Then it shattered. Someone was screaming. The priests were pushing forward. The guards were pulling him back. Alucard stared down at the prince. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand. And then Rhy’s hand slipped from his, and fell back to the bed. Lifeless. The last silver threads were losing their hold, sliding off his skin like sheets in summer. And then he was screaming. Alucard didn’t remember anything after that.
