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Alrighty, here we go, the next chapter of the Wolf and the Rose. I got this one finished before my other projects and I haven't submitted something in a while, so I hope you enjoy it.

As always, comments are appreciated and requested.

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Continued from 'Through the Gates of Hell...'

Aldric stood with his arms crossed, leaning against a towering stalagmite in the portal chamber, far beneath the castle in Gulnia. The eerie red light of the demonic portal still filled the room, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It had been almost ten hours since his brother had walked into the portal, ten hours of agonizing, waiting for him to return and wondering at his fate. The other Slayers of his command were scattered around the cavern, sitting with the priests with weapons in hand, waiting and watching for demons coming through the portal. He could hear their voices as they chatted quietly, or whispered occasional prayers to ward off the dark energy coming from the portal. Often, their idle talk dwelled on his brother Galen. They marveled at his strength, at his iron-hard will, and Aldric had to admit that he did too. Galen had been cursed twenty years ago, forever ruining his life, and yet he had never stopped fighting. He could only imagine what it was like, transforming every day, living his life in pain, every moment a struggle against the curse. Aldric doubted that he could have done it, not without going mad anyway. And now, Galen had willingly walked into Hell itself to attempt to bring the woman he loved back.

Aldric shook his head. He didn't think that he would have had the will to do that, even for his own wife, whom he loved more than life itself. And for that, he felt ashamed. It was a somewhat irrational feeling, since it was much more than one could reasonably ask of anyone to go into the Burning Hells, risking one's very soul, but it still made him feel horrible none the less to doubt himself. Sighing, he ran his fingers over his brother's cross, which hung from its chain, looped around his right fist. As he touched it, he felt a familiar warm tingle in his fingers, spreading up his arm, washing into his body and he smiled, for it washed away most of the negative feelings that were welling up in his heart. Being so close to the demonic realm probably didn't help his state of mind either. But, he was shaken out of his reverie a moment later by the voice of Prince Talorn, speaking to him from his right.

"Master Hunter, please, end this foolishness." He began, coming around so he stood before the Master Hunter. Aldric regarded him coldly, for the Prince had been persistently arguing against this course of action since it had been suggested. No matter how many times he had been told no, he kept on arguing. "It has been ten hours already.

Your brother is like as not dead by now and you know it. He is not coming back. Allow the priests to seal the portal."

"You believe Galen to be dead?" Aldric questioned and the prince nodded. The Master Hunter smiled grimly. "Like as not, you are right. But the Head priest said that the marks will give him twenty hours of protection, and so, we will give him at least that long." The prince looked like he was about to protest once more, but Aldric, tired of reiterating the same point over and over, cut him off. "I will say no more on the matter, your highness. The decision has been made."

Talorn's face twisted into a snarl at Aldric's disrespect, and the man turned on his heel, stomping off towards the staircase up into the castle. Aldric watched him go, a slight smile of triumph on his lips. Arrogance such as his deserved to be taken down a notch or two. The master hunter sighed and turned back toward the center of the chamber, looking towards the center of the portal, as if to bore a hole into the demon realm, seeking his wolfish brother's fate...

***

I limped slowly onward down the corridor of dark stone. Every step was an effort, for I had little strength left. Lances of agony surged up my injured leg with every step, but it at least was a constant, a reminder that I was still alive. Every breath that I breathed made my throat ache, for it was dry as bone. Twin trails of sticky, viscous blood were oozing slowly from my nostrils, making it that much harder to breath. They had gotten so dry that the sensitive flesh inside had cracked, and I was starting to taste blood, though whether it came from my nose or my throat was impossible to tell. I was so tired and sore that every movement was an agony, and yet I forced myself onward. I had been wandering the maze-like halls of the cathedral for only a few hours and yet it seemed an eternity. The halls all looked exactly the same, and I taken to scratching a mark on the wall of each junction I passed, simply to keep my sanity and to ensure that I was not going in circles. I longed to increase my pace, for the screams of Julianna, the woman I loved, still echoed in my ears, though they had long ago ceased. But asking that of my tortured body was impossible; it was all I could do to remain on my feet. The anger that had lent me strength on the cliff had been a godsend, but it was beyond hope that another windfall like that would come to me, so I struggled on with the fraying scraps of strength that remained to me.

