Chapter Twenty-Seven: Blood Ties

It had been the right course of action to take. Morty had expressed doubt in the oath. No one could break free of their oaths and expect not to be punishment. The faithless were weak. Ghetsis had no love for cowards. She headed down the stairs and met with N in the basement. The boy was already kneeling before the coffin.

"They buried him here in this city… Burned the place to the ground… The sick," N murmured, running his fingers across the cool surface. "I never had a chance to really know my father. I was just a child when I learned of his passing. But I studied his teachings closely. Everything I have sacrificed has come down to this moment."

Naoko approached him but kept within arm's distance. "He would be proud of you."

He climbed to his feet and smiled at her. "You've done well, Naoko."

"My Champion served me well. He was loyal to the cause." She sighed, and approached the coffin, gazing down at the lid, studying the symbols. They were written in a language she could not decipher. Old magic. A language of the priests. "But he has refused the honour of dying in our Father's name."

N raised an eyebrow. "A shame, but there are others that can be used."

Naoko nodded. "I will find another follower. One whose faith has not been shaken."

Before she could leave, N grabbed her arm firmly. "We must proceed with the ritual at once." He gestured to the coffin. "Ghetsis needs to wear the amulet and the ring for the spell to work properly." He placed his fingers beneath the edges of the lid.

Naoko followed him. Together, they lifted the lid. A powerful pungent odour filled the air, akin to the scent of rotten meat left out in the sun for a few days. She almost gagged, but managed to control herself in front of N. She couldn't afford to look weak. Not now when they were so close.

She peered down. Ghetsis was dressed in the traditional robes of the high priests. A colourful cope with two colored eyes on the front. His hair was long and pale green, and his skin a sickly pale colour. Somehow, magic kept his body from decomposing. He should've been nothing but bones.

"Our king," she murmured in awe.

"Magic has kept his body intact. The spell he cast before death kept his spirit alive for this moment," N said, placing the amulet around the man's neck. He then slipped the ring on a finger. "I vowed to do everything in my power to bring him back to us so he could exact his revenge on the people who turned their back." He gripped the sceptre and placed the tip on the man's forehead.

"How does this spell work?"

"A blood sacrifice." He turned to Naoko. "The plan was to use Morty, but your emotions overruled your loyalty. You've thrown him into the pit of sin and despair, and his body will be tainted. That will not do. It must be perfect." He pressed his palms together and pointed them at her. "But you. You are pure. You are the Chosen One." He took a step towards her, drawing a small dagger out of its sheath.

Naoko took a step back. "This wasn't part of the plan."

"You never should've sentenced your champion to the pits," N replied. He lunged forward and grabbed her arm.

She tried to pry herself free, but his grip was unrelenting. "He was unfit. I can find-"

He pressed a finger against her lips. "The ritual cannot wait. You've done well, Naoko. Know that in your sacrifice, a new world will be born. A better one. You have made it happen." She tried to turn away, but he pulled her back to face him. Hand gripping the knife firmly, he thrust the blade into her stomach. "You die a hero, Naoko. Yveltval will reward you in death," he said.

Her eyes widened. He drove the blade in deeper and twisted it.

"…Yveltval," she murmured.

"The phoenix of death." He withdrew the blade.

She staggered forward into his arms, but he pushed her away. Energy depleting fast, she collapsed on the ground and tried to a reach a hand towards him. If she could hurt him somehow, she could heal.

He pulled out of her reach and looked down at her with a pitiful look. "But I…," she gasped.

N kneeled before her, waving the dagger in her face. "You convinced everyone that Ho-Oh was the phoenix to worship. You earned their loyalty, and for that I must give you credit. Without your aid, those relics would never have been found." He covered the knife in her blood then ran the blade across Ghetsis's lips. "But you should know better than to defy me. In condemning Morty to the pits, you've put yourself in his place instead. Emotions are a weakness, Naoko. You should know this."

Her strength was fading fast. Now N was just a blurred figure in her eyes. "…You used me."

He chuckled. "Indeed. You are not special, Naoko. Not as special as you thought yourself to be." He placed his hands on the sceptre and tapped it three times on Ghetsis's forehead. A faint glow emanated from the item. The item then snapped in half and black blood spilled out.

"You used me. All this time," she said in between gasps.

