Chapter 8: A Drained Corpse

“We are creatures of blood and darkness. Never forget that. Our power comes from stolen blood and our survival depends on soothing darkness. We are Vampires, the Nocturnal Nobility, the heirs of an Empire. Know the truths of our kind and embrace them. Or die a true death under the Sun's hateful gaze.” Collected Words of Archduke Ferenc Drakovich

Trying not to gag, Natalie followed her chaperone in the direction of the smell. The makeshift mask helped some, but the smell was so thick she could practically feel it on her skin. Looking around the forest for any sign of the odor’s source, she noticed an odd-looking tree up ahead. It had been smashed apart, torn in half, and reduced to splinters. It was not alone. She saw another tree that was slightly uprooted, listing to the side like something had tried to push it over. On a closer look, Natalie saw what had to be claw marks on the trunk and realized something had, in fact, tried and nearly succeeded in capsizing the solid pine.

It was only a few more steps before Cole and Natalie entered the forest clearing. When Cole arrived here almost a week ago, it had been a serene meadow of mountain flowers and wild grass. Now it was a scene from a nightmare. Four hulking corpses were strewn around the clearing, each covered in black tarry blood and sporting hideous wounds. Pools of foul-smelling ichor spattered the meadow and killed any plant they touched. Whole patches of earth and stone were torn up. Salt and silver dust still formed a crude but now broken ring around the rocky outcrop at the center. The sunken boulder was covered in ash from a bonfire, with a familiar-looking pack sitting at the highest point of the rock.

Cole quickly ran up to the outcropping and picked up his pack. It was intact, and he let out a sigh of relief. While he’d told Natalie the magic he placed on it would protect its contents, he hadn’t been sure. Applying stable enchantments requires stable materials. It’s why gems and metal are so commonly used for it. The crude perception-blocking spell Cole had put on the canvas and leather bag was bound with a smear of his blood. Not exactly standard for any decent enchantment.

Fishing in the bag, Cole grabbed hold of what he was looking for. A fine silver chain and the pendant attached to it. It was the hourglass sigil of Master Time, the one mark of his faith that Cole kept. He had taken it off before facing the Vryko-Ghouls, not wanting to damage it in the fight. Gently Cole slipped the necklace on and then slung his pack over his free shoulder. With that settled, he turned back to Natalie.

She hadn’t moved; she simply stared around the clearing in horrified shock. The smell of the bodies, black blood, and twisted undead forms brought back horrible memories. Against her will, Natalie felt a sob start to rise in her chest. She tried to choke it back, but it was no use. She began to sob, not because of the ugly scene around her. That was more gut-wrenching than painful. She cried because of memories welling up, of death, destruction, and the terrible look in her Mother’s eyes when the Varcolac shut its jaws.

Hot salty tears flowed down her cheeks. Every sobbing breath sucking in more of the stink of offal and rot. Natalie dropped her head into her hands and wept, trying not to let her misery escalate into wails of grief. Her entire life Natalie had prided herself on her inner strength. Even as a child, when other youths would go crying to their parents for help, she’d try her hardest by herself. It was a point of confidence for Natalie, not falling apart when others did. Even in the wake of the undead attack, she had kept it together, helping distribute supplies and aiding others where she could. So to have that stoic resolve crack, to have it break, just drove the pain deeper.

Three years of repressed and buried grief flooded Natalie, triggered by the scene of horrors surrounding her. To her, it was incredibly stupid and weak to fall apart like this. Head buried in her hands, wracked by sobs, Natalie didn’t notice Cole approach. She flinched in surprise as his arms wrapped around her in a hug. Part of her wanted to step back, to glare daggers at him for presuming she needed his help. That part was drowned out by the simple joy that someone cared. Natalie didn’t know how long they stood like that, as tears flowed freely down her face, its beauty distorted by anguish. Eventually, the sobs stopped, Natalie whispered. “Thank you,” and broke his embrace.

Shakily, Natalie looked over the clearing and shuddered. It really was a grisly sight; the battle had not been a clean one. The Vyrko-Ghouls were each in multiple pieces, limbs scattered, two decapitated, another had its head pulped like a crushed gourd. Natalie was not an expert in war and death, but she was certain there were burns on some of the Undead. Turning back to Cole, she took a deep breath and spoke. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have fallen apart like that. What is next?”

Cole raised his hand in a gesture of refutation. “You have nothing to be sorry about. This is a terrible sight, even to one not burdened by memories such as yours. It is why I wanted to bring you with me, best to face these feelings now in relative safety. As for what is next, watch and keep an open mind Natalie.”

