Days had passed and the killer of saints hadn't seen the light of day. Trapped in the lair of the demon general beyond the brambles, he was kept a prisoner with daily visits by monstrous nurses and a singular nun. They checked him for cuts, bruises and ensured that he wasn't hurting himself. What struck him more peculiar than that, however, was the fact that they drew his blood every week for some odd reason.
A pig drained of blood to be mixed in with some concoction, that's what he felt like. Why else would these monsters require human blood but to feed on it as nourishment? Or so he thought, and although not entirely wrong in his assessment he wasn't exactly right either.
