Caesilinus bled as it burned. The human population was rapidly losing ground, and the scales were now tipping in favor of the night-kin. Metanoia, the righteous fool, could not have made his presence in the city less impactful if he tried. His great, azure nimbus was a warning beacon to vampires and their servants alike. Creatures long used to the scorn of gods, it was all too easy from them to avoid his rampage, and as a result, he mostly killed civilians that had been turned to vampires or nulls against their will. At this rate, by the time the sun rose, there would not be a single living human left in the city. However, where there were beasts, there must also be a master.

The city gates, long since blown open, were cleared of debris and bodies to ease the arrival of the city's conquerer. Horses black as tar with hungry eyes and fanged mouths pulled a dark, ornate carriage through the crimson-stained streets. A procession of considerable size followed the carriage; knights, heralds, men-at-arms and sorcerers marching on equally monstrous steeds, as well as slavering werewolves bound by heavy chains. Those that roamed the streets could tell their identity by instinct. Zombies ignored them, nulls fled them, ghouls prostrated themselves before them, and vampires bowed ceremoniously.

The procession stopped before the Temple of Aroesus in the city square, which had so far been left alone by the invading fiends. The priests within assumed this fortune was due to the divine authority carried by their dead god. They were quite thoroughly wrong. They were being saved for dessert. The carriage opened, and from it emerged a woman of almost divine beauty. A scarlet dress, cascading locks of golden hair and piercing amber eyes. She boldly strode up the steps of the temple, flanked by knights clad in black armor. One of her attendants hurried ahead of her into the temple, and emerged with a struggling priest of Aroesus in hand.

Now stood at the temple's entrance, another of the woman's retainers handed her a massive sword, nearly as long as herself, and the priest was forced to bow before her. With a single, swift blow, she beheaded the man, leaving his body to slump on the steps and his head to bounce all the way down to the streets below. She ran her tongue down the length of the bloodied blade, her fangs flashing in the city's dying lights.

"Brothers and sisters," She proclaimed, gaining the attention of any monsters within earshot, "This city is ours! For the glory of our father, and the might of Vaslonya!"