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Their blades came together and they struggled, each man grunting with supreme effort.

As the straining reached its peak, Alphonse threw out his great elbow and smashed Andrew in the chest, causing his brother to grunt loudly in pain and lose some of his concentration.

Then, in one swift move, the earl put his foot behind his brother’s heel and sent him crashing onto his back.

Andrew was struggling to rise, but everyone in the room could see what was coming.

The casual observers were disappointed to see that the gleaming challenger would soon be dead, and wondered if they would be witness to what the earl had in store for the maiden.

It would seem that, this time, evil would prevail.

Josephine watched, wild-eyed, as the earl advanced on Andrew, slowly raising his sword over his head in preparation for the death blow.

She began to gasp, clawing at Ridge’s arm and was on the verge of complete madness.

Sully’s eyes widened; he was sure this was the end and he had to do something.

But the first thing he had to do was get Josephine out of there.

“De Reyne,” he whispered hoarsely. “Remove Lady Josephine from this hall. Now . Get her out.”

Josephine started to scream, a bone-chilling pain-filled howl straight from her soul.

Ridge was sorry he had to slap his big hand over her mouth, but he had to get her out without attracting attention.

That was imperative. Meanwhile, across the room, Thane was gripping a pylon with white knuckles, not believing what he was about to see and waiting for his moment to strike.

He couldn’t wait much longer. Behind him, Donald was moving towards de Reyne, preparing to help him with Josephine, who was putting up a terrible fight.

It was chaos all around as the worst of all conclusions to this battle was becoming evident.

As Sully and Thane positioned themselves to intervene, Andrew saw his brother coming through his haze of pain and exhaustion.

He saw the sword raised high and knew he had no time to get to his feet.

But he was no fool, as his reputation proved.

The end was, indeed, coming, but not for him.

He was going to do what he had come to do, and that was kill his brother.

Hell would have one more resident come this night. He smiled behind his faceplate.

Alphonse was on him, the sword high. “Greet Father in hell for me, brother dear.”

Fast as lightning, Andrew’s wicked sword came up from the floor and thrust itself into Alphonse’s unprotected chest. He pushed hard, grunting with incredible effort, shoving so hard that the blade pushed clean through to the other side.

For seconds, no one moved. Alphonse was frozen to the spot, his sword still held high above his head, with Demon Slayer like a macabre skewer through his torso.

Andrew was still on the ground, watching his brother in anticipation of his brother’s sword coming down on him, but it never moved. It simply stayed aloft.

As fast as he could, Andrew rose on weary legs and knocked his brother’s frozen sword from his paralyzed hands.

Looking Alphonse straight in the eye, he jammed the sword into Alphonse’s dying flesh again, so deeply, that only the hilt was visible from the front.

When Alphonse still didn’t go down, Andrew kicked him in the stomach and sent him sprawling to the cold dirt floor.

Josephine, Ridge, Sully, Thane, and Donald were rooted to the spot, unbelieving that a situation that had looked so helpless had turned in the blink of an eye.

Andrew was the only one left alive and standing, with the earl dead at his feet.

It was absolutely astounding, a perfect tribute to Andrew’s determination and, for several moments, time stood still.

No one moved and no one dared to speak. It was almost a sacred moment, one that had been a long time in coming.

It was Andrew’s moment to savor.

Clumsily, he reached up and tore off his helm, and flung it off into the darkness. His auburn hair was wet, sticking to his face, and rivulets of blood from the vicious head-beating ran down his cheeks.

Finally, it was Josephine who moved first. When she realized that Andrew was still alive, that he hadn’t been finished off, she pulled gently from Ridge’s grasp and took several timid steps in Andrew’s direction.

She wasn’t sure if she should and, at some point, she came to a halt. She would go no further.

When he was ready, he could come to her.

But Andrew wasn’t looking at Josephine, at least not at the moment. He was staring down at his brother, seeing for himself that the man was finally dead. Years of hatred, of angst, and of sorrow had come to an abrupt end.