Shrugging both his and Natalie’s packs onto the ground. First, grabbing a pair of thick leather gloves, Cole then pulled his weapon from his belt and nicked his forearm with its blade. With a few murmured words, the axe grew into its halberd form, its back hook also stretching to a good twenty centimeters in length. Natalie gasped in surprise; she’d seen magic before but not like this. Cole paid her shock little heed and started his duties.

Gathering up the bodies was an ugly task, and Natalie had to turn away from it in disgust more than once. Cole used his gloved hands and his polearm to drag and leverage the corpses onto the rock in the clearing’s middle. Using the long beak hook to flip and turn the bodies like a woodsman moving logs. Eventually, after some effort, he had all four Vryko-Ghouls lying in a row on the rock. It didn’t take him long, and Cole didn’t seem at all tired by the effort. Natalie morbidly mused on how much practice he had in this sort of thing.

Putting down the Halberd, Cole moved over to the four bloated corpses and gingerly made final preparations. Making sure dead eyes were shut, and severed limbs lay where they should. The last act of respect for those who’d long suffered as hungry corpses. Returning to where Natalie stood, Cole removed his gore-stained gloves and rifled through his bag. Finding a small metal flask, he pulled it free and held it up. Natalie caught sight of what looked like a flowing script etched onto its side; she didn’t recognize the characters and couldn’t even guess what they said.

Taking the flask, Cole returned to the make-due resting place and unscrewed the dull metal cap of the container. The flask fit comfortably in Cole’s palm, but its mouth was strangely narrow. Natalie quickly realized why as she saw Cole carefully pour just a few drops over each of the bodies. Whatever this material was, it must be used sparingly. Satisfied with his work, Cole resealed the flask and returned to her. Grabbing Spark-Stone, he bought from Barnabas next. Cole glanced at Natalie and answered her unspoken question.

“Corpses don’t burn easily. It takes much to properly cremate a body. Sometimes speed and efficiency hold precedence over ritual. In those cases, I use Pyre Wine, something an Alchemist invented a few centuries back during the Second Sacred War. It reacts with rot and burns hot; reduces a body to ash quickly and cleanly.”

Moving back to the makeshift pyre, Cole focused his will on the Spark-Stone. A small bolt of fire shot from his palm and at the bodies. Little more than a flicker of sparks, but enough to ignite the Pyre Wine. White-hot flames erupted across the stone and swallowed up the Vryko-Ghouls’ bodies. The roar of the fire and the wash of heat jostled Natalie, making her take a step back. Cole paid it little mind, standing at the edge of the flames, staring into the fire. The sounds of the pyre were joined by a deep melodic chant as Cole started to sing. His voice echoing through the clearing, crystal clear even with the fire’s tumult. Natalie didn’t recognize the words of the language, but their meaning was still evident. It was a mourner’s lament, a song meant to honor the dead and wish them safe passage to another life, a crucial part of any Rite of Death.

Natalie watched what she realized was a funeral service from a distance. It felt strange to her, mourning these monsters. Creatures that would gladly glut themselves on living flesh. Destroying them made sense; turning it into a religious ceremony did not. She kept these thoughts to herself and watched Cole. He never stepped back, standing so close she feared his hair or cloak might catch flame.

The reason became apparent when the fire shifted. Its flames faltering and then exploding upward. Swirling into a blazing column like some inverted whirlpool of flame. Natalie swore she saw shapes in the fire, four silhouettes wrapped in fire and ash. Figures dancing at the edge of awareness, only detectable by the shifting of flames. Natalie blinked, and they were gone, and with them was a feeling of weight she’d not noticed. A moment later, the fire returned to normal and continued to burn, reducing the Vryko-Ghouls to ash.

Still, Cole did not leave his strange watch; he was looking for something, Natalie was now sure of it. Her mind was still processing what she just saw and was not prepared for what happened next. The fire turned oily and dark. Smoke billowing up in great black and green clouds. Now Cole turned to her, a stern look on his face. Whatever he had been searching for, he’d found it.

Returning to her, he picked up his pack and halberd. Natalie saw an expression on his face she did not recognize. It was hard to decipher under all the scars. But when she saw his hand gripping the halberd shaking, Natalie understood. He was angry; something had made him furious. There was a coldness in his eyes she had not seen before. This was not the rage she knew personally or witnessed in others. This was something darker, harder, with icy focus and cold steel. It sent a shiver up her spine, and with it came a realization.

Natalie saw it then, clad in the black cloak, wielding his great reaping blade, consumed by frozen wrath. She saw the Paladin of Death that had been tasked by a God to wage a one-man war against the darkness that might devour the World.

For some reason, that sight is what made it all real. Natalie had believed him when he told her what he was, but it had not felt real. She’d accompanied him and befriended him, not truly believing his claims. It seemed fantastical, something out of a story and unreal. The truth now slammed into her, and she shuddered. Natalie knew firsthand what terrible things lurked in the dark and that Cole had dedicated his life to fighting them. What a horrible fate to have, but she could not disagree that it must be done.

