The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 35: Bone and Blood

“The Homunculus was a fraud; Scapino confirmed its true death. We will need to look elsewhere for our goals.

Really? When Countess Gen Silva demonstrated her creation, it seemed promising. Its soul had such an interesting texture.

Scapin is a liar and schemer who consorts with the worst the cosmos has to offer. But he would not lie to us; self-interest and self-preservation wouldn’t let him.

That is a fair point; where should we send him next?

A Zanni in Noct-bucaros has heard an interesting rumor about some Legio town in the Dragontail Mountains. That might be worth our time” - Conversation between ‘Columbina’ and ‘Dottore.’

Natalie woke up screaming. Her memories were a jumble of red hatred and drowning sorrow. Ripped from that waking nightmare, she howled in grief and took a long time to realize where she was. Or, more accurately, realize she didn’t know where she was.

Clad in the blood-soaked remnant of her dress, Natalie lay on a field of bones. Stretching in every direction were rolling hills of bleached bones. She’d read about deserts in Barnabas’s books, and the skeletal dunes reminded her of them. It was night wherever she was, and the sky hung over her in a great black shawl. Faint stars glowed and danced on the obsidian skyscape. As Natalie watched, the stars moved, flowing across the sky in odd patterns. Moving in packs that created constellations of wolves and lions for the barest moment before changing.

“Am I actually dead?” she whispered in a throat raw from screaming. Even if her body could heal the damage, her mind thought it shouldn’t have.

As to answer her question, an earthquake started. Bones shook and rattled in a morbid cacophony as one of the charnel dunes started to move. Surfacing from beneath the bone desert was a titan. Millions of bones fell away from the rising colossus like some morbid waterfall. Revealing a nightmarish figure the size of a castle.

Pulling back in sudden fright, Natalie tried to understand what she was looking at. It was clearly some great beast, a behemoth of mismatched features that dwarfed even the Alukah in her death-dreams. Shaking off the last scraps of bone, the titan came fully into view. It walked on six lumbering legs and had ragged crow wings large enough to cover a city folded on its back. For a head, it had a cruel beak with far too many eyes, all in different varieties. The compound globes of flies intermingled with beady rodent and luminous owl eyes. None of the legs matched; some were scaled talons, others padded paws or insectoid limbs.

Those huge limbs waded through the bones with deafening, moving toward Natalie. She looked around for any sort of cover but realized it was fruitless. The titan had her under its gaze, and she could do nothing to escape it. Sucking in a pointless breath, nearly gagging on the smell of spoiled meat, Natalie laid her head back on the bones. If this was her final fate, to be betrayed and left for some Archdemon of rot, what could she do to stop it?

Everyone had abandoned her; the scorn of Vindabon she could survive, and even the Werefolk’s mistrust wouldn’t break her. But had Cole actually considered what the Vampire had said? Why hadn’t he looked at her? Something about that cut at her so deep she lacked words to understand it. She’d used Cole’s trust to fight off the worst of her self-loathing. If a good man, a Paladin no less, could trust her and even love her, then she couldn’t be the Monster everyone feared. Stripped of that crutch at a crucial moment, she’d failed horribly. Giving into her worst nature, both human and vampire. Now staring up at the Archdemon, she would face the consequences of that failure.

As it approached, Natalie noticed something else about the titan; its skin was moving.. A teeming mass of insects covered every centimeter of the titan, a living wriggling carpet of chitin and carapace.

Flinching away from the sight, Natalie saw one of the titan’s limbs approaching her. Bracing for whatever torment it had in mind, Natalie was shocked when its tower-sized arm stretched over her and reached into a bone dune behind her. Gazing up at the clawed hand big enough to crush a house, Natalie watched as it gently sifted through tons of bones. It plucked a single skull from the pile with a delicacy she couldn't imagine. Pinched between claws fit to eviscerate a dragon was a wolf skull.

Bits of silver mist boiled off the skull, and the titan brought it up to its many eyes. After a long second of contemplation, it craned to look at the sky. The titan’s beak opened, and a mournful howl escaped it. The sound was utterly deafening, like a million million wolves were singing a lament. Covering her ears, Natalie wondered if her eardrums could burst in the afterlife. As the lament finally ended, the titan reared up on its back four legs. A shower of insects dropped from it as it swung one arm back. Like some divine trebuchet, it tossed the skull into the sky. Natalie watched as the skull faded into a pinprick and then, with a flash, became a new star. A pack of its fellows raced to meet it, and together the stars loped across the sky.

