The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 15: Black Cat

“The subject's left arm was cut with a Thread-Cutter Knife procured from the Aisan Sisterhood on Parcei Isle. Limb ceased all biological function and was spiritually dead as is typical of metaphysical lacerations. The Subject was then euthanized by brainstem severing. Two hours and seven minutes later, the Subject revived. Upon resurrection the spiritually severed limb was healed. (Addendum- Watcher Wraiths noted strange fluctuation in local Aether during Death. Worth further study?) - Personal notes of Isabelle Gens Silva.

The words of a God echoed in Natalie’s mind. Ringing through her like the peal of celestial thunder. Blinking away the after-images of the golden light, Natalie felt like she was going to be sick. The immensity of a God’s voice was enough to rattle all three parts of her being. Mind, body, and soul. While she physically couldn’t be ill, her mind interpreted what had just happened as nausea. Fighting the feeling, she slid down the tree she’d been hiding in. Noticing the grit of ash on her face as she did.

Reaching the forest floor, Natalie rubbed her face and winced. Her hands and face were both covered in ash. Smearing her clothes with her soiled hands, Natalie looked to see her skin’s pigmentation change slightly. It lost a little color she’d not even noticed it gained. Looking to where the last afterglow of the Holy Dawn was fading, she understood.

“Sunburn, I was sunburned,” Natalie muttered. The light had seared her skin, and her body had sloughed off the exposed tissue into ash. Making a noise of disgust, Natalie was glad only her face and hands had been caught in the Light. Still, Natalie knew she’d gotten off lucky.. She shuddered to imagine what would have happened if she’d been closer to the Dawn. Either reduced to ash or in the middle of a Blood-Frenzy.

Discarding those hypothetical worries, Natalie found Tiar where she’d left him. His bandages were stained, but he was still breathing. Glancing about, Natalie knew she couldn’t leave him, but doubted her ability to carry the giant Werehawk anywhere far. She briefly pondered making a litter of some kind, but a strange noise stopped that thought. The sound of fluttering wings pulled her attention up and away from Tiar.

A Dove made of flowing light and shining fog glided between the nearby trees and headed for them. Natalie let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. It was one of Madam Kistine’s familiars. The Dove came down and landed on Tiar. Letting out a noise that mixed an avian Coo and the tinkling of small bells. Spreading its wings, the Dove Spirit let feathers that shone like painted glass fall onto Tiar. The Werehawk stirred slightly, and Natalie noticed the smell of fresh blood decreased slightly. He was being healed.

Another smell caught her attention then. A familiar odor of musk. Hulking hands rested on Natalie’s shoulder and covered her mouth. Natalie froze deathly still as the hot breath of a Werewolf tickled her head. She wanted to scream or fight back, but the claws and fangs so painfully close stopped her. Before Natalie could do anything the Werewolf spoke. Its voice a deep rumbling thing holding the barest hint of femininity.

“What…happened?” it growled. And Natalie instantly relaxed. It was Ametza, the youngest Fullblood of the Shohgard pack.

Whispering, Natalie answered. “Silver arrows, they knocked Tiar down. Then some strays came to finish him off. I stopped them… but things got messy.”

Natalie could almost feel Ametza’s amber eyes drinking in the four dead thugs. “Clearly…”

The Werewolf slipped away from Natalie, finding Tiar’s prone form. Pulling back the makeshift blankets and bandages wrapping the Werehawk. Ametza sniffed the wounds before reaching up to the Dove Spirit. Running her claws through its immaterial form. The Spirit let out that strange coo and shook its plumage in slight discomfort. Ametza’s fingers were covered in a glowing liquid that shifted colors like soapy water. Carefully the Werewolf dropped the fluid onto Tiar’s wounds. All while humming a low lupine note.

Curious, Natalie asked, “What are you doing out here?”

Finishing her work, Ametza gestured to herself and then the Dove Spirit. “Strong Fullblood… Also… Shaman…sort of.”

Natalie had forgotten that Ametza was training as her mother’s successor. The hotheaded young Werewoman didn’t exactly inspire the image of mystic wisdom like Kistine did. But still, it made sense for Ametza to be out here treating the wounded. Looking over Tiar, the Werewolf made a pleased-sounding rumble and nodded to herself. Then she looked to Natalie and said in that strange half-speech of her kind. “I Need… go back to camp. You need… city…Paladin.”

