CHAPTER 36: FROZEN BLOOD

“All blood is power but not all blood is powerful. Animal blood is weak and watery. Beasts touched by magic are only a little better. Only a person, human, dwarf, orc or other can give us what we need. But their ichor is wasted in their veins. Its true power exists only when we take it. There is poetry in that, wouldn’t you agree?” - Voivode Igori Gens Suillia

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Cole had to look away as he saw Natalie’s lips lock on the monster's wrist. This act of cannibalism was deeply unsettling for him. Disgust and worry filled Cole’s mind as events unfolded. He didn’t trust Glockmire and doubted anything the old monster said. But Cole couldn’t disregard what the Lord claimed. It fit all the puzzle pieces together, and the risk of having a primordial Vampire set loose was not something Cole could gamble with. Cole had no say in what was happening, and it all fell to Natalie. Who, as she had so often reminded him, made her own choice. Now Natalie would have to face the consequences.

Natalie felt power flow into her, intoxicating, incredible power. Like the night itself distilled and injected right into her. Lord Glockmires life flowed through his blood, and with it came traces of something far far greater. An ocean of shadows, the power of an antediluvian monster, wrestled from its host and claimed by Glockmire.

Crudely, Natalie could feel what was happening between the Alukah and Glockmire. New senses, unrefined and untested, conveyed a battle to her. Where two dying leviathans tore at each other. Ripping pieces of each other free in the struggle. Pieces that Natalie greedily consumed. With every blow between the Alukah and its captor, Natalie grew stronger. Feeding on the mutually assured destruction raging inside the two elder Vampires.

The entire experience left her giddy and terrified. Like she was plunging from some great height, excitement and fear bleeding together in Natalie's mind. Consumed by the twisted act of consumption, Natalie barely noticed the crack in the tomb wall. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw part of the wall mosaic shatter. Bits of precious metal, gems, and colored stone clattered to the ground. Ancient rock that had been undisturbed for millennia broke as something pushed at it from the other side.

Confused and not entirely certain if what she was seeing was real, Natalie looked closer at the broken mosaic. Her newly enhanced sight showed her a piece of sharpened metal sticking out of the wall. The metal slipped back out of the hole it had created, leaving a dark hole in the wall. Looking at this odd sight, realization struck Natalie with enough force she nearly stopped drinking Glockmires blood. It was a pickaxe; someone was trying to break into the tomb with a pickaxe.

A half-remembered comment from another life filtered back to Natalie. “They shut the mine; Daymen aren’t letting anyone work.”

Matko had mentioned the Nobles had taken over the local mine for some unknown reason. Keeping everyone out of them and going as far as murder to keep townsfolk away. When Matko had mentioned it, Natalie had just filed it away as another oddity. As the hole in the wall widened, the truth became clear. Wherever this tomb was hidden, Petar couldn’t follow the passageways to reach it. So was taking another option; he had dug his way to them.

Frantically, Natalie pointed at the hole. She was afraid to let go of Glockmire and couldn’t do more than yelp loudly and point. Thankfully it caught Dietrich's attention, and the Scarlet Knight saw what she was pointing at. Dietrich leaped towards the hole and drew his sword in a blur of movement. Just in time for an avalanche of debris to fall to the floor as part of the wall collapsed. The small hole had widened into a door-sized crevasse, and a ragged figure stumbled through it. A figure Natalie knew.

Even covered in stone dust and partially decomposed, Gurni the Dwarf was still recognizable. Carrying a pickaxe in both hands, the Ghoul stumbled towards Dietrich, empty eyes staring out aimlessly. Dietrich lopped the Dwarf's head from his shoulders with a dismissive slice and stepped towards the breach. A dozen arms and flailing weapons stretched out from the darkness, the Ghoul mining crew hoping to remove the next obstacle. Except this time, they didn’t face rock and stone but blood and steel. Dietrich quickly tore through them with explosive fury. The weight of his sword not just cutting his enemies but ripping them apart.

As Natalie watched, she felt something stir inside of her. A foul coldness that grew with every passing second. Glancing over to Glockmire, Natalie was surprised to see the old monster slumped down. His body was even more withered than before. He looked like a skeleton clad in paper-brittle skin. Stringy hair barely attached to his scalp, and loose clothing practically falling off him.

With a low cracking noise like tortured wood, Glockmire turned his head to face Natalie. His lips formed words, but no sound came; still, Natalie heard them in her mind. “It's time.” As soon as she registered the words, a wave of darkness crashed into Natalie, and the world turned black.

