The air held the pungent odour of burning flesh and brimstone. In front of her she saw a glint of gold, shaped triangular and cone-like - an executioner's helmet? No, no it could not be. They should not be here. In its hand was an oversized wheel, stained with bits of gore and rotten meat from past kills. And then something landed in front of Irina, thrown by the Executioner. Something small and rough, slightly pink but now rotting. Her tongue. The laughter continued from the figure. It was no doubt that it was Daniel.