[There's a sudden movement, a sound - rocks shifting and loosening, skittering over other rocks. Whatever it is, human or animal or something in between, it isn't Crimson, he knows that much. His demons have quieted down, dimly whispering to him, warning him that someone's finally come to finish what they started. Maybe with a knife, or another sharpened stake, or even hammer in hand to drive in what Isaac hasn't wrenched out yet. But Hector's voice is one he could place anywhere and he doesn't know what he feels, lying there, other than cold and soaked in shock-sweat, starved for air he can't pull enough of into his lungs. He laughs, still, when he senses Hector's closeness, his skin prickling with his magic: a soft, hoarse cackling.]

It was never tainted. [He rasps.] But I could have done it so very easily... and I'd have stayed to watch them choke... on their own blood.

[Another bout of laughter quickly devolves into coughing foamy-bright lung blood of his own, the stuff clotting his lips. He stays unmoving after the fit has passed, his side heaving.

He's often thought of life not as something he clings to but as something that clings to him, wanted or unwanted, refusing to let go for anything. And now it's releasing him into the grip of something stronger -- and as he feels his eyes grow heavy and close on him, he remembers that he isn't scared of what may be waiting for him on the other side. This - whatever will emerge from the darkness to meet him - has been a long time coming, and something tells him that when he gets there, he's in for one last laugh when the mystery of God's plans and His workings are laid bare.]

...Go now. Take Julia with you.