Cole watched Natalie collapse, her body falling like a cut-string puppet. Only her mouth and hands showed any movement as she grasped onto Glockmire, never letting the connection break. With Dietrich busy with the Ghouls, Cole quickly scrambled to his feet and went to Natalie’s side. Cradling her still form, Cole felt his emotions run riot. He wanted to pull her free from this parasitic chain she was part of. He wanted to take her and run, get away from this place and be somewhere safe. After a moment, Cole dismissed the idea; they were silly thoughts from a panicked man afraid of losing someone else.

Cole wasn’t a mortal man, and he didn’t have the luxury of such flights of fancy. He was a Monster in service to God. He was a Paladin of Master Time. Cole gently laid Natalie down, trying not to look at her mouth and the dark blood dripping into it. Turning away from her, Cole looked at Dietrich and the fight raging. As he did, the cold tug of the God-Touch yanked on Cole’s soul with incredible power. Nearly pulling him off his feet. It pulled him towards where Dietrich fought. Giving him all the confirmation he needed that this was the right choice.

Picking up Gurni’s fallen pickaxe, Cole joined Dietrich at the breach. A ghoul had wrapped itself around Dietrich’s legs as another dozen tried to swarm him. Cole brought the pickaxe down on an entangled ghoul, splitting its skull with a wet crunch. Dietrich spun in surprise to see Cole, sending two more ghouls flying with an ugly backhand as he did. For a brief second, both warriors looked at each other, and a nod of understanding passed between them. The conflict between them was not over, but it could wait for a later date.

The Paladin and Scarlet Knight fought side by side. Dietrich tore through the oncoming horde with reckless abandon, while Cole methodically destroyed any Ghoul who slipped past the Vampires onslaught. In the cramped tunnel, Dietrich couldn’t unleash the full fury of his Executioner Sword, but the Ghoul miners were similarly restricted. Their advantage of numbers reduced by the bottleneck.

While Dietrich pushed into the tunnel somewhat, Cole held the entrance. He didn’t dare try and fight in cramped, dark confines without his equipment. And he sure as Jag was not about to let any Ghoul slip past Dietrich and get to Natalie. He swung his pickaxe until flesh and bone dulled the weapon to uselessness. A coating of viscera stuck to the tool and made it little better than a bludgeon. Cole threw it with all his might at an approaching Ghoul and picked up a nearby shovel. Using it like an axe, Cole got back to work, cutting down any shambling Ghoul that got to the tunnel mouth.

Soon the tunnel was slick with blood and guts. Ruined corpses and rotten innards covered the floor. This was one of the worst parts of Cole’s duties. Where he felt more like a butcher than a warrior or priest. Cutting up bodies and drowning in gore. To distract himself and try and bring some sanctity to this nightmare, Cole started to pray. Saint-Speech flowed from his lips in a near-constant stream. Cole begged for the enslaved souls he fought to find freedom in death. Freedom that had been denied them by Petar and his minions. These poor people had not only died at the Vampire's hands, but they’d denied their rest. Their souls intentionally trapped in their bodies by Necromancy to make better servants.

An anguished roar of pain echoed down the tunnel, and Cole took a step back, preparing to face whatever might come. Dietrich stumbled forward out of the dark, a halberd impaled through him. Gritting his teeth in pain, Dietrich barked at Cole. “Pull this out of me! I got through the miners, and now he’s sending Castle Guards.”

Cole obliged and yanked the weapon free of Dietrich's innards. The weight of the Halberd a familiar comfort in Cole’s hands, it wasn’t his weapon but it would work. Growling in annoyance, Dietrich looked down at his torso, where the hole punched through him was already being repaired. Cole paid no mind to his “comrade-in-arms” injuries; his focus was on the sound of clanking metal echoing down the passageway. Soon shining spear tips came into view, followed by armored figures holding out Halberds. A row of blades greeted Cole and Dietrich as the Castle Guards formed a phalanx. Three across, three deep, the formation filled the tunnel and presented a wall of halberd points.

Hefting his sword in both hands, Dietrich said to Cole: “I will knock the pikes aside; you go for the kill.”