Looking towards Vindabon, Natalie chewed on that idea. “Will I be able to make it past the Rioters? Actually, what even happened to them? I saw the light, did the Shamans summon that?”

Ametza chuffed and actually smiled, or at least let her mouth hang open in a lupine approximation. “Paladin happened… felt him. Felt him… burn. You no… know?”

Eyes widening, Natalie half-shouted. “That was Cole?!! He did that?”

Shrugging her huge shoulders, Ametza tapped her nose and made a strange gesture with her claws. “Smell but not smell… Power called…was…God. Called by Cole.”

Confused and worried, Natalie let out a frustrated hiss. Cole was supposed to be down in the Tunnels, not conjuring up a jagging Sun. What in the Pantheon’s writ had happened?

Turning to go, Natalie said: “I need to go to him. Good luck, Ametza.”

The Werewolf bobbed her head and went to scoop up Tiar’s huge form. The Werehawk made a croaking noise but otherwise didn’t complain. Licking her chops, Ametza growled. “Thank you… Next meet… less… messy.”

Then she was off, loping into the deep woods, the wings of Tiar dragging behind her like a huge feathery cape. Natalie watched for a few seconds before switching her attention to the four corpses she’d left. The idea of leaving their souls to stew in their rotting flesh appealed to Natalie’s worst instincts. Let them suffer for what they’d done and planned to do. Clutching the amulet hard enough she could feel its rough edges even through the numbing cold, Natalie forced herself to be better than those instincts.

Going over to the bodies, she looked at her amulet and then down at the corpses. Could she consecrate them? Even if she could, how would she? Natalie wasn’t a Paladin or Priest. Still, she had to try. With little ceremony, she went to Broke-Nose's corpse and put the amulet on his forehead. Uncertain of what to do, Natalie whispered, “I release you.”

Nothing happened. So she tried a few childhood prayers, still nothing. Giving up, she retrieved the amulet and shrugged. Unbidden memories of the Millstead and the Grinning Ghouls came forth then. Natalie knew she couldn’t just leave these bodies to reanimate. Racking her mind for all the strange bits of information Cole had shared during their travels. Natalie came to a morbid conclusion. She couldn’t stop these four men from becoming Ghouls. But she could stop them from becoming dangerous ghouls.

Breaking off a nearby tree limb, Natalie swallowed nervously. She couldn’t even believe she was considering this. Taking her improvised cudgel, she bashed in four skulls and smashed eight arms. Sending a spray of gore out with each blow. If the four thugs reanimated as Ghouls, they’d be harmless Ghouls. With that dirty deed done, Natalie dropped her weapon and set out.

Sparing a glance back at the gory scene she’d left behind, Natalie felt a note of disquiet go through her. She’d killed four people. In self-defense, sure, but still, they’d been people. People she’d mutilated and left to an unliving nightmare until someone bothered to release them. In the wake of all that, she felt… nothing. Just a cool acknowledgment of events, no guilt or self-loathing. Her only inner turmoil came from the lack of any inner turmoil.

Shuddering, Natalie tried to refocus on finding Cole. He was her North Star in these matters, and returning to him had a newfound urgency. If she was truly becoming more monstrous, better to be near her keeper… or executioner. Cursing her own traitorous mind, Natalie banished those thoughts with an effort. Only then, catching the sound of pained moans and confused babbling from nearby.

Peering out from between the shadows, Natalie found a small crowd of rioters clustered on a forest path. Maybe fifty in number, they shuffled towards the city with uneven steps. Any weapons, if they’d had any, were long discarded, and the group seemed to be more concerned with staying on the path than anything else.

In the pale moonlight, Natalie could tell something was wrong with their skin. All the former rioters had a reddish-pink hew to them. Reminding Natalie of boiled crab she’d seen for sale at the Vindabon docks. They’d been sunburned. Each and every one of them scorched like a laborer in the Summer fields. But that wasn’t the worst of it. A few held onto their fellows and were being guided like… like the blind. Natalie had to stop herself from audibly gasping. Had they really been blinded? Even those not being guided looked unsteady on their feet. Like they couldn’t truly see where they were going.

