The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 51: Souls and Shadows

“Your orders are simple. Leave one child alive and force them to look upon this scroll. Make sure they and no one else see the ophidian rune. Once that is done, record the date, time and location upon the scroll to the best of your ability. If the child was pulled from a hiding spot, return them; muddle their memories with a trauma spike and then depart.” - note from Lord Yezhov Arici.

Mina felt sick, worse than that, she felt violated. No… even that wasn’t sufficient, there weren’t words for what she’d done… what had been done to her. Lying on the floor staring at Alia’s unconscious form, the disgraced priestess tried to pray but the words wouldn’t come. She felt both unworthy of the sacred oaths and that their recipient didn’t deserve them. How could this have happened? How could she have been subverted so easily, so perfectly? Mina was trained to resist psychic attacks and mentally warded against a vampire’s influence. Even if she faced an elder Moroi, she shouldn’t have crumbled like that, there should have been at least a few moments of resistance… right?

Drowning in these thoughts, Mina turned her head to the refectory door as it creaked open. Yara had left when the sounds of battle stopped; seeking to know what fate had befallen both friend and foe. Staring up at the door, Mina didn’t know what to expect. Perhaps Cole bearing his halberd, prepared to strike a traitor's head off? Maybe a furious Natalie demanding to be let into Mina’s mind? Or would it be the leeches come to finish up loose ends? Mina almost wanted it to be a grinning monster ready to end her life and disgrace. Maybe then she could get answers from her God and then fade away into the cycle of souls. Instead, a stranger stepped through the doorway, Yara at his side. Of average height and with a lanky build the newcomer wore what seemed to be a cloak of chainmail. Squinting down with amber wolf eyes he asked Yara. “These them?”

The thrall nodded and the wolf blooded stranger grunted. “Let's get you all downstairs so Sunbeam can do her work.”

Confused and concerned, Mina tried to speak but the wolfblood interrupted while gesturing at Yara. “The redhead told me what you did. I don’t know what magic got into your skull, and bluntly that’s not my hunting ground. But I do know enough to be cautious around subverts like you. So keep your mouth shut and no sudden movements.”

Knife in hand, Yara spoke. “He’s come to help us, he and his…. his companion.”

Yara was even more jittery than normal, her body and mind wound tight by some unknown terror. Something about this companion of the wolfblood had the thrall unnerved. Swallowing down her own growing fear, Mina let herself be half-carried, half-helped down the stairs and into the tower’s bottom floor. The first thing Mina noticed was the smell, or lack of one. Gone was the stink of dead and dying troll, replaced by a crisp cleanness she associated with high summer. But all thoughts about the strange smell fell away as her eyes followed the warm light filling the once dark tower.

A petite woman with long golden hair knelt over a ruined corpse, her head and hands radiating sunlight. The horribly burned body leaned against a wall, bits of burnt skin sloughing off wherever the golden woman touched. As gilded fingers traced a horrible patch of melted skin, the corpse twitched and groaned. Only then did Mina recognize the faint blue-black of the body’s armor. Sucking in a breath of shock, Mina couldn’t believe Cole was still alive in that condition. She’d literally seen bodies pulled out of house fires that looked in better shape.

Mina’s surprise was knocked from her as she was not so gently placed on the ground. Her damaged legs forced a weak groan from her. Still bound, she could only watch as Cole’s healing progressed. Staring at horrible burns and oozing cuts was somehow a better option than letting herself look too much upon the golden healer. Mina knew what the woman was, and in place of the normal rapture she’d experience when faced with such a holy being, she felt nothing but shame and fear. For what could be worse than to a priestess then being found wanting by a living angel?

Pausing her work the golden woman let out a low sigh. “I’m sorry, the damage is… extreme. I’ll do what I can but even my power has limits.”

Somehow Cole was still conscious, and he grunted. “You’ve done plenty, see to the others.”

A single visible blue eye locked onto Mina and she shivered at the intensity of the Paladin’s gaze. Reluctantly turning from her patient, the golden woman looked upon Mina. Frowning at Mina’s bound legs, the healer approached the priestess. Recoiling slightly, Mina started to hyperventilate. Forcing herself not to meet the Seraphtouched’s eyes she muttered. “Please, I’m not worthy, I don’t deserve your help.”

