St. Julien church
About 30 endless minutes later, Methos arrived at the church. He left his car without even locking it, and raced to the church's entryway. Pushing the heavy old doors open, he swallowed very hard before he entered the old, French church. The only sound that he heard was the quick beating of his own fearful heart. The inside of the church was cold and there was light, except that of the small burning candles on the left and the right side, illuminating the nave. No other living soul disturbed the almost surreal scene that presented itself to Methos's eyes.
Methos had given up faith in any kind of God long time ago, but this time, even he silently prayed for Darius's life. Holding his breath, he slowly walked to the small door on his left side that led to the corridor to Darius's chambers.
Before he opened it, his eyes caught the sight of wilted red roses and fragments of glass lying on the floor. Methos suddenly felt a cold shudder run down his back, and his heart froze in almost painful fear. He knelt down and picked up one of the roses. Shuddering, he remembered his dream and the fact that he had seen exactly these roses before witnessing Darius's death.
"No, Darius is alive." Shaking his head and denying himself to surrender to fear, he then stood up and went strait to Darius's chambers. He hesitated only a second in front of the final door before he forcefully pushed it open...and froze in incredible shock.
The first thing he recognized was the blood that was almost everywhere. The second thing was a bodiless head lying in front of him. Methos moaned when he realized that it was Darius's head. The dead eyes of the priest stared directly into Methos's. Drawn by an invisible force, Methos stepped into the room where his shocked mind noticed the body, lying in a big puddle of dark, almost black blood. "No," he whispered with a shaking voice. "No…not you…not you…no…"
Weakly, Methos sank to the floor while his eyes never left Darius dead form. His mind was totally blank now – there was no fear or anger or any other kind of feeling left. Totally catatonic, he put his arms around his legs and began to rock back and forth, back and forth.
After 30 minutes, Methos suddenly became aware of his surroundings again. When he stared into the priest's dead eyes, something deep within him cracked and he felt ancient rage rise in his heart– a rage, with which he was very familiar. Not even trying to fight the darkness, he let it swallow him completely and welcomed DEATH back.
With angry hot fire burning in his eyes, Death stood up and went to Darius's body where he took a small golden cross, which Darius had been wearing for about 400 years. Drawing his sword, he then made a small cut through is own palm before he took the cross into his now bleeding hand.
"I will avenge you, old friend…I swear that these bastards will pay. They will wish they had never been born before I am finished with them," he swore with a very cold voice devoid of any human emotion while he clenched his fist around the cross.
After a moment of deadly silence, Death turned and left.
