[Suzerain of Sheol]

Shealtiel is shocked, horrified even, at the disregard the others have shown what seems an immanent catastrophe. Hobbling across the dead ground, the old necromancer makes his way toward where Kasdeja and Mithaias stand even now confronting each other.

"And men like you..." he can hear the Nephilim's words as he draws near. "Would call me the monster."

"Monster?" The priest's voice is thick with condescending scorn. "You deserve nothing so grand. A witless child playing in his father's mantle." Shealtiel watches him take a step closer. "But not to worry... we shall find a use for you... Despite the curse of Semyaza's loins, you can yet serve the holy purpose of LORD...."

He seems to be considering his next words, glaring into the Nephilim... but something... is... wrong.

There. In Kasdeja's hand... is that...?

Forcing his gaze away from the site, over to Mithaias once again, Shealtiel sees it, a gaping, savage wound in the man's chest.

A bloody hollow where there should be a heart.

I saw nothing. He never moved... an yet...

With a sort of ponderous grace, the priest's body collapses, falling, ironically, to its knees before the Nephilim. Seemingly indifferent, Kasdeja stalks away from the corpse, still clutching the heart, over toward where the others stand encircled around one of the crosses.

With a shuddering breath, Shealtiel moves to follow him.