Flinching as a gentle hand touched her head, Mina gasped slightly as the deep pain in her legs faded. Voice soft and warm, the Seraphtouched spoke. “You were very lucky. The bone itself is cracked, but the muscle is merely bruised, not crushed.”

Hand reaching for Mina’s damaged legs, the woman kept speaking as the pain receded, replaced by soothing heat. “I’m Deborah, and I’m here to help.”

Finally, forcing herself to look at the inhumanly perfect face of her healer, Mina asked. “Why?”

Smiling, showing flawlessly even teeth, Deborah said. “Because it is what I do. But more specifically, this cadre you are part of carries three things of incalculable value. Necessity forced the powers of Vindabon to send you forth cloaked in secrecy and misdirection; but those are not perfect defenses; so other protections were arranged. Why let you travel all this way by yourself, when others might meet you halfway?”

Glancing around the cavern, her smile fading into a somber expression Deborah added. “We’d hoped to catch you in Albareg or the mountain pass and escort you the rest of the way, but as always, plans change.”

An unconscious Alia and the dwarf scout Nokin were set down next to Mina by the wolfblood. Hand leaving her healing legs, Deborah turned her attention to the more grievously wounded. Fearing to look upon her girlfriend, Mina glanced around the tower and tried to discern more of what had happened. Of the crippled trolls only sun-bleached bones remained, their misery ended and remains cleansed by the Seraphblood. Kit was laid out on what had probably been a table once, his arms splayed and covered in golden marks. Even from here, Mina could see the terrible bruises and swelling where his hands had been crushed. Next to Cole was a cloak covering a vaguely humanoid shape that wasn’t breathing; Mina hoped it was Natalie, hiding from a Seraphblood’s light.

Something between a groan and a whimper escaped Alia, the sound driving a dagger of ice into Mina’s heart. Letting her head rest on the stone floor, she fought down tears. Facing Alia was beyond her, Mina couldn’t do that, she wouldn’t do that. Something moved out of the corner of her eye, and Mina realized Cole had shifted. Latching onto the distraction, she looked at the dying Paladin, wanting to say something, to offer some kind of support. She did not know what healing magics had been gifted him by Master Time and Isabelle, but she doubted it would be enough this time. Guilt rose in Mina like bile as she pulled herself towards Cole, her legs throbbing but no longer maimed.

Shakily, Cole reached one of his hands, to his belly, and only then did Mina see the burned hilt of a dagger sticking out from a morass of melted flesh. Feeling nauseous at the sight, a rarity for someone of her profession, Mina tried to speak. “I-I don’t know if we can-”

Cole interrupted her, his voice a wet growl. “I’d hoped to tell you and the others at a better time.”

Fingers wrapping around the dagger, Cole met Mina’s eyes. “Help Natalie, find Isabelle, wait for me.”

Then, before she could scramble forward enough to stop him, Paladin Cole ripped the knife clean of his belly. A shriek of horror escaped Mina as burned tissue parted and hints of intestines shone through the gaping wound. The knife clattered to the ground, and Mina desperately put her hands on Cole’s torn open gut. Trying to force what few sparks of her magic she had left into the Paladin, Mina moaned. “No! no! no! no! NO!”

A strong hand grabbed the scruff of Mina’s neck, and she was thrown against the wall. Breath knocked out from her, Mina blinked away stars as the wolfblood loomed above, hand wrapped around her neck. Nearby Deborah was trying to stop the flow of blood escaping Cole, her face set in a marble death mask. The fingers wrapping around Mina’s throat started to swell, gray fur growing upon them and fingernails becoming longer and sharper. Eyes locked on the werewolf strangling her, Mina tried to explain what happened.

Baring rapidly sharpening teeth, the werewolf swore. “Fire-and-iron! Don’t tell me we came all this way just to jag up at the end?”

Deborah spoke firmly. “Grettir, stop it, she’s no use to us dead.”

The pressure on Mina’s throat relaxed, and she desperately said. “He took the knife out himself! I tried to stop him!”

Yara, who was standing nearby, looking over Kit, snapped. “Just like how Isabelle possessed Natalie and betrayed us?”

Flinching at the cold iron in those words, Mina hesitated before saying. “No! I remember what happened. It's different!”

