The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 26: Skin and Sigils

“The skin is continuing to be an issue. It doesn’t take to the regenerative energies like any other body part. Even neural tissue wasn’t this finicky to work with. My current theory is that skin's metaphysical relationship with protection and marking hampers the pseudo-curse from working. Further tests are required,” - Notes of Isabelle Gens Silva.

Cole let out a pained sigh. Looking down at Black-tongue, he thought of their options. “I guess figuring out who our prisoner is would be a good first step.”

Leaving the cell the group adjourned in the war room. Turning to the Hierophant, Cole asked, “Keeper Nyami, If we managed to convince him, would you remove the Geas then?”

Nyami nodded. “Of course, but I’d like a favor in return.”

Frowning, Cole started to speak, but Nyami turned from him to look at Natalie. “I have all sorts of questions for you. We know relatively little about your… kind, so the opportunity to learn would be wonderful.”

Before Cole could object, Natalie had already agreed. “That sounds fine. I have some questions that maybe you can help answer, actually.”

Beaming, Nyami patted Natalie on the elbow. “Yes, we’ll have a nice little scholarly session. That sounds lovely!”

The Temple bells started ringing then. Counting off eleven notes in a city-wide cacophony. Nyami let out a hum of surprise. “My word, is it that late already? Well, I best be headed back to the Temple. I suggest you all do the same. Age catches us all, but lack of sleep gives it a headstart.” pausing, she looked at Natalie again. “Well, it catches most of us, at least.”

As Nyami left them, Alia let out an annoyed sigh. “She has a point. I’m going to head home. Do me a favor and make sure Mina follows her own advice. I don’t want her wearing herself out looking up heraldry.”

A faint smile flicked onto Natalie’s lips. “Is there anything else we should convey to her? Or would you like to accompany us to the Temple? Mina might appreciate the late-night company.”

Alia flipped a rude gesture at Natalie. “Quit poking your nose into other people’s business Vampire.”

Clicking her tongue, Natalie said, “But it is my business now. Cole and I have a bet on how long till you start dating.”

An uncharacteristically mortified Alia whirled on Cole. Scowling up at the Paladin she snarled. “A bet? What were the terms?”

Sheepishly, Cole answered. “I said the end of tomorrow. Natalie said by the solstice.”

Glaring at Natalie, Alia spat, “I’ll ask her out tomorrow. You lose.”

With that, she stormed off, hackles raised like any startled cat. Leaning against Cole Natalie let out a melodramatic sigh. “I guess you win, Cole. Oh well, I guess I’ll have no choice but to shower you with kisses.”

Suddenly very aware of her form pressed against him, Cole swallowed nervously. “Let's at least wait till we return to the Temple.”

Natalie pretended to pout but acquiesced. They returned to their apartment within the Temple and settled the bet. Thoroughly.

As Cole lay sleeping on the bed, Natalie traced his scars with a delicate finger. They were as diverse as they were layered. A tapestry of suffering marking victories and defeats Natalie could only guess at. Some of the fresher marks she did know the origin of. A ring around his forearm where a Vryko-Ghoul had almost bitten the limb off. Discoloration on his stomach where the Vampire in the Obuillete had impaled him. A dozen dents from the jaws of a Werewolf, both living and dead.

Sighing, Natalie looked at her own body in the near-darkness of their room. Where Cole’s strata of scars spoke of his burden. Her own unnatural perfection testified to hers. Frowning, she wondered if Cole would age. The thought had never occurred to Natalie, and it suddenly terrified her. Surely Isabelle wouldn’t create an Immortal who could die of old age?

Sliding out of bed, Natalie found a robe she’d purchased on their outing and went over to Cole’s pack. Fishing out Isabelle’s skull, she set it on the table and stared at it. Shutting her eyes, Natalie mentally called out to the ghost inhabiting the skull. “I’d like to talk.”

Isabelle flickered into being, sitting on the nearby bed, looking down at Cole’s sleeping form. An expression of grief, anger, and regret covered the Vampire’s face. Natalie winced. She’d not thought this through. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t think-” she started to say.

“Save it.” snapped Isabelle. “Why did you call upon me?”

Sighing, Natalie answered. “I had some questions and wanted to inform you of an opportunity.”

