Gareth heard the wine swishing around in the bottle. Sophia was drinking again. This whole ordeal was turning the princess into a heavier drinker than Walden himself. Harker frowned in the dark. "Neither have I." He shivered. Its sewn lips, its patchy and ripped skin... Yes, the details were hard to tear from one's mind, and he remembered them fresh even an hour or two after the mess. But worse yet were the memories of the blood spilled all over the floors of the castle and on its walls and ceilings, the bodies that should've been there but weren't any longer. He shuddered. They became apart of the nightmare that was the Taggerung; they became its new patches of skin to cover up whatever repulsive form was beneath. Still, the story Sir Tyler told them, the legend of the Taggerung and the Lording curse, revealed how unkillable it was. Harker clenched his fist tightly together. "Cain will die."