The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 22: About that…

“NOTHING WORKS! We’ve bled it, burned it, shredded it, boiled it! Red Night, we even drowned the accursed thing in lye! The Bitch’s pet won’t stay dead!

What? Yes, of course, we devoured it. That’s the first thing we tried once Sir Otto noticed the healing. Why are you…oh…OH! Why didn’t I see that?

It seems she actually managed to succeed. Imagine that. Well, until we find something that works, we certainly won’t go hungry…” - Overheard conversation between two Vampires in service to the Voivode of Flesh.

:: Memories of Thirty Years Ago ::

A dissected rat sat on the table before Isabelle Gens Silva. Most of its internal organs had been removed, and its blood was drained into a small basin at the table’s edge. Alone in her prime laboratory, the Countess waited with (metaphorical) bated breath. Tapping long cold fingers on her notebook, Isabelle glanced around the room. Red eyes took in the cages, dissection tables, preservation jars, and scrubbed stone floors. She’d once heard a ‘watched pot never boils’, and she wondered if the principle applied to blasphemous experiments.

A wet noise from the table pulled her eyes down to the rodent corpse. Under the bright light of the Glowstones, she could see something moving inside its chest cavity. Looking closely, Isabelle enhanced her eyes to better observe what was happening. Strings of tissue were slithering out from its neck and spine, questing to find absent organs. Isabelle couldn’t help but smile. Nerves and capillaries grew and spread like moss as the rat regenerated.

From the growing roots came larger structures, nascent organs, and more complicated tissue. Veins swelled and coiled around an emerging heart and lungs. Intestines snaked up from the rat’s pelvis and met with the descending stomach and esophagus. Metal clamps holding peeled skin and fur started to protest. Isabelle released the clamps and watched as flaps of dead skin were pulled back into place. Meeting questing veins and growing muscles.

Even obscured from her sight, Isabelle could sense the continuing regeneration. Her enhanced ears, empowered with spent blood, could hear the tiny pops and squelches of organs reforming. Carefully, nervously, she listened. The noises slowed and eventually stopped, the rat’s innards restored to their proper configuration. For a few long moments, the laboratory was completely silent, aside from the squeak of other rats in a nearby cage.

Just as Isabelle was about to pick up her scalpel and try again, she heard the sound she’d been waiting for.

‘ba-dum’

Leaning down, so her ear nearly touched the rat, Isabelle listened with all her focus.

‘Ba-dum’

Pulling back, she set her fingers on the rat’s neck.

‘Ba-dum Ba-dum Ba-dum Ba-dum Ba-dum’

A heartbeat, growing faster every second. Isabelle watched as pale rodent limbs flushed pink with new blood. The rat’s nose regained its color just as it took its first new breath. Tiny beady eyes snapped open, and the rat started to struggle in its restraints. Isabelle shut her eyes and forced her will into the rat. It didn’t even try to resist. Looking through its eyes, Isabelle felt for irregularities in her borrowed flesh. Its vision was slightly cloudy, and the rat teetered on the edge of both shock and hypothermia. Pushing deeper, Isabelle made it sniff the air. No scents were transmitted by their link. Frowning, Isabelle tested muscle groups. There was local paralysis in its left leg and tail.

Ending her possession, Isabelle let out an annoyed sigh and ran her fingers through her hair. She found a white hair in the process and clucked in annoyance. Vampires steadily lose all pigmentation if they don’t properly care for themselves. Their ever-miserly bodies were unwilling to spare the energy required for color unless forced. The silver hair was evidence of how hard Isabelle was working. She was barely leaving her laboratories. Only taking time to feed and ensure her Castle wasn’t burning before diving back into her studies.

Glancing down at the struggling rat, Isabelle growled in annoyance. She was so close! Steadying herself, she tried to look at this objectively. The brain damage was significantly reduced compared to the last time. Her alterations to the regenerative sequence were working. It just needed a bit more work to reverse all post-mortem neural decay. That thought spurred a moment of smugness in Isabelle. Her breakthroughs in understanding flesh were incomparable. The Ivory towers were still debating the brain’s structure while she was already learning how to alter and repair its most minute parts.