And then, all at once, as I turned the corner, the corridor opened up before me into an empty chamber. Set into the far wall was an arch, which must have led to another chamber, but the moment one foot crossed the threshold of the chamber, my instincts were aroused and I stopped, putting a hand to my sword, though it pained me to grip the hilt. And then, suddenly, I sensed I wasn't alone in the chamber. Something invisible had entered the room with me, something that made my heckles stand on end. I could see and hear nothing different in the room, and time was pressing; I could not take the time to find what it was. I began to limp forward once again, warily gazing about me for the source of the feeling. None of my senses detected anything, only the wary instinct gave any warning. I shook the feeling off and continued on, walking slowly toward the arch. Just before I reached it, I froze, my free hand on the dagger in my belt. And then, without warning, the strange, four armed demon that had joined me in the room revealed itself, hanging spiderlike from the wall above the arch. I drew my dagger quickly, for my sword was too long in such a confined space, but I was far too slow in my weakened state. Before I could strike it with the silver and jade dagger, the demon grabbed me with two of it's arms, lifting me off the ground.

Its very touch burned into me like the beast was made of fire, and I cried out in rage and pain. Then, even as my dagger darted forward in a strike, the creature bit me, sinking its fangs deep into the flesh at my shoulder, frighteningly close to the spot where the werewolf had bitten me, so many years ago. At almost the same moment, my dagger bit deep, penetrating into the beast's heart. It could not shriek, for its mouth was full of my fur and flesh, but it dug in a little harder with its teeth in response, making me cry out once more. But, though the demon was dying, the damage was done. Even as its flesh crumbled away into ash around my blade, I felt fluid trailing along its fangs and into my blood. As the black ash cascaded down around me, I reached up and touched the wound with my fingers, feeling the cold fluid trailing from the wounds in thin rivulets. I brought my fingers into my gaze and saw the pale yellow venom that coated it. And then, a moment later, I looked up from my grey furred fingers to find that I was no longer standing in the hellish cathedral. Instead, I was standing in a familiar room, a room that I had not seen in decades. It was the living room of my childhood home, in the village in the wild and un-ruled southern mountains.

A fire crackled merrily on the hearth behind me and it's heat was glorious after the frigid conditions of hell. The world outside the windows was dark with the night, but it didn't bother me. I was overjoyed, for I was home for the first time in years. I looked about me for a moment, a tried smile coming to my lips, but then, the joy faltered, and I was struck suddenly by the oddity of what I was seeing. Hadn't I just been in Hell? What was I doing in my childhood house? But, such thoughts were driven from my head when I realized I wasn't alone. I whirled around to face the creak of the floor boards from a footstep, dagger raised and ready, only to find my father standing there, his hair now all grey, but still wearing the white cloak of a Master Hunter. On the breast of his tunic, a brilliant and ornate cross of silver and gold thread that glittered in the dancing firelight had been embroidered into the white cloth, marking his elevation to the ruling council that directed the efforts of all Slayers. But my joy at seeing him once again after all this time faded quickly at the look on his face. It was a frown, the look of utter disapproval. I cocked my head to the side a little, confused. And then he spoke.

"How dare you come here, after you have become this...this monster." He said, his voice so cold that I instinctually shrank back from him. "You have been nothing but a disappointment to me since the day you were born, and this is the final straw."

"Father, how can you say that?" I asked, despair robbing me of reason. I had lived my whole life knowing that my father had been proud of me, even after I was cursed, but hearing him say that nearly crushed me. And then, as he advanced on me, his eyes narrowing with rage, I was suddenly six years old again. I stared up at my father, terrified as I had been the time I had broken a valuable vase while playing as a child.