Cole nodded; he wasn’t familiar with true battle tactics but could guess Dietrich had experience dealing with formations like this. He wasn’t about to second guess the Scarlet Knight in this situation. Dietrich pushed forward, battering his sword into the arrayed halberds. His weapon’s superior weight and his superhuman strength pushed some of the halberds out of position. Letting Cole come in low and drive his own halberd into one of the Castle Guards' neck. The strike punched through the Rattler Soldiers' armor and shattered its spine. With a fierce yank, Cole pulled the Halberd to the left and drove its axe-head into the skull of the nearest Castle Guard. The blow lacked enough power to destroy the Rattler, but it did knock the Castle Guard out of formation.

Letting Dietrich shoulder-check the Rattler to the ground and put an armored boot through its breastplate. The Vampire did this all while reversing his swing to open up another gap for Cole to push into. In this situation, the unflappable nature of the Undead Soldiers actually hindered them. Guided by crude magical Animus and following simple directions. The Castle Guards didn’t flinch away from oncoming blows or adapt to the situation. Letting the superior warriors, Cole and Dietrich, create openings and exploit them at will.

Despite everything that had happened between them, Cole and Dietrich proved to be a formidable duo. Fighting side by side with near-seamless coordination. Hacking and smashing through the first phalanx of Rattlers and facing two more in quick succession. By the fourth troop of soldiers, Cole felt his muscles start to burn in exhaustion. Dying and reviving had “rested” his body, but that would only do so much. Mental fatigue combined with the constant methodical combat of holding the tunnel entrance was starting to take its toll.

It would be a while before he truly started to falter, but Cole knew he couldn’t keep this up forever. Eventually, he would slip up and fall. If he was lucky, a clean killing blow would do him in. He’d revived from some of those before even falling to the ground in the past. But that was not the sort of gamble Cole could make right now. His immortality was fickle and uncertain; he couldn’t risk dying in battle.

Dietrich was not immune to the grinding attrition they found themselves in. Of the spear tips he batted away, a handful found him, and some of those found cracks in his armor. The Vampire was taking the frontline role and soaking up most of the attacks directed at the duo, and it was starting to show. Myriad small wounds started to show on Dietrich. Scratches and stabs that didn’t leak any blood. Dietrich refused to waste any of his power healing such minor injuries, so they lay open, dry, and pale like torn leather. A ghoulish sight, further demonstrating the inhumanity of the Vampire warrior.

Searing pain in Cole’s leg distracted him from the battle and his musings on Dietrich. He looked down in shock to see a skull biting into his calf. Separated from its body and helmet, the skull had latched itself onto Cole. Dull teeth bit through ragged clothing and scarred skin, drawing blood. Pale green witch-light glowed in the skull’s eye sockets, a sign of greater magic at work. Cole knocked the skull loose with the butt of his halberd. To Cole’s surprise and horror, the skull did not simply tumble away but floated into the air, its jaws snapping hungrily. Cole didn’t give the skull time to attack and smashed it to the ground with the flat of his halberd.

More witch-light burst into being then, illuminating the tunnel as a dozen more skulls floated into the air and charged both Cole and Dietrich. A frantic shout from Cole warned his comrade, and Dietrich just had time to catch and crush a skull aiming for his neck. Soon nearly two dozen skulls were floating about. Bobbing towards the tunnel defenders and snapping at them like starving vultures.

Growling in frustration, Cole reached down to his bloodied calf and decided to end this. Letting his dirty fingers touch the stinging wound, Cole whispered an incantation. “My veins are a net, and they will be your bane yet!”

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It was a quick and crude incantation, the words focusing Cole’s intent into form. Pulling his hand from the wound, a long ropey string of blood came with his fingers. Cole lashed out with the blood, using it like a whip. The spell caught one of the nearby skulls, tendrils of blood gripping onto the bone like algae growing on stone. Whirling the blood-whip, Cole smashed it and the captured skull into two more cursed bones, capturing them as well. Soon Cole had a flail made from his blood and his enemies' bones.

Dropping his halberd, Cole heaved the flail with both hands, swinging it about in a great arc, smashing skulls to alabaster chips. Groaning with the effort, Cole directed his make-shift weapon to crush and collect this newest surprise Petar had thrown at them. This was a new application of Cole’s blood magic, and he didn’t know how wise it was. He felt like his very veins were being pulled from him by the flail's weight. Which they very well might be. Cole preferred using Blood to power his spells but had to admit this sort of grisly manifestation was a valuable part of the magical art.

After a few spins, Cole had most of the skulls in his blood flail or shattered to pieces. Something helped by the tightness of the passageway; every rotation smashed some of the skulls against the tunnel walls. As the strain started to become too much, Cole bellowed to Dietrich. “DUCK!”