Isabelle’s failures were far surpassing her ‘equal’s’ successes. That stroke to her ego dulled the frustration, and Isabelle went to check on the rest of the experiment. Rows of cages lined the Laboratories wall. A cluster of small ones held fresh rodents. The twitchy creatures were unusually still. Their simple minds sensing the death and return of kin. While death was something they could easily understand, they’d squealed and thrashed throughout the dissection. The resurrection had left them still and bewildered. Well, most of them. A single rat was dead, its fresh corpse cooling in its cage.

Bared fangs pricking her lips, Isabelle opened the cage and removed the dead rat. Gently she examined its body. Seeing no obvious wounds or issues. She wondered if its heart had given out from the stress. Knowing that was meager hope, Isabelle took it to the dissection table. Setting it on a clear space, Isabelle put her fingers on its head and heart. A dark spell spoken in a Hellish tongue rasped from Isabelle, and a pulse of power went through the rat.

Information flooded into Isabelle’s mind. Her spell was a simple bit of Necromancy invented to judge a corpse’s condition. With a smidge of alteration, it became a fantastic diagnostic tool. Letting Isabelle know exactly what killed the rat. Combing through the motes of knowledge bubbling in her mind, Isabelle let out a frustrated groan.

Nothing had killed the rat. Its body had shut down like the Tenth God had simply decided it was time. An annoyed hiss escaped Isabelle at that thought. The Tenth God, the so-called Master of Time. A self-perpetuating spiritual lie come to life. Bane to her and any other who might surpass mortality. A tyrant over life who punished any who tried to escape his domain.

Letting go of the rat she returned to its resurrected kin. Looking down at the brain-damaged rodent, Isabelle sneered. She’d become a Vampire to be free of Time’s limitations. In the centuries since her rebirth, she’d made discoveries and uncovered secrets that would change the world. Putting her keen mind and ever-growing knowledge to work in ways no mortal could match. Soon she’d surpass both nature and the divine. Freeing her from the shackles of both. Only then would she move on to her greater plans. Hoarded knowledge would be set free, and a new age of wonders would bloom from her work.

Taking the basin containing the resurrected rat’s blood, Isabelle dumped it into a nearby sink and replaced it with a clean one. Moving to her newest subject, she freed it from its restraints and made it walk to the table's edge. Its neck hung above the basin, and it didn’t resist when Isabelle cut its throat. Carefully she collected the rekilled rat’s blood and then set its corpse next to the other dead rat. She’d need to pull them apart both later, but now it was time to test the final component of this experiment.

Dipping a finger into the warm blood, Isabelle brought it to her lips. The potency of the blood was key; if it was dead, then much of this was for naught.

The blood wasn’t dead. Oh, it was anything but dead. Isabelle felt like she’d been struck. Stumbling back, she clung to a nearby table. The taste of a powerful Vampire exploded in her mouth. Contradictory youth and incredible strength sparked utter confusion.

The table gave way then, sending Isabelle to the ground. Gone was the cold stone of her laboratory, replaced with a lake of blood. Understanding came then. Licking her fangs, Isabelle hissed a name. Her rival, her annoyance, her student, and her only hope.

“Natalie.”

Natalie sat in her room, looking at the bleached skull she’d set on the small table by the couch. After finishing her research with Glynn, she’d returned to the room to “process” everything she’d learned. Which meant consulting the resident Vampire Magi. She’d fed Isabelle some blood and mentally called out to the old Monster. Now she just had to wait for the inevitable tongue-lashing.

She didn’t have to wait long. A plume of black smoke escaped the skull’s eye-sockets. Quickly materializing into a floating illusion of Isabelle. The former Countess looked fantastically pissed. Arms crossed, silver hair floating around her like she was underwater. Red eyes glared at Natalie.

Gesturing at the skull, Natalie said. “That’s new. Never seen you come out of it like a Djinn.”

Sucking in a pointless breath and scrunching her eyes, Isabelle snapped. “I offer you my aid. I offer you my knowledge. This is how you repay me? Denying me the succor of secrets? Do you know what I could discover with access to the Archives?”

Natalie crossed her legs on the couch and put her hands in her lap. “No, I do not, which is partly why I cut the link. I’d be responsible for any harm you did with that knowledge.”

Isabelle actually hissed in frustration, and Natalie rolled her eyes. Reaching over, she picked up a pad of papers. “But I took notes on what I read. Stuff I think you’d find valuable. But probably can’t use to, I dunno, resurrect the Rabisu or something?”

Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, Isabelle looked at the papers as Natalie set them on the table. “You are a barely educated village girl. I don’t think you are exactly qualified to make those judgments,” the phantom Vampire snapped.

Shrugging and leaning back into the couch, Natalie replied. “Probably, but let's try to be civil. We need to work together if my survival and your resurrection are to ever happen.”

Furiously scanning Natalie’s cramped notes, Isabelle practically growled. “Yes, but your ‘notes’ aren’t exactly the resource the archive is. You probably omitted crucial details you didn’t even realize were crucial!”

Sighing, Natalie retorted. “It’s not like you are telling me everything either, Isabelle. Let me have my secrets, and I’ll let you have yours.”

Looking up from the papers, Isabelle remarked coolly. “Trust is a bridge built from both ends. I’m doing my best, you seem to be lacking.”

Wincing, Natalie pulled out her biggest proverbial blade. “You were in some of the books Glynn showed me.”

Isabelle instantly perked up like a Cat smelling nip. “Oh?”

Flattery was one of the most potent tools of persuasion, especially with Vampires. “It had a list of some of the most dangerous Vampires known to be alive and active. The book was obviously out of date, but you were listed. Saying you were one of the most dangerous Vampire Magi in the Blood Duchies”

Despite herself, Isabelle started to smile. On some level, the older Vampire knew she was being baited. But twelve years spent as a ghost stuck in memories and nightmares had left Isabelle desperate for any kind of ego-stroking.

Swallowing her pride, Natalie continued reciting what she’d learned but refused to put to paper. “The text said you were one of the greatest Soul-Weaver Magi in Erebu. That your flesh-crafting was only matched by someone called ‘Voivode Igori.’ He was mentioned elsewhere, but I didn’t really pay attention.”

A flash of anger went across Isabelle’s face. “Igori is a bloated tick who has more in common with a Horse Breeder than he does with me!”

The fury in Isabelle’s words caught Natalie by surprise. It wasn’t quite the half-mad wrath she’d seen before. This was older and deeper. Whoever this Igori was, Isabelle hated him. Against her best judgment, Natalie poked the disturbed Dragon. “Was he a rival of yours or something?”

A cruel sneer made its way onto Isabelle’s sharp face. “You want my secrets and hope to pay in flattery. I know your game, girl. But I’m willing to play as a token of good faith.” staring intently at Natalie, she added. “Adding to the pile of such tokens at your feet.”

Trying to keep a neutral face, Natalie waited for Isabelle to continue. Feeding her ego and giving her opportunities to monologue were the best ways to appease Isabelle. “Voivode is a title used in the Blood Duchies. It's not a rank of nobility but an office. Each Voivode is tasked with overseeing a certain facet of the Blood Duchies. Acting as Drakovich’s hands and advisors. Igori Gens Suillia is the Voivode of Flesh. Tasked with overseeing the health, breeding, and quantity of the Duchies livestock.”

Natalie knew exactly what Isabelle meant by livestock. Grimacing, she absently found her fingers trying to tear apart an unfortunate throw pillow as Isabelle talked. “Igori prides himself on his ability to produce valuable bloodlines. Cultivating traits through methods magical and mundane. It’s actually interesting you brought him up; he relates to one of your questions. The Strixscions are one of his projects.”

A jolt of fear and disgust echoed through Natalie. She fought to keep her expression unreadable. Trying to be polite, she said. “Thank you, can you tell me anything else?”

Crossing her arms, Isabelle replied. “Only if you tell me why you are interested in them. And don’t give me that trolldung excuse you gave the Hierophant.”

Mouth open, mind trying to select the right words. Natalie decided on the truth. “I’m building the bridge in telling you this. My mother escaped the Strixscions. It’s why that bastard Petar killed me. He wanted my blood and its power.”

Gently so she didn’t actually touch the clip, Natalie pulled her hair, so the silver memento was visible to Isabelle. Who floated over and made an interested noise upon seeing it. “Yes, that’s the sigil of the house, if altered slightly. The Strix Owl’s horns have been shaved off, and it's a bit battered but recognizable. Curious that your mother gave you such a thing. Is it silver?”