Settling down onto its six limbs with a ground-shaking impact, the titan looked at Natalie properly. As it did, Natalie heard the faint rustle of delicate wings. The insects covering it started to take flight. Countless wings unfolded, and Natalie was shocked to see the detaching bugs were butterflies. Butterflies of every possible color and configuration. They flew into the sky in an evergrowing tide of beautiful wings. The cloud of butterflies turned in the air and started to descend, coming towards Natalie like a kaleidoscope rainstorm. Shutting her eyes and covering her head reflexively, Natalie expected something horrible.

Instead, she was caressed by a winged wind for several long seconds. When the gale ended, she opened her eyes and started in surprise. The desert of bones was gone. In its place was a field of red lilies and a babbling stream of blood. She sat at the stream's edge atop a flat rock. Next to her was the Angler, legs dangling off the side of the boulder, dipping in the bloody river.

One hand still on his fishing pole, the Angler tipped his straw hat at her and smiled. “My apologies Natalie, you caught me in the middle of other business. I hope you weren’t too frightened; the face I wear for the Werefolk isn’t… palatable to most.”

Looking down at the light sundress she now wore and back at the God, she whispered. “That was you? That… that thing?”

The Angler nodded. “The Werefolk have an interesting perspective on death, very much sculpted by their more animal instincts. To them, I’m some great Carrion Lord who sifts between the worthy and the not. Either leaving the dead in their bones or sending them to their ancestors in the Eternal Hunt. Very ‘red, tooth and claw,’ as a poet once said.”

Digesting this, Natalie remembered her waking memories and jolted in horror. “If… if you were here in that form, does that mean….”

Smiling sadly, an expression similar to Cole's, the Angler nodded again. “Jaks, he fought and died defending his pack. Delivering him to his dead mother and kin was my honor.”

Sucking in a rattling breath, Natalie felt a lump form in her throat. “So I’m assuming I’m not truly dead, and this is just a dream like before.”

The Angler bobbed his head and gave his line some slack. Frowning, Natalie asked. “How? No… why? I lost control; I think I killed someone.”

The Angler reached out with a wiry hand and tapped Natalie’s neck, sending a cold pulse through her. “You came close, but no innocent blood was shed by your hands. The mark I gave you ensured that.”

Reaching to the spot on her neck, Natalie said, “The Anchorite called it a collar on the Alukah… what did it do?”

Pulling on his fishing rod, the Angler set a hand on the rock beside them, and it was covered in spidering frost. “When you gave into the bloodlust, a miracle happened. You were frozen solid, and the magic bewitching the ball-goers broke. So did the snare put on Cole to keep him from helping you.”

Natalie felt her stomach drop, and a mixture of relief and shame filled her. The Angler let out a disappointed sigh. “Faith is built through a thousand small acts alongside a few great ones. Cole shared his blood, his bed, and his heart with you. What more faith could a man have in another? In fact, that devotion he has for you eclipses even his faith in me. Something I don’t mind as long as you are worthy of it. Tonight I don’t think you were particularly worthy.”

Hanging her head in shame, Natalie felt hot tears well in her eyes. She could cry in this dead-dream; that was a small blessing. The Angler produced a ragged but clean handkerchief and handed it to her. “But there are extenuating circumstances; you have gone through a lifetime of suffering in little more than a quarter-year. Suffering has left wounds in your soul. Wounds that creature knew exactly how to exploit.”

Dabbing at her tears, Natalie looked to the God in confusion. Staring out at the river of blood, the Angler elaborated. “The thing you call Scapin has been manipulating people for six hundred years, ninety-two days, six hours, and an eternity. You might have stumbled, but a very well-put snare was placed in your path. Take my rebuke not as cruelty but as a warning and a lesson. Have faith in your loved ones, Natalie, and have a little more in yourself.”

Repeating the strange sentence, Natalie made a question out of it. “Six hundred years and an eternity? What does that mean.”