"You were not used. You swore to serve. To seek vengeance for the deaths of your parents. You came to me for help and I gave you an answer. This fate is yours alone," he said tonelessly, returning his attention to Ghetsis. "You will not be forgotten, Naoko. Mark my words. You will be remembered for this noble sacrifice."

Blood continued to spill out of her wound. Magic could repair herself, but in her condition, she was too weak to conjure the power needed. N wouldn't allow it. Naoko no longer had the strength to speak. The last thing she saw was a blurred figure rising from the coffin. Then, there was permanent darkness.

When Morty opened his eyes, he found a woman peering down at him. Not the red-headed girl – Misty was lying down still, and she hadn't moved. Had she died? The woman before him bore an uncanny resemblance to Naoko. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Had Naoko returned to her senses? But no. It wasn't Naoko, but Zuki, the youngest sister. The one who had sent the assassin to kill the king. She was alone. The woman had fastened some rope and climbed down into the hole. His escape.

He glanced over his shoulder. The red-headed girl was asleep. Probably had been given a potion to make her drowsy. "Have you come to mock me?" he said, looking up at Zuki.

The woman shook her head. "I've come to give you water," she said, placing a small bowl of water at his feet.

He looked down at it. The water was clear. It seemed safe. He picked it up and brought the rim to his lips then tilted his head back, opening his mouth to allow the cool water to run down his throat. It wasn't until the water had touched his lips that he realized how parched he was. He drank the contents of the bowl quickly. After he was done, he discarded it onto the ground then wiped his mouth.

"I'm surprised it's not poisoned."

"Naoko doesn't want you dead. Not now anyway," Zuki said. "More fun to break your mind and have you beg for salvation." She took a step back.

"And she'll have me killed anyway. What difference does it make?"

"Would you prefer to die down here?"

"Does it make a difference? She wants to raise an army to conquer the world."

"And bring death to all who stand in her way," Zuki finished, circling around him as if he were a wounded animal. "I knew her plan would endanger us all, so I tried to stop her by sending an assassin to kill the king of Blackthorn. But you had to stop my assassin."

Morty frowned. "He was a threat. He had to be stopped. If your assassin had succeeded, the entire city would be thrown into disarray. Losing their king would have only make it easier to take control of the city. Was that your brilliant plan? How would that even discourage Naoko?"

She struck him in the face. Hard. "The city would be on guard. No one would be allowed in or out."

He hissed, feeling the sting. "You were threatened by me, weren't you? I was the one given an entrusted with a task you felt you deserved. Throwing the city into chaos would've make it harder for me to find those relics," he concluded. If he hadn't been able to leave the city, he never would've obtained the final relic. Perhaps it would've been for the best. "Where is Naoko? Why would she send you here? Have you disappointed her to?"

She snapped her fingers. One of the guards stepped forward. "I do not know."

"Did she abandon you too?"

Zuki glared. "We've never seen eye to eye. She does not share her secrets with me."

"So, you came to talk to me and why… What do you think I can do?"

She reached out a hand, her fingers brushing against his cheek. "Kill her."

"You can do that yourself. You're capable."

"Of killing my own sister? No. I love my family, but she intends to end this world."

Morty frowned. "That doesn't make any sense."

"I'm willing to help you escape the Pits, or would you rather die?"

A traitor to her own family. "I'm not a mercenary you can just hire."

She made a disgruntled noise and bit down on her lower lip. "You're a fool to deny me. I'm giving you freedom in exchange for her death. She sentenced you here. She wanted you dead."

"And I should trust you? Any of you?" He gave her a defiant look. "I could serve you, and then find a dagger in my back. I'm not making that mistake again. I'd rather die down here than serve you."

She scowled. "Then die if you so desire." She pulled out a dagger.

His eyes widened, his gaze lowering to the weapon. "You're not a fighter."

"I don't plan to use this on you." She pressed the edge of the blade into her opposite palm and made a deep incision. Crimson blood seeped from the gash. She raised her bleeding hand and thrust it forward, a single bloody tendril emerging. It wrapped around his legs, binding them together, preventing him from moving. She jerked her arm towards her chest, causing him to topple over face-first on the floor. "I thought you were supposed to be smarter than this."

He groaned. "… You're making a big mistake."

She knelt before him and lifted him up off the ground onto his knees. "You made one."