Natalie let her hair fall back, “It is. You don’t seem surprised about me being Strixscion?”

Isabelle floated over to a nearby chair and mimicked sitting. “This explains a few things. You’ve taken to some of the magic I’ve taught you remarkably well. I’d assumed it was just the Alukah’s influence. But I guess the Savantism of the Clan passed to you.”

Pondering for a moment, Isabelle said. “Thank you for your honesty. Let me return the favor. The Strixscions are selectively bred for a few purposes. Most obviously, as potential new Vampires. They are cultivated to be intelligent, beautiful, and magically talented. Perfect traits for a Strix or Moroi. Of course, only one or two a generation are turned. The rest serve a different purpose other than breeding stock. Their blood is potent, as you know. Good for magic or simple feeding. Strixscions are prized across the Duchies as Thrall.”

Disgust warred with hate inside Natalie for dominance. “So my mother was a slave? And she escaped?”

Isabelle shook her head in the negative. “If she’d been enthralled, she’d have never run. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d been sold to someone unpleasant and fled that fate. It’s an innate problem with Igori’s little system. If you are going to shackle a person, you can’t educate them; just as you can’t elevate a broken thrall into a Vampire. They are mutually exclusive goals and mixing them just wastes time and resources. Creating people like your mother. Clever enough to escape but not talented enough to be sired..”

A thought struck Natalie then. “What… what if she was talented enough? What if my mother was to be turned, and she escaped that?”

Isabelle scoffed. “Being groomed for Drakovich’s court isn’t an opportunity you throw away.”

Looking at her hands and the jewel box she kept hidden in her pack, Natalie muttered. “Some might.”

Putting her hands together, Natalie tried not to think of how… detailed Isabelle’s knowledge of binding people was. Forcing herself to look at the old Monster, Natalie said. “Thank you for telling me this. I knew a lot of it from Petar, but still, thank you.”

Isabelle shrugged. “It’s nothing. Besides, the knowledge someone actually managed to escape the Clan long enough to breed outside their supervision is fascinating. I see you inherited the looks and magical talent of the clan. But I guess your intellect comes from your father.”

Glaring up at her mentor, Natalie was about to snap something but saw the look of remorse on Isabelle’s face. “That… that was uncalled for.” the old Monster muttered. “That loss is still fresh, and my words were cruel. Cole… Cole would be saddened.”

Till now, Natalie hadn’t put much faith in Isabelle’s claim Cole helped her be a better person. Seeing what might have been guilt on Isabelle’s face made Natalie reconsider. Letting out a pointless breath, she said. “Apology accepted. Let's move on to the Alukah, then.”

For the next hour or so, Isabelle picked apart Natalie’s notes and everything she’d share. While Natalie tried to wrap her head around everything she’d learned.

“You think I could sire new Vampires?” Natalie asked, confused by Isabelle’s latest theory.”

Nodding her head vigorously, Isabelle grinned. “Yes! You were a Strix before becoming an Alukah. The Sister’s alterations to the curse should have corrected that part of the Rabisu’s punishment! I don’t think your scions would be Alukah, but they would probably be more than a Strix.”

Frowning, Natalie said. “I don’t ever intend to test your theory.” Bad memories of her own transformation. Both from Human to Vampire; and Vampire to Alukah whispered in her mind.

Sighing at what she thought was a clearly ridiculous moral leash, Isabelle changed topics. “It’s been long theorized the Rabisu was devoured by her children, but the Temple guarded that secret well. Officially she died with the rest, at the Seraphblood’s hands. Knowing they betrayed and consumed her makes more sense. I wonder if it increased the Alukah’s power or had other effects. Once we leave this Temple, we must experiment with your limits.”

Just as Natalie was about to comment on how being experimented on had no appeal. A knock came at the door. Isabelle’s illusionary body faded into nothingness, and Natalie frantically grabbed her skull and stuffed it into Cole’s pack. Once she was certain the skull was hidden, Natalie turned to the door. “Come in”

To her surprise, Cole stepped into the room. He had a slightly nauseous look on his face. Frowning, Natalie ran over to him. “Love, what’s wrong?”

Cole blinked and his eyes took a second to focus on her. With Natalie’s guidance, Cole went over to the bed and sat on it. Sitting next to him, forcing warmth into her body, Natalie asked. “Why on Vardis did you knock?”