Pulling on the line, untangling it from something in the river, the Angler let out a sad breath. “The longer something flees from death, the more they fear it. Scapin, as you currently know him, fears death very much. So much so that he would share his soul with something even worse than he is. Scapin is a Vampire and a Demon, two creatures of ashen death bound by shared malice.”

“He’s possessed?” asked Natalie, thinking to the vulpine liar who’d unleashed all this madness.

The Angler made a so-so gesture. “He’s inhabited. His existence is a knife-edge balance between Vampire and Demon. They cooperate out of mutual goals and assured destruction if they don’t.”

Narrowing her eyes, Natalie said, “You usually aren’t this forthcoming.”

The God actually smiled at that. “The first Saint was a remarkable woman. She left some interesting loopholes in her laws. I won’t open the gates but can slip things through the cracks in certain situations.”

Nodding in understanding, Natalie looked at the bloody river before them. “Did you call me here just to call me foolishness out, or was there another reason?”

Master Time snorted in amusement. “You really are a bold one; it's one of the reasons people like you, including me. No, also wanted to offer a warning and my thanks.”

Something yanked on the Angler’s pole just then, and the old wood creaked violently. The God-in-disguise fought against the pull and hauled on the fishing pole hard. The line snapped, and the Angler sighed. “My warning is the Stigma is not perfect. It will act as… a forbearance against the Alukah’s instincts but only to a point. The thing inside of you is waking up as you grow in strength, be careful it does not snap its collar.”

Thinking about that, Natalie wondered at the implications as she asked. “I appreciate the warning and the help.”

Tipping his hat, the Angler continued. “As for the thank you, aside from tonight, you’ve done remarkably well. You did not ask for this burden but shouldered it still. The world owes you, and I owe you for that. Thank you, Natalie, and may it be a long time before we speak again.”

The dead-dream jerked as if someone had titled the world. Almost sliding off the rock, Natalie let out a hiss of annoyance. “Time to go?”

The God hadn’t been moved by the bucking ground and just nodded with a smile. “A final gift in the form of words. The Anchorite left you with The Banality of Evil. Let me offer something less vague. Upseting a balance is easier than creating one.”

Sighing, Natalie felt the world shake again. “You did say less vague, not transparent. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As the dead-dream started to crack around her, the Angler snapped his fingers as if he’d remembered something. “Oh, and don’t believe everything Isabelle says. Her truth and the objective truth do not always match.”

With that, the field of red lilies dissolved with the sound of cracking ice.

Cole raised Requiem and brought down more hunks of ice. Even damaged as he was, Dietrich swatted the boulders aside with his weapon. Scapin just sidestepped them with ease, which suited Cole just fine; they hadn’t been his true target. The ice model of the Fifth Temple hurtled toward the Scapin-gate. It plowed through some of the Grief Demons still issuing from the curtain of blood and hit the Hellportal. Hopefully, that would end the incursion and give people time to evacuate.

A wave of numbness that faded as quickly as it came washed over Cole. Scapin started to dissolve, bits of him flaking off, and the Ashborn stumbled forward. Dietrich paid the exchange little heed and charged Cole. He drove the blunt tip of his sword into the floor right before Cole’s ice sheet and ripped upward. Cole was obscenely reminded of a chief making pancakes as an explosion of ice and flooring shot toward him.

Cole could stop the ice and even use it to deflect some of the debris but not all of it. Huge splinters peppered him; only his frozen blood kept them from doing serious damage. Before the cloud of debris could clear, Dietrich was upon Cole. The Scarlet Knight leaped up, bringing his sword down like a giant’s cleaver. The splinters sticking from him and Dietrich’s speed kept Cole from swatting the Vampire with more ice. Forcing him to catch the downcoming weapon on Requiem.

Even as glutted with power as he was, the strike drove Cole to one knee. Requiem bent slightly; the cold power coursing through it was the only thing keeping the halberd from snapping. As Dietrich landed, Cole tried to entomb his feet in ice, but the Vampire had already kicked off the frozen ground to escape the ice sheet. As he lept away, Cole noticed the patches of frostbite on his enemy were slowly spreading. The power he’d put into the ice that crushed Dietrich earlier was having an effect.

Elsewhere the Hellportal was reforming. Cole threw a few more ice rocks at it but was busy holding off Dietrich’s next assault. Lines of power snapped, and Cole knew Scapin was defending his portal-self somehow. He didn’t dare look to see how. Every scrap of his attention was needed to ward off the flurry of blows coming his way.