He looked up towards the light. Arceus, help me, he thought. Perhaps it was foolish to think the Horned God would show mercy on him considering he had never shown anything but mockery towards Arceus. But Arceus's followers believed in him. People willingly died for Arceus. Many had claimed Arceus had saved them. Would Arceus bless him now? Finding Henry's sword could not have been down to luck.

She grabbed his chin with her free hand and tried to keep it steady. "I'm going to take great satisfaction in your death. No underling defies me." She struck him hard in the face again then rammed a knee between his legs.

He grunted and fell forward once more, immediately bringing his knees to his chest, as if that would somehow make things better. A crushing pain spread imploded in each side of his lower abdomen. He lay on the ground, motionless, grimacing, waiting for the pain to subside. A burning sensation spread to his lower abdomen.

"Leave him alone you animal!" The red-headed girl. She had awakened. With a loud cry, the girl jumped onto Zuki's back, trying to wrap her arms around the woman's neck.

Zuki tried to throw the girl off. "Get her off me, you fools!" Her dagger fell to the ground.

Perhaps Arceus had decided to intervene after all through the red-headed girl. Wincing, he reached out for the dagger, fingers brushing up against the hilt of the blade. He picked it up and cut himself on the edge of the blade, spreading his blood over the steel to enhance it with magic.

"You little wench!" Zuni exclaimed, her dagger falling to the ground.

His prisoner companion was thrown to the ground. Zuni slapped her in the face.

Spurred on by a new surge of adrenaline, he climbed to his feet and threw the weapon at Zuki's back. Empowered with magic, he was able to direct it at his target. He struck his target just beneath the nape. Focusing his willpower, he buried the knife into her skin.

The knife was absorbed into her body, eliciting a tortured howl of agony. She tried to pull it out, but she was weakening fast. Turning around, she threw him a withering look before falling to her knees, her hands grasping at her throat.

"I can tell you're not a fighter," Morty remarked. "We always know to never turn our back on a threat unless they're already dead. There was a reason I was chosen by Naoko. Because she knew I was able to succeed. Something you are not capable of doing." He lowered his hand and pressed the wound on his wrist to end the spell. The damage had been done.

Misty cackled. "Oh, that was thrilling!"

"You enjoyed that?" Morty said, turning to her.

"I saved you."

"Right. Thanks." He pulled out the dagger from Zuni's back and cut the lower half of her clothing off. Picking up the cloth, he wrapped it around his waist then gestured to Misty. "You can wear her clothing. Can't be walking around with nothing on. Not where we are going."

Misty crawled over and tore off Zuni's clothing. Her strength surprised him. She put on the robes then clambered to her feet. "I feel alive. Alive with energy."

"It's the adrenaline. It'll wear off. Just hang onto it – you'll need to climb out of her." He gestured to the rope. Perhaps it was too much to ask of her. She had been punched in the face and almost knocked unconscious. He could see a big black bruise appearing on her right cheek.

Misty grabbed the rope. "I can try." She gripped it and started climbing. "It burns."

"It's coarse rope. It'll cut into your hands after a while."

He looked up and away from Misty, checking for signs of trouble. It seemed the commotion had attracted no interest. The others had probably been summoned by Naoko to prepare for the next stage whatever that was.

He grabbed onto the rope and started ascending it once Misty had gotten off. His grip was so tight now, he could feel the rope cutting into his skin. He felt himself lifted from the ground. Every inch higher caused the rope to dig a little deeper. It was as if his hands had been caught on fire.

He continued to inch closer to the top. To the light. Freedom. A new life away from Naoko. To turn his back on a god he had believed in entire life. He clambered out, his arms aching as if they had been stretched to the limit. His hands stung. Glancing down, he wasn't surprised to see his palms a bright shade of red.

As expected, Misty had collapsed, her energy spent. She lay on her back, gasping. He looked at her, deciding what to do. The girl was obviously spent – helping her escape the city would require a lot of effort – but she had intervened to save his life. Or had Arceus answered? He didn't know, but he couldn't leave her behind to die. Maybe Gary would forgive him if he brought back Misty.

"Where are we going?"

"Blackthorn." Back to the city he had recently escaped from. Foolish perhaps. It was the last place he should be returning too, but where else could he go? Naoko and N. Ghetsis. They would wage a war. No town nor city would be safe. Blackthorn was the only place capable of stopping the threat. A threat he had caused.