Finding himself, Cole said. “I… didn’t know if you were changing or something.”

Natalie actually laughed. “You’ve seen everything I have to show Cole. But I appreciate the courtesy. Now, what’s wrong? Is the city giving us more trouble?” a hint of worry snuck into her last sentence. Glynn and Isabelle had kept her busy today, but she still was nervous about the Temple’s judgment. Or, more importantly, how the Council would react.

Shaking his head, Cole actually smiled. “No, no, nothing like that. I talked with Morri, and you’ve been declared a protectee of the Temple. The Council wasn’t happy, but they are too busy trying to repair the city to push the issue.”

A relieved sigh escaped Natalie, and she took Cole’s hand. “Then did the meeting with the Guards go poorly?”

Cole winced. “Captain Iron-Teeth is at the clinic. He’s been overworking himself, and his heart almost popped. So I’ve kind of taken over leadership of the investigation.”

Natalie gasped; she had mixed feelings on the Captain but knew he had Cole’s respect. Holding his hand, Natalie let Cole explain the day's events and the progress he’d made. As he finished his tale recounting returning to the Guard Tower with the Laundry Worker, Natalie frowned and asked.

“Okay, but what’s got you so discombobulated? When you came in, you looked like you’d been concussed,” she said, a mixture of worry and playfulness in her tone.

Swallowing, Cole coughed nervously. “A Noblewoman came to the Tower shortly after we got Antony. She’s the mother of one of the two I found in the Undercroft.”

Natalie snickered, remembering Cole’s account of the young couple. He just kept talking, an almost haunted look on his face “There’s to be a Solstice Ball in less than a week. I’ve been invited as a guest of honor.”

Shock and then amusement erupted on Natalie’s face. “That’s what has you so stressed? A Ball? Oh, you are adorable, Cole.”

Planting a kiss on his cheek, Natalie started to say: “Come on, it will be fun! I’ve always wanted to…”

her words died as realization set in. “I won’t be able to come, will I?” A sad note to her voice.

Scratching a scarred cheek, Cole said softly. “About that…”

Head cocked to the side, Natalie asked. “What?”

Cole reached into a pocket and pulled out a rectangle of wood. About the size of Cole’s hand, it had been varnished and painted to a glossy ice-blue. On one side was a collection of heraldic stamps surrounding the crest of Vindabon. A fanciful Dragon, Otter, and Stag chasing each other on black and yellow. On the other side were silver words inlaid into the wood. Natalie assumed it was just painted silver but made sure to not touch it, just in case. The argent lines formed an elegant script she had a hard time deciphering.

“To Paladin Cole of the Tenth Temple. The Venerable and Gracious House DeMello invites you to the 219th Annual Winter Solstice Ball. To be held at the DeMello Keep on the evening of Darksol 30th.”

“By the grace of the City of Vindabon and Baroness DeMello, this invitation extends to both the Paladin and his Vampire Paramour. A meal will not be provided for her. Formal dress is to be expected, and courtly protocols respected. We hope to see you both at this celebration of the Year’s triumphs.”

Natalie just mouthed the word “Paramour” in her mouth and tried her best not to laugh. A series of squeaking giggles escaped her, and she collapsed onto Cole. Leaning against him as snorting laughter broke free.

Confused, Cole took the invitation from her. “What’s so funny?”

Still laughing, Natalie flopped onto the bed, pulling Cole with her. They lay there as she tried to regain her composure. Finding a bit of it, Natalie let out a breathless sigh. “If you told a sixteen-year-old me I would one day go to the Vindabon Solstice Ball on the arm of a Paladin, I’d have never believed you.”

Letting her head rest on Cole’s chest, Natalie thought about what Glynn had said regarding her Stigma. She had many difficult choices ahead of her, but her path wouldn’t be without its joys. Maybe going to this ball with Cole would be one.

Wrapping an arm around her, Cole sighed. “It’s going to be difficult. I don’t want to dampen your spirits, but I seriously doubt Lady DeMello’s intentions are innocent.”

Shrugging, Natalie said. “I know. She probably wants us as Curios. Displayed for all her friends to see. The Paladin and the Vampire in love. It’s honestly kind of melodramatic when you think about it.”