The startled Vampire looked back at Cole just in time to dodge the flail of skulls flying overhead. The makeshift weapon slammed deep into the Rattler ranks, and Cole spat another incantation, “Boil and burst, steam do your worst.”

The blood clinging to the skulls instantly super-heated and detonated the bones into a shower of steam and shrapnel. The cloud of sizzling vapor engulfed the rattlers, and the clatter of bone and metal striking each other echoed through the tunnel. Gasping for breath, Cole stumbled backward; he’d pushed deeper into the tunnel for his attack but now retreated towards the entrance. Cole picked up his salvaged halberd as he moved and took position again. The weapon was shaky in his hands, blood loss making him clumsy.

As the steam faded, covering the tunnel in a cold slickness, Cole cursed as he saw more Guards coming to replace the ones his improvised weapon had killed. Cole had hoped the explosion would have been enough to damage the tunnel, maybe collapsing it and buying them some time. No such luck. Cole had used a worrying amount of his blood to deal with the floating skulls and had little to show for the investment. Taking a moment to steady himself, Cole readied to push back into the fight.

Dietrich had taken full advantage of the chaos Cole had sown and hacked apart a dozen more Rattlers, taking time to smash each of their skulls. The Vampire was loath to admit it, but the Rest-Bringer had proved himself in this battle. With little blood to draw upon, Dietrich couldn’t use any of his more impressive abilities. Forcing him to rely on his basic physical enhancements and his own skill. Which should have been enough, but the ambush by the floating skulls just might have tipped the balance against them. A quick glance at Cole showed that whatever magic he’d used against the skulls had weakened him. Dietrich figured the Rest-Bringer had only a few more sorties left in him.

Normally Dietrich would simply grab Cole and consume him now, but he feared the poisoned blood Natalie had described. So instead, Dietrich would wait until no strength was left in Cole, then he could strike, free of the Rest-Bringers powers and able to put the mortal's blood to good use. Dietrich didn’t plan this act out of any malice, just simple pragmatism. If Cole was more useful as a blood-meal than as a warrior, then so be it. It wouldn’t be the first time Dietrich had consumed his mortal comrades in arms when the need arose.

Tearing through two Rattlers and preparing to go for a third, Dietrich didn’t even see what hit him. Something massive flew down the tunnel and smashed into him, knocking the Scarlet Knight off his feet. Armored fingers clawed at Dietrich, and he quickly pulled a Castle Guard off of him and crushed its skull. Pulling himself to his feet, Dietrich realized someone or something had thrown a fully armored Rattler at him. He just had enough time to realize this when a huge black shape barreled through the broken formation of Rattlers and charged him.

The attacking shape was a colossal rat, easily the size of a Brown Bear and with muscles more ursine than rodent. It smashed into Dietrich, and rows of needle-like teeth closed on the Vampires torso. Rolling with the impact, Dietrich fell, so his body weight slammed on the Giant Rats' head. It let out a shriek of pain, and Dietrich slashed its flank with his sword. Black blood matted the Giant Rats' fur and confirmed its identity. The Rat was a Vampire, one of the traitors taking on an animalistic form to attack him. Petar’s vanguard had softened up Cole and Dietrich; now, the main force had arrived.

Cole watched as Dietrich struggled with the transformed Vampire. Charging forward, Cole rammed his halberd into the Rat’s side and shoved. Between the two of them, they managed to knock the Vampire Rat off of Dietrich and put some holes in it. Before either of them could recover, the Rat lunged again, and this time it wasn’t alone. A hungry shadow shot down the hallway, a lean figure of taught muscles and sharp blades. Moving faster than Cole could see, it threw twin daggers into Dietrich's chest, each piercing an unused lung. The wiry frame of the Vampire came into view, wearing black leathers strewn with daggers and throwing knives. The Dagger Vampire lept towards Dietrich and rammed his blades deeper, driving them into the stone below. Impaling the Scarlet Knight like a collected insect.

Other shapes became clear in the tunnel's depths. More Castle Guards, accompanied by more sinister forms. Vampires ready to attack and rend both Cole and Dietrich apart. For his part, a furious Dietrich had gripped onto the Dagger Vampire, keeping the wiry monster from escaping. Dietrich spat something at his attacker, too quiet for Cole to hear.

The Dagger Vampire just laughed in response. “You are a relic, Dietrich. A stupid old tradition-bound relic. I may be a traitor, but that's better than being a fossil.”