"You did not have the courage to end your life when you were cursed." He snarled, drawing a silver bladed dagger from his belt. "No son of mine would choose to live so. Now, you will die, by my hand or your own"

He flipped the dagger over and held it out to me. I looked up at him in shock and gratitude, reaching out a small hand to take the dagger, my own falling to the floorboards unnoticed. I took the blade in hand, happy to have the ability to make my father proud. Because my hands were so small, I had to use both of them to lift the blade, but I did so eagerly, placing its silver point on my chest, above my heart. My arms tensed to drive it inward, but suddenly, something stopped me. This was all I had to do to end it, to make him happy. All it would take was the stab to reach my heart, not even a few inches deep would do it. And then it hit me. Why would so little kill me?

Even a child could survive such a stab to the chest. So how could it be lethal? And then it came to me. It would kill because it was silver and I was a werewolf. But I hadn't been cursed when I was six. I had been cursed more than ten years after that. And suddenly, I was no longer a small frightened boy. I was an adult once more, a werewolf more than seven feet tall, and even though I was exhausted, I still out massed my father by a wide margin. The aches and pains of my injuries had returned and the silver dagger in my palms no longer looked like my father's blade. Instead, I saw that while it was indeed silver, it was shaped like a fang, and engraved with the demonic mark upon its blade. Which meant that I was still in Hell, and this creature before me was a demon. I flashed a menacing grin and raised my gaze from the dagger. With barely a flick of my wrist, I threw the weapon, driving its silver point deep in the demon's heart. It screamed with my father's voice, a scream of rage and pain that knifed deep into my heart. But I smiled grimly despite my emotional turmoil, for the blood trailing down its front was not red human blood. It was black, filled with corruption and I turned my back on the demon that wore my father's face, retrieving my dagger and sheathing it quickly, walking to the door that led outside. While the demon shrieked at my cloaked back, dying from its own weapon, I opened the door and stepped out...into another room.

This room was cold, as cold as it had ever been in hell. But this room was coated in hanging curtains of bright reddish orange satin. It was lit with a strange soft light that glittered and glinted off the curtains, and it took me a moment to realize that it came from four braziers filled with coals, though they gave off no heat. And, there in the center of the room, between the four braziers, was a feather-soft bed. I limped warily forward into the room once more, my hand on the hilt of my long sword. This room seemed so incongruous with what I had seen in the rest of this place, and that alone made me wary. But, this room seemed utterly empty besides the strange furnishings. But, as I limped forward into the room, I suddenly felt woozy, like the room was spinning around me. I shook my head, and the room righted itself, but I realized then that I actually felt even colder than I had before. These feelings reminded me of the time in my childhood that I gotten a terrible fever. The fever had nearly killed me, but a combination of my mother's magic and my own will to live had fought it off. However, all such thoughts were driven out of my head a moment later, because once more, I was not alone.

I turned as fast as my much tormented body could manage, my hand drawing my sword a few inches out of its scabbard. And, the moment I saw what had joined me in the room, I let go of the blade, allowing it to return to its home, for the creature I saw was disarming in the extreme. I say creature, and not woman, for I had never seen anything like her before in my life. She was a werewolf in a fully transformed state, but more than that, she was the most voluptuous and desirable woman I had ever seen. And what's more, she was totally naked and making no effort to conceal herself. Her fur color was hard to judge in the soft lighting, but the conditions only made her look all the more seductive. Shaking myself out of the daze I had been in, I reached up slowly towards my sword again, wary of this new and strange vision. The very motion was an effort, for some will resisted the movement strongly. And then, as the wolf woman reached the nearest brazier, she reached out over it and released a very fine powder from her hand. The moment the powder touched the coals, a sweet and cloying smoke rose from it.

