Hunched among the tombstones, Father Gascoigne raised eyes that shone like pools of oil set alight, and regarded us evenly, then with fury. Then, Or'do and I were upon him. My vision wavered, a pall of crimson swallowing my sight and a flare of forbidden thrill throbbing through my breast. I shook myself, glancing over at Or'do who was quite merrily in the intoxicating presence's thrall. Sudden insight seized me: this passion that dulled wit and burned away caution, was no creation of the Flame. This was the touch of some sick, twisted presence loyal only to the Dark, and with this knowledge, I defied it.

Father Gascoigne slashed wildly, yet his fate was already sealed in the blood that wept from a thousand thousand gashes. He crumpled, and Or'do stood triumphant, his eyes seething with dark ecstasy. I shook my head slowly, no good will come of this.