Ser Vinicus tried to move his hand. He could see it, just in front of his face, and he screamed at his fingers to move but they ignored him. Nor did his scream make any noise. He was dimly aware of a tremendous ache throughout his body. Even blinking seemed hurt. He couldn't even feel the blood that was trickling into his left eye. He was dying.

Still, he supposed, it could have been worse. The battle raged on around him and he watched, unmoving, as a young boy attacked a swordsman, jumping onto the mans back and tugging on his helmet. It would not move, though the boy succeeded in blinding the swordsman long enough for another child to drive a sharpened stake into the mans thigh. He gave a roar of anger and hammered his sword down, the pommel destroying the childs eye. A second blow, to the base of the childs skull, killed the boy as neatly as a butcher killing a steer. 

The other boy, still clinging to the swordsmans back managed to haul himself further up the armoured back, and with a snarl that reminded Vinicus of his small terrier back home, sank his teeth into the mans ear. The two of them staggered out of Vinicus's view. He blinked once more. His eyes were so heavy. He just wanted to sleep.

His eyes closed for a final time and the sounds of battle faded to nothing. So this was death. A black, soundless, nothingness. It didn't seem so bad. He had time to think of his family, his wife and four children, all of them still standing on the stoop of his manor house, waving as he rode away. All but his wife. She had not waved. She had only cried. She had know how this would end.

"You will see them again, Vinicus." The words startled him so badly that he dragged his eyes open again. In that instant he realized that he was looking down at himself. His body was twisted in the middle of the street, surrounded on all sides by shapeless figures that struggled with each other. He could see the great wound on the back of his head where the stone had struck him, the jagged and torn metal of his helmet, the red blood and the grey brain matter that oozed out onto the street. 

"Strange, is it not?" The voice again and Vinicus quite suddenly found himself facing a man all in white. It was not Kane. No, the man was smaller, thinner somehow. The two huge wings that sprouted from his back left no doubt as to what he was.

"You're an... Angel..." Vinicus was surprised to find he could speak. The angel nodded and walked slowly among the shapes that reeled and twisted, almost like shadows in a fog. 

"I am Eremiel." The voice was so soothing, almost musical, that Vinicus could not help but smile at the angel. It never occurred to him just how strange that might be as he stood next to his own corpse. "I am charged with guiding the holy deceased when they fall in battle."

"The Holy... But I served Ulrek." Vinicus spoke without thinking and instantly regretted it. The ancient stories of God, of heaven and hell, were coming back to him, and he knew he had just consigned himself to eternal damnation. 

"You, and many others. But the real question, my friend, will you repent your service to him?" The angel was standing directly in front of Vinicus who suddenly realized just how much taller Eremiel was. 

"I did what I had to. For myself, for my family." He stated flatly. That was no lie. One could not survive and prosper in the Lands Under Shadow without serving the Vampire lords in some manner. 

"And now? With Gods wrath unleashed upon this world and the victory of his chosen son nigh at hand?"

"I would still do whatever I had to do to protect my family. I have been a kind man, and I have always treated those around me as I would wish to be treated."

Eremiels face split into a small smile that seemed to light up everything around him and Vinicus felt his own heart surge with a joy he had never known before. He was suddenly aware that he was rising, rising toward a bright light that shone down from above. Emeriel watched him go and then gave a small bow before turning away.

"Welcome home, my son." The voice came from above and Vinicus raised his face toward the light. 
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Kane walked among the dead and dying, his footfalls making no sound, his wings casting no shadows. Here and there a man or woman wept while others screamed for their mothers, their wives, for the pain to end. There was no glory in war. There was only peace in death.

He could see them all, the souls of the dead, as they stared down in confusion at their own bodies, unable to leave, unable to do anything other than wait. Wait for the children of God. Kanes brother and sisters. They moved among the dead, speaking with them, judging them, sentencing them. Some, like the knight who had spoken with Emeriel were found to be pure of spirit and ascended to their father in heaven. 

Others, however, were judged for their past actions and the thoughts that could be read like an open book by an angel. These souls were left tethered to their bodies, doomed to remain on the mortal plain for all of eternity, until the ends of days. They would watch the world around them wither and die. This city would be their tomb.