The vapor drifted towards me and I couldn't help but breathe it in. And, the moment I breathed in the smoky mist, my mind became muddled, my reasoning fuzzy. As I watched, dazed, the woman walked to each brazier in turn, sprinkling a single handful of the powder into each. The scent soon filled every breath and I suddenly lost the ability to think at all. My hand fell to my side unnoticed and I could do little but stare at her as she walked slowly forward. Every motion of her body was like an intricate ballet, utterly entrancing to watch. With every step, her hips swung back and forth like a hypnotic pendulum, and its effect was instantaneous. I couldn't take my eyes off of her as she approached me, and she smiled seductively. A few more steps and she was standing close enough to touch. She continued to move slowly towards me, reaching out with a hand and beginning to caress my chest with her claws. It felt so good that all I wanted to do was reach out and take her in my arms, to kiss her and take her until we both were unable to move, but something was distracting me.

It was a sound, like a low buzzing in my head. I tried to brush it off, to command my body to take this woman to the bed which stood conveniently nearby and have my way with her, but the buzzing stubbornly persisted, and my body refused to obey me. As the woman's teasing continued, I sought to arouse myself, dredging up memories of anything and everything that had made me aroused in the past, but it would not work. With every moment, the buzzing was growing louder, more insistent, and at last, my mind began to think once more, sluggishly pondering the sound. And then, as the woman came forward to kiss me, I got a feeling of wrongness so intense that it jolted my mind more awake, awaking it from the befuddling aroma, and suddenly the voice that had caused the buzzing got through. This was not what I wanted to do. And more than that, I had not seen a single werewolf the whole time I had been here, and as that thought entered my mind, the voluptuous shell that had encased the creature before me flickered and I was instantly fully awake once more.

As the woman came close, our lips nearly meeting in a kiss, I forced my hand to move. The creature gasped suddenly, jerking backward, my dagger buried up to its hilt in its chest. And then, the seductive werewolf was gone, replaced by some foul mockery of a woman, her fanged mouth opened wide in a silent scream, her pale skin igniting with green flame, crumbling to dust. The demon's fangs dripped with toxins and I knew then that if I had so much as kissed her, I would have been dead within moments, resistance to poison or not. A snarl came to my lips and a brief flash of anger woke in me at the demon's duplicity. I twisted the hilt of the dagger in its chest before ripping it free, sheathing the blade in one motion.

As the seductress died, her body burning away, the satin hangings faded away, and I realized where I was again. I saw the black walls of the cathedral around me, and even as that faded from sight once more, replaced by another vision dredged up to distract me. But this time, knowing what I was facing made it unreal, like a thin transparent veil draped over the real world. I ignored the most recent vision that the demons had cooked up to stop me altogether and brushed past the illusions. No demons haunted this chamber, so I was not in danger. And finally, I realized what had been done. I had been poisoned with a cunning toxin, not one meant to kill, but one meant to cloud my senses, to make me vulnerable to their trickery. The feverish feeling in my body was the lycanthropic curse fighting with the toxin, striving to purify its vessel. And, moment by moment, the struggle was draining what little strength I had left. Like the grains of sand in an hourglass falling away into oblivion, my strength was steadily failing. Truly exhausted, all I wanted was to sit for a while, to rest my weary body and mind, but I ignored the demands of my earthly shell as I had ignored the images conjured before me and forced myself to take a step, then another, and another, and step by step, I continued to the arch in the far wall and beyond, into a corridor, leaning heavily on the wall to keep me upright, my head swimming.

Just when I got through the arch, I fell heavily against the wall, my feet suddenly no longer able to support me. I couldn't go on anymore. I didn't have the strength. I slumped slowly into a sitting position against the wall, my eyes blurring with fatigue. I shut my eyes, bitter tears streaking my fur. I had come all this way, gotten so far, but I had failed. I could go no further. I slumped, my limbs going limp as they lost strength. I sat and cried for a full minute, beaten down and broken. And then, suddenly, as I sat crying, my thoughts grew clearer, crystallizing out of the ether of my subconscious. All of my life had been one long road to this moment. A decade of brutal training; seeing fellow aspirants, barely more than children, torn apart by demons while they strove to learn to defeat them. And after that, a score of years living under a horrible curse, forced to give up my humanity every night, forced to change into a monstrous creature. All of the pain I had endured in my life had given me something unique; a tolerance to pain that was unmatched by any human. No other could have made it this far, and none could have faced what I had without going mad. I would not go back, not without the one I loved, so only one course existed. I loved Julianna more than I loved my life, and if I had to face my last moments here in this horrible, bleak world, I would face them with her. And with that thought came a trickle of strength, hidden in some deep reserve. My tears dried up and I opened my eyes once more, finding my vision a little clearer.