She watched as Cole collected himself, letting the anger slough off him. Approaching her, he spoke as he usually did, no hint of whatever turmoil had taken him. “The souls are free, and some of my questions have been answered. The Vryko-Ghouls were acting unusually. They should have already attacked Glockmire, with there being four of them and being that well-fed. Someone was controlling them, and I need to find out who.”

“The thick smoke and oily fire was a response to necromancy. Fire has many uses, including some magical. One I often use is that fire reacts to magic. How exactly it reacts can tell you much about the spells and spellweaver involved. Something was binding these poor Risen to its will. Nothing that does that can be good. We still have a few hours before we need to head back to Glockmire. I want to find the Vryko-Ghouls lair and investigate.”

With that, he set out, following the cold gnawing feeling in his gut. Natalie took a moment to drink in that information, then followed, grabbing her pack and organizing her thoughts. A few questions were first. “Why are you telling me this, Cole? And where are we going? Where is the lair?”

Cole stopped and seemed uncertain for a moment. He himself did not know why he shared this information with Natalie. She did not need the level of detail he provided, and he usually preferred to keep people at arm’s length. Realization suddenly struck, and he felt embarrassed. His reason was simple, he missed having someone to talk to, and Natalie was good company.

“I… want you to have context for my actions. So they do not confuse or frighten you. Natalie, you are following me into unknown territory, and ignorance will be no shield against any danger. That being said, I… I enjoy talking to you, and it’s been a long time since I’ve had that pleasure.”

As he said, this Cole gave her a smile she couldn’t classify as anything other than timid. It was surreal, this scarred and battle-tested hunter of the Undead acting like an awkward youth. Natalie mulled over his words and added to her picture of Cole. A contradictory man, confident in so many ways but uncomfortable in making small talk. It would almost be endearing if they were not currently out in the wilderness investigating hungry corpses.

Cole then pointed into the distance and continued speaking. “I can feel Master Time’s influence pulling me that way. A God’s aid is rarely straightforward or simple, but it should be enough to put us on the right path.”

With that explanation, he set off. Natalie quickly grabbed her pack up from where Cole had set it and followed after him. They left the clearing, leaving the smoking pyre behind and returning to the forest. As they walked, Cole would occasionally pause and reorient himself. It reminded Natalie of someone checking a map or compass. Except Cole used no navigational aid, he just shut his eyes and held still. After maybe three of these calibrations, Natalie had to ask, her curiosity getting the better of her. “So how exactly does this work? The whole “divine-communion” thing. When it happened to me, it felt like I was being choked and frozen to death at the same time.”

She left out the part of how it also felt like her entire self had been pulled apart, measured, judged, and found wanting. The physical symptoms of experiencing a God’s attention were bad enough, no need to dredge up the mental toll as well. Cole took a moment to plan his words. He had experienced the raw, crushing focus of a God many times, but it was different from the subtle pull Master Time used when guiding him.

“Natalie, What you experienced, could best be described as your soul being put under intense pressure. A flicker of a God’s focus is enough to nearly crush something delicate like a Soul. Forgive me if this question is rude, but do you know what a Soul is?”

Now, this was an opportunity for Natalie to embarrass herself. Years of Temple services and her own reading had given her a concept of what exactly a Soul is. Still, that knowledge probably paled in comparison to an actual Paladin’s understanding.

“I think so; it’s part of how the Beyond connects to the World, right? The Beyond is the realm of Gods, Spirits, and it is composed of raw magic. Then the Aether is where the Beyond and the World overlap, infusing magic into everything. While a Soul is magic infused into a living being. It is technically part of the Aether, but different from the natural currents of magic that make up most of the Aether. At least that’s what I have learned; how accurate am I?”

Cole gave Natalie an amused look, and she couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing. “Your answer is remarkably accurate. While any Magi would tear into that description for a dozen myopic reasons. It’s impressive for someone of your background.”

Natalie decided to take the compliment and let Cole continue speaking. “A Soul is the intrinsic magic bound up in a being's life. Like everything else in the Aether, it reflects the World and effects it. They are the magical essence of a being and change depending on the being’s status. Vibrant, healthy, happy individuals will have robust, powerful Souls. Protecting them from some magical dangers, attracting friendly spirits, and even enhancing some types of magic. The opposite is true; a weak soul can be just as debilitating as a wounded body. I’m sure you have seen what that looks like. Pain and suffering wearing a person down to a husk of what they once were.”

The lecture on Souls was a bit of a surprise to Natalie. She’d heard Priests speak of similar things but with much more grandiose and mysterious airs. Not like Cole did; he talked like some Scholar discussing a favored topic. It was interesting though, and kept her mind off memories of the Varcolac or Vryko-Ghouls.