Coming to her feet, the hem of her dress stained red, Deborah looked down at Cole, the blood flowing from him had slowed to a trickle. A wave of icy terror filled Mina, as she desperately racked her mind, trying to find a way to prove she hadn’t done this. Hyperventilating, Mina watched the pool of blood around Cole stagnate. Eyes flicking up, she realized his chest had stopped moving. Cole was dead; he’d ripped the dagger free and bled to death. Now the blame for this new act of sabotage was being placed upon Mina’s neck, where it joined her other crimes in a tightening noose.

Grettir bound Mina’s hands together, and then tied her wrists to her ankles, forcing her into a painful, awkward stretch. Still she could watch as Deborah put slender hands on either side of Cole’s face, a whispering prayer escaping her lips. She was offering him the final rite, freeing his soul so it might join Master Time. Mina’s ears popped, and she flinched, as did the Seraphblood. Pulling her hands away, Deborah’s golden eyes were wide, a look of cautious uncertainty painted across perfect features.

Slowly taking a step back from Cole’s corpse as if it was some dangerous beast, she muttered. “It’s true, her visions were true. I’d thought it was a metaphor, but… his soul, what is it?”

Stalking towards the Paladin’s corpse, Grettir the Werewolf drew a long dagger from his belt. “You can’t be serious. She’s always talking in riddles and other bullshit. There's no way Jude would be completely literal about something like-”

Stopping mid stride, Grettir sucked in a deep breath. “Jagged edges… He’s dead! I smelled him die!”

A wet noise filled the tower, and Mina strained her neck trying to find the source. The sound was coming from Cole’s belly, where his exposed intestines were moving. Like disturbed snakes the innards were shifting, settling back into a proper configuration as melted skin sloughed off in foul flakes. Speaking quickly, Mina said. “His regeneration miracle, he wasn’t dead!”

Deborah glanced at Mina and then back at Cole. “What miracle? Do you sense the work of any God in this?”

Forcing her worn mind to peer into the Aether, Mina exhaled sharply. Cole was dead, she could see his soul and how it… Blinking rapidly, trying to decipher what her eyes were telling her, Mina whispered. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Trained in the Temple of Vindabon, Mina had studied scores of corpses in all the stages of death; she knew the slow processes of physical and metaphysical rot. Cole’s body and soul were not following any of the rules. Fresh tissue bloomed from burned flesh, scabbing over mortal wounds and shrinking them with every second. The pool of blood surrounding Cole started to grow again, bits of blackened, ruined meat floating in the slowly spreading crimson. But these grotesque sights weren’t what left Mina stunned; that was Cole’s soul. His essence did not strain for release, leaking bits of stray soul-stuff as it frantically tried to escape this facet of existence. Instead, his soul swelled with occult power, magic seeping out and into ruined flesh.

Focusing her senses, Mina caught the barest hints of something deep within Cole, a wellspring now tapped. Whatever flowed from that font was potent and profoundly wrong. Tasting of old death, smelling like lost memories and looking akin to a curse’s curdled essence; it dripped from Cole’s soul like dirty sponge water. The magic filled his body, settling in his guts and veins; where the spell, or curse, did its work. Sparks flickered in the Aether as new tissue and blood was… formed. It wasn’t simply healing magic; no, this was far more and far worse than any art Mina knew of. The body’s natural processes weren’t being coaxed or corrected; instead, bits of flesh and drops of ichor simply materialized. Conjured forth like a Magi’s fire and then woven into place following some intricate process Mina could barely sense.

Cole was being rebuilt, magical power converted into matter and used to fix what was broken. A curse, a run-away spell was twisting reality to fulfill its terrible purpose. The curse of vampirism turns blood into magic and then magic into matter; while the curse of Cole used another more potent and terrible substance in place of ichor. Mouth dry, Mina forced herself to say what fueled this regeneration. “Soul-stuff, he’s being rebuilt with soul-stuff.”

Deborah slowly nodded, the Seraphblood unwilling to take her eyes off Cole. “The Paladin… he is… filled with pieces of countless broken souls.”

Cautiously, Deborah approached Cole, stepping past her lupine bodyguard and placed a hand on the healing corpse. Pulling back like she’d been burned, the golden woman gasped and murmured. “He’s like a demon, bits of ruined souls cling to him, fill him.”

Turning to Mina, her eyes wide auric pools, Deborah asked. “What did your God bind to his will?”

Shaking her head slowly, Mina replied. “I don’t know, I knew he wasn’t normal but… but not this.”