Dietrich was fast, incredibly fast; he barely stepped on the ice as he slashed at Cole. Pushing off it with enough force to crack the glacial surface as he danced around the Paladin raining blows. But Cole wasn’t completely on the defensive. Ice whirled around him in a ring of frozen death. Razor shards kicked up by Dietrich’s attacks were used to defend the Paladin. With every attempted strike, Dietrich made it harder to for him to hit Cole.

The effort, though, was exhausting; and the ache behind Cole’s eyes was worsening. Though, Dietrich was slowing down, his attacks becoming ever more desperate. The Cold of Entropy was seeping into him; whatever protection his cursed sword provided wasn’t enough. The duel was becoming a matter of attrition, something Cole excelled at. If he could outlast Dietrich, then victory would be his, but that was a big if.

Already, Cole had obsidian lines running along his arms and chest, where Dietrich’s sword had licked him. Only the mantle of Paladin and Cole’s skill kept the strikes from crippling or killing him. Then even with all his marshaled power, Cole was stuck on the defensive. He was outclassed both in experience and raw physical strength. He could only hope to win the slow stalemate.

A hope buoyed by the sound of cracking ice. The column containing Natalie cracked, the frozen body within falling to the ground. Pushing Dietrich back with a barrage of cold crystals, Cole felt a surge of hope tempered by trepidation. Had Natalie awakened, and if she had… would it be her?

Looking at the frozen body, Cole’s stomach dropped as he saw an ashen Scapin reformed and dragging her towards the hellportal.

“NO!” roared the Paladin as he left the ice sheet, Dietrich hot on his heels. Rolling under a scything blow, Cole started to pull down more ice but hesitated. He couldn’t risk crushing Natalie. Cole paid for that worry when Dietrich caught up and put a sabaton into Cole’s back. The Paladin tumbled forward to the ground. A brutal stomp came down on Cole’s leg, and he felt something crack. Looking up, Cole watched as another Scapin strowed out of the reformed Hellportal and went to help himself with moving Natalie.

Roaring in pain, Cole flipped onto his back, lifted an arm, and focused on his wounded palm. A patch of frozen blood clung to his skin, unnoticed by his foe, who saw the act as a plea for mercy. Dietrich loomed over him, bringing his executioner sword up to kill Cole. Pausing in consideration, Dietrich growled. “I suppose crippling you would be better; I don’t know how you regenerate, but it's clearly activated by death.”

As the huge sword came down, ready to take one of Cole’s arms, the Paladin rolled the dice again. He’s weaponized his blood many times, creating bolts and whips out of it. But using it that way while the Cold of Entropy flowed through him would be something new.

“Sanguine Spear Strike and Sever,” he spat the incantation, shaping his will into a new spell. A black lance erupted out of Cole’s palm, bringing with it a wave of light-headedness. It shot forward with a sound like cracking ice and impaled Dietrich. The obsidian spear went through Dietrich’s diaphragm and spine. A wheeze escaped the Vampire as he fell forward onto the lance.

Cole braced his arm as Dietrich collapsed onto him. The executioner’s sword clattered to the ground, and Dietrich reached for Cole’s throat. Spots floated in the Paladin’s eyes, and his reaction was slow. A lot of blood had gone onto the spell, and it showed in his token resistance to Dietrich’s grapple.

One hand found Cole’s throat, the other his collarbone; both started to squeeze. His collarbone snapped like kindling, and darkness competed with spots in Cole’s vision. Dietrich could have ripped open Cole’s throat, but instead, he was trying to strangle him into unconsciousness. Even with his immortality exposed, the lack of details kept Dietrich from finishing him. As far as Dietrich knew, Cole would return at full strength the moment he died, something the Scarlet Knight couldn’t risk happening.

Even as his vision faded, Cole focused on his sanguine spear while desperately trying to remember the anatomy knowledge Isabelle had implanted in him. With a final effort, Cole resculpted the blade, letting some of his frozen blood flow to where it impaled Dietrich. A cruel spike grew from the spear into Dietrich’s withered chest cavity. Striking the Vampire’s heart.

