Somewhere in the darkest pits of Hell, Hades, the Blood Goddess smiled. She turned to look into the sacrificial basin, knowing Dyleon was fully hers, mind, body and soul. She had stolen him from the good God of Heroes, Hal-Reftar, and made him her wholly devoted champion. Dyleon fell from the light, forever to drown in blood. 

Through the magic of the basin, Sekaulla could see Darko at the place known as the Summit, where gods may walk upon the mortal plane. Hal was also there, causing her to laugh most mysteriously. "Ahh ha ha. What games are you playing Darko?" Perhaps she would pay the two a visit. Perhaps there would be god's blood shed. Sekaulla delighted in the anticipation. 

"But first, your reward, my slave..." Diving through the pool, the goddess reappeared in another part of Hades, an upper echelon, a dry, grey plain of ruin. From her dripping robes, she brought forth a desperate and beating heart, and from it generated a body from magic, blood, and her will. The liquid mass that surrounded the goddess' body grew, swelling like an incoming tide, and swirled around herself and her subject. Dyleon awoke again, standing before Sekaulla herself. A pair of giant, female, red eyes pierced his soul with their light, burning into his mind as he looked at her, blood swirling high around them both like a tornado. He could not look away as his will was locked by her stare. Then, as he gasped in awe, helpless, her hand shot forth from the blood and stabbed deeply into his chest. It was a pain he had felt countless times before as she once again removed his heart to keep for her own. He would drop to his knees, as was proper before the divine, and the wound would close over, leaving him impervious and heartless. 

Then, the eyes shrank, rising up and away from the werewolf to form the head of a massive dragon of blood. No wings marred the serpentine body of this amorphous being as it inexplicably rose into the air, traveling through a medium only accessible to a god. "You are in the realm of the dead, my servant, but you are not dead. Your thirst will be tempered here. Drench yourself in the blood of the denizens of Hell and absorb their power. Grow strong. It is my will to make you into a demigod." Long spikes and fangs began to ascend above into what appeared to be an infinite dim sky, and the dragon was yet growing. With a soul-tearing screech, it vanished, blending in with the blackness above. "I will be watching."

Sometime hence, a screech echoed over the Summit.