Looking over at the pile of fabric that hid Natalie, Mina added. “If anyone knows, she does.”

Grettir pulled part of a stained cloak away exposing Natalie’s face. “Well, she’s not talking, any ideas on how to wake her up?”

Yara cleared her throat, pulling all attention to her. “I can do it.”

Deborah and Grettir looked at each other and then the wolf blood stepped aside. Approaching her mistress, Yara nicked one of her fingers and gently opened Natalie’s mouth. Fresh blood dripped into the vampire and she twitched. Frowning, Yara got closer to Natalie, her eyes locked on something the others couldn’t see. With a shocked gasp, the thrall pulled back, stumbling over the cracked ground, bloody hand clutched to her breast.

Animal panic radiated off Yara as she pointed at Natalie’s spasming form. “The black blood, it's spreading! That’s not her!”

Grettir yanked the covering off Natalie and swore. Lines of obsidian wormed through ivory skin, spreading out across exposed flesh. Natalie’s twitching grew more intense, her body practically vibrating with occult ataxia. Deborah took one look at Natalie and said. “Grettir! Stake her, now!”

Without hesitation, the werewolf drove his dagger into Natalie’s chest, ending the shakes and stopping the dark blood’s growth. But the lines of ink beneath Natalie’s skin did not retreat; they stayed like poison in dead flesh, no longer pumped further by a panicked heartbeat but left to seep deeper into tissue. Kneeling down beside Natalie, Deborah tentatively reached for the vampire’s neck, her delicate fingers hovering over a spot where something silver clashed with the black lines. “The stigma is fragile and drained.”

Touching the mark, Deborah sighed. “My power is not the right resonance. Only one empowered by Master Time can reinforce the seals.”

Joining her, Grettir asked. “Is this why your granny sent us here? If anyone could burn the Alukah in its crib, it would be you.”

Shaking her head, Deborah looked at the slowly reforming husk of Cole, and then Mina. “I think that’s the worst-case scenario, and not something any of us would survive. No, we are to be rescuers, not executioners.”

A wet noise stopped the conversation, and all eyes returned to Natalie. The knife in her breast was moving, slowly being pushed upwards, its sharp edge making a slick sound against parted flesh. Grettir reacted quickly, putting both hands on the dagger and pushing it back down. “Jagging hells! Do you have any ideas on what to do? Cause I’m pretty certain this is supposed to be impossible!”

Deborah moved towards Cole, doing her best to examine him without touching his ruined body. “We need a conduit to Master Time; and I don’t know if the… paladin will work.”

Approaching Mina, the Seraphblood placed a hand on the ropes binding her. Golden fire cut the sturdy hemp and Mina untensed sore muscles. Yara rushed forward. “Don’t! She’s betrayed us twice!”

Gripping Mina’s face and forcing her to make eye contact, Deborah said. “I’m aware, but desperate times require creative solutions.”

Mina felt herself being slowly pulled into the golden woman’s eyes. Leaning forward, unable to break contact with those auric orbs, Mina barely heard Deborah say. “Not long ago Master Time let Sister Sun see through one of his servants. Now she’s going to repay the favor and perhaps help us get some answers to all this.”

Vertigo filled Mina as she pitched forward, diving into the deep, deep darkness of Deborah’s pupils.

“Mommy! Mommy!” wailed the little girl as she watched a red pool seep beneath the door. Her world, once so simple and sweet, had been upended, turned into a place of screams, smoke and loss. Strong hands wrapped around the girl’s head, ending her cries. Struggling against the iron grip, she tried to scream as she was dragged away from the door.

A voice hoarse with yelling spoke rapidly. “Be quiet! It’s me.”

The girl’s older brother held her close, pulling them both towards an open trapdoor. Instead of relaxing into her sibling’s grip the girl fought harder, whimpering against his calloused hand. Not daring to speak in more than a ragged whisper, her brother hissed. “We can’t help her!”

Nearby, the kitchen door shook as something slammed into it, a wet, gurgling groan coming through the aged wood. The puddle of blood flowing through the sill was growing larger and larger, as whatever was beyond it bled and bashed against the locked door. Rhythmic blows fell upon the kitchen door, the hinges creaking as more and more dead weight crashed into it. Part of the wood cracked and a bruised hand missing two of its fingers pushed through the gap, questing out for living flesh. The girl screamed, her brother’s muffling arm turning the noise into a stifled wail.

