, the boy said, “Wait, wait, wait! This is the Undercroft; we're not trespassing!”

Cat-Eyes and Cole exchanged looks. Asking the obvious questions, Cole said, “Undercroft?”

The boy started to speak, but the girl cut him off. “Jaerd be quiet! This isn’t any business of the city watch.”

That seriously annoyed Cat-Eyes, and she stepped forward, teeth bared. Cole stopped her with a gentle hand. The clothes the couple had finished collecting were all of fine quality and posh purpose. The type of stuff worn by nobility. While relatively meritocratic compared to most places on the continent, Vindabon still had a large and powerful collection of aristocrats. Old bloodlines tracing back centuries; and only marginally less unpleasant than their vampire equivalents in the Blood Duchies.

Holding up his amulet, Cole decided if civil authority would fail, religious authority would not. “I am an agent of the Tenth Temple. These tunnels are subject to investigation and possible cleansing. I suggest the two of you help us. For your own sake and the city’s as well.”

The lovers flinched, and Cole could see the boy start to waiver. The girl was apparently made of stronger stuff. Sneering up at Cole even as she shrugged into her dress, she snapped: “That’s not true! You are just trying to scare us into spilling our guts!”

Taking out a deep breath, Cole held out his axe. Small flecks of black and brown covered the steel. “You see those stains? It's blood and worse. I’ve killed twenty four people today. Only two of them probably deserved it. The rest were infected by an evil lurking in these tunnels. I have neither the time nor energy to spare your feelings. So if you care about this city or yourself at all, tell me what I need to know.”

The girl just stared at the gory axe for a long moment before swallowing nervously. Whatever reasons she had for secrecy melted away in the face of the ugly truth before her. “The Undercroft is what we call the tunnels running beneath the first and second districts. We use them for clandestine meetings and the like.”

Regaining some of her iron, the noble girl snapped. “We’ve been using them for centuries. The Families maintain and expand them, and the city doesn’t bother us about them. No City Watch, no common folk, just for the Select and our help.”

Sheathing his axe, Cole let out an exhausted breath. Two steps forward, one back. This whole mess was proving to be shockingly complicated. Gesturing at the tunnel, Cole asked, “Do any of these Undercroft tunnels lead close to the Temples?”

The couple glanced at each other, and the girl replied. “Yes, one comes close to the Temples of Sister Sun and Brother Moon.”

Nodding, Cole said, “Please guide us there.”

Cutting off the indignant squawk coming from both noblings, Cole growled. “I have dozens of bodies to bury and multiple possible infections to deal with. I suggest you guide us for your own safety. If you’ve been spending time down here, you might be infected as well.”

That seemed to cow the lovers. After finishing collecting their belongings, they set off with Cole and Cat-Eyes behind them. As they left the scene of the rendezvous, Cole noted the noblings had left behind their empty bottles and some scraps of torn clothing. While the boy, Jaerd, was slightly unsteady on his feet, the girl was moving without complaint. An impressive feat considering the five empty wine bottles they’d left in their wake.

“What are your names,” asked Cole. he was getting sick of lacking a proper identity for either.

Seemingly deciding further resistance was futile, the girl answered without protest. “I’m Delia Von Hursput, and he’s Jaerd DeMello.”

Cat-Eyes let out a low whistle at that; she apparently recognized the family names. Cole didn’t care enough to ask for details. The combat drug he’d taken was starting to wear off. The sting of his injuries, minor as they were, was returning. While his energy was flagging violently. He’d need to rest soon, preferably back with Natalie.

It took maybe an hour or less to reach the Temple of Sister Sun. Cole marked their path with Glowpaste, much to the noblings annoyance. They seemed personally affronted by his desecration of their secret pathways. Again, Cole couldn’t care less. Getting the rest of the Guards and the bodies out took priority over anything as paltry as noble secrets.

A large ornate sun symbol marked a gate leading forward. Delia let her hand on the gate lock and it unlocked with a humming click. Passing through the gate, they took another turn, and Delia pressed on the tunnel wall. Revealing a moving panel. The odd quartet passed out of the Undercroft and into a storage room of some kind. Passing between shelves and crates, they reached a door that swung open before any of them touched it. A startled yelp escaped the bookish young Priest on the other side of the door. Frantically trying not to drop the pile of bandages he held, the Priest looked at the strangers in the storage room.

“Lady Delia, now is not a good time!” the Priest squeaked.

Cole loomed behind the Noble and ratcheted the Priests' shock up a few notches. Holding up his amulet Cole said. “I am a Paladin of Master Time. I need to speak with the High Priests as soon as possible.”

The noblings and Priest all looked at Cole with undisguised shock. Gently but firmly Cole insisted, “Now, please. Lives are at stack.”

The Priest let out a nervous laugh. “Isn’t that the truth! The elder Priesthood is busy, but I’ll try my best.”

Raising an eyebrow, Cole asked, “Busy with what?”

Setting the bandages down, the Priest grimaced. “Trying to stop a Riot. We’ve got a few thousand angry citizens trying to leave the city and head for the Werefolk camp.”

Shutting his eyes and taking another dose of the combat drug. Hoping to kick the backlash down the road. Cole let out a single exhausted oath.

“Fuck”