Isabelle actually perked up slightly at that. “Hm?”

Rubbing her face, Natalie elaborated, “I’ve made contact with a Hierophant and Magi of the Temple. She wants to poke and prod me. Hoping to find out more about the Alukah. If you have any suggestions or ideas, I’m listening.”

Nodding, Isabelle considered the offer. “What questions did you have for me?”

Glancing at her lover’s sleeping form, Natalie stuck her hand into the bear trap. “They are about Cole.”

Scowling, Isabelle snapped, “You can ask him then.”

Blinking slowly in exhaustion, Natalie said, “I don’t think he knows the answers. Besides, you know more about him and his creation than literally anyone. Why read the book when you can ask the author?”

Getting up from her seat on the bed, Isabelle made a gesture of mute acceptance. Letting out a useless breath of relief, Natalie asked, “Does he age?”

Isabelle looked at Natalie as if she was stupid. “Why would I create an immortal who can die of old age?”

Natalie opened her mouth to elaborate, but Isabelle cut her off. “Technically yes, but also no. He ages, but every death restores and heals his body. Flushing toxins, repairing damage, all that. If he lived fifty years, then yes he’d age that length. But my Darling has yet to last longer than a year or two.”

A relieved sigh escaped Natalie. “Why the name Cole? Did he pick it?”

Isabelle laughed bitterly. “Oh no, it's a strange story, actually.” The humor left Isabelle, and she looked at the sleeping Paladin. “Well, it started as something of a joke….”

:: Twenty Years ago ::

“It needs a name.”

Pavlos of Pleuron, the ancient Manei of the Thoas citadel, looked up from the stack of papers he was moving. “What does mistress?”

Isabelle Gens Silva stared at the collection of vats and jars that filled the chamber. The largest was a great glass tube large enough to fit a troll. Floating in its murky depths was a body. Or at least part of a body. Isabelle had gotten most of the digestive tract and nervous system working. But the musculature and skin were proving more difficult.

“My creation, if it is to be truly alive, then it needs a name.”

The Spectral Majordomo adjusted his robes, ephemeral things of blue vapor as real as he was. “Not to overstep, Mistress, but is getting attached to it like that a smart idea? You know what purpose the Archduke has for it?”

Stepping closer and putting a cold hand on the glass, Isabelle mused. “No, probably not. But I’m allowed some idiosyncrasies while surpassing the Gods, aren’t I?”

Pavlos bowed his head. “Yes, mistress”

Feeling the warmth of the glass against her cold skin, Isabelle asked, “What do you think, Pavlos? What should we name the first of the new Homunculi?”

A little surprised by her request, The Wraith thought about it for a moment. Pulling on centuries of memories to find something appropriate. “In the oldest legends, they say the Gods made man from wet clay. If you are surpassing the Gods, then why not usurp that legend. Call him Clay or some variant of such.”

Isabelle scoffed at that. “Foolish stories. We weren’t sculpted by the Gods. Our existence comes from nature and its myriad wonders. Even before the Gods came, Humankind existed. Descended from those southern tree-beasts. Evolving, growing, changing. My creation will be the culmination of that process. Naming it after a petty myth is unbecoming.”

Pavlos bowed. “Yes, mistress.”

Putting her other hand to her chin, Isabelle considered the topic. “He won’t be born of clay. He will be of harder, darker stock. Tell me, Pavlos, do you know the origin of Diamonds?”

Pavlos did, in fact, know the origin, but he decided that wasn’t what his Mistress needed. “I do not, mistress.”

Turning away from the vat, Isabelle smiled. “Incredible heat and pressure can turn simple coal into sparkling diamonds. They say the mightiest Dragons create gems like that.”

Spreading her arms wide, Isabelle continued, “If man is clay, soft and malleable. Then my creation will be coal, dark and powerful. He won’t crack or splinter under pressure; he will be forged anew. A new form of man, a diamond in the rough. One I will cut to my liking.”

Pavlos nodded. “Very good, mistress.”

Whirling back to face her unfinished creation, Isabelle let her hands press against the glass. “Yes, Cole. That will do.”