In response, Dietrich tightened his grip on the Vampire's forearms, squeezing hard enough to crack bone. The Dagger Vampire hissed in pain and shook his head side to side, like a dog trying to throw off fleas. In the movement, the Vampire sent droplets of water flying with his moment, and something occurred to Cole.

The entire tunnel was damp; the steam of his attack had altered the humidity of their cramped confines. Water dripped from the walls and coated everything with an ugly slickness. Dropping his halberd, Cole fell to his knees and started one final gambit. Reaching into his soul, Cole found his divine power was mostly restored. The pieces of himself he’d ripped off to fight the Strigoi and Varcolac had healed. He could tap into his Paladin abilities. Still, he’d overtaxed himself earlier, and it would be a while before he could use any subtle powers. Which was perfectly okay for what he had planned.

Plunging his hands into the terrible mixture of water and viscera on the tunnel's floor, Cole called up as much of his soul as possible. He instantly felt light-headed as much of his imprint in the Aether was turned to this task. Cold dribbled from his hands, spreading out from his digits in a wave of entropy. With a slow exhale, a cloud of frozen fog billowed forth from Cole and towards the fighting Vampires. Caught up in their own struggle, none of them noticed the encroaching chill.

Blood froze, and frost started to form on the tunnel walls. It wasn’t enough; Cole let out another deep breath. The arctic mist doubled in size and started to roll forward. With careful rhythmic breaths, Cole poured his soul into this act of divine magic. The Cold of Entropy was unleashed in a wave of frozen death. Obscured by the fog, Cole couldn’t see the Vampires and their minions, but he could hear their startled shouts. Muffled by the mist, but still loud enough to carry surprise and rage to him. Cole let himself feel some grim satisfaction as another breath of ice poured forth. A fierce grin spread on the Paladin’s face as he felt the Cold spread out and seep into his enemies.

Sucking in a huge lungful of air, Cole breathed out one final storm of frost. Sitting on his hands and knees, he almost collapsed forwards as exhaustion hit him. A strange hollowness filled his being. The sense of a soul scraped down to near-nothingness. Blackness circled at Cole’s vision, and he fought against the urge to pass out. After a few shakey moments, Cole managed to look up from where he sat and saw his handiwork.

Not thirty centimeters from his face were the outstretched claws of a Vampire. A frozen Vampire, stuck in its final lunge towards him. Smiling weakly at that, Cole looked past his would-be-executioner and saw a tunnel of ice stretch out before him. Nearly a dozen Vampires hung in frozen limbo. With twice that many Castle Guards reduced to piles of bones and armor. The Cold of Entropy had been so intense it had snapped the spells animating the Guards, an application of this ability Cole had never seen before. Which made sense, as he’d never drawn this much power forth in a single act. This magic froze the mind, body, and soul. A natural extension of that was turning some magic brittle.

Sucking down air, trying to push the light-headedness away, Cole pulled himself up. Taking multiple tries to pull his near-frozen fingers from the icy ground. Grabbing his scavenged halberd from nearby, Cole set about finishing the job. He smashed the frozen Vampire that had almost reached him. Reducing the monster to a pile of frost-blackened gore. Moving to the next Vampire and then the next, Cole destroyed them all. Leaving only one.

Cole looked down at the frozen form of Dietrich and weighed his halberd between his hands. While he knew the purely logical action would be to kill the Scarlet Knight. Honor stayed Cole’s hand. He’d fought side by side with Dietrich and found the idea of killing the Vampire in his defenseless state distasteful. A few days ago, Cole would have killed Dietrich on the principle of being a Vampire. Now looking back at the tomb and the unconscious form of Natalie, Cole had to admit things had gotten more complicated.

While he didn’t know for sure, Cole was reasonably certain Dietrich would survive being thawed out. If and when that happened, Cole would deal with the Scarlet Knight then. Using his stolen halberd as a crutch, Cole stumbled towards the tunnel entrance. Taking it slowly not to stumble on the ice, Cole made his way into the tomb. Leaning against the mosaic wall, Cole took a better look at Natalie. He nearly dropped his halberd in surprise at what he saw.

When he’d glanced a moment ago, he’d thought she was sprawled back like he had left her. And she was, except she was now hovering nearly a meter off the ground. As Cole watched, the last withered remnants of Glockmire fell away from Natalie’s hands. The shriveled bones collapsed to ash. Cole started to hobble towards Natalie when movement caught his attention. A dark shape slithered into the tunnel. Spinning around and nearly falling in the process, Cole saw a stream of semi-liquid shadows covering the ice. A web of sticky, inky darkness that clung to the walls and floor. Darkness kept shifting, wriggling and twitching as something at its heart moved.