It was Cole’s time to snort with laughter. Looking up at the room’s ceiling, he tried to suppress the knot of fear he was feeling. He felt fiercely protective of Natalie, and something about taking her into this viper's nest rankled him. Letting his hand play with her hair, Cole let out a soft sigh. He could have lied about her being invited; he could insist she not come. He’d do neither. Natalie had earned his trust and proved her mettle. He wouldn’t insult her or their love like that. All he could do was try and prepare and protect her the best he knew how.

After a little bit of just enjoying each other's company, Cole asked. “How did it go with Glynn? Find anything interesting in the Archives?”

Pulling up from Cole’s chest and looking over at Cole’s pack and Isabelle’s skull. Natalie said. “About that…”

Natalie told Cole everything about her experiences in the Archives and her later ‘study session’ with Isabelle. He listened with calm intensity. His face was a neutral mask doing little to hide his worry from Natalie. Cole was in turmoil about the growing alliance between Natalie and Isabelle. Try as he might, flashes of his nightmare, of the two as true monsters, danced behind his eyes. He loved both of them, and feared what the future might hold.

Still, Natalie’s caution and cooperation with Isabelle was heartening. His worries were growing, but not as fast as they could. Something that changed when Natalie turned her words to the topic of Strixscion and the Voivode. Cole’s muscles instantly tensed at the Monster’s mention, and Natalie pulled back slightly in concern. Gesturing for her to keep talking, Cole took deep breaths and tried to relax.

Absorbing everything she said, Cole let out a breath. “Coincidence is their domain.”

Looking at Natalie, Cole said. “You said Petar wanted your blood, and your Mother was a Strixscion. I didn’t know what that meant. I’d heard the term before related to certain thralls but little else. But now it all fits together.”

Covering his eyes, Cole cursed. “Fucking concordian puzzle painting.” Natalie gave him a strange look, but Cole just kept talking. “I’ve not told you why I was in the Blood Duchies, have I?”

Shaking her head slightly, Natalie pulled up the memory. “Aside from doing Paladin stuff, I thought you mentioned a Vampire you were hunting?”

Nodding, Cole rasped. “I was hunting Voivode Igori. He’s the one who killed Isabelle and kept me in a dungeon for a year. He’s the one who….” Cole just gestured at his neck. “Well, he and his Court.”

Natalie looked at the collar of scars he wore. A flash of guilt went through her on seeing the fresh wounds she’d added to it. That was pushed back as realization started to build. “Coincidence is the God’s domain. Me being a Strixscion and meeting you is part of that?”

A pulse of anger went through Natalie. Was everything in her life and unlife manipulated by Master Time? Had he really maneuvered everything so she and Cole might meet? Shutting her eyes, Natalie tried to think rationally about this. “So my Mother escaped a Monster who breeds people like livestock. The same Monster you want vengeance against. Master Time just moved you into my path like a jagging game piece and watched events play out. My father dying, my transformation, all of it.”

Bitterness salted her words, and Natalie warred with the emotions inside her. Logically she could understand the God’s actions. He’d saved countless lives and guided them down the best possible future. If Cole hadn’t met her, she and everyone else would have died or suffered a worse fate at Petar’s insane hands. If her Mother hadn’t escaped her own family, then Natalie would have never been accidentally transformed. If Cole hadn’t returned to a place he knew he shouldn’t be, he would have never met her.

Reaching up to her Stigma, Natalie wondered if a puppet on strings would be more accurate than a knot-work maze. Feeling her anger fade slightly, Cole reached out with a hand and whispered. “You’re right. We’ve been dancing to my God’s tune. But…”

Shutting her eyes, Natalie completed his words. “But if another song was playing. Things would be worse. And… and we’d never have met.”

Thanks to Master Time she’d lost and gained much. Were the scales even? Thinking of her father’s face as he died and of Cole’s smile, Natalie couldn’t find an answer.

Pushing away the roiling emotions, she just tried to listen to Cole’s heart. The steady drumbeat a comfort. After a time, Cole broke the new silence. “I suppose I owe you the full story.”

Looking up at him, Natalie said. “I’d like that, but you don’t have to.”

Sitting up, Cole gently moved Natalie off him and went to his pack. Grabbing Isabelle’s skull, he returned to the bed. “I was once known as the Homunculus Knight. Countess Isabelle Gen Silva’s immortal champion. Her greatest creation who defended her honor in the Courts of Atredia.”