Natalie blinked away the memory Isabelle had gifted her and sucked in a useless breath. In a hushed whisper, she hissed. “You megalomaniacal bitch. Do you know how jagged this whole thing is? You created a person as some kind of vanity project and then fell in love with him? I can’t say if this is incestuous, narcissistic, insane, or some combination of all three!”

Looking at where Isabelle stood, Natalie expected the phantom to snap back at her. Instead, a look of guilt and shame covered the Vampire’s face. Sliding over to a chair near Natalie, Isabelle sat down. “It’s practically tradition, you know?”

Frowning, Natalie waited for Isabelle to continue. “One of the first Golems was created by a Mad sculptor. He carved it in the likeness of his dead wife and poured magic into it in hopes of bringing her back. For a time, he thought he succeeded. But in truth, he’d only enchanted the sculpture to move and follow his commands. That didn’t stop him from proclaiming it his wife reborn and treating it as such. It killed him eventually. Hugging him so close he was crushed in its grip.”

Internally, Natalie wondered if Cole had learned his habit of morbid storytelling from Isabelle. Externally she asked. “What does this have to do with you and Cole?”

Scoffing, Isabelle threw up her hands. “Admitting guilt. I fell in love with my creation. I created a being with a heart greater than anything I could imagine. Do you understand the irony of that? Cole isn’t human; he’s not anything close. He’s an abomination that exists because of my arrogance. So why is he one of the kindest souls I’ve ever known?

Putting her head in her hands in a shockingly mundane gesture, Isabelle admitted her weakness. “Is it hard to believe a being like that could find an old monster’s heart? Or in seeing that good in him, I might see the possibility of redemption? If I could create someone that noble, then maybe there was more to me? More than the withered, selfish, cold creature of blood and magic I’d become?”

Confused and more than a little concerned, Natalie asked, “Why are you telling me this?”

Isabelle gave Natalie an annoyed stare. “Because you are the one person I can actually talk to. Creating a bridge to Cole’s dreams or anyone else's nearly forces me into hibernation.” shutting her eyes, Isabelle opened up a little more. “You also are probably the only person who might understand. When you became a Vampire when you drank him to death, what did Cole do in response? The man who’d been violated, mutilated, and desecrated by our kind in ways you can’t imagine. What did he do?”

Wincing at the memory, Natalie whispered, “He hugged me and apologized for not saving me.”

Isabelle nodded.. “Vampires are creatures of blood and darkness. We are cursed, and we are a curse. Yet Cole finds it in him to care for us. His skin is testimony to our kind’s cruelty. Cruelty, he only suffered because of me. I created him through my genius and damned him through my foolishness. And yet he didn’t smash my skull or free my soul. He looked for a way to resurrect me. After everything, he still wanted to help me.”

Glancing back at Cole’s sleeping form, Isabelle clicked her tongue. “I hated you, Natalie, and part of me still does. But… he smiles with you. When I return… we will have much to discuss. But till then. I’m… I’m glad he has something more than a skull and his duty.”

Neither woman spoke for a time. Tension bled away, and eventually, Isabelle spoke. “I do have some questions about your Savantism and how it relates to your powers. From what I’ve seen, your body is remarkably efficient in using blood. You do much with little. I want to know how.”

Nodding, Natalie said, “That seems like a good start.”

:: The Next Morning ::

A Homunculus, a Vampire, a Werefolk, and a Priest sat around a table and poured over records. They’d reconvened back at the Guard Tower and were searching for a new lead. Black-tongue was taking food and water in silence. Refusing to talk, either by volition or Geas. Forcing them to look elsewhere for answers.

Mina had found a tome on historical heraldry and was busy looking it over. Natalie, Alia, and Cole were resuming their research from the previous day. After the first hour, Mina let out an exhausted sigh. Shutting the heraldry book, she let her forehead meet its cover.

“You’d think the Noble Houses could be a little more creative? It’s just Dragons, Lions, and Eagles over and over again. Sometimes together, sometimes alone. Rarely a Griffin or a Unicorn to break up the same stupid patterns!”

Grimacing, Natalie asked, “No luck, I take it?”

Mina shook her head. Forcing herself back up, she started flipping through the book. “I’ll keep looking.”

Cole flipped through the missing person's records and scribbled notes on a sheet. Alia set down her text and looked at the notes. “What are you doing?”