“The magic of a Soul is potent and somewhat unique. Part of that uniqueness is a protection from external control. A Soul cannot be permanently altered or taken without its owner’s consent. While some spirits feed on what Magi call “Mind/Soul discharge,” better known as Emotions. Nothing can actually get into your Soul and do things to it without you giving consent. I’m sure you have heard stories of people selling their souls to Demons or Fae. This is where those legends come from. Poor desperate fools offering up their very essence in a deal they most likely don’t fully understand.”

Natalie had indeed heard stories like that. Every child in Glockmire was taught from an early age what dangers to avoid. While the stories of silver-tongued Sidhe and talking shadows summoned at a Crossroads had not been as prominent as the tales of Ghouls and Werewolves, Natalie remembered them. Again, the topic was interesting, but Natalie started to wonder if Cole had gotten so wrapped up in the joy of speaking to someone he had forgotten her question.

He had not, actually. Cole rarely shared his knowledge with others, but it was a secret pleasure of his. He’d once been a social man who talked the nights away on myriad topics. While that had been a lifetime ago, and much had changed, maybe not as much as Cole had thought. Talking with Natalie, he found mental walls erected after a decade of lonely duty starting to break. Where only a few days ago Cole would have deflected or outright ignored Natalie’s questions, now he wanted to provide context and understanding.

“Now the Gods are bound by the same rules of other darker Entities. It’s why the Rites of Birth and Youth are so important. The Rite of Birth gives children the unconditional protection of the Gods, and the Rite of Youth offers that protection as part of the Covenant. Without it, the Gods would not be able to help Souls reincarnate or ascend. By the standards of deals involving Souls, the Rites are practically nothing. The Rite of Death, where a Soul is released into the Beyond, does not even require a God’s influence to work properly. Things get more complicated with Priests and Paladins. We open ourselves up to a God, and they change our souls. Adding some of their power and essence to it. It’s where Blessings and Miracles come from. When a Priest talks about “opening up your soul to the Gods,” they are being quite literal.”

Now finally, Natalie spoke up. “This is interesting, but I was asking what it feels like and what it does, not the mysteries behind it.”

Awkward silence took the place of Cole’s lecture, and he made a slight cough before continuing. “I was going to get to that, but I did get away from myself. My apologies for being so verbose.”

Natalie snorted and gave Cole a playful push on the shoulder. “Don’t apologize; the silent, stoic routine gets boring quickly. I’ve talked so many people’s ears off; it’s only fair it happens to me now and then. Anyway, I wasn’t just trying to be polite. This is interesting; please continue.”

The timid smile that Natalie had never expected him capable of crossed Cole’s face. “Well then,” he continued, “Master Time put a small piece of his power into my Soul with my consent. It grants me a few abilities useful for my duties and lets Him guide me slightly.”

Absently, Cole put a hand on his torso, right where the cold empty feeling was. “It’s like that piece of my Soul, that is mixed with him, is being pulled on. Tugging at me, guiding me in the direction I need to go. I just follow the hollow inside me, and it takes me where I must go.”

Glancing around him, Cole continued but spoke quietly. “It’s not much use for delicate things. The Pull won’t guide me out of a maze, but it will point me towards the right town. I have to do the rest myself, like now.”

Cole took a few deep breaths, and Natalie watched his stance change. He seemed to loosen up and grow taught at the same time. She was reminded of Stockings preparing to hunt a Mouse. Natalie reacted quickly, ducking down and glancing around. After a few more inhales through his nose, Cole whispered.

“We are close to the Lair. I can smell death, both old and new.” With the Halberd still firmly gripped in one hand, Cole reached into his pack and pulled out a small drawstring bag. He tossed it to Natalie before speaking. “The powder in that bag is a mix of silver and salt. Anything unholy will burn on contact with it. I don’t expect you will need to use it, but it’s better to be prepared.”

Natalie looked at the bag, peeked inside, and ran the powder between her fingers. She looked at Cole and idly wished she had a nice sharp weapon like his Halberd. Still, she understood, this bag was not a weapon. It was meant for buying time to run or hide. Clutching it close, she followed Cole as he tracked the scent. They had walked maybe fifty meters before she also smelled it. The sweet stink of decay mixed with the musty odor of rot. Hurriedly wrapping her cloak over her face, Natalie followed Cole as he stalked towards the smell’s origin.

It didn’t take them long to find it. The forest gave way to a rocky slope and the entrance of a cave set into the stone. Natalie could see what looked to be bones piled up by the cave entrance, and she had little doubt where the smell was coming from. Cole glanced around and moved over to a small scattering of rocks near the entrance. His trained eyes scanned the stone and found what he had expected the moment he saw the cave. Distinct scratches on the stone.