Cole said this like he was reciting a script. Something he’d heard many times. His next words were his own. “Isabelle had made breakthroughs in fleshcrafting and soulweaving that threatened the Voivode’s power. He took exception to that and planned her downfall.”

Eyes shut, trying to push back the memories of roaring fire Cole said. “He succeeded. Isabelle was executed, and I was taken for vivisection.”

Reaching to his chest, Cole felt where the scars of that hid. Long buried under other marks of torment. “Igori was ordered to destroy me. It was assumed Isabelle’s claims about my… regeneration were exaggerated or reliant on her. The Voivode quickly learned otherwise.”

Natalie went over to Cole and held him. Just letting him speak, but trying to be a support. “The first three months, they just tested out ways of killing me. Once they realized what I really was, the Voivode found other uses. Whatever you say about that Monster, he is nothing if not practical. Eight more months of being fed upon and used however the Court pleased. My memories of that time are… muddy, thankfully. Just enough to hurt but not enough to break me.”

Looking at Isabelle’s skull in Cole’s hands, Natalie wondered if the old Monster had ever considered the potential horrors of immortality. Fingers tracing the skull’s cheekbone, Cole mused. “Isabelle wanted to create a true immortal. Something to surpass Vampirekind. She reached for starfire, and well… we both burned.”

Frowning, Natalie asked. “How’d you escape the Voivode’s dungeon?” She’d pieced together much of this story but had never learned how Cole had freed himself.

Snorting in bitter laughter, Cole said. “Desperation, carelessness, and greed. Igori started trying to kill me properly again. I think word got out he was defying the Archduke by keeping me. So before those rumors could cause him problems, he got creative in his efforts.”

Setting the skull down, Cole turned to Natalie and took both his hands in hers. “I trust you, and I love you. What I’m about to tell you can never be repeated. Do you understand?”

Nervous but wanting to have his trust, Natalie nodded. Cole put his forehead against hers for a second and then spoke. “Stargent. I don’t revive as long as the substance touches me. A spike of it went through my heart and they thought they had finally killed me. I don’t know exactly what happened after that but I ended up in a mass grave near the Voivode's castle.”

Cole twitched at the memory. Thinking of the stink of corpses as he’d pulled himself from the pile of dead. “Stargent is valuable.” a morbid smile flicked across Cole’s lips. “Someone robbed my grave.”

“With the Stargent gone, my body healed. My mind was… not intact. I spent maybe a month closer to an animal than anything else. Heading back towards Isabelle’s castle like a bird heading south in the Winter. Called home by whatever was left of me.” looking into the empty eye sockets, Cole continued. “The Castle was a ruin. Everyone was dead. Isabelle’s skull high on a pike for all to see. A monument to her sins and warning to any who’d challenge the Archduke.”

Running a finger along the needle-sharp fangs of his creator, Cole murmured. “I’d found a bit more sanity by then. I took her skull and intended to bury it, but she reached out to me. Despite everything, we’d both survived.”

A sad smile parted his lips. “I picked through the castle's ruins. Grabbed what I could and went south. Took a ship up to Concordia and tried to find answers. The God of Death seemed a good place to start. After that… well, you can probably guess.”

Natalie could. Cole had gone to Master Time seeking Isabelle’s resurrection. He’d been denied that but found another path. One that led him to her. “Thank you for telling me, Cole,” she whispered.

Cole set the skull down and embraced her. “Thank you for being a person I can trust.”

Taking a useless breath, Natalie felt a lump in her throat. She might not be able to cry properly, but she could at least have that. They sat like that for a time. In the comfortable silence of true companionship. Cole had bared his most grievous wounds, and Natalie met them with love and trust.

The moment only ended when Natalie bolted up, sudden fear in her eyes. Whirling on the shocked Cole, she said. “A dress! I need a dress for the Ball!” starting to nervously pace, she hissed. “But where will I get one on such short notice? If I need it altered, will any tailor even see me?”

Strangely, Cole found Natalie’s violently mundane concerns a balm. At her words, a memory surfaced. Of a shattered storefront and a bloodied man clutching a box.

Smiling, Cole looked at Natalie and said. “About that…”