One Rioter tripped over a root and fell to the ground, cursing. Another next to him reached down and grabbed the other’s mouth covering it. With her hearing, Natalie could listen to the hushed words the second Rioter hissed. “Be jagging quiet! The Monsters are all around!”

The utter terror in those words resonated in Natalie. Her inner predator perked up at the desperation evident in the Rioters. They were easy prey and knew it. A fact that sent a shiver up her spine. Clutching her amulet and shoving down those thoughts, Natalie moved on. She wouldn’t harm these lost souls, but she wouldn’t help them either.

Continuing onwards, Natalie passed by other clumps of Rioters, in similar shape. Slowly inching towards the city, but hampered by seared eyes and scorched skin. Every group had the same air of barely bridled terror about them. They’d been routed by the Werebeasts and were now left crippled and alone in the dark forest. An utter nightmare, especially for these people who came motivated out of fear and anger for the Werefolk. As she moved through the forest, Natalie kept expecting to hear more screams or roars. The inevitable meeting of helpless prey and furious predators. But it never came.

The smell of drying blood did waft through some sections of the Avar Wood, but Natalie’s sensitive nose never picked up anything fresh. As brutal as the Werebeast counter-attack had been, it ended with the Dawn. Thinking of the massacre she’d seen, Natalie felt a knot of discomfort grow in her gut. While she felt nothing for the Thugs she’d dispatched. The sight of all those people running scared from monsters they couldn’t hope to match had dredged up memories. Memories of the Breach, when a tide of Ghouls entered her hometown and killed hundreds before it was repelled.

Natalie knew the Rioters had been asking for it. You don’t get to threaten a Wolf's pups and come away unscathed. But the sheer carnage had sickened her. It hadn’t been a battle, just monsters tearing through people. Of course, there had been a few prepared Vindabonites who’d fought back. Natalie knew Tiar wouldn’t be the only casualty among the Werebeasts. They’d maybe even suffer some deaths. But Natalie had seen hundreds of Rioters die. Shredded into puddles of gore by gnashing fangs and raking claws. Grimly, she wondered how they would even identify some of the bodies. Maybe the Priests of Master Time had some spell to help with that? It seemed like something they’d know how to do.

Reaching the edge of the forest, Natalie was pulled from her thoughts by a prickling warmth. Like the first hints of sunburn, it danced an odd needling pain on her face. Grimacing, Natalie knew she was close to the center of whatever had happened. She’d arrived close to the Woad Gate, on a stretch of road just outside the city walls. Not far from where she’d fallen, actually. But the place looked completely different from her last… ‘visit.’

The tessellated stone of the Imperial Road was cracked and blackened. While the snow and ice covering the ground was gone, leaving dried earth and scorched grass. Even the walls of Vindabon were effected. A huge stretch of the Pink Stone was bleached, its salmon hue reduced to a faded pastel. And at the center of this seared space was a tattered man. Standing tall, he held up a lance of light. The fading light hurt Natalie’s eyes, forcing her to shy away as the last of the brilliance died.

Blinking away spots, she looked at the tattered man again. Already knowing who it would be before her eyes confirmed. Cole’s skin was scorched, a length of burnt wood clutched in one hand, while blood dribbled from both ears. The Paladin rasped something so quiet, not even Natalie could hear. Then he collapsed forward, tumbling down like a shattered statue. Shouting his name, Natalie ran to him: “COLE!”

Ignoring the prickling ache, Natalie rushed forward, watching as Cole’s eyes found her. A faint smile spread on the Paladin’s cracked lips, and he rasped, “Natalie.”

Then like a candle guttering in the wind, the light in his eyes faded. Sheer panic filled Natalie as she went to him. Rationally she knew Cole could die and revive. But that only softened the blow of watching her lover die in front of her. Deep-seated fears, both innate and learned, ignited on seeing life leave Cole’s eyes. Reaching his side, Natalie pulled him close.