Another part of the door broke, and a face pressed through, its lips and cheeks bitten off, fresh blood dripping down from snapping jaws. The girl tried not to look at the face; she tried not to remember who it belonged to, she tried not to think about how those missing lips once kissed her goodnight. More palid hands stained red and brown pushed through the widening cracks, scrabbling at the wood, tearing fingernails loose as they sought purchase.

The grip around the girl’s head changed and her brother reached under her armpits and hoisted her up. For a moment the girl was weightless and then she started to fall, thrown down into the cellar, landing on a stack of grain bags. Wind knocked from her, she blinked up at the dim light coming through the trapdoor, and her brother’s silhouette overhead. The sturdy wood of the cellar door creaked as the teenage boy pulled it down. Yelling to be heard over the growing banging and groans, Mina’s brother said. “The garlic! Use the garlic!”

Then with a mighty boom the trapdoor shut, and a metal lock clinked into place. Finding her breath, Mina could only stare into the perfect dark, listening to her heavy breathing and trying to ignore the sounds filtering in from above. Rolling off the bag of grain, Mina vomited onto the packed dirt floor, covering her ears to escape the scream and wet ripping noises. Salty tears mixed with acrid sick as she rocked back and forth trying to drown out the world.

Soon little red droplets rained down from above, falling through the tiniest imperfection in the cellar door, their steady drip drip filling Mina’s mind. The screams and other visceral noises ended then, replaced with the shuffling thumps of clumsy footfalls overhead. A loud crunch pulled Mina from her all-encompassing terror as something in the kitchen above broke. Terror gave way to the desperate need to survive and Mina crawled along the cellar floor, hands questing in the dark, remembering her brother’s last words.

Sucking in deep breaths, praying her nose would adapt to the stink of her vomit in time to help her find the garlic, Mina ran shaking fingers along sealed jars, hemp sacks and clay pots. Where was the garlic? Where had her daddy put it last? Pushing away memories of her father, of the tight smile he gave her before leaving, spear in hand; Mina knocked over containers, uncaring of the rattle and clatter as she searched. Then she heard movement, a faint rasping sound that summoned gooseflesh and made her freeze in place. The heavy stink of garlic filled the cellar but Mina barely noticed; her senses were focused on what lay in the nearby shadows. She wasn’t alone in the cellar, something else was in here with her.

Eyes wide, Mina forgot to breathe. That slow hissing rasp of the intruder was growing louder. The sound came from the cellar’s far corner but Mina couldn’t tell anything else about its origin. In the thick darkness, the little girl was blind to her hands on the ground, let alone whatever she shared the cellar with. Forcing herself to take a slow breath, Mina’s nose violently itched with the smell of garlic. A sneeze forced itself free, echoing through the cellar like thunder. Dread filled Mina’s veins as the rasping noise stopped and then sped up. It was getting closer, and in the split-second Mina had before it reached her, she finally recognized the sound. Scales were slithering along the cellar floor, a mighty serpent was moving in for the kill.

Flinching away from the snake’s hiss, Mina heard another noise, the rustle of feathers. Something shot through the dark right over her head and struck the snake. Pots fell over, containers rattled and a morass of spitting furious sounds filled the cellar. Blind as she was, Mina only get second hand impressions of feral violence. A snap of breaking bones ended the tumult as one of the combatants died.

Again, Mina felt the wind of wings and rustle of feathers. Taloned feet scratched on the cellar floor as a large bird moved through the darkness. Squinting her eyes, desperate to see the new impossibility, Mina realized the bird was glowing; becoming brighter with every second. Silver light edged its feathers like an eclipse’s corona and soon the cellar was bathed in cool illumination.

Sitting before Mina was a vulture, a dead snake clasped in between its talons. Speaking in a voice deep and strong as the mountain’s roots, the vulture said. “The definition of true evil is something of debate in the Heavens. Mother Earth and Aunt Seeress say true evil is when good ideas and good works are perverted to fell uses. While Brother Moon and Mistress Void consider the total absence of morality and compassion as true evil. Both make sense, but personally, I’ve always felt Uncle Maker’s theory has the most merit.”

