The irony is almost enough to make me smile in this most unholy of places. A brief moment of humour amongst the nightmarish sights that make up the Eternal Prison. To think that Moebius, even in the form of a statue effigy, would ever help me. Hundreds of years after his death at my hands, assuming that such a statement has any merit at all here, where time is controlled and manipulated by a flick of a switch, Moebius kills one last Vampire, one who made himself my enemy.

A pitiful creature, though his mad ramblings and slight frame serve only to fool the unwary - his unique power, a blast of flame that could have incinerated me had I moved slower, is an incredibly potent one. It shall serve me well.

I step over the rubble of the now-wrecked statue and bare my fangs. But the Vampire speaks, a voice weakened by centuries of torment but no longer carrying the burden of madness.

"The fog lifts...Sire! Wait!"

Sire? "What trickery is this?"

"No trickery, sire. I am your servant once again. Your champion."

Champion? MY Champion? This wretch is truly deluded if he believes such a false plea will save his life. "Pathetic wretch. I have no..."

Our eyes lock, and I have a revelation. He has changed since we last met, but I know this Vampire.

"Magnus? Could it be..?"

Magnus nods painfully. "It is I, Sire."

"How is this possible?" I hear myself ask. Here in this cursed place was my finest warrior. My most loyal Champion. The Sarafan had fallen before him by the score. Together, he and I were invincible.

More than that. I had had many Vampires in my army, but I had truly trusted very few of them. My meetings with Marcus, Faustus and Sebastian had confirmed in my mind that I had been right not to.

But Magnus...he had been more than an ally. Of all my warriors, he had been the only one that I had ever called my friend. Perhaps the only being I had considered a friend since my death and revival as a Vampire.

My eyes narrowed. I could think of only one explanation for finding Magnus here and now. Treachery. Shards of memory slid together. I remembered the fateful night, hours before the clash between my forces and the Sarafan. Magnus had disappeared from my camp. I had been greatly concerned at the time, but knowing what I did now, it all seemed to make sense.

"Magnus the traitor." I spit. "Is this your reward for betraying me to the Sarafan Lord?"

Magnus flinches, as if the sound of my words hurt more than the two centuries of torture he had enjured in the Eternal Prison. "S-Sire, I did not..."

I cut him off in rage. "You left my camp in the night to join with my enemy. Like all the others!"

Magnus' eyes and voice seem to plead for me to listen, to beg for my belief. "Sire, no! I wanted only to serve you! I...I thought, in my pride, I would strike a blow that would end the war. I went to kill the Sarafan Lord...alone. I was your Champion."

I search, with my ears and my mind, for the deceit, for the lies. But I cannot find them. I know Magnus too well. He is speaking the truth.

But then...does this mean I have condemned a friend to death?ears ago.

"You never returned..." I whisper.

"I failed you." Magnus' voice is as downcast as I remember ever hearing it. In his view, to fail me is so much worse than torture. So loyal, just as he was two hundred years ago. "I tried to kill him. Even now, I cannot remember how he defeated me. I was struck down, helpless at his feet, and then through his foul magic, he took my mind and transported me here to this hell hole."

He looks up at me, almost as if in wonder. "But what of you, Sire? I heard that you were dead..."

"Not so dead as some would like to have me. As you see, I have returned."

Magnus nods, and then bites back a gasp of pain. The fall of the statue has mortally wounded him. Even if I were to give him all the blood in my body, I could not save him. The realisation hurts more than I would ever admit.

I steel myself. I know what must happen.

"Magnus...my Champion. You have suffered long enough. It is with pride that I grant you your death."

Magnus smiles slightly. "Sire...my thanks..."

I make the kill clean and quick. And I take the blood from his body, drawing with it the power of Immolation that Magnus had used against me before his insanity passed. I feel new strength course through my veins. Until now, such a feeling has always agreed with me. Not so this time.

I have killed many during my time. Enemies, hostiles, innocents. Screaming attackers, snarling demons, sneaking criminals, sleeping citizens, chained prisoners, I have killed and fed from them all. I have never pretended that my kills have always been just, or right. I kill to continue my own life. I have never felt a need to answer for this to anyone. It is simply the way things are.

Not this time. As I look down on Magnus' newly-dead body, a feeling of immense regret fills me. Was there anything I could have done to save him? To return his mind without killing him.

On the edge of my senses, I can feel his presence? Or is it just a guilty mind playing tricks? Perhaps it doesn't matter. Before I leave this damned Prison and go to destroy the Device, I am going to do something that I have never done for a victim before, and probably will not do ever again.

I am going to offer a prayer.

Not to a god or any passing deity. I find it hard to believe that a divine presence would allow the state of Nosgoth to fall apart as it has over the last few centuries, or to allow the atrocities I have seen. And even if one does exist, I doubt it would listen to the prayers of one like me.

This prayer is for Magnus. A gift to my friend for his journey to the hereafter. I look up to where I imagine the soul of my Champion to be.

"Go, Magnus." I whisper. "Go, my friend. Be free, as the rest of us, living or dead, can never be..."

I turn from the ruins of the Prison and begin the trek back to Meridian. I must push away feelings of sadness and follow the course of vengeance.

The Sarafan Lord has one more crime to answer for.

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