The stench of decay had accompanied me since my earliest childhood. It was the first odor I had ever known, the first to make me sick. I remembered the days in Vileblood when my father returned from his excursions, his face exhausted yet still smiling endlessly at his foolishly admiring young son—at me. I remembered that nauseating smell, which never seemed to turn his stomach while mine threatened to cast up even my entrails.

I had grown up in Vileblood, where entrails covered the ramparts and the corpses were so numerous that we could no longer dispose of them. I had learned to survive without vomiting whatever little food I had managed to swallow. I had grown accustomed to that pestilence until I could barely smell it anymore, yet I knew I would never forget the overpowering reek that had burned my throat today. I had known how to withstand one legion, but I also knew that all the legions still to come would eventually tear away everything I held dear.

As I cut through the bloodfeasts, amid their putrid blood and spilled entrails, I watched my companions fight in vain. None of them would last. Lost within the forests of Blood, traveling toward a senseless purpose and an uncertain destination, everything was different. My companions were unlike the members of my former Triads. Pero was only a child; Beret was a man so honest that it turned my heart inside out; Fratera had cared for me when I first became Duke; Selene was my first passion.

Before beginning this journey, I had known that they might not return alive, yet faced with the certainty of it, my body trembled and my blows weakened. It was then, amid that bloody chaos, that I understood I did not want this. I could not accept it. And so, with my heart in agony as I watched them struggle—even though I knew our God did not interfere in our earthly affairs—I prayed to Him.

“God Rodel, come to our aid.”

Though I was called His Vicar, I knew that all the prayers in the world would not compel Him to act. In my deepest despair, I begged His son, the creator of the discord ravaging Blood:

“Please, Od, if you desire my arrival so greatly, do not allow the Dukes to perish here. I, Anela, Bloody Vicar, promise to listen to you.”

Anyone hearing me within the duchies would have cried blasphemy, believing that I was praying to that unholy god. Yet I was not praying to him. I was not renouncing my faith or my love for Rodel, nor even my intention to sever Od’s head. I was merely placing everyone’s survival first. When the image of Luna, the monarch, returned to my mind, I raised my head toward the trees and searched for her in vain. Perhaps she had been there, but… then I remembered the monarchs’ words.

I was protected.

Struck by that realization, I called for help.

“Rune, if you are here… if you are watching over me, help us.”

A sudden lull seemed to descend upon the battle, and then, just as abruptly as the bloodfeasts had burst from the trees to attack us, a familiar face appeared. Raj sprang down from a branch, and I swiftly crouched to avoid her claws. The young, feral monarch burst into laughter and tore through the bloodfeasts standing in her path. She landed upon the shoulders of one of them, bursting the sacs of pus upon its body before returning to the ground.

“You are incredible!” she exclaimed.

She… truly was there. The reality of the situation struck me with full force, and I quickly turned to look toward Selene and the others. For a fleeting second, I thought I saw their bodies being carried away like common sacks, but the movements were so swift that I could not be certain.

“We are taking you home with us! And… them too, because you asked.”

I returned my attention to Raj. The ground trembled faintly beneath my feet, and the bloodfeasts still surrounding me retreated with agonized shrieks. I frowned. My request had… truly been heard.

My wariness toward Raj lessened. I sheathed my sword, my heart lighter and profoundly moved by the aid we had been given. Raj smiled, baring her sharpened teeth, then raised her head as though something far greater stood behind me.

A shiver traveled down my spine, but I did not move. I felt no fear, nor any sense of danger. A body pressed against mine, and a hand covered my eyes. I felt pressure against the back of my head, like a kiss, and then I sank into darkness. Within the oblivion into which my body descended, I found peace—a rest I had been denied for far too long. That was why, when the time came to open my eyes, I had no desire to do so.

I felt myself being dragged from that pleasant state by force.

Upon waking, I noticed several things. My eyes did not need to adjust to any blinding light. A soft, wonderfully gentle glow surrounded me. It took several moments for me to emerge from my stupor and understand what might have happened, and from that moment, I detected the overpowering fragrance of consanguines. There were none around me, yet the scent was so powerful that they must have surrounded us in great numbers, one way or another. Then my fingers slid across the padded fabric upon which I had slept. It was soft and far from filthy.

Yet I was no fool.

I knew I was inside a cell. The bars spoke for themselves. I sat up and looked toward the other cells opposite mine. They were empty. No one was there—or at least, that was what I believed.

“You are finally awake. They had enough time to take the other Dukes away. Only you and I remain.”

I turned toward the voice that lightened my heart. Selene was there, to my right, inside another cell. His face appeared exhausted and gaunt. He was filthy, as though he had spent months imprisoned there. He seemed harsher and darker as well. I frowned faintly.

He was angry.

Did he resent me for calling upon the monarchs and Od for help?

“Selene, is something wrong? What happened? How long have we been here?”

His hard expression cleared with surprise for a few moments before anger consumed it again. His jaw clenched tightly, and I did not dare attempt to lessen the distance between us despite the bars separating our cells.

He was different.

Far too different.

“You have been here for only a few hours. Those mad creatures came running the moment you called them. They saved every Duke because you asked them to.”

There was so much hatred in his voice.

“Why do you seem angry with me?” I asked, my own expression darkening.

He lifted his head sharply toward me, and I remained unmoved. Something escaped my understanding.

“Because you asked the enemy to save you and the other Dukes. You are the Bloody Vicar. You are the hope of the people and of the Asmerion.”

“I had to save the Dukes.”

“And who will save the people?” he hissed. “The monarchs regard you as one of their own more than they do anyone else, but they feel nothing for the people. If you do not fight them, who else possibly can?”

I lowered my head, ashamed. I had not renounced the fight, and I had foolishly hoped that Selene, of all people, would understand, as he had always seemed to understand me before. Yet now I faced a wall. He was cold and distant, and I did not recognize him.

Nothing made sense.

When I looked at him, I felt none of what I had felt until now, none of what he had ever made me feel. The sensation of standing before a stranger twisted my insides.

“I had hoped that you, above anyone else, would understand.”

“What? But we do not even—”

He interrupted himself when a bright light entered the cells. I recognized Luna, the monarch, but not the one accompanying her. He possessed long gray hair and lashes so thick that the shadows they cast upon his cheeks were almost unimaginable.

It was beautiful.

That monarch, with veins of blood seemingly rising beneath his flesh, was every bit as bewitching as Luna. Something precious and divine emanated from them both.

“Vicar, we are pleased to see that you are well. Od and the others are eagerly awaiting you.”

With those words, Luna opened my cell. I saw no wariness in her gaze. I wondered whether it had anything to do with the fact that I had lowered my sword before Raj in the woods. I glanced toward my waist.

My blade was still there.

None of them had even bothered to disarm me.

I shook my head, setting those thoughts aside for later, and stepped out of the cell. The gray-haired monarch blocked my path, and his fingers captured several strands of my hair.

“So it was true. Your hair reflects blood. No. You are far more than that: you are the embodiment of spilled blood, sculpted by the hand of Rodel Himself.”

In all my existence, I had never heard a voice so soothing. It seemed to contain the very balance of the world, harmonizing perfectly with the gentleness of his face.

“Enough with the sentimental nonsense, Ruka. When will I be allowed to mingle with the Dukes as well, huh? I am one of them,” Selene growled.

Selene… knew this monarch? How?

“Ruka” smiled, and his entire face transformed. He immediately appeared more confident, more arrogant, as he turned toward Selene.

“As it happens, we have a surprise for you,” Ruka chuckled. “You are going to love it.”