Yeah, they’d once been slaves to their new, demonic halves, destructive and violent, killers without a conscience. But they had been punished eternally, each warrior cursed by the gods to host one of those vile fiends inside himself. Yeah, long ago they’d opened Pandora’s box, unleashing the demons from inside. He and his brothers-by-circumstance thought otherwise. Or rather, what these Hunters considered evil. It had been a battle of good versus evil, and evil had won. They’d fought with every ounce of strength they possessed, each of them. Shallow, erratic rasps of breath filled Sabin’s ears. For only by winning the war could his friends finally know peace.
With Hunters-mortals who’d decided he and his fellow Lords of the Underworld made good whipping boys for the world’s evil-victory was the only thing that mattered.
He didn’t hesitate to ask his men to do the same, either. He was a warrior who did what needed to be done, when it needed to be done, no matter what was required of him. Damned admirable.īrave men didn’t spill their secrets, and Sabin wanted their secrets. A few had their shoulders squared, their noses in the air, hatred in their eyes, refusing to back down even in defeat. They’d already been stripped of their weapons, hustled into a corner and bound with rope. Nine of his enemy had survived the attack. Now bodies littered every square inch of the small corridor, the scent of fatality already rising from them. Half an hour ago it had been honey brown, grains sparkling and scattering as they’d marched. The sandy floor was thick like paste, wet and colored black. Walls that were now spattered with vivid red, dripping…pooling. Torches flickered orange and gold, twining with shadows along the stone walls. SABIN, KEEPER OF THE DEMON of Doubt, stood in the catacombs of an ancient pyramid, panting, sweating, his hands soaked in his enemy’s blood, his body cut and bruised as he surveyed the carnage around him.
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