Undead by their nature are bound to their death. Returning to the site of their death by some false instinct born of the twisted magic animating them. Vryko-Ghouls, like many other types of unintelligent Undead, make lairs of where they died. Lair might not be the most accurate word, implying a level of intelligence and planning absent in the Vrykos. This was their grave and where they returned between feedings.

The broken stone, unstable-looking slope, and the cave let Cole understand the tragic story of the Vryko-Ghouls. A family of four lost out in the wild takes shelter in a natural cave. A rockfall traps them inside by poor luck or accident, and starvation or the elements kill them. All four trapped bodies rise as Vryko-Ghouls, and their newfound strength is enough to escape

this accidental tomb. It was a tragedy, and Cole felt his hurt twinge in sadness. The fact he released this poor family from their suffering was a small comfort.

A startled shriek pulled Cole from his investigation, and he ran towards Natalie. Gripping his halberd, ready to drive it into an attacker, Cole found his companion on the ground nearby. She was pointing at something hidden between two of the larger rocks and trying to calm herself with deep breaths. Where she pointed was a fresh corpse. Lying on its back, face and glassy eyes staring up at the sky. A look of mortified horror was plastered on Natalie’s face. Cole quickly realized her reaction was more than simple surprise; she knew who the body was.

Fighting through the initial shock, Natalie found her voice. “That’s Felix, he’s from Glockmire, was from Glockmire. The Lord’s guards took him maybe a week ago.” On uncertain feet, Natalie stood up and looked closer at the body, fighting off the fear and revulsion flowing through her. She’d broken down enough for one day. This was not the first time she’d seen the body of someone she knew. It rattled her, but Natalie was adapting. She’d seen the body’s face first by sheer accident. Now she had time to look over what remained of Felix. He was naked and gaunt like he’d been starved. But that was not what drew Natalie’s attention. It was the pattern of cuts around his neck and wrists. He’d been fed upon by Vampires. Felix had been eaten alive by the blood-drinking nobility of Glockmire.

Natalie looked to Cole, catching him tracing his neck and the scars it held. Cole quickly pulled his hand away, but Natalie had seen the motion. Gritting his teeth, Cole approached the body and started to examine it. Natalie took the opportunity to step back. As he began to flip the corpse, Cole asked. “Tell me everything you know about his death.”

His tone was curt and businesslike, lacking its usual gentle politeness. Natalie fought down more shivers and answered. “It was the day after you arrived, I think. He got into an argument with another man, and it escalated badly. Felix shed blood in violence, which is against the Lord’s laws. So the Castle Guards tracked him down and dragged Felix to the Castle. I don’t know exactly how they found him, but there’s magic in the town that lets the Nobles know when blood is violently spilled.”

Cole raised an eyebrow at her detailed description. Natalie answered his question before he could ask. The stress of the situation robbing her of any joy in reversing that dynamic with Cole. “I saw it happen. Felix was never that great of a man, but it was an accident or at least a stupid mistake. He didn’t deserve this.”

Returning the body to its original position, Cole muttered to himself. “No one ever does.” Taking a deep breath, Cole loomed over the corpse and looked into its vacant glassy eyes. After a second, a sharp pain hit Cole. It felt like his eyes were being dunked in ice water. Blackness followed it, and then a vision. Flickers of hungry shadows, beautiful corpses, and animal-panic filled Cole’s mind. He was looking through a dead man’s eyes and watching his last moments.

At times like this, Cole found himself mildly envious of other Paladins whose Gods granted kinder blessings. Master Time gifted what he deemed practical for his servants. The ability to look into the recently deceased eyes and see their death was one of them. Cole had read in an old tome of Paladin-lore gifted by a thankful Scholar; that this ability was called Corpse Sight. An overly dramatic name, but an accurate one.

The images he pulled from Felix’s eyes were neither clear nor pleasant. They did, however, confirm and elaborate on Natalie’s story. Felix had been kept in a dark cell somewhere cold, probably underground. Where he was visited by at least a dozen Vampires, who took turns drinking him to death. The last sight the poor man saw was ruby lips and sharp fangs stained with his blood descending for a parody of a kiss. He’d been devoured alive, and now his body lay discarded like refuse.

Cole pulled himself from the visions and blinked away the horrible sights. He snarled in a mixture of pain and rage, pulling away from the body and shocking Natalie. Who had been watching this whole ordeal with confusion? It had only lasted a few seconds, but even with no magical training, she could sense that something arcane was happening. Natalie watched Cole cover his eyes and sit for a second, it was the most distressed she had seen him. Only the fear and intensity he’d shown when his Skull was involved matched this.

