Shlomo and Fulk were not the only brave souls who sought to bring down the beast with seven heads.

This I have learned through dreams and visions, pieced together with what witnesses saw and even the words of Levanna herself. My prayer is that I get these details right, despite how hard they were to discover.

St. Giradin, clothed in sunlight, had been flying about the battlefield, dropping to the ground to slay swarms of Vermin, Headless Men, strigoi, and homunculi at a time. But there were far too many even for a saint of God to handle.

The people of Codul were Cathars, apostate Jews, pagans, gypsies, and other groups who had been persecuted, in some cases to near extinction, by the Church. All had abandoned the faiths of their fathers to embrace a new god: vengeance. In order to achieve their vengeance, they were willing to burn, just as their fathers had, so long as Christendom burned with them. They hated not just the Christians, but all the world now. Every rotten thing that God had created. And so, they turned to Dr. Yves, and other alchemists like him, who would bring forth new creatures, ones who would destroy the broken world left behind by a God the people of Codul thought cruel.

And just as Dr. Yves was their prophet, their father, their own twisted version of the Pope; Levanna was their queen, their mother, their dark inversion of the Virgin Mary.

From the air, St. Giradin spotted her riding the back of the beast, clothed in scarlet and shrouded by clouds of dark smoke. Spirits below. Demons conjured from Hell itself to do her wicked bidding.

St. Giradin readied his sword, the blade crackling with lightning, and plummeted toward Levanna.

The Witch turned her eyes upward as the Saint descended, a wicked grin on her lips. She'd long anticipated that this day would come, a day when she'd lead the demons to victory over a saint, but she found it amusing that the saint would be Giradin, the Crow she'd gotten so flustered by calling him "handsome." The naive boy had become a glorious Heavenly Spirit. And now, she would tear him down from the heights and cast his soul into Purgatory, to wander forever, lost and alone, just as she had been for so long.

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St. Giradin descended toward her like a shooting star, streaks of multi-colored light spreading across the sky, and Levanna was in awe of his beauty.

The time for her vengeance against God had come. She held no illusions that she would ever tear the Lord Himself off of the White Throne, but if she could wrest the soul of even one of his saints from his control it would be enough. When one cannot kill who one hates, one settles for hurting them as much as they can.

Levanna pointed her accusing finger at Giradin, her eyes narrowing. "Take him!" she commanded the demons.

The black smoke swirling around her shrieked with a sound like an infant experiencing pain for the first time, then flew off to meet St. Giradin in the air.

At the moment the darkness and light collided, a ring of red flames spread out across the sky, dissipating as it traveled. The mass of black smoke jerked and thrashed erratically, a white, glowing mass in the middle. Bolts of lightning arched out, with deafening thunder shaking all of Codul.

The glowing mass smashed into the few standing walls around Codul, taking the smoke with it as it shattered the bricks, breaking mortar like it was soft clay.

The Witch cackled as the once seemingly unstoppable Saint struggled to fight back against the demonic onslaught. Fire, lightning, and gusts of wind burst forth from the mass, leaving total destruction in its wake.

Finally, the mass of smoke forced the light onto the ground.

But Levanna's cackling laughter was cut off as the beast under her feet started to stumble. She lost her balance and slid down its shell, grasping at it with her nails in a vain attempt to stay up. "What's wrong?" she cried, peering over at the beast's seven heads. The flames had ceased to stream forth. The lion-like heads had fallen limp.

And the beast collapsed.

Levanna slipped down the shell, her nails broken and torn on the way down, her scarlet dress rent asunder by the abrasion. She tumbled down, and her head struck the cobblestones.

No sooner was the witch unconscious, then the light within the smoke glowed brighter, tearing through the foul spirits. Fire turned the smoke to ashes, and St. Giradin's spirit stood victorious over his Hellish assailants.

In a flash, he severed all seven heads of the beast, ensuring that it would not return to life.

Down below, Sir Emeric swooped in and snatched up Levanna's body.

It was then that the clouds above parted, and a thousand-thousand lights, just like St. Giradin, descended on the city of Codul. With their flaming swords, they laid the city to ruin, reducing the wicked there to dust, along with every house and building in that evil place.

And that is why, to this day, if you follow the road signs to Codul, all you will find is a vast, empty field. Even the hill upon which the city was built was reduced to ashes.