The temple could be called lovely; its floors were polished marble and its stone walls covered with strange designs that had been painted skillfully upon them. Candles were fastened up and down every one of these walls, casting their flicking light down upon the newcomers who entered through the temple's only entranceway, a tall door fashioned from pure silver.

The heathen priest himself was a vile little man with a sharp, crooked nose and bright eyes that seemed to shine still more brilliantly when he laid eyes upon Victor's limp form. In the priest's gnarled hands he held the book that had caused such trouble and brought about such triumph for Lord Barkis; bobbing his head eagerly, he moved towards an ornately carved altar, and said in a strangely high-pitched voice,

"Here, here, put him here. This is the one, hmm? This is the one?"

A hiss from the reptilian creature and an odd sort of snort from Detrikzin confirmed this assumption.

"Well," said the priest with a ghastly smile, "it's about time; yes, about time. Hee, hee, how long I've waited for this!" he cackled, patting Victor's middle as that senseless person was laid upon the altar.

Victor's eyes opened halfway as the priest consulted his book. He was astonished to find himself gazing at a cross that had been intricately sketched on one crumbling page; the priest glanced at him sharply and, realizing that Victor was looking quietly on, snapped the book shut in an almost fearful manner.

"Well," he said, trying to calm himself. "Well, if you aren't awake, then. It's about time, as many things are; about time, hee hee!" He turned towards the cloaked individual. "Bind him to the altar, then; we haven't much time! Make haste, make haste! Oh!"

The priest opened his book delightedly as he searched for the desired spell. Victor's eyes roved the room as he sought Victoria; she stood by Emily, watching him with a frozen, horrified expression. Not that he blamed her—for things hadn't exactly happened as he would ever have expected.

He was bound much too tightly but he was too tired to protest. The priest couldn't seem to find the right spell; it felt like an eternity before Detrikzin finally grated,

"Can you not find it, Mikidrip?"

"Of course I will," replied the priest hurriedly, "only there are so many little details about how to put a stop to this spell; it's rather hard, hard I say! Oh, finally! It's about time, hee hee! The dagger, someone; the dagger. Anyone have a dagger?"

With a snarl of disgust, the reptilian beast handed him his preferred sacrificial weapon. The priest raised it high over Victor's breast and began to speak in a tongue his victim had never before heard. There was a quality to it that caused Victor to feel strangely unwell; he tried desperately not to listen, wondering what the "little details" on how to thwart his captors' plot could possibly be.

The priest was becoming extremely caught up in his enchantment. He had begun to wave his hands about jerkily, chanting all the while. Victor's biliousness was increasing rather than diminishing; gasping for breath, he strained vainly at his bonds. One glance at Victoria and Emily revealed that they were experiencing the same awful nausea themselves; Victoria's hands were pressed over her ears and the corpse bride looked somewhat green in contrast to the pale blue she had once been.

It was as the priest prepared to dispatch him once and for all that an awful realization overcame him. What torments did this Detrikzin have in store for Victoria? And what would become of Emily? If his death would indeed give Barkis and his cohorts power over those who dwelt in the Land of the Living and the Land of the Dead, would that not mean endless suffering for all?

The image of his burning home entered his reeling mind; why, his entire hometown had been set to flame by Lord Barkis! Nothing was left. Every sketch he had ever drawn, save the one of Victoria which he still had safely hidden in his coat, had been consumed by fire; even his darling teddy Evibee had not escaped. Every home was destroyed, every cobblestone scorched; nothing remained, save the church...

His heart skipped a beat. Why had the church not fallen to ruin? Oh, what had protected it from Barkis's wicked might?

"Cross," he whispered frantically, "the cross...cross..."

The priest's knife descended with cruel speed but Victor's panicked thoughts had not merely wasted time; though his shaking finger caused it to bear only slight resemblance to the image he held in his pounding heart, he had nonetheless drawn what was plainly a cross upon the altar's dust-coated surface, close beside him. The knife's progress seemed to halt even as its tip was but a few inches away from him and the priest's face became distorted with fury.

"What—what's this!" he cried. "Detrikzin, have you been meddling with my book, you lump of ignorance?"

The monster fairly shrieked, "I haven't gone near your accursed book!" Its stumpy tail twitched restlessly in its growing fury.

"Aha! I see what you've done, you scheming wretch!" sad the priest, addressing Victor as he attempted to obliterate the little cross. "Clever one, aren't you? It's about time we met a sacrifice like you; about time! I've met many in my day who—owooh! Why's this filthy thing hurting my fingers? Yeeek!"

"Do not touch it," commanded Detrikzin in an imperious tone. Suddenly he hissed, "Why, give that back, girl! Give it back, I say!"

Victoria had wasted no time; whilst her foes were distracted, she had snatched the book free of the priest's loose hold and, unable to flee because the door was bolted, held it high above her head.

"Release him!" she cried.

At first everyone felt somewhat confused by this command, but soon they managed to comprehend what she meant. With all possible haste, the priest set to work cutting through the cords which bound Victor to the altar, darting nervous glances at Victoria all the while. An oppressive silence fell, disturbed only by Victor's ragged breathing, and after a long while Victoria spoke once more.

"Come, Victor."

The manner in which she spoke was more than intimidating to poor Victor, who staggered towards her and crumpled at her feet, utterly drained of strength.

"Emily, stand by us," Victoria ordered, her expression grim. Victor had never seen her like this before; it was as if the horrors they had endured together had caused her to become far different from the bride-to-be he had once known.

"Victoria?" he said, half-afraid; she spared him not even a glance.

"This," she said, facing her former captors, "is how I repay those who plan destruction and misery; this is how I repay those who seek to harm persons whom I have vowed to protect; this is how I repay your wickedness."

With this short speech, Victoria snapped the book in two as if it were no more than a very brittle twig. The two halves fell heavily upon the marble floor, which promptly began to tremble beneath them with alarming vigor; the priest shrieked and flung himself at Detrikzin, clinging to that monster for protection.

"She's destroyed it! Oh, the vixen, she's ruined us! That book was our only hope, our only chance to remain..."

"Silence!" thundered Detrikzin, lifting him and flinging him across the temple with great contempt.

"We should leave!" Emily cried, catching hold of Victoria's arm as the floor shook still more violently.

Victoria cast her cold gaze upon Victor. "Rise," she said.

Victor strove to comply, but his legs would not support him. Striking him, Victoria hissed,

"Do you dare to defy me? Come, get up!"

"I—I can't!" Victor gasped, badly frightened and yet determined to make her understand. "Leave me! I cannot make it—and I'll only slow you down. Go on...and farewell, Victoria."