After a moment, Cole let out a low groan of pain and returned to the Corpse. With bare hands, he opened Felix’s mouth and reached inside. Gently Cole plucked something out of the dead man’s mouth and dropped it on the ground. To Natalie, it looked like a small black teardrop. After the surprisingly rough act of extracting whatever he’d found. Cole shut Felix’s eyes and mouth, then set the man’s arms at his sides.

Reaching down, Cole picked up the black droplet and held it out between fingers. After a second, he crushed it into powder and threw it into the air. The fine black dust erupted into a flash of fire and was gone. Looking back at Natalie, a mixture of sadness and anger on his face. Cole asked: “Does Felix have any family in Glockmire?”

Natalie nodded in affirmative and asked. “What was all of that? What just happened?” Cole did not answer, giving her an appraising look. It was cold, with a level of judgement and analysis Natalie hadn’t seen from him before. After a second, Cole did respond. “I think involving you in this was a mistake. I will still honor my oath to free the Varcolac, but you will not accompany me.”

To that, Natalie scoffed and crossed her arms in indignation. “Why? What did you just learn, Cole? I’ve followed you and trusted you, and if I’m not mistaken, you’ve done the same with me. What is the problem?”

Glancing down at Felix’s body and up at the cave, Cole weighed his words carefully. The walls he’d let slip around Natalie had returned, and his distant aloofness had returned. “Barnabas, the Merchant. He seemed quite concerned about your well-being, and I promised him I’d not bring you any trouble. I have already failed in that regard, but now the danger is beyond anything I can hope to protect you from.”

“Natalie, you are intelligent and a survivor. I’m not underestimating or dismissing your abilities. Remember, I was willing to take you when I free the Varcolac. Even in that situation, I would be confident I could keep you safe. That is not the case anymore. I trust you will fit together the pieces and understand my logic.”

The start of a good argument died on Natalie’s lips as she mulled over those words. Damn, did she hate his knack for ending a debate before it began. She didn’t think Cole was lying to her, and she seriously doubted he was misinterpreting whatever secrets he’d uncovered. Whatever had occurred was beyond her scope. To Natalie, the Varcolac seemed to be the ultimate monster; Cole treated that lupine horror like a relatively minor threat. For him to be unnerved meant this was bad.

She faced Cole and started to speak. Natalie didn’t want to agree with Cole, but she couldn’t make an argument other than sheer stubbornness. Then she noticed something, Cole wouldn’t meet her eyes. So far, he’d unfailingly met her eyes when they spoke. Amber and pale blue mirroring each other. Now he looked away and held a solemn expression. One she’d first seen when he’d first deduced her mother’s death.

A cold feeling rippled across Natalie like she had walked through a curtain of nearly frozen mountain water. It forced a breath from her, and Natalie felt the now familiar shiver of a God’s attention. This time it was not a crushing weight, more like a gentle but firm push. A push that edged an instinctual thought towards the surface. It was just a flicker of an idea with practically no evidence supporting it, but with the push, it was enough to get her to voice it.

“Cole, you know who was controlling the Vryko-Ghouls, don’t you? It’s someone in Glockmire, isn’t it?”

Still, he refused to meet her eyes, a frown of concentration on his marked face. That was enough confirmation for Natalie. So she continued the chain of logic springing from her initial deduction.

“I don’t know anything about Necromancy, but I can guess controlling a monster like that, let alone four of them, would be difficult. Requiring power and skill you’d only find in one place in Glockmire. The Vampires are involved with this. They were controlling the Vryko-Ghouls.”

Cole let out a sad-sounding sigh and finally looked into her eyes. “That is most likely correct. Can you understand why I do not wish to involve you in this any further? For all its strength and hunger, a Varcolac is little more than feral instinct powered by dark magic. Vampires are on an entirely different level of danger. The wisdom, knowledge, and malice that can be accumulated over centuries of unlife is staggering, Natalie. The nobility of the Blood Duchies are some of the most ruthless and cruel beings to exist in our World. I cannot with good conscience pull you into their dealings.”

Natalie felt a flash of anger course through her. With an accusing finger, she pointed at the drained husk of Felix and almost shouted. “I am already involved! This poor stupid man was one of my neighbors, part of my community. My home is ruled over by bloodsucking horrors looking for any excuse to devour or do worse to people. You can’t expect me to go back to my life with the knowledge that the “Nobles” are engaged in some horrible scheme and act like everything’s normal!”

To her extreme annoyance, Cole actually laughed at that. He caught himself and looked abashed, but he’d still snorted in derision at her statement. Regaining his composure, he met her eyes with a cool hard glare. He wasn’t angry, or annoyed, simply serious.

“Horrible schemes make up everything the Vampires do. Every action over centuries of unlife plays a part in a constant contest of influence and power. Your entire life, you have been surrounded by plots and plans like this. Glockmire, and every other settlement with Vampire rulers, is a web of conspiracy and cruelty that its people are usually lucky not to notice.”

