Crimson puddles greeted me upon stepping into Isaak's study. The heavy smell of his blood affronted me, I could tell he was cooling even then. The Roman windows sat open, and I knew when I stepped through them onto the balcony what I would find.

Isaak lay curled upon himself, an old habit I'd yet to break him of, his hair sticking to him in congealing blood. He had only the faintest heartbeat, and looking down upon the pretty broken thing I almost let him go.

Almost.

Without Isaak though, everything would fall into ruin, I knew that. There was much to the world and to life that I no longer remembered, or understood, and Isaak navigated all these things for me, as well as finding pretty little unsuspecting Methuselah for me to feed upon. And clothing me. And housing me. And slowly but surely conjuring my body back together fully, helping me to regain my strength.

What is a God without an acolyte?

I knelt down on my haunches, and reached out my right hand to him. When I stroked a bit of hair out of his face, his eyes fluttered open, and vaguely lit upon me. He didn't know what he'd done, he didn't know why he was dying.

I smiled at him, watching his consciousness fade away, and I let him go.

I pierced between my thumb and index finger, and pushed the tiny wound between Isaak's lips, knowing the hole would begin to heal quickly, but also knowing my Panzer Magier would need only a little. As an afterthought, I let one drop of my blood fall on both the gashes that had destroyed Isaak's arms, then I picked him up and carried him to bed.

I was certain that my mage would recover easily and well as I lay next to him, wondering why he'd go and do so silly a thing. In the four years we'd been together I'd witnessed Isaak become irate over the littlest things, his compulsions pushing him to the border of madness daily. He'd always been apart, and I knew it was my presence that had finally given him true meaning, true reason. I was the only beacon in his dreadfully stormy mind.

The fits and the rage had become increasingly pathetic over the past few weeks though, so I'd opted to leave for awhile to clear my head. I'd left him for fewer than five days, and this was what happened.

Through Augustine of the Fleur du Mal, I'd heard the strangest rumor of a town village gone missing. Without telling Isaak, I'd left on my own, curious.

The people hadn't disappeared though, and it was a wonder any Methuselah could think they had. They'd simply relocated wholly, to the manor of the local nobles.

Upon closer inspection, I discovered that all the village people were being manipulated, unwillingly posed through their days at the whim of a gleeful child. I spent two days watching the boys' puppets bend and twist, their mouths screaming as their bodies were forced against them, or some that could not speak at all, and then others who were nothing anymore but a toy, all sense of self gone.

The boy employed sophisticated methods, and it was my desire to question Isaak about this child-before the inquisition found him-that turned me homeward again. Isaak would know what the boy was, how he did what he did. Isaak would help me make the next move, like he always did.

I had found him mostly dead though. His moping had evolved into suicide, and my mage, my lover, my new other half, had been so devastated he'd tried to leave me forever.

Isaak's heartbeat was strengthening every moment, but even with my nano-machines his body would remain weak for days, and he would not wake for hours.

I reflected upon our need for each other, and how to cure his desperation for my constant accompaniment. He was a social creature really, whether he despised all terran and Methuselah or not. I needed a symbol, I needed proof-cement. I needed something that Isaak could not deny, could not misinterpret. Something that showed how I really cared.

We needed a child.