"That's not my hometown. I'm from Cerulean."

"I'm not taking you there. I'm taking you where you will be safe." She didn't know there was an impending war approaching and Blackthorn would be the place of battle.

She sat up. "Why are you helping me?"

"I should be asking you the same thing. You seemed to have accepted your fate."

Misty looked thoughtful. "I don't know… I just… I remembered the pirate attack… No one came to help me." She looked down at her hands. "I knew I had to try something. Anything."

Amazing. Amazing. A girl he had recently met, and she had wanted to help him. He wasn't sure if he would've done the same if she was in his position. "I thought about leaving you behind."

"But you didn't."

He shook his head. "No."

"What made you change your mind?"

Falkner appeared in his mind. The fear. The helplessness in his eyes as he left him to die. "You didn't deserve to die. Not like that in some hole at the bottom of a tower." Maybe Blackthorn had influenced him somehow without even knowing.

"You knew these people."

Morty nodded. "Yeah, I did. I once called this place home. We should keep moving. Sooner or later, someone is going to come and check the Pits to give us food and water. Are you able to walk?" He extended a hand.

She grabbed it and he helped her to her feet. "I'll try." She took a step forward. Her knees buckled and gave way to the ground.

He caught her before she could fall. "I guess not." If she couldn't walk, then his only option was to carry her through the forest. An exhausting journey but he didn't see another option. They couldn't walk along the main path or risk being caught by one of his own people. "Get on my back. I can carry you."

She raised a brow. "Are you sure?"

"I'll manage."

She jumped on his back, wrapping her legs around his waist, and her arms around his shoulders. "You don't have to do this."

"I don't have to do anything, but I'm choosing to do this." He didn't say another word, and to his surprise, she fell silent, resting her head against his own. She had probably fallen asleep already. Fortunately, the city was silent. Still, he kept away from the main dirt path to avoid coming too close to the main temple. Naoko was inside somewhere. But where were the rest of his people?

He headed towards the southern gate which was an archway made of two cherry blossom trees. "What a beautiful city," Misty murmured.

So, she was still awake. "It was." Then the city fell and became a ghost town.

"Maybe some day you'll tell me the story."

"There isn't much to tell." He walked beneath the trees and ventured out onto the main road. He didn't stay on the path for long veering into the forest, seeking shelter from prying eyes. "It was considered sacred ground in worship to the god of light, Ho-Oh. But some cities weren't meant to last. One of the towers was razed to the ground, and the city became a graveyard instead after Time of Troubles." The perfect place for necromancy to flourish.

Misty didn't ask further questions which he was grateful for. He continued the path ahead, opting to take the southern route instead towards Cherrygrove. Misty probably wouldn't survive the trip to Blackthorn through the forest, and he needed her alive to prove he had good intentions. Grimacing, he held onto Misty's wrists so she wouldn't slide off and continued on his path.

.

.

With Clair now in a cell, Lance was free to enter the room his grandfather was resting in. He hadn't seen the man since the wedding. He didn't even have the chance to speak to him. Perhaps he should've spoken to him when the man's mind was sharp. Lance pushed open the door gently and poked his head inside. He could see his grandfather's sleeping form through the red curtains. "Grandfather?" he said slowly, cautiously, uncertain.

A deep groan escaped through the man's throat. That was good. It showed the man was still alive and his senses were functioning still. Lance closed the door behind him and move next to the bed, peering down at the man. It was odd seeing him in such a fragile state. Over a month ago, the man had stood proud. Now he was a shadow of his former self. The man remained silent.

"Things could've been different if you had listened. Forcing Clair into that marriage was always going to fail," Lance said, grabbing a chair and pulling it up besides Edward. He sat down. "She didn't need the marriage. She just wanted you to understand, but you refused to listen. We're in this position because of you."

The man coughed. "…I did… What was necessary…" he rasped coughing once more.

So, the man could talk. "What you believed was necessary. Not what we thought was necessary. You put your own needs and wants before everyone else. You always claimed to put family above all, but you took family away. Clair despises you. You denied me my freedom. You pushed grandmother away onto another path."

Edward turned his head to the side. "…I wanted to protect you."

"I've heard that claim before."

"…The mages… They made you what you are."