Slowly, my muscles quivering as if the weight of an entire world was pressing down on me, I rose back to my feet, leaning on the wall for support. I was beyond exhaustion, beyond pain itself. My whole world was agony. Every motion, every action was painful. Breathing hurt, even the beat of my heart hurt, but the pain was fading into the background in the wake of those thoughts. My mind had become focused, as if a shell had formed around the heart of my mind, driving all thoughts away save one, continuing on.

Judging from the effort the demons were putting into stopping me, I was close to my goal, so all I had to do was make it a little further. Even though my vision was blurred, my mind swimming, on the verge of shutting down totally, I lurched forward, limping and staggering slowly down the corridor, drawing slow, painful breaths of air. I had no hope of returning home now, the only hope that remained was to see Julianna once more before I died. And, despite the seemingly insurmountable odds stacked against me, I walked onward, drawing ever closer to the large archway at the end of the corridor, through which the orange light seemed to be coming. My mind was at last free of all concerns, for I had nothing left to lose...

***

Julianna awoke from a nightmare only to find that the waking world was worse, much worse. She had been tortured and humiliated until she had been unable to stand the pain any longer and had passed out. The memories alone of the experience made her shudder in horror. The demons had stabbed her with white hot rods, cut her with knives and tore at her with claws, and all the while, she had been made to watch as they slaughtered her friends and family before her eyes over and over again, every death more horrible than the last. And now, she woke again to see that they waited for her. She had no idea how long she had been out, but the ward was still warm around her arm, and her mind was still clear, so it could not have been very long. And then, she began to notice things; little things that made her feel vaguely triumphant.

Things like the fact that the vampires were looking bothered; frustrated, almost as if they were in a hurry to break her, and were drawing near to the deadline. The demons that lined the walls were no longer jabbering in joy and anticipation. Instead, they were quiet, shifting about nervously, casting furtive glances in the direction of the large doorway set into the wall. Something was very wrong if they were worried while they were here in their realm, which meant that something was very right for her. The crumbling hope that had sustained her during the endless torture, the tiny flickering candle flame in her mind that held back the darkness of despair, suddenly flared into a roaring blaze like a bonfire, warming her from within. Her gaze hardened and her will became as hard as steel once more. And, even as the nearest vampire lifted a white hot rod of steel from the fire once more, coming forward to begin the torture anew, she heard a murmur of dismay rising through the gathered demons, becoming ever louder, starting over by the archway and running along the line like a wave.

And suddenly, over the shoulder of the vampire stepping forward to torture her, a shape came into the chamber through the arch, a slow moving shape of grey that made her heart leap into her throat. The vampires spun around, staring in utter shock as it came forward into the light. Julianna watched, not believing what she was seeing, as the shape drew itself up to its full height, its movements slow. It was Galen, fully transformed, twilight grey fur revealed to the orange light. His feet were wrapped in dirty grey strips of cloth stained with dried blood, his cloak was torn and frayed and thin jade lines spread out across his chest in the marks of the priesthood, glowing brightly. His blood was oozing from his nostrils and from a ragged wound in his shoulder. From the look on his face, and the fact that his muscles visible quivered, she could tell that he was exhausted almost to the point of collapse. So tired and desperate did this creature appear that she doubted the demons would have conjured it. But then, Galen's eyes passed over her and though they held a haunted look, as his gaze met hers, it held such a look of love and determination within them that she had no doubt that it was him, the real Galen, not some conjuration of the vampires meant to torture her.

"I have come for the Princess Julianna," He stated into the silence of the room, his weakened voice a hoarse whisper that none the less echoed in the sudden silence, the finality of the statement making the demons stand stock still. "Release her or every last one of you will die here and now."

