Blascronoret - Page 457


You gather the remains of Number Three in your bony hands and walk them to the hellish opening. One of the stitched slaves tilts his head up in recognition of your presence. You toss the pile of innards down on top of his face. "Make me another slave," you grunt. "Perhaps a harem girl, if you can find new skin."

The slave gathers up the gooey mess that used to be Number Three and walks out of your vision. You grab your sword and march out the door to find your next kill.

Eager to hunt, you keep your vision trained on the treeline as you approach the woodpile farther down the hillside. Number Four was here. You can taste her sweet scent in the air. Evidence of her presence lingers like fruity perfume. Her fighting spirit is intoxicating. The last time you came to the surface, you had searched for someone like Number Four to complete the altar. Sadly, in a thousand years, you have never found a proper heart to satisfy the Dark One. Number Four will certainly fulfill the altar's requirements.

Number Four's footprints are as easy to follow as her vivid scent. As you leave the woodpile and begin to move further down the hillside, another scent dances across your perception. Fear.

Number Two is nearby. Perhaps watching from the trees like a coward. You smile. His heart is not strong like Number Four's, but perhaps his tortured cries upon the bone altar will be enough to make Number Four come running back.

What Will You Do?

To ignore Number Two and continue pursuing the perfect heart, turn to page 18.

To harvest Number Two's screams upon your altar to bring Number Four running back, turn to page 57.