He was warm, very warm. His flesh heated up by whatever power he’d summoned. But his heart was still, and Natalie’s inhuman senses told her Cole’s blood was lifeless. Unbidden memories of the Obuillete came crashing into Natalie, and a dry sob escaped her lips. Forcing her emotions down, she looked at the scorched twig Cole’d been carrying. On closer inspection, it seemed to be an arrow of some kind. One badly burned but still vaguely recognizable. Natalie guessed it was important and probably related to the summoned Dawn. .

Wrapping her fingers up in her sleeve, Natalie reached out and grabbed the arrow. She could feel its magical heat through the fabric. Some Undead instinct told Natalie if she’d touched it unprotected, her fingers would have been burned off. Shuddering at the thought, Natalie nestled the arrow in Cole’s…armor? She hadn’t noticed he was wearing thick leathers and had steel gauntlets. The leather had been damaged, of course, and drops of some foul-smelling black stuff had dried on the material. Natalie knew Cole had gotten into some sort of mess down in the Warrens. Which, in retrospect, seemed kind of inevitable. The man was a javelin thrown by Master Time at any problem the God needed solved.

Chewing a lip in worry, ignoring the prick of her fangs, Natalie looked to the Woad Gate. Distant figures were moving towards them. A small group of soldiers, by the looks of it. They weren’t wearing the black and yellow of the City Watch. Only cold gray armor, with weapons drawn. Something about the approaching soldiers sent a note of worry through Natalie. Looking back at the forest, she realized the first groups of Rioters were emerging from the treeline. She was trapped between both groups.

Glancing down at Cole, Natalie swallowed uselessly. Cole had been very very explicit about not letting his true nature be exposed. She didn’t know who these newcomers were and didn’t want to risk them seeing Cole’s dead body or, worse, his resurrection. Of course, she could maybe lie her way out of the situation. Claim he was badly injured or similar. But upon seeing the leader of the soldiers yell something and point at her with his sword, Natalie decided other, more radical options were needed. Options that would require blood to work.

Dead blood isn’t nearly as potent as living ichor, but it did have some power. Especially when the source had only recently died. Cole had given Natalie instructions on what liberties she should take if she found herself in a situation like this. If she needed power to survive or keep his secret, then his blood was available. Against her better judgment, but not her baser instincts, Natalie followed Cole’s will. Sinking her fangs into the dead Paladin and guzzling down his blood. Without a heartbeat to help, the process was disgusting. Requiring Natalie to suck on his wound like a leech instead of lapping up fresh blood. Once a sufficient amount of the lukewarm ichor had entered her, Natalie pulled away. Her face contorted in disgust.

Shutting her eyes, trying to ignore the sound of the approaching soldiers, Natalie reached down into herself. To the soul-silk bridge spun between her and Isabelle. “Okay, Isabelle, if you have anything to contribute now would be a good time.”

A faint voice echoed over the bridge as if from a great distance. “I’m too weak to truly help.”

Natalie cursed under her breath; she’d half expected this. Isabelle’s possession of her seemed to have taken much from the elder Vampire. But before Natalie could end the connection, Isabelle provided another option. “I have a suggestion. Your transformations are sloppy, and you struggle to change mass. Use that to your advantage.”

Natalie was about to snap something about how unhelpful that was when the message's meaning came into focus. Isabelle had helped guide Natalie through the process of turning into a Cat. The younger Vampire making numerous mistakes throughout their dream-lessons. Producing results useless for Isabelle’s goal of sneaking through the Tenth Temple. But not useless for escaping the approaching soldiers.

Stretching her mouth open, Natalie pulled on her reserve of blood and started her transformation. She wasn’t altering her flesh like with the ill-fated wings of before, but instead creating a new body. A different process requiring a different approach. Just as Isabelle had instructed her, Natalie pulled up her blood and let it spill from her mouth in a cloud of red-black fog. It billowed out from her in a bank of shadows surrounding both her and Cole. A proper transformation needed to only cover the body with a thin layer of this blood-fog. Not “Vomit up a coal fire.” as Isabelle had put it.

But the sloppy eruption of fog was perfect to shroud Natalie and Cole in darkness. Distantly she heard yells of confusion from the approaching Soldiers, and their footsteps stopped. Natalie had bought herself some time and some distance. Perfect for what came next. The closest layer of the fog started to stick to Natalie as her flesh dissolved into the darkness. Reforming as she saw fit in the shadowy chrysalis. Instead of trying to tuck her excess mass away like Isabelle had taught her, Natalie let her new body stay true in size. Doing so was easier than Natalie had expected. Not having to shove mass into her Blood Cistern made the transformation smoother.