Dietrich had half a second to realize what was happening, and then torpor took him. It was no stake to the heart, but the hooked spear was enough. The Vampire went limp, and Cole sucked in a few cold breaths before mustering the strength to push Dietrich off him. Snapping off his sanguine spear inside Dietrich, Cole pushed himself to his shaking feet, grabbing Requiem as he did. Ignoring the grinding feeling of broken bones and trusting the Cold to preserve him.

Raising the halberd, Cole looked to the portal where the two Scapin’s had stopped their efforts to drag Natalie to look at him. Letting out an annoyed sigh, the ashen copies called up their blades, one saying, “You just don’t know when to give up, do you?”

Cole jerked his head in the negative and charged the Ashborn. The two Scapins dropped Natalie and split to either side of Cole. Cursing in annoyance, Cole followed one with his eyes and noticed much of the ballroom had been evacuated. The Demons had been banished, and no more were coming from the portal. The Centaurs and other combatants had left, probably to escort the guests. Leaving Cole, the Vampires, and the Werewolves alone in the ballroom.

Ametza, in her lupine form, was crouched over her mother and two cousins, one living the other dead.

Letting out a breath of frustration, Cole reached up to the model city and bombarded both of Scapin’s bodies. They dissolved into ash and slithered around impacting ice. Cole tried to ignore the spreading throb behind his eyes and turned one of the boulders into shrapnel, trying to repeat his earlier trick. The targeted Scapin dodged, and Cole repurposed the ice chunks into another whirling ring. He’d lost concentration on his earlier one, but he suspected creating another miniature blizzard would be useful.

One Scapin came for Cole then, a dancing blur of soot and malice that slid along the ground. Squeezing his fist, Cole crushed the orbiting ice into sharp hail, spinning it faster around him. He’d never faced an Ashborn before; the demonically possessed Vampires were exceptionally rare, and Cole only knew about them from Isabelle’s library. The Paladin didn’t have any tried and true strategies for fighting Ashborn. Only instinct and crude ideas guided him.

Scapin leaped for him, and Cole sped up the whirling ice. The Ashborn was shredded by the hail, crossing the spinning ice as a malformed cloud of soot. Cole smiled and swung Requiem into the cloud. Vampires turned into mist or blood and were weak against anything disrupting that form. Their bodies were naturally amorphous and could be scattered, disorienting the Vampire.

Cole cut through the ash cloud and tore a frozen clump from it, but the rest kept coming. Cole barely shut his eyes in time when the rest of Scapin slammed into him. A cutting ash cloud filled his mouth and nose. The Cold of Entropy quickly froze the ash, and Cole was in no danger of suffocation, but he was disoriented. Coughing out the gritty foulness, Cole barely had time to react when his spinning ice collided with something else. On well-trained instinct, he swept out with Requiem and felt something clang off it.

Blinking away the ash, Cole saw Scapin’s dagger tumble from where he’d blocked it. But right before it could hit the floor, it stopped and shot for Cole, moved through the air by an unseen force. Cole squeezed Requiem and shrunk it to axe size. Parrying a dagger with a halberd wouldn’t be smart.

As he batted the flying dagger away, Cole had a terrible realization, where was the first Scapin’s dagger? He got his answer when his legs buckled beneath him. Feeling fled from his lower half, and Cole’s face slammed into the ground as he failed to catch himself.

The ice ring fell apart, and Cole felt the loaned power of Kistine fade. Trying to flip himself over, Cole looked to the Hellportal and saw its outer edge thin, as a huge amount of ash sloughed off it.

Ash formed into three Scapins and approached Cole, Dietrich, and Natalie. A bubbling growl came from nearby, and Cole saw Ametza getting ready to fight.

One Scapin grabbed the length of frozen blood impaling Dietirch and yanked it free with a disgusting noise. Dropping the sanguine spear to the ground, Scapin looked at Ametza. “I have what I came for. I suggest you help your surviving family instead of dying.”

Ametza glanced at Cole, conflicted emotions clear even on her werewolf face. Cole gave her a slight shake of the head, and she looked away. He wasn’t about to let herself pointlessly sacrifice herself; the Shohgard pack had given enough.