"And you sentenced them to death because of it?" He gave a dry laugh. "You just didn't want to bring shame to the family name. Instead of hating what I was, you could've embraced it. But pride turned you into a coward. You planned to have me killed, but you found a way to hide that part of me. Do I bring you shame, grandfather?"

"You never brought me shame…"

The man lifted a shaky arm and stretched out his hand, but Lance refused.

Rising to his feet, he said through narrowed eyes, "You wanted me dead! Your own grandson! All because of the blood that runs through my veins!' He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath then exhaled recollecting himself. Opening his eyes again, he continued. "I followed your orders without question because I believed in you. I believed in your lies because I was an obedient grandson. I've been a fool. All you've ever cared about was your own damned legacy."

Edward withdrew his hand and closed his eyes. He turned his head away. "You were a wolf… The people would never respect us if they discovered what you were… I had no other choice."

"You had a choice," Lance hissed, his voice low. "You just chose not to make the right one. My father wasn't the villain in this tale of yours – you are, grandfather. Once there would've been a time where I would've mourned your passing, but I can't find it in myself to even care. You brought war upon our heads and now your actions endanger the lives of good people once again."

The reason there was even a war in the first place was because of the man's belief mages were evil. His fear had led him to declare war on a race of people whose only crime was being born different. This same hatred extended to the wolves whom he despised because of the magical blood running through their veins. His paranoia had doomed them all. "…I had to protect you… To become a wolf… That life is not one you want."

"You do not get to decide how I live my life."

"Wolves… Abominations of darkness. A result of dark magic..."

Lance narrowed his eyes. "You decided they were not to be trusted. I need their help to fight the necromancer threat. Henry Blackthorn did it once. He drove them back."

"A sword."

"A sword crafted by a faerie. I have a faerie. Lyra. The servant girl. She's one of them."

The man coughed again. Specks of blood came out. "They fear the light of Arceus," he whispered.

"Where is this sword?"

"It was buried in the abandoned ruins. No one has been able to unearth it. You are not pure of heart. It will not open for you."

The haunted ruins. Or so the men heard. Lance narrowed his eyes. "I thought I was blessed."

"It was hidden with magic. You are not a mage."

He held back a growl of frustration. "This sword is what can save us."

"He saw what had become of Henry. He became obsessed with power. The man had to be stopped."

Lance thought hard. Henry's poisoning had been intentional. "Assassinated. With poison."

Edward tried to sit up, but he was too weak. "And his body and sword were hidden. The faerie… He didn't want anyone finding the sword and wielding its power. He concealed it with magic."

"What if a mage stumbled upon it?"

"They have to pass the trials. A test of faith."

Lance groaned. "And most mages are in hiding now. You turned your back on them. Everything happening around us is your own doing, but I'm here to fix up your mess." He paused then added, "Why would you lie to me about the necromancers? You know they'd be back, didn't you? When I asked you about them you refused to talk. Why? Because you thought I'd discover the truth?"

"…I wanted to protect you."

"But you can't shield me forever, grandfather. The necromancers are coming. You tried to hide the truth. Why? You want them to succeed?" He fell silent, waiting to see if the old man would respond, but no words came. Lance continued. "I don't hate you, but I'm disappointed. I looked up to you for years. I did everything you asked of me and yet you kept this a secret. Why?" His anger had faded. The man had really believed he had done what was right. How could he hate him for defending his beliefs despite how misguided they were?

"…Don't let Blackthorn fall," the man said, drawing in a deep breath.

Lance nodded. "I won't." Edward exhaled and coughed. His strength was starting to diminish again. The man would not survive the war. He would be one of the many who would die. Lance pulled away from the bed and headed towards the exit. Before leaving, he faced his grandfather once more. The end of an era. An era of war, secrecy and hatred. A new one would soon begin.

.

Ghetsis opened his eyes and forced himself to sit upright in his bed. His body was gradually weakening at a frightening rate and soon he would join the dead. With great determination, he walked towards the nearby window and peered outside at the graveyard before him. Headstone after headstone. Victims of the plague. Their bodies had been burned, but the victims had still been given graves. A single tear rolled down his cheek. How had it come to this? They were a prosperous nation! He arched his neck back and glanced up at the heavens above.

"Why thou have forsaken me?" he pleaded.