Eyes like ancient stars fixed on Mina as the vulture elaborated. “True evil is not a corruption or absence of good; but when existing evil is improved upon. See, Uncle Maker argues such efforts speak not just to premeditation, but rumination and imagination. To take some act of depravity or unspeakable malice and find ways to do it more effectively? That speaks to an investment of the one true resource we all share, into not just hurting others, but doing so efficiently.”

Shaking its feathered head, the vulture continued. “To spend the only currency; my currency in such a way is… abominable. Across countless worlds and countless paths I see such transgressions. I do what I can to stop them, but even I am limited, just like any resource is. So all I can do in those places and periods where something slips past my sight and strength is offer an apology and aid.”

Stepping forward, adjusting large wings, the vulture cocked its head to the side. “But before I present them to you, I must ask a question. Mina, do you know what the one true resource is? Do you know who I am?”

The terror of childhood memories melted away like spring snow; freeing the broken woman trapped inside the frightened girl. Priestess Mina met her God’s gaze and answered him. “Time.”

As that word and truth hung in the still cellar air, Mina looked at the dead snake in Master Time’s talons. Neck broken by a raptor’s thrashing, the serpent lay still, its white scales and red eyes glinting in the diminished gloom. Too exhausted and too wounded to observe proper decorum, Mina asked. “What is it?”

Pecking at the dead snake Master Time said. “True evil. An act of malice, both subtle and complex. It’s been down here in this memory ever since the night your village died. Your dreams of being pulled from the cellar by dead hands aren’t just nightmares of what could have been, but blurred memories of what was. The vampire who attacked your home did capture you. He planted this serpent and twisted your memories ever so slightly before leaving you in this cellar. The snake is a wretched spell, a subtle and potent geas that hides where no one would look.”

Understanding grew in Mina’s shock-numbed mind. “Why… why didn’t anyone notice? Why didn’t you?”

Master Time, the strongest of the Gods, bowed his head to Mina. “The nature of our enemy and ourselves. I know that is a poor excuse, and I admit my failure readily. The Moroi who crafted this geas took advantage of great strength and weakness shared among the Pantheon. This spell, this hidden leash, was buried in the worst memory you have; one that already stunk of unliving malice. The geas was buried in your pain, hidden beneath layers of psychic scars. To even inspect that wound properly means pulling it open, forcing you to experience all those horrors anew. It is why we speak in this cellar; I’ve removed the geas, but at the cost of hurting one of my faithful. And even then, the damage is much reduced since the spell has already been activated and I am using a Seraphblood’s senses. If I were to dig it out from another unaware and unwarped by the spell, it might break their very mind.”

Teasing apart the deity’s words, Mina muttered. “You should have done it earlier. How many years have I served? How many times have I prayed to you? There have been so many chances to cut this out of me, and yet…?”

A somber silence filled the cellar for a moment, broken by a God’s apology. “I’m sorry; but I could not, would not do that. What sort of being rips open the mind of someone entrusted to them on a mere suspicion? What god worthy of devotion would vivisect their followers out of paranoia? How could I ask you to relive all that pain and undo years of healing to search for an infection I’d barely considered?”

Standing up so fast her head swam, Mina shouted. “It would be better than letting me betray my friends! I cracked my girlfriend’s skull! The Alukah was almost lost! Fuck! We were all almost lost! What’s a little suffering if it meant stopping that from happening?!”

Breathing heavily, stunned by what she’d done, Mina wilted as the focus of the divine pressed down upon her. “Everything, a little suffering, is everything. I could do as you say and dig into all of my worshippers, rifling through their worst moments and deepest thoughts to root out any hint of corruption or subversion. But how long would people believe in such a God? How quickly would faith turn to fear if all humankind existed with that blade dangling above them? To know at any time, for even the smallest reasons, the powers sworn to protect would violate them in the name of a greater good. How quickly do you think the Pantheon would be warped by the prayers of such abused faithful?”

Gesturing around wildly, Mina spat back. “Then once the geas was revealed, why didn’t you stop me? Natalie was only trapped because of me, because of the power you gifted!”

The vulture paused and then its voice became warmer, softer. “Because I had faith.”

Mina blinked in surprise. “What?”

Master Time stepped forward; his beak nearly touching Mina. “I had faith in who you are. I could have withdrawn my power, breaking my part of the vows sworn; but then you’d have lost the magic I’ve gifted. Natalie might have been freed a little earlier, but you would no longer be my priestess. Then what fate might have befallen Alia and everyone else? The lamia might have killed you right then and there. Even if Alia avenged your murder, she would have succumbed to her wounds. Two good lives would end and the strands of fate would settle into a crueler configuration. Instead of letting that possibility come to pass; I had faith in you, Mina. Faith that when the time came, you’d do what was right.”