Seeing her tacit submission, Scapin approached Cole; the Paladin reached for his weapon and debated killing himself. Glancing at Natalie, Cole exhaled; he couldn’t risk being separated from her. Better to stay alive as long as possible if it kept them together. Scapin gripped onto one of Cole’s useless legs and started to drag. The other two Scapins did the same with Natalie and Dietrich, hauling all three toward hell.

Pausing, the Scapin pulling Cole went over and kicked Requiem from the Paladin’s grip. Cole was too weak to even stop that. As his weapon skidded away, he prayed. “I can survive if they take me; just save her. Please just save her.”

A soothing cold passed over Cole’s wounds, and a voice, his voice answered. “I already have.”

Natalie was cold and hungry, incredibly cold and hungry. A gnawing thirst roiled within her, and all she could think about was how good warm blood would feel. Twitching, she felt something crack; the cold around her faded slightly, and she moved again. Another crack, and she could open her eyes. Moving slowly, she felt hunks of ice fall away from her as she got to her feet. Looking down at her unnaturally pale skin and tattered dress, Natalie sucked in a breath.

Blood, ash, steel, fear, and hate, filled her nose, smells that only made her hungrier. Pulling her eyes away from her hands, Natalie saw she’d awoken on a battlefield. The ballroom had turned into a scene of chaos and destruction. Shredded tables, shattered flooring, frozen blood, and even a few bodies were scattered about.

At the center of it were three Vampires and a hole in reality. Natalie blinked upon seeing the Vampires; they were identical to each other; they were Scapin. At the feet of two were familiar figures, a twitching Dietrich and a crippled Cole. The Paladin was barely propping himself up on an elbow, and upon seeing her, he smiled.

Looking at the Scapins and recovering Dietrich, Natalie hissed. “Get away from him!”

One of the three Ashborn’s bodies stepped forward and snorted in laughter. “You’ve lost fledgling; you’re shaking with hunger and without allies. Surrender and come with us; throwing yourself upon the Archduke’s mercy is your only option.”

Natalie hadn’t even noticed her body was twitching, rigor mortis, and undeath fighting for control. She was starving; whatever the Stigma had done to stop her had nearly emptied her blood reserves.

Reaching out with her mind, Natalie felt the two Vampires before her. They were both weak; she could sense their exhaustion and stress through the Aether. Twitching her head slightly, Natalie smiled, showing her fangs. She could sense their state because they were still connected by stolen blood. Scapin and Dietrich weren’t glutted on the stuff like Petar had been, but Natalie was much stronger than before.

Black blood flowed from Natalie’s nailbeds and formed long, wicked claws. “You are right; I am hungry; I need blood and a lot of it.”

Slowly walking towards the two monsters who’d hunted her and ruined the evening, Natalie added. “Do you know why the Alukah never sired more of themselves?”

The three Scapins looked at each other in confusion, and Natalie kept talking. “Because they couldn’t, anyone they sired became a degenerate creature. Lesser shadows of themselves who shared the Alukah’s blood but not their true power.”

Dietrich finished rising and limped over to his sword. Picking it up with stiff fingers, he growled. “Now is not the time for a history lesson, girl. Surrender and spare yourself my wrath.”

Looking around at the spilled blood, Natalie realized she recognized some of the bodies. Most were just ball-goers she’d spoken with. One she knew personally, Jaks, whose headless body lay by his aunt.

Hands twitching in rage, Natalie snarled. “Do you know what the Alukahs did to the Monsters they sired when they proved a disappointment?”

The Aether around Natalie started to roil and seethe like boiling blood. Hands out in front of her, Natalie snarled the end of her story. “They ate them.”

Reaching out to the stolen blood, Natalie gripped it and pulled. One of the Scapins dissolved to ash, and Dietrich fell to one knee. This close, Natalie could do what she’d done to the Feeder; she could drain the two leeches in front of her.

Stolen blood was ripped from Scarlet Knight and Ashborn, snaking through the Aether along immaterial veins. Returning to its true owner alongside much of the thieves' own reserves. Glutted on the reclaimed blood, Natalie shot forward and went for Dietrich’s head. The Wyrmoi warrior had already lost to Cole and was barely standing after her attack.