As the red-black fog started to fade, Natalie’s new form came into being at the same size as her normal body. Red feline eyes looked up at the startled Guards as Natalie flexed her new muscles. Feeling her claws dig into the stone below, as her tail swished about. Isabelle had taught Natalie how to turn into a housecat. Natalie had taken that lesson and altered it. Transforming into a giant Feline.

The looks of fear on the Soldiers confirmed the truth any Cat owner knows on some level. The only difference between a family Mouser and a Lion is size. Sixty kilos of very large feline hissed at the soldiers. A noise rendered disturbing by the fanged maw it issued from. The Soldiers took a few steps back. Bewildered by the huge black leopard materializing before them in a cloud of darkness.

Natalie took the opportunity to reach down and bite onto the collar of Cole’s shirt. With startling speed, she exploded forward. Dragging Cole’s limp form like a Lion might take its kill. Surprise and instinctual fear won out against training and the Soldiers lept out of the way. The fear in their frantic movements brought a deep rumbling purr up through Natalie’s chest. Ignoring the urge to stay and ‘play with her food,’ the Vampire turned Big Cat shot through the Woad Gate and into Vindabon proper.

Heading towards the nearest building, Natalie leaped up. Her new claws caught on wood as feline muscle propelled her upwards. She reached the roof of the building and was soon bounding between rooftops. Her undead strength made her far stronger and faster than a true Leopard. As she soared through the Vindabon night, Natalie wanted to laugh. After everything, getting to taste this freedom again was exhilarating. The only downside to the experience was Cole’s body bouncing along with every leap. Flopping about like so much dead weight. As Natalie stuck a particularly tenuous landing, Cole’s head slammed into icy roof tiles. Wincing internally, she hoped he’d heal from that before resurrecting.

Looking out across the rooftops, Natalie found her goal. The distant spire of the Tenth Temple. Soaring between buildings, Natalie sniffed the air. Soaking in the various aromas of the city. Much of it was hidden under a pall of ash and filth. The riot's effects still clinging to the air. As she moved, Natalie found herself noticing how her senses had changed. Hearing and smell were heightened even past her Vampiric heights while her vision was warped. She seemed to be missing some colors, and distant objects were fuzzy. Natalie had been forced to stop multiple times to ensure she was heading toward the right Temple. On top of all this, her whiskers kept catching on Cole’s body and provided a never-ending source of irritation.

Ignoring this, she kept moving. Trying not to let Cole slam into anything else. Soon the Temple square came close, and Natalie felt a flush of elation. Despite everything, she had succeeded. Warning the Werefolk, surviving both her falls, saving Tiar, and now getting Cole to the Temple. Aside from all the death, slaughter, and pain, things had gone relatively okay.

Looking down on the Temple square, Natalie realized there was one last obstacle in her way. The Temple plaza was crowded. At least a hundred people waited close to the Temple’s main doors. She couldn’t just jump down there as a Big Cat and enter. Looking around, something difficult to do with her feline Eyes, Natalie didn’t see any balconies or similar roof entrances at the Temple. Even if she could make the jump, she would be stuck on the Temple roof.

Setting Cole down, Natalie looked at his dead form. In all the excitement, she’d forgotten he kept his nature secret even from the Temple. Feeling a little stupid, Natalie realized she would need to wait till he resurrected. Looking around the rooftop they occupied, Natalie saw the building's chimney. It was tall, and whatever fireplace it connected to was large. So its smoke carried high and away by the wind. Nipping onto Cole’s collar again, Natalie dragged him over towards the chimney. Setting him, so his back lay against the warm brick, Natalie curled up around him. Coiling around his body like, any Cat. Looking up at the hazy stars, Natalie blinked slowly and licked her chops. Now came the waiting.