Standing up, Cole went over to the map of Vindabon covering one wall. The eleven murders were marked on it. Grabbing a handful of the marking pins, Cole looked at his notes and added them to the map. The new pins formed a cluster in the Second and Third districts. A region dominated by Noble estates and posh homes. Frowning at the cluster, Cole looked down at his notes and then finally answered Alia’s question.

“Following a hunch.” pointing at the cluster of disappearances, he explained. “Each of these marks the place of employment of a missing person. There's been a pattern of these disappearances, and the more I look at it, the more certain I am that it's connected to our killer.”

Frowning, Alia looked at the map. Two clusters of pins marred the city. The first centered around the thirteenth district. The other around the second and third districts. “Why’s that?”

Looking down at his notes, Cole said, “These disappearances started ten years ago and only seemed to end in the last six months. It could be a coincidence, or new missing cases aren’t being reported, but…”

Alia nodded in comprehension. “You think the killer started with noble servants?”

Cole nodded. “It reminds me of a few Vampires I’ve hunted. You could track them by seeing where people went missing.”

Natalie twitched slightly at his words, but no one noticed. Everyone’s attention was on the map. Alia let out a low whistle. “I keep forgetting what you are, Cole. I mean, sleeping with a Vampire is one thing? But hunting them? Damn.”

Cole gently flicked Alia in the side of the head and mused. “But why change where they hunt? And if it’s the same person, then why are we only finding bodies now? That’s what bothers me. The change in methods seems strange.”

Mina then piped up, “I’m no hunter, so this is just me guessing. But wouldn’t a predator move if it ran out of prey or faced a new threat?”

Nodding, Cole looked down at his notes. “That makes sense. But I doubt the Nobles would run out of Nannies, washerwomen, and the like. So maybe the killer was nearly discovered?”

Frowning, Mina plucked Cole’s notes from his hand and looked at them. Her eyes darted over it and she looked like she was about to speak. Handing the page back to Cole, she faced the map, hesitant, worry painting her face.

Alia asked, “What is it? You noticed something?”

Mina shook her head no but answered, “Maybe, it’s probably nothing.”

Alia playfully shoved Mina. “Yeah, it’s totally nothing. Just something you clearly noticed and bothers you. Surely that can’t be important?”

Conflict played in Mina’s eyes, and Cole gently said. “Assuming the killer was Undead was reasonable at the time. Just because you made a mistake doesn’t mean your insight is worthless.”

Sucking in a breath, Mina tapped at Cole’s notes. “Helping grieving families is part of being a Priest of the Tenth, right? Well, back when I was an acolyte, I’d accompany Morri on some of those duties. He does a lot with noble houses that lost members in battle. So I saw a lot of these families and their children. Something that always stuck out to me was the kids often seemed more attached to the servants than their own parents.”

Looking at the notes, Mina explained her thoughts. “Particularly servants like Nannies, washerwoman, cooks, and others on your list.” glancing up at the frowning Cole, she started to retreat. “But it could be nothing-”

Cole put his notes in her hands and went over to Iron-Teeth’s casebooks. Pulling out the one he'd marked, he set it on the table. Flipping through it, he confirmed what he thought he knew. “Caretakers, that’s what the victims all have in common. They had someone they looked after or should look after.”

Putting a finger on the book, he elaborated. “Antony has his sister. And if you read between the lines, it's the same with each victim. I’d bet our missing servants were like you said, Mina.”

Rubbing her face, Alia laid it all out. “So we are looking for a member of House Kronor who was killing servants for something like a decade. Only to move on to killing people in Weinstadt in what are probably ritual murders. Oh, and somehow this bastard has people loyal enough to submit to a Geas.” Slumping into a chair, the City-Warden yowled, “That should narrow it down a bit.”

As they’d been talking, Natalie had gone over to the heraldry book and flipped through it. Finding the ‘K’ section, she looked at House Kronor’s various sigils. The house was old, nearly as old as Vindabon. So its heraldry has taken countless forms and iterations over the centuries. All depicting a Green Dragon. Over and over again, the Draconic sire of the house shown in every possible configuration. Scanning the heraldry, Natalie asked, “Are we certain it’s House Kronor?”

