In the vast, dark hall, atop a high stone throne, sat the Black Lord. Bald, gray-skinned, clad in black armor. In his eyes and before him swirled masses of black darkness.
When the trio entered, the Black Lord rose. He was enormous—about ten feet tall.
A ghostly, will-crushing voice echoed along the walls:
"You have come as I willed! You couldn't not come, because it is my will—and I control you! Each new cycle of pain, you come and die. And it brings me absolute pleasure. Come here, bring me new blood."
He raised his hands and unleashed black lightning upon them. The trio reacted instantly, leaping aside. Several small black craters formed on the floor, smoke rising from each.
The warrior women and the Cursed charged the Black Lord. His black lightning struck at them, but they dodged aside and pushed forward. But then one bolt caught the brunette, tearing her armor and body clean in half and hurling her onto the stone floor to die. With a wild scream of fury, the blonde charged the Black Lord and swung her sword. He caught the blade in his armored gauntlet and, with his other hand, seized her by the throat and lifted her into the air, holding her at the level of his grim face. His thin black lips curled in cruel triumph, revealing long, sharp teeth.
"Well, that's it, white-haired one! Your blood is my blood. The blood of your victims—all mine."
He clenched his hand with a sickening snap, breaking the warrior's neck, and tossed her aside like a useless doll.
The Cursed drove his sword into the Black Lord's stomach. But the Black Lord looked at him, still grimly smiling as if he felt no pain.
His iron, bloodied hand reached out toward the hero.
Darkness.
A woman's agonized scream full of pain. Then another—from the other side.
He opened his eyes.
The insane, blood-smeared faces of the brunette and the blonde were before him. In their eyes, burning with flame, there was absolute hatred as they looked at him. Blood stained their lips. His blood. Their mouths were open, revealing long, sharp fangs.
"No! No!" the blonde screamed, stepping back from him and shaking her head. "You made us suffer a savage pain! You forced us again to relive the deaths we died once, long ago, many years past. Every time you, cursed victims, come here, you make us relive our death. And then we must give all the blood to him — damn him a thousand times over! He takes everything! You will not live, the Cursed! You will not live!"
They were clad in the same armor they had worn on the dark river. Only now it looked older, worn. And their heads bore no helmets. Their long hair was wild and tangled, twisting around their furious, enraged faces like demonic creatures.
The warrior women rose into the air and, stretching out their hands with long black nails, lunged at him.
He used his vampire strength. The wounds on his neck healed. He slid to the side, evading the deadly embrace of the vampire women. They screamed wildly as they realized their victim had vanished right from under their noses. Their furious, enraged faces turned toward him. He drew his sword from the air. They pulled their old, jagged blades. The battle began. Only now they fought not side by side as old friends, but against each other as the fiercest of enemies.