Reaching down and touching his necklace and the pendant on it, Cole continued. “I do not know what comes next, except that I have been tasked to disrupt some of those schemes, it seems. No matter what happens, the wrath of some of those Vampires will fall on me. And I cannot let the ripples of my actions hurt people like you. Natalie, you have a good life ahead of you, even in a place like Glockmire. You being ruined because of my duties is not something I want to haunt me.”

They stood in silence, only broken by the rustling of leaves and the call of distant birds. Despite the somber mood, Cole smiled to himself. With the Vryko-Ghouls destroyed, the actual inhabitants of this forest felt safe again. Natalie was lost in her own thoughts. As much as she wanted to argue and push Cole on this, that was not where her mind went. Natalie had made up her mind. She’d leave Glockmire; it would not be where she spent her days. Living as comfortable livestock, helpless to the whims of mercurial predators, trapped in a web of schemes she’d never even considered. Glockmire was no place to live. Survive maybe, but not a place to thrive.

Letting out a defeated sigh, Natalie looked up at the sky and felt suddenly tired. So much of her energy had been wrapped up in grief, thoughts of vengeance, and this whole ordeal with Cole. Having it come to such an unsatisfying conclusion, one she couldn’t even dispute, felt hollow and depressing. As clouds drifted overhead, scraping the rounded peaks of nearby mountains, Natalie found a silver lining in finally coming to a decision. Leaving Glockmire would be difficult; saying goodbye to her father would be heartbreaking, but she couldn’t stay. Cole had opened her eyes by sheer accident, forcing her to see truths she and every other citizen of Glockmire were trained to ignore. Natalie would leave and find a place in the World where fear and danger might not be ever-present.

“Fine, I don't like it, but I understand. Are we heading back to Glockmire, or is there something else?” Natalie asked dejectedly.

Cole looked to the small cave that had been the Vryko-Ghouls’ tomb and the body of Felix. On some level, he felt terrible for hurting Natalie like this, and he would miss her company. But a greater part of him knew this was best to keep her safe. That was his duty after all. Putting to rest unquiet dead and protecting the living from their dangers. This was the right decision. He just hoped she was not already too involved.

“I need to do a few things, then we will return. I must ensure this never happens again, and then we will take Felix back to Glockmire. His kin deserve closure and a proper Death Rite. “as he said that, Cole moved towards the cave entrance.

Calling it a cave was a bit of an exaggeration, more of a nook in the rock. The opening was barely large enough for a Vryko-Ghoul to squeeze through. And sure enough, when he checked, Cole found patches of dried ichor and rotting skin on some of the rock where the largest of the Ghouls must have scrapped itself with every entrance or exit. The Sun’s rays barely entered the cave, but it was enough for Cole to see. Piles of broken bones and mounds of rotten offal covered the cave floor. With his halberd, Cole poked at one of the piles and saw what he was looking for.

Tattered remnants of cloth. People had been eaten by the Vrykos, most likely fed to them like Felix was meant to be. This could spell problems. The utter destruction of a Corpse could do much to prevent an Undead, but it was not an actual guarantee. He would have to ensure whoever those clothes had belonged to was at rest. Animal bones and fur were mixed in with the refuse, but that was not a concern. Animals rarely Rise as natural undead, their souls easily separating from dead flesh. Some Priests believe the lack of divine protection was the cause; Cole thought it probably had more to do with a lack of ego and sapience. Only intelligent Beings, it seems, hold onto their bodies with such intensity.

The study of the creation of Undead, both through natural or artificial processes, is a complicated subject, and Cole’s practical knowledge had more to do with the destruction of Undead than their creation. Still, he knew more than enough to ensure that none of the Vryko-Ghoul’s victims would be trapped. Leaving the cave, Cole set his halberd down and placed both hands on either side of the opening. Bowing his head, he started to pray.

A long practiced hymn of consecration and protection flowed from his lips. Cole sang it like all his prayers in Saint-Speech, the language taught to mortals by the Gods when they first arrived in the World. All words have power, but more so when spoken in that hallowed tongue. With his prayer, Cole channeled that little bit of power invested in him by Master Time. Reaching down to the cold spot in his soul, where a bit of Entropy itself had become part of him.

Pulling up that power, he felt a chill spread through his limbs, into his hands, and finally into the stone of the cave. It was not painful like some might expect; this was a crisp, clean, cold, that flushed the skin and shocked the nerves. A touch of death invigorating life. The power passed into the stone and flowed through the cave. Severing any lingering spiritual attachments and bringing a bit of divine purity to such a cursed place. It was nothing compared to the power invested in a truly consecrated place like a Temple or shrine, but it was enough.