Memories of holding Alia’s bleeding head in her hands, flashed through Mina’s mind. Of how she’d failed her duty in the name of love. Seeing what she remembered, Master Time said. “The irony is not lost on me. That in thinking you were betraying your faith, you were instead honoring my own. This is another thing I must apologize for; my warnings about Isabelle did more harm than good.”

Pulled from her own pain by mention of Isabelle, Mina sucked in a shaky breath, remembering the healing corpse waiting outside this divine dream. “Cole… what is he?”

The vulture looked up at the cellar ceiling, deep silver-rimmed eyes staring at something Mina couldn’t see. “Natalie is not the only monster I’ve brought into my fold. Cole is a homunculus, created by a brilliant if profoundly amoral Magi. He is immortal, truly immortal; in ways the vampires who covet and curse him can never be.”

Trying to process this information and how it fitted in with everything else, Mina hissed. “His soul, I saw what it does. How can you let something like that exist? He consumes souls to regenerate!”

Master Time nodded slowly. “Death is messy, even a cleanly released soul leaves parts of itself behind. Bits and pieces that usually fade away, becoming part of the great Aetheric currents. The curse that is Cole’s being collects those fragments, using them to grow and survive. I will not lie, it is a terrible power and could easily become something truly nightmarish if in the wrong hands. But fortunately for all of us, Isabelle created her numen a little too well. He is a cursed, unnatural creature unbeholden to my domain; who yet willingly serves me. I’m proud of him, and honored by his devotion; just as I am with yours Mina.”

The God of Death seemed to grow larger, his presence filling up the cellar more and more. “Which is why I come to you with a request. Not an order, or commandment, but a request you are free to ignore. After my failures and what has been done to you, I would release you from any obligations.”

Mina was still; thinking quietly about all that was said, and all that transpired. “You removed the geas from me, but what about the others? Surely I’m not alone in this… violation; you must have learned the details of it from elsewhere.”

More details fit together, and Mina said. “Crowbend! People like me were at Crowbend Castle. That is how you know about this.”

Nodding and staring down at the dead snake; Master Time explained. “Two of the mind-twisted were ruined before the defenders of that fortress determined the truth. Even with divine aid it took talented priests and shamans much effort to cut away the geas. You have been extraordinarily lucky; realizing the truth on your own and then having Deborah’s presence to help me has made this surgery as painless as it could be.”

Thinking of the noises her brother made as he died; Mina flinched. Large feathered wing stretched out, cloaking Mina in its protection. “Finding and fixing all of those subverted won’t be easy, even if we now know what to look for. But thankfully the strands of possibility are coming together in a more hopeful configuration. One of my requests involves aiding a potent ally uniquely… equipped to root out vampire corruption. Someone with the experience, talent, and understanding to bind these disparate serpents and cast them out.”

Mina could guess what Master Time meant. “Natalie, you want me to help Natalie.”

The vulture pulled its wing back and a silver-tipped feather fell down into Mina’s hand. “She is suffering. A force of evil infests her mind, pushing Natalie towards a breaking point. So as ever when good people are troubled by unclean spirits, a Priestess is required. Go forth, Mina and save your friend.”

Holding the feather, feeling the strength it conveyed to her; knowing she could now draw upon more of Master Time’s power; Mina nodded. “I’ll do it.”

The God before Mina bowed its head. “Thank you; truly.”

Squaring her shoulders, Mina asked. “And what is the second request?”

Around her the cellar faded, melting away into the Tenth Temple’s arch sanctum. The vulture grew and shifted; becoming something greater. Silver and sable wings bloomed from a heart of ice like feathered petals while an eye of obsidian gazed down upon Mina. “Help Cole rescue his creator, and stop her knowledge from spreading. The Homunculus Knight must stand alone; no others can be kin to him, or this world will fall.”

Swallowing down her growing rapture at the mass of holy power before her, Mina said. “I will do as you ask. Where do I begin?”

Voice becoming louder and more ineffable, Master Time proclaimed. “In Harmas! Where this war started and must end! Where powers both fell and unseelie gather among the restless dead!”