Faith (Celeste) - The events of the last day have been unsettling. As I have not yet come to terms with the true nature of our situation I hold that in some way the events that have unfolded will be justified. Casper's familiar managed to find us in the gardens. He guided us to a pile of bodies. In that pile we found his master and that of the Vorseman Corman. By the grace of St. Catherine I was able to give life to Corman. His god would have to complete the duty of raising Casper.

The garden, if I can call it that was more of a vast cemetery. The citizen of they cemetery found no rest here. The dead stalked us from ever direction. Haste would have to be our ally. We could not outrun the vampires if we were discovered. We would have to force them to track us by scent alone.

Calais and Silverhawk conspired to move us in the direction of Hell's Tailor at god's speed. Catherine had been very cryptic in her messages of late. Poetry and verse being her tools not warm teachings and motherly wisdom. I wonder at this change.

Pursued by a pack of vampires through the gardens we followed the ranges at a pace that matched our urgency. What role are we to play in pursuit of Hell's Tailor. He holds the key to the barrier between out world and the legions of Hell. He must be stopped. We spotted a hilltop crypt in the distance; illuminated by torchlight it was almost a beacon in the storm. There too the Tailor did flee.

A long decrepit stone stairway paved the way to the top. At the base of the stairs a statue of St. Michael seemed to defy the garden’s malevolence. "Here lies Heaven's gate" he seems to say, "get behind me ye of fair temperance". The view upward suggested nothing of safety and sanctity. As we approached the top of the stairs the decrepit nature of the garden once more manifested before us. A balding aged nosferatu and a creature seemingly made from a collection of peoples stood in our path. Beyond them I could see the Tailor making his escape through a door at the back of the mausoleum. He, must not escape, all depends on it. I waded into the pair as I head Calais' bowstring strummed the chord of combat. We were not alone and the stairs behind us filled with the living dead. Chief among them was a reaper-like figure. His hatred for the living producing such a form as to decay flesh at the utterance of a word. Haste, haste.

At my side once more was Enzo. Together we would be done with the dead that stood between the Tailor and us. Trouble was massing behind us and Enzo turned to lend a hand. The heat from the open door ahead of me stung my flesh. How could he endure the heat? As the Tailor pulled the door closed behind him the room took on a frosty state. My breath visible in the air that, moments earlier, charred my skin. Before me appeared a guardian of sorts. A silent sentinel. Not a word or a breath escaped his helm. If he was alive it was not through the will of Heaven. I moved close looking for an opening in his defenses. He had not moved since he appeared. As I drew closer he animated with a speed that found me ill prepared. He struck me with a force that threatened to steal my breath. The force of is blow was bewildering. If I am struck again I shall not see the light of day. The might of heaven I struck back. It too was resolved to perform its duty and weathered my attacks. As I braced for another attack I heard it hit, but felt no pain. There beside me was Enzo. A pained smile on his face as he acknowledged the blow he had taken for me. With each strike the Tailor was making good on his escape. Casper was slinging death by ice and fire from behind us to no effect. This creature feared neither fire nor frost.

I stilled my resolve to finish the fight. When the cutting was done the guardian vanished and the door behind him opened. The heat that was there when the tailor passed through was absent. Silverhawk checked to see if he ad truly passed that way. She confirmed with a nod.

The door lead to a hall that continued into darkness. Behind me I could hear the others struggle against the hordes of dead. One by one the entered the crypt. I motion for them to enter the door. When Calais arrived I could see in his eyes the desperation of his plight. The time was now, or we perish here.

Once through the door is closed behind us. We did not look back. When the blackness of the hall consumed us I thought I saw stars. My stomach climbed in my throat. Was I falling?

Stars indeed were all around. No walls or floor to be seen. Below me I could see a glowing patch of red. There was the heat again. A coppery smell push against may senses. My eyes and nose were sting and still the heat grew. I could make out an expansive lake of fire. We were falling to certain death. I looked around for the others. My stinging eyes revealed they too were falling. A curtain of darkness fell over me as I tried to find Enzo.