Gasping slightly, Cole stepped back. He had invested a small piece of his very soul into this endeavor. He would heal, most spiritual wounds can, but his connection to a God would accelerate the process. IN a few hours, his soul would be restored and actually be infinitesimally stronger for the effort. The spiritual danger of the cave was erased, now the physical danger. The rockfall which doomed that poor family could happen again. Cole would need to shut the cave.

Returning to his halberd, Cole focused his thoughts. Pouring his focus into the spell he intended to cast, he prepared his source of power. Using the halberd's blade, Cole made cuts into his palms. Wincing at the pain but accepting it as necessary. With blood trickling down his hands, Cole returned to the cave entrance and placed his bloody palms onto the stone. Under his breath he whispered “Stained Stone comes apart with a mighty Groan” and then small rivulets of blood flowed out across the rock. A dozen tiny serpents of crimson slithering towards cracks and fissures. Each line of blood found an entrance and slipt inside. Any flaw or weakness within the stone was detected and exploited. Soon traces of the red fluid were smeared into every imperfection in the rock.

Now came time for Cole to complete the spell. A final push of focus and last splatter of blood did it. As one, every drop of his red ichor instantly super-heated. Stone cracked and split under the stress. Cole stepped back and disconnected from the boiling blood just in time for the cave to collapse. Grabbing his weapon, the Paladin moved back towards Natalie and Felix’s body. Avoiding any debris as the rocky slope settled into a new shape. Panting slightly, Cole slumped against the halberd, using its shaft to prop himself up. He’d used both of his forms of magical power in quick succession. Taxing mind, body, and soul. But it was worth it to put an end to the tragedy of the Vryko-Ghouls; besides he’d heal quickly.

Natalie had silently watched the whole ordeal with morbid fascination. She’d considered asking Cole what he was doing probably a dozen times but figured he needed to concentrate. By the end, when the worming trails of blood had erupted into red steam, she decided maybe a little ignorance was acceptable. As Cole rummaged through his pack and pulled out bandages for his hands, she broke the silence tentatively.

“Are….are you alright? I’ve never seen magic like that before. It looked...painful?” As he wrapped his bleeding palms, Cole let out a half-hearted chuckle. “It can be, but I am alright. Just a little bit tired from the effort, but I’ll be okay.”

Looking back at the now-collapsed cave and the veins of black scorch marks that covered the rock. Natalie shivered. In her experience, magic was a colorful, vibrant thing. Fireworks that followed the direction of Glockmires alchemist. Pools of muddy water turned pure and soothing by a Priests calm words. That sort of thing. She’d gotten a glimpse at Coles magic earlier when he’d turned his axe into a polearm. Now with a better view of it, Natalie found it deeply unsettling. There was something primal and vicious to this “blood magic.” The doubts and worries she’d had about getting involved with Cole were returning. Curiosity and a desire for vengeance losing to a well-honed sense of caution.

Fully bandaged, Cole slipt on his leather gloves and grabbed Felix. Lifting the corpse over one shoulder with ease. After a moment of adjusting the dead weight, he started to head out, using his halberd as a walking staff, seemingly untroubled by the weight of his pack and the dead body. Taking a moment to check her own pack, Natalie followed after him and tried not to look at the drained corpse slung on Cole’s shoulders. They walked in silence, only stopping for Cole to occasionally get his bearings. After maybe an hour of walking, Natalie asked.

“You know bringing Felix back to Glockmire will cause problems. The Vampires left his body to feed Vryko-Ghoul, right? They probably won’t take kindly to us showing up with the corpse of a dead criminal and knowledge of their schemes.”

Cole glanced at her and responded. “Yes, it will provoke quite a stir, I believe, which is why we are going to be arriving separately. Once we get to the road, you will head back to town by yourself. I’ll wait a few hours and arrive separately. With a little luck, I will be the focus of everyone’s attention, so you leaving to pick mushrooms for a few hours will not be suspicious.”

Natalie scoffed to herself and mouthed, “pick mushrooms” Just before she could voice any mockery to the idea Cole pointed at a tree not five meters away. Sure enough, a few mushrooms were nestled among its roots. Cole smiled at her surprise.

“I noticed them earlier, figured they might prove useful. I don’t think any of them are poisonous, and they’ll corroborate your story if anyone asks what you were doing beyond the gates.”

So they paused while Natalie picked the mushrooms. She was no expert and didn’t find Cole’s vague assurances that they weren’t poisonous, very assuring. She’d get them checked by town’s Apothecary before letting her father use them in his cooking. When Cole saw that she had the mushrooms stowed away he heaved Felix onto his shoulders and they continued their trek towards Glockmire, carrying a bounty of questionable mushrooms and a drained human corpse.