For a moment longer, the silence persisted. And then, a low, haunting laughter began to emanate from the other side of the room, a laughter so dark and evil that it made flesh crawl, but even worse, its voice was familiar. Hearing it made a river of ice run up Julianna's spine and she shivered. The laughter continued for a full minute, chilling her to the bone while her love swayed with exhaustion, and then, the voice spoke loud, making her long to press her hands to her ears, to block out the sound wholly, but the bands of magic that bound her held her arms rigidly still above her head.

"Quite impressive Hunter Galen," It said, its voice filled with a mocking laughter. "To make it this far. But you are outnumbered, alone and exhausted. Do you really think you can take our prize against so many?"

"If I must." Galen said, defiance flaring in his gaze. With this, he drew his sword from its sheath, the glittering silver and jade weapon glowing with a wholesome light even in the orange glare of Hell. He was so tired that he could barely hold the point of the blade upright, but he set in fighting position anyway. The voice came back once more, and she was surprised to find an undercurrent of grudging respect in it.

"So be it." It said, the tone of its voice like the pronouncement of doom. At this single sentence, the two vampires came forward, dark swords appearing in their hands as they approached. Galen turned to face them, his movements sluggish and slow, and Julianna wanted so badly to help him, but she could not move, much less act to help him. The first vampire, the one who had taken such delight in torturing her with the burning rods, took a big step forward, lunging towards the exhausted warrior, intending to take his head right off with one strike, but Galen ducked just quick enough, the motion more awkward than it should have been. It looked like his legs had just given out, but it saved his life.

The vampire's black blade passed over his head, very nearly clipping his ear. All at once, the vampire staggered suddenly, the glittering point of Galen's sword just visible sticking through its back, spearing him right through the heart. The vampire shrieked and writhed as it died, but Galen was not rising back to his feet. His muscles were quivering, and his teeth were set in a determined grimace, but it looked as if he physically could not get up. The second vampire stepped forward, grinning maliciously and easily disarmed him, sweeping his sword from his hand and out of reach. The vampire's fangs glinted white in the orange light of the room as he reached the exhausted warrior who knelt before him and then grabbed him by his dark mane of hair, yanking his head back painfully, the blade of its sword pressed against his neck.

"Shall I take his head my lord?" The vampire snarled, glancing at the pile of ash that had once been his cohort, but the voice did not give the answer that the young princess expected.

"No, I have a better idea." It said, and she turned her head to look toward the dark corner where the voice was coming from. The room seemed to be lightening steadily, the orange light increasing as if a fire was growing hotter in the room and she saw a hulking figure rise from where it had been seated. At the moment, all she could see was a dark outline, but it was not like anything she had ever seen before, save in books and scrolls telling of the ancient times, when the demons had been cast from the realm of the gods. It towered over all the demons in the room, as large as a Fel Guard, but it had great wings shaped like a bat's growing from its back. Horns and spines seem to sprout from every joint, and from the tips of each fold of its great black wings. Large fangs as thick as spears descended from its jaws, but its skin was as pale as moonlight. It seemed clad in armor made of black stone or metal so corrupted that light had no power to shine on it. A thick, many spiked tail extended from its lower back, sweeping the ground with its length. With every detail that was revealed, the image grew more horrible. Soon, she had little doubt that she was looking at one of the legendary demons, for its force of presence could come from nothing else. "Bring him to me so he will know who has at last defeated him."

The vampire nodded and waved a pair of oni forward. The two demons grabbed Galen under his arms, dragging him forward. The werewolf could not struggle, but his eyes glared defiantly at the towering creature. The demons dropped him at the huge demon's feet and the creature negligently waved a hand at him. Instantly, tendrils of bright magic shot from the walls, encircling Galen's wrists, pulling them out to the sides, locking them out straight, hanging him by his arms, his toes just trailing across the stone at his feet. And then, the light grew enough that the demon's face was reveled to the light and Julianna let out a horrified gasp. Though twisted and marred by the horns that grew from the demon's head, the face was unmistakable. It was Redamarc...