Cat-eyes shrugged. “We’re certain of nothing, but it seems like a good bet. Who else would have a cache of Wyrmtreasure? Why do you ask?”

“No lions.” Natalie murmured. “There are no lions on any of the Kronor heraldry.”

Mina shrugged. “It could be a personal sigil? We doubted we’d find anything in the book. Besides, you’d have to be an idiot to use your House’s symbol like that.”

Frowning, Natalie looked at Cole. He shrugged, and she chewed on her lip. Ignoring the slight sting of her fangs. “I want to get a closer look at the House Mark. I’ve been practicing enhancing my sight and might be able to tell us more.”

Rolling her eyes, Alia snapped. “What would you learn? It’s not a House’s sigil.”

Cole spoke then. “I have something I want to try with the prisoner as well. So, Natalie might as well.”

Putting their notes away, the group made their preparations. Then headed for the secluded cell containing Black-tongue. The prisoner was no longer gagged. But he was manacled and weary looking. Watching their approach with trepidation, Black-tongue backed up into the cell's corner as Cole approached. Without hesitation, Cole pulled Black-tongue’s mouth open and exposed the House mark. Natalie slipped in next to him and shut her eyes.

When she opened them, they were the color of blood. Black-tongue saw this and started to panic and struggle. Cole’s grip was unbreakable, and the Paladin offered calming words. “It’s alright. She isn’t going to hurt you. We just want to see the mark better.”

Natalie resisted the urge to roll her enhanced eyes. She understood the necessity of Cole’s words, but they still annoyed her. He spoke like she was some snarling lion ready to bite. Which… as Natalie thought about it, it wasn’t strictly inaccurate. Forcing herself to focus, Natalie looked at the mark. Letting her eyes find details she’d missed earlier.

Scribbling her impressions onto a piece of paper, Natalie flicked her eyes between the mark and drawing. She’d always preferred sculpture, but she was passible with a stylus. Finishing her sketch, she nodded to Cole. He released Black-tongue and stepped back. Natalie went to the cell's entrance and showed the sketch to the waiting Mina and Alia.

“They are fighting?” asked Mina. “The Lion and Dragon are fighting?”

Alia cocked her head and muttered. “Or the other thing. Could be that.”

Mina swatted Alia playfully, and Natalie couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Pointing at her drawing, Natalie explained. “Definitely fighting. See the Lion’s jaws are around the Dragon’s throat.”

Alia gave Mina a sidelong look and struggled not to snicker. Rolling her eyes, Natalie explained her thoughts. “They are fighting, and the dragon is losing. See, it’s on the bottom, and the Lions got it in a death bite. I don’t think our suspected House would have that on their mark. Even if it was a personal one.”

Squinting at the image, Mina asked. “Are you certain?”

Natalie shrugged. “It was a surprisingly good tattoo. I’m not the best artist, but I think I captured the important bits.”

The noise of Cole’s voice and the clank of manacles pulled the trio of women from their discussion. “You are working for a murderer. Someone who has stolen at least eleven lives. People with friends, family, and children. Each snuffed out in terrible fashion. How does that make you feel?”

They found Cole leaning over Black-tongue, the Paladin’s eyes unfocused and leaking silver vapor. He peered into the Aether and watched the prisoners' emotions swirl around him. While Cole might not be able to read magical imprints well, he could certainly tease out emotions like the flickers of guilt and fear that bloomed around Black-tongue at Cole’s words.

Nodding to himself, Cole continued. “The killer drugs them, you know? Not enough to knock them out. But enough to render them helpless. They are awake but can’t fight back. It’s a terrible, terrible way to die.”

Black-tongue didn’t react to the drugging, but a quickly stifled puff of shock and horror escaped upon hearing the details. Nodding to himself, Cole said. “You didn’t know the victims were awake? You knew they were drugged but not that? Interesting.”

More shock and surprise from Black-tongue. Frowning, Cole growled. “You won’t speak the truth. Geas and misplaced loyalty ensure that. But you cannot hide your feelings. I’m a Paladin of Master Time. Sworn by soul and steel to protect the living and the dead. I can see your heart and how it betrays you.”