He tried to bring up his executioner sword to block, but Natalie moved fast as any Moroi. Her claws took his hands off at the wrist. Before the greatsword had even hit the ground, Natalie had sprung onto Dietrich. Clawed hands shot forward and into Dietrich’s chest. His armor was gone, a casualty of Cole’s wrath, and Natalie had stripped him of any power to harden his flesh. Natalie ripped past Dietrich’s ribs and gripped onto the Scarlet Knight’s lungs, one in each hand.

Dietrich had collapsed to both his knees, and Natalie stood over him, squeezing his internal organs. “You saved my life and my father’s life. If it wasn’t for you, I might still be in that cell in Glockmire, so I won’t kill you.”

Yanking back, Natalie ripped out both of Dietrich’s lungs. “But you did hurt my love and the people I care about. So I will make you pay and let the Temple decide your fate.”

Dietrich fell back, torpor taking him as his body shut down in response to the grievous injuries. Dropping his withered lungs to the ground, where they exploded into ash, Natalie turned to the two remaining Scapin. Both looked stunned, smiles finally wiped from their faces.

Red eyes narrowing, a cruel smile on her face, Natalie said. “As for you? I don’t know what will kill you, but I have some ideas”

One of the Scapins ran for the strange fleshy portal. Natalie reached out to the stolen blood and pulled again. Putting her reclaimed power into the act. The second Ashborn body melted into soot. Seeing this, the final Scapin fell to his knees and held up his hands. “I surrender myself into the Temple’s custody. I’ll go peacefully and tell you whatever you want to know.”

Natalie stalked up to the surrendering Ashborn and cut its head off with a dismissive claw swipe. She didn’t even bother to look at the dissolving body. Instead, she focused on the hellportal which was rapidly shrinking. Before, it had been large enough for two men abreast to walk through. Now it was barely large enough for Natalie to squeeze through.

Running towards the portal, Natalie reached out and slashed with her claws. The ring of ash and withered flesh collapsed, and a bucket's worth of Vampire blood splattered onto the ground. The mess of filth started to form a torso and head. Scapin’s face was sculpted out of ash and blood, looking up at Natalie with a patronizing smile.

“You both have gotten so much stronger; it’s shocking, really. I guess next time, I’ll have to plan better to avoid another mess like this.”

Natalie shook her head. “There won’t be a next time; I’m going to kill you.”

Scapin laughed, a hacking thing like a chronic pipe smoker. “You can’t kill me, little Alukah. This is just a piece of myself I can discard. Even your Paladin couldn’t do the deed. I walk in two worlds, little Alukah; I’m immortal.”

Natalie nodded. “A Demon and Vampire working in concert, right? With these ash puppets of yours being just extensions. I guess you combine a Vampire’s shapeshifting with a Demonic possession. You take control of ash, probably dead Vampire ash now that I think about it, and use it as extra bodies.”

Scapin’s smile wavered slightly. “Oh, you are a clever thing, aren’t you? The Paladin teaching you these things? How do you pay with your body?”

Letting out an annoyed breath, not rising to the bait, Natalie smirked. “When I took back what you stole, I saw the thread of power. Veins in the Aether branching out from the portal body and into those puppets. I can feel more veins going from here to wherever you really are. In fact, I’m gambling; I can do more than feel them.”

Lighting fast, Natalie pounced, sinking her fangs into the portal-Scapin’s neck. Reaching out through the vein connecting this Scapin to his real body, Natalie drank. Power flowed down the artery and into Natalie. Portal-Scapin started to scream and thrash, his soul and power being pulled from him.

Whatever was at the other end of the vein reacted, trying to sever the connection. Natalie wouldn’t let it; she let her own power flow along the aetheric string and reinforce it. A wellspring of power opened to Natalie, and she drank greedily. The Ashborn became more and more desperate to break the connection as the Alukah devoured its soul. With a scream only Natalie could hear, the Ashborn ripped part of its own soul off, amputating a spiritual limb to save itself. Only at that great cost did it free itself from Natalie’s hunger.

The portal-Scapin dissolved into ash, and Natalie got up, wiping the foul grit from her mouth. Calling up false-life, Natalie spat into the ash pile and went over to Cole. The stunned Paladin looked at her, a slight wariness in his expression. Sitting down next to him, Natalie wrapped her arms around him. After a second of hesitation, Cole returned the gesture, and they embraced.

When the city garrison, Temple battle priests, and ivory tower magi-knights arrived five minutes later, they found the couple still in each other's arms.