Nathaniel believed in Arceus. Krahiya believed in him too. He was a believer as well. The White Stag. The Horned One. The Divine Creator. The one responsible for all life. It was in the name of Arceus Ghetsis had joined his friends in creating an academy for magic. It was a place to help those with gifts feel at home. He hadn't done anything wrong. So why now had Arceus abandoned him? Was this part of his great plan?

He brought his chin down and focused his gaze near the Well of Healing in the centre of the inner courtyard. A mother dressed in a white dress holding a bucket of water leant against the stone surface weeping. He watched as she dropped the bucket onto the ground. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed in a heap of tears. Ghetsis looked away unable to bear the pain. How many more innocent people must die? How many more mothers would be forced to watch as their loved ones died?

The plague had spread throughout the kingdom within three days. Ghetsis had worked alongside Krahiya and Nathaniel to quarantine the kingdom to protect the people from the disease, but it spread too quickly for the witches to treat the wounds. Those with the plague showed symptoms of insanity and boil. It was followed by a loss of feeling in the hands and legs before the victim eventually succumbed to a flesh-eating bug that started in the eye sockets.

Both Krahiya and Nathaniel remained unaffected. Why had Arceus chosen to give them his blessing? Was his faith not strong enough? The other priests had fallen to the plague. All seven. All had come from Unova and they had made the trip to Johto-Kanto to escape the horrible winter. Now he lived in Ilex Forest in a small cave. Nathaniel and Krahiya had refused to join him in his cause in using magic to cheat death, but other people carrying illnesses and other deformities had followed him. They believed he could find a cure for their ailments.

A woman with long black hair approached him, her dark eyes fixed directly on his face. She wore a long red dress with a golden sash around the waist. Her name was Melisandre, a woman with exceptional talents from a powerful bloodline. She was much younger than himself; at least twenty years their junior, but she had become infatuated with him. "You summoned me," she said.

He coughed into his hand then lowered it. "Melisandre, we must talk."

"I know. I came as fast as I could. I want to help you." She approached him. Most people would know to keep their distance from a sick dying man, but Melisandre threw her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. "I missed you so much. Nathaniel and Krahiya were cruel to send you away," she said, pulling her head back to look up at him.

The woman was like a daughter to him. She was devoted to him. She would do whatever he commanded. "Drink my blood. Share it with the rest of your people, and you will have a part of my power. Use that power to locate the three sacred relics created with oracle blood and my own, and you can raise the dead. I do not have the time to find them, but I know you will succeed."

"How will I know where to find them? They could be anywhere."

"The Phoenix will guide your path."

Ghetsis opened his eyes and drew in a sharp intake of breath. A deep groan escaped his throat as life filled his lungs once more. His eyes could vaguely make out two blurry forms above him peering down. They were communicating. Making odd noises he couldn't quite decipher yet. Living. This was the world of the living. Right? Every muscle felt stiff. If he moved a limb would it snap like a twig?

He felt something touch his skin. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing but a few slurred words came out. Had he finally been granted entrance into the afterlife? Yveltval had yet to greet him. He had waited in the abyss, a lost soul wandering about in total darkness along a path that never seemed to end with nothing but his own thoughts to keep him entertained.

Bliss. That's what they called the other side, the life after death. A paradise. A place where there was no pain and no suffering. No disease and no magic. Everyone was equal. He had only seen the gates. They were large golden arches that guarded the blinding white staircase that led upwards into another realm up in the clouds. He could feel the warmth standing near the gates.

But this wasn't the same. There was no gate ahead of him. Instead, hands grabbed his legs and pulled him underground. He tried to pry the hands off him, but he lacked the strength. He thrashed wildly as best as he could, but the hands only pulled harder. Something warm ran down his throat. Not water. Salty. Blood. He swallowed it. It wouldn't quench his thirst, but it was something. His vision adjusted. There were two men looking down at him. One with pale green hair and the other with dark hair. He recognized one face. N. His adopted son. The one who would bring him back.

"Father!"

Sounds made sense to him now. The blood. Whatever was in it strengthened his senses. He wasn't in Bliss. This was the real world. The world that had failed him once before. N had brought him back. His legacy had survived the past forty years. He opened his mouth, testing his jaw muscles. Everything seemed to work fine. He forced himself upright and lifted his arms, grabbing the edges of the coffin. His right hand was normal once more. The disease had died with him on his first death. Reborn again with new life. He was no longer broken.

He turned his gaze on N. "My son. We have work to do."