Stunned horror and raw panic filled the cell. A psychic discharge Cole could almost taste as well as see. “The Geas can be removed. You can have mercy. I do not know what circumstances would bring you to willingly serve a monster. But they could not be good. Help me end the killings, and I will ensure you get the aid you need.”

Shame spilled out of Black-tongue alongside the tiniest spark of hope. A wall of duty and responsibility stamped out the spark and closed off the shame. Black-tongue took a breath and spoke for the first time. “No.”

Voice lacquered with non-use, Black-tongue offered nothing more than that. Cole shut his eyes, letting silver tears of arcane phosphorescence stream down his face for a moment. Opening his lids, Cole saw new fear in Black-tongue. Both on his face and in the Aether. Cole was diving deep into the Aether, and his eyes were pools of silver-blue light. An eerie sight to any, but especially the guilty.

“Fine. You made your choice in the name of duty. I’d respect that if your loyalty wasn’t so misplaced. So I’m going to tell you what we’ve learned, and I’m going to see how your mind betrays you. I tell you this not as a threat or to gloat. I’m stating what will happen.”

Cole watched armored plates grow along the prisoner's soul. Self-control weaved with confidence and duty into a mail of defiance. Nodding to himself, Cole let his spear fly. “Was Michelle Stine the first victim?”

Metaphorical armor cracked, emotional chainmail splintered. Black-tongue’s composure evaporated like dew in the desert. But Cole’s assault wasn’t over; he’d gained the initiative, and now was the time to press it.

“Thank you for confirming that the killings in Weinstadt and the servant disappearances are connected.” Embarrassment and self-loathing curdled in Black-tongue. “How many people has your master killed? Two dozen? Three? So much time stolen, so many lives lost. For what? Whatever magic it is at work surely can’t be worth it.”

The growing self-loathing became a fetid lump in Black-tongue. Its growth only stopped by the confusion and surprise Cole's mention of magic had brought. Surprise that was quickly quashed. Cole’s own emotions matched Black-tongue’s then. He’d assumed there was a ritual component to all this. Why else go through all the effort of keeping the victim conscious and ripping their heart out?

Trying to piece more together, Cole asked, “If it’s not a ritual… Then are the killings connected to the Demon in the undercroft? That got a wave of utter confusion from Black-tongue. He had no idea what Cole was talking about. Again Cole’s emotions mirrored the prisoners. Brow creased in a frown, Cole asked. “I’ve never heard of a Dragonblood needing hearts. But then again, I’m no expert.”

Worry turned into barely hidden elation. Cole was clearly sniffing at the wrong burrow. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Cole tried another gamble. “There were prepared fighters in the riot. People trained and equipped to make use of the chaos. The killings triggered the riot. Was that what this was about? Casting suspicion on the Werefolk?”

That dredged up a whole mess of emotions. As Cole tried to sort through them. Pulling the doubt and worry from the congealing suspicion and worry. He mused. “But that doesn’t make complete sense, does it? Your master has been killing people long before the Werefolk came. Was the change a coincidence or something else?”

Sorting through his own thoughts, Cole dwelled on his notes. “The disappearances stopped for a while. Then restarted as these pseudo-ritual killings.” letting out a sad breath as understanding bloomed. Cole asked. “Someone almost caught the murderer. They stopped for a time but started again when the Werefolk offered a distraction.”

Bits of shame and morbid acceptance colored the Aether. Cole felt the urge to punch Black-tongue, but he resisted. The killer was a craven monster and yet the wretch before him was loyal to them. Any pity the Paladin might feel was drowned beneath disgust. This interrogation session was proving fruitful, but a rising ache in Cole’s skull told him it needed to end quickly. Even he couldn’t gaze into the Aether for long without consequences.

He needed to make his last few questions count. Cole was about to ask more about the murders and their start when a thought struck him. The killer was an aristocrat. Probably a powerful one at that if they could arrange for the soldiers to aid the rioters. Nothing in Cole’s life was a coincidence, including his invitation to the ball.

“Do you think your master would prefer their downfall to be private or public?” asked Cole. Stirring up confusion and worry in Black-tongue. “I am going to the Solstice ball. I will find your master there and expose them before the entire city.”