Strange that he felt no great satisfaction in the end of all things, only relief.

No arrogant triumph filled his veins as he had expected it would.

He had spent better than half his life preparing for just this moment and he found that victory, while sweet, was also somewhat sad.

He only had one brother; now he had none.

But he had Josephine. She filled his mind like an all-enveloping fragrance; sweet, overwhelming, and powerful.

As his thoughts shifted to her, he turned unsteadily in her direction and his gaze devoured her to the very bone.

Suddenly, he felt very weak and drained, and couldn’t call to her because of the lump in his throat.

She was safe, and he was free of his obsession.

He had to hold her. But somehow, he couldn’t seem to move.

Josephine saw his expression when he looked at her and her face crumbled, with tears flowing and great sobs releasing.

Andrew tried once again to reach and comfort her, but his legs were not working properly, and he plunged to his knees after a mere few steps.

But Josephine closed the gap rapidly, reaching out her arms as she ached to hold him.

She wanted to take his pain away, and to tell him how much she loved him, and how they would never again be apart.

But instead of words, she could only cry.

Josephine and Andrew came together in a climactic clash.

She wound her arms around his head as he buried his face in her soft torso, inhaling deeply of her familiar scent.

She cried into the top of his head and he held her so tightly that he thought he might crush her, but it didn’t seem to matter.

She was his, now and forever, and nothing in heaven and earth would ever separate them again.

His blood stained the white surcote a bright crimson, his blood all over the gown his brother had forced her to wear.

It seemed like an eternity as they held each other, knowing that everything was finally right in the world again.

They had come so close to losing one another that it was hard to believe they were together again, no longer in mortal danger.

Andrew half-expected at any moment to awake from a dream.

The four men that had come with Andrew now stood together, watching the emotional reunion.

They didn’t dare look at one another for fear the others might see tears in their eyes.

Donald wasn’t ashamed about wiping his away as Sully put a comforting hand on the young man’s head.

It was a touching scene they had all hoped to witness but had doubts that they truly would.

After watching the two lovers for several moments, Sully finally spoke.

“We must tend Andrew’s wound before he bleeds all over the floor,” he said quietly.

Ridge cocked a black eyebrow. “We may have to surgically separate them to accomplish that task.”

Sully grinned. “Mayhap,” he said. “I will take her; you three tend to Andrew.”

“True to form, Sully,” Donald quipped. “Taking the easier of the two.”

Sully snorted, without humor. “Is that what you think? Then you take her and remember that remark as she’s kicking your groin in. She will not be happy to be separated from him in the least.”

The three men looked at him. “We’ll take Andrew,” they agreed wholly in unison.

Sully grinned at their reply, but he made no move to carry out his plan. His attention turned back to the couple. It seemed like a sin to disturb such a touching scene.

“Well?” Donald finally said. “Lead on, my lord.”

Sully waved his hand at him. “In time, in time,” he said. “They have waited a long time for this moment. Allow them just a little longer before we go in and break it up.”

A hush settled over the hall, with most people turning to leave now that the show was over. It was eerily still and completely dark, except for the soft glow from the distant banks of candles. A peace filled the room as the knight and his lady clutched each other, the spoils to the victor.

But Andrew was growing weaker and paler, and Sully decided the time had come to separate his sister-in-law from her fiancé and tend the man’s considerable wounds. But as he and the others moved towards the pair, something horrific happened.

As if from a child’s nightmare, a horror straight from the mouth of Lucifer, Alphonse twitched violently and rolled to his knees, bleeding entrails down his legs.

His ghostly white face was twisted grotesquely and his huge, icy hands extended towards Josephine and Andrew.

He moaned, and unearthly sounds that should have been coming from a hellish demon rather than a man echoed in the chapel.

Those still left in the chapel froze in horror at the sight of the dead returning.