The first thing Cole felt was a pounding headache. He could feel his pulse in the lump forming on his crown. Sucking in a breath, Cole nearly gagged on the second thing he noticed. His nose was filled with a hundred vivid scents. Mind reeling, Cole tried to decipher all the different smells. Disoriented, trying to get his bearings Cole reached up, and his hands found something soft and fluffy. Even more confused, Cole took a moment to realize he was looking into the face of a massive feline. Said massive feline was currently wrapped around him, its head looking at him.

Reaching a state beyond confusion, Cole stilled his movements. Taking the moment to notice how odd the Cat was shaped. Cole had dealt with Lions and Leopards in the past, but this creature didn’t look like either. Instead, it looked like any stray you’d find. Only large enough to eat a man.

Right on cue, the Cat opened its fanged maw and came closer. Still stunned, Cole braced himself for a second death. Only to experience the sandpaper tongue of a Cat rasp along his face. Blinking away his confusion, Cole watched as the cat pulled away from him. Stretching its muscled body, the giant Cat started to melt.

Body dissolving into black blood and red fog, the Black Cat reformed before Cole’s eyes. Turning into a smiling Natalie. Pulling herself up from all fours, Natalie beamed down at Cole. Reaching out she grabbed his hand and pulled Cole to his feet and into an embrace. As she hugged him, Natalie whispered.

“You wouldn’t believe how happy I am to see you awake.”

Cole was still trying to process all the new smells he was detecting. He barely had the mind left over to comprehend Natalie’s presence. Erudite in his exhaustion, Cole asked. “Natalie? How? What? What happened?”

Smiling that mischievous smile of hers, Natalie helped Cole sit back down. Making sure to nestle into his side, she started to explain. How she’d decided to help the Werefolk. Her escape from Vindabon, meeting with the Moonmooters, and everything that happened after. Leading up to her finding Cole and getting his body back into the city and away from prying eyes.

Cole had to ask her to repeat herself a few times. His mind kept getting pulled from her words by some new smell. Eventually, after explaining the details of her transformation for the third time, Natalie asked, “Are you okay? I’ve never seen you distracted like this.”

Rubbing his nose, Cole shrugged. “Too many smells. I think the Rioters set fire to a spice merchant's stock or something. It's giving me a headache.”

Natalie looked momentarily sheepish on mention of a headache, but that fell away under greater concern. “Smells? The city’s a little smoky but nothing abnormal.”

Raising an eyebrow, Cole took a tentative breath. “Yeah, there's smoke but so much else. I imagine someone’s dumped a few bottles of perfume down in the building below us. I can smell it all the way up here.”

Glancing down, Natalie sniffed the air. He was right; there was a smell of perfume. A rich, almost sickly floral smell wafting up through some poorly insulated walls. But it took Natalie’s focus to catch it. Tentatively, Natalie said. “Cole, what you are smelling is very faint. Did you use some spell to enhance your senses?”

The Paladin paused, his eyes widening in sudden understanding. “I died.”

Natalie nodded, a bitter smile on her face. “Believe me, I noticed.”

Shaking his head, Cole elaborated. “No, I mean I truly died. I used up my soul to let Sister Sun speak. Just… just like when I fought Petar.”

A pregnant silence sat between them until Natalie aborted it. “Your strength… you said you got stronger after the last time. Now your sense of smell has changed?”

Cole lowered his head in ascent and rubbed his nose for what felt like the fiftieth time. Natalie fished out a handkerchief she’d stored in a pocket and handed it to him. Grateful, Cole buried his nose in the strip of cloth and smiled. It smelled of lilies and Natalie. Looking up at her, he said. “You shared your story. I suppose I should share mine.”

Eager not to dwell on his changing body Cole explained what had happened to him. Speaking of the Demon below Vindabon and his fight with it. Describing the Hellspawn and what he’d been forced to do. Then the fallen guard and his return to the Temple with Cat-Eyes. Meeting the Radiants and taking the Arrow to the Gate. How he’d used his remaining power to let Sister Sun manifest through the Arrow. So she might visit divine punishment even through the Caul .

Natalie listened, absorbing this all, watching Cole's trembling hands as he described the Cultists and their deaths. Seeing guilt and exhaustion war behind his pale eyes. As he finished his tale, Natalie wrapped her arms around him. As stunned as she was to learn an actual fire-in-iron Demon had been sleeping below Vindabon, Cole’s distress took precedence. The surprised Paladin awkwardly returned her hug. Unsure of what exactly to do.