Cole didn’t even need to look into the Aether to see the terror and doubt in Black-tongue. His face betrayed his feelings well enough. Chapped lips fell open, and the prisoner spat. “You won’t catch him. You can’t. Too much is protecting him.”

Wetness welled up in Black-tongue’s eyes, and Cole saw self-loathing and resignation drip from the man like his tears. The wall of duty burst like a dam, and bits of truth poured forth. “Even if you caught him and proved it, nothing would happen. His family will protect him. Protect him like they always have.” a twitch of pain went across Black-tongues’ face. “You saw what they’ll do to protect him.”

Slumping down, tears pouring onto his shackled hands, Black-tongue hissed. “Besides, he’s done. The killings are done. Just let it go. Hells, blame me for it. Hang me for the crime and end this.”

Clear cold truth and bitter resignation warred inside Black-tongue, clear to Cole’s waning Aether sight. Turning away from the accomplice, Cole let his power fade. Letting out a low breath, he said. “A debt of time is owed. You will pay for your part, but so will your master. Face your future, knowing you spent your life in service to evil. I hope whatever judgment the Gods have for you is merciful.”

Quiet weeping answered Cole’s words, and he shut the cell door behind him. Black-tongue was broken. Crushed by whatever edifices sheltered the killer. Cole had seen similar among Vampire thralls. It sickened him and summoned painful memories. Looking to his allies, Cole was surprised to find them looking at him with undisguised trepidation. Even Natalie looked uncertain. Pausing, Cole asked. “Is something wrong?”

When Cole exited the cell, he crackled with some phantom energy. An unseen power that pulled the trio’s attention and made each nervous in a different way. Something like religious fervor gripped Mina. While Alia tensed in the presence of a superior predator. And Natalie felt the darkness inside her soul quail at the icy wrath coming off Cole. No… not Cole. The Paladin of Master Time. But with his words, Cole broke the spell, and the mantle seemed to fade. Its influence evaporated like a spring frost.

Letting out a breath, Natalie answered for them. “You were doing the whole ‘scary holy warrior’ thing.” Cole seemed a little nonplussed, and Natalie changed the topic. “Did you get anything?”

Leaving the prisoner and heading back towards the war room, Cole nodded. Still a little surprised by their reactions. Mina seemed dazed. Her aetheric senses overwhelmed by the Paladin. Once they were seated, Alia took a moment to help Mina actually find her seat. Cole explained. “I did, lots, actually. But first, any luck with the Mark?”

Natalie slipped the paper to Cole and explained. “The lion is killing the dragon. That seems odd for a House of Dragonbloods.”

Nodding, Cole said. “That makes sense. I do not think House Kronor is actually involved Black-tongue didn’t react right. I think we’re on the right track, but the killer isn’t from House Kronor.”

“So how does that work? What you just did. Do you like, read their minds like a Seer or…” asked Cat-eyes.

Recovering slightly, Mina said. “He can see emotions. It’s Aether sight. Most Priests can only catch glimpses of emotions and mainly use the sight to observe magic.” waiving vaguely at Cole, the disoriented Priestess added. “He can do more, 'cause, y’know. Paladin.”

Natalie frowned, “Are you okay?”

Mina just waved her off. “When he ended the interrogation, I was curious, so I used my own Aether sight to see him. I… I wasn’t prepared for a Paladin fully using the mantle.”

Accepting that, Natalie opened her mouth to ask Cole what he’d learned when a piece of her soul was yanked violently. Natalie physically stumbled and mentally reeled. Stunned, she looked in the direction of the pull and tried to decipher the familiar feeling.

Cole rushed to her side. “What’s wrong?”

Taking useless but calming breaths, Natalie tried to reconcile what she felt with what was possible. “My blood… no, the Alukah’s blood. Someone nearby is using it.”

Eyes wide, Cole asked, “Are you sure?”

Natalie spat, “No! But that's what it feels like. I…I don’t know what’s happening. I just feel this… tug on my blood.”

Jaw set, Cole whispered. “Can you do what you did in the tomb with Petar?”

Frowning, Natalie said, “I don’t think so. The connection isn’t as solid. That was like a rope connecting us. This… this is like a vague current pulling me.”

Gripping Requiem, Cole nodded. “Then we follow it and find the source.”