The core of this new horror moved closer. The tendrils of darkness slithering about, an entourage proclaiming the arrival of their lord. As the shadows moved, Cole realized they didn’t break any of the fine ice crystals covering the walls or move the bits of broken Vampire scattered around. They were insubstantial; no, they weren’t physical. Merely the representation of something a mortal mind couldn’t easily understand. As the heart of darkness entered the faint light of the tomb's glowstones, Cole understood what he was looking at.

This was the side effect of him using the Cold of Entropy. He’d pulled on so much divine power that the backwash was effecting his senses. Letting him glimpse the world as the Gods might. This particular time, it let him see the soul of the newcomer. Seeing it as the sticky, fetid web of darkness and creeping corruption it was. It let Cole see the soul of The Feeder in all its foulness.

Flanked by five Vampires on either side of him, each with souls nearly as twisted as his. Petar entered the tomb, a too-wide smile on his face. Raising his arms up like a proud showman, he proclaimed. “At last! My inheritance!”

Cole just hung his head in exhaustion. He’d used up everything he had in him, yet the threat wasn’t over. The Feeder had come to claim his prize and, with it, Natalie’s life. There was little Cole could do as a Paladin or as a Man. All that was left was to try as a monster. Pulling himself up tall, Cole reached down to his boot, where he kept his spare knife. Holding the blade in his hand, Cole looked at the short dagger. It was nothing special, not some precious relic or family heirloom. Just a piece of metal he’d picked up years ago from a merchant's cart. But it just might save Natalie and the entire world with it.

Petar looked at Cole and the dagger and actually laughed. “Is that all you have left? A piece of cheap steel?”

Cole just responded with a mocking smile, “By the way, I hear it, small knives are your bane Petar.”

Unconsciously, Petar raised a hand to his neck, where the silver-scarred flesh of Natalie’s attack was still visible. It would take years for the wound to completely heal, and even longer for Petar’s pride to recover. The usurper Vampire snarled at Cole in bitter anger. “I will strangle you with your own entrails, Rest-Bringer.”

At this point, weariness had taken its toll on Cole, and he cared little for anything resembling decorum of secrecy. “Better Vampires have tried Petar, and some even succeeded.”

Raising the dagger, Cole held it to the back of his neck and, almost as an afterthought, added, “Oh, and I’m not a true Rest-Bringer.”

Gingerly, Cole placed the blade into the sweet spot where the spine and skull met. Then before he could hesitate, Cole jammed the blade into his spinal cord. A scream, bloody and raw, exploded from his lungs as he died. Mixed in with his pain was relief, he’d done this correctly. If he had missed he wouldn’t have been killed but instead paralyzed. This was a dangerous gamble and one he saw no other option but to take. An injury like he just inflicted on himself was invariably and instantly lethal. For an Immortal, it did something very, very different.

Bruised flesh and frost-burnt skin healed instantly, over-taxed muscles were cleansed and strengthened. Cole died a hundred times over as his body tried and failed to heal from the injury. Each time his body was restored just a little bit more. Slowly regrowing nerves and cartilage dislodged the blade, spitting it out of Cole’s flesh. A shuddering, twitching Cole fell to his knees and screamed again. Years of experimentation and torture had taught him this little trick. A way to restore himself almost instantaneously. At the cost of experiencing more pain than a human mind could adequately understand. The feeling of every nerve in his body being sliced, regrown, and sliced again. Over and over until healing tissue pushed the blade free.

In the silence left after Cole’s scream, a shocked Petar asked, “What are you?”

Pulling himself back to his feet and lifting up his halberd to point at Petar, Cole proclaimed in a shaking voice. “I am the Homunculus Knight, I am the Paladin of Master Time, I am Cole the Deathless, and I am going to end this nightmare you started, Feeder!”

This time no derision met Cole’s words, just fearful silence. He’d unsettled the Vampires, shown them something they didn’t understand and couldn’t believe. Not long ago, Cole had proclaimed he would die as many times as he needed to. If it meant ensuring Natalie’s safety and the safety of the world. It was time for him to prove those words.

Twirling the halberd in still twitchy fingers, Cole leveled it at the Vampires and shouted for all the Gods and Monsters to hear.

“MAGNI! MORTAE! MUNDUS!”