Pulling back slightly so she could look him in the eyes, Natalie said. “I know it's a lot, but don’t blame yourself for what happened to those people.” Cole started to object, and Natalie held up a finger. “I can see the guilt already festering in you. Your first instinct is to shoulder the burdens of the world. While I know that's probably part of being a Paladin. I refuse to let you do so when it's completely unreasonable.”

Putting her hands on either side of his scarred face, Natalie made her point. “You faced an actual Demon and the jagging Hellspawn it created. You killed the Monster and saved countless people from it. Don’t focus on those you couldn’t help. I know full well that if you could have helped them, you would have. Instead, think about if you hadn’t been there, the Demon might not have been discovered at all. Or if someone other than you found it, more people would have died fighting it.”

Cole made a noise in his throat he realized was a sob. Surprised, he rubbed his face and found moisture there. A hitching snort escaped Cole’s as he cried and smiled. Reaching out to touch Natalie’s face, he asked. “How are you so clever, Nat?”

Natalie chuckled. “When you’re on the road for a long time with no company but a wise and handsome Warrior-Priest, you learn some things.”

That got a laugh from both of them, and the couple hugged. After a few seconds, Cole got up and stepped over to the roof's edge. People were clustered near the Temple entrance and in small clumps around the garden. Resisting the urge to use Natalie’s handkerchief to blot out all the new smells, Cole observed the plaza. Grief, shock, and confusion seemed to be the watchwords of the people below. Events had left people unsteady and uncertain. As he watched, a group of newcomers entered the square. Slow and clumsy, they each wore the sunburns of the Goddess’s judgment.

Seeing this, Natalie grimaced. “So… Sister Sun blinded all those people?”

Cole shook his head in the negative. “In a day or less, they will be healed. The Fourth Goddess was careful with her punishment. The Rioters are all marked but not crippled. People don’t usually get sunburns this close to the Winter Solstice. Everyone will know what they’ve done. A reminder to help ensure the fear they felt doesn’t fade into anger or simply fade away. Spending a few hours blinded and helpless at the Werefolks' mercy must have been an utter nightmare.”

Accepting that, Natalie asked, “What about the Werefolk? Did Sister Sun do anything to them?”

Cole shrugged. “They were defending themselves. The light drove them back from the Mob and helped end the violence. Even with my aid Sister Sun was unwilling to pass too harsh a judgment on either side of this mess. I think she just wanted to prove a point. The sunburn is a mark of shame. While the blindness in the forest was more than just a punishment. It was a chance for the Werefolk to show mercy. To prove they aren’t Monsters.”

Listening to his words, Natalie licked her fangs. That was, in part, why she’d done all this. To prove she wasn’t a Monster. Remembering the four men she’d killed, the insane hate of the mob, and the Werebeasts' brutality. Natalie was forced to wonder if the definition of Monster needed refinement.

Glancing up at Cole, Natalie asked. “I fled the Temple…what do you think will happen?”

Shrugging and holding out a hand for her, Cole said: “I don’t know. But I think both our deeds tonight will soften any consequences. Still, I expect things to get worse before they get better.”

Taking his hand, Natalie found her eyes drawn to the line of dried blood coming from Cole’s ear. Hearing Sister Sun’s words from a distance had been harrowing. She couldn’t imagine what it had been like to be the focus of the manifestation.

“Hey, Cole…” she asked. “Did it hurt to summon the Light?”

For a brief flicker, a crack in Cole's resolve showed. A tiny thing almost hidden in the night's shadow. But Natalie saw it all the same. A look of exhaustion and pain on his tattered face.

After a long pause, he answered. “Yes, it did.” taking a slow deep breath, he justified his suffering. “But it’s better I make that sacrifice than someone else. It is my duty.”

A curdle of worry grew in Natalie’s heart. Duty is such a powerful word, and such a dangerous one. It caught in Natalie’s mind, somehow perverse in how Cole emphasized it. To die for a noble cause is considered a good fate. But what if you could die over and over, for a million noble causes? Was it still a good fate? Or did a heroic sacrifice just become a sacrifice…