Chapter 20: You’ll Be Okay

• The season finale.

The labyrinth reaches its heart. The road reaches its end.

As Jason searches for Kat through a house transformed by memory, grief, and ancient magic, every hallway forces him to confront the wounds he's spent a lifetime trying to outrun. But the past has teeth, and eventually it catches up. 

Outside the maze, the hunt finally reaches its breaking point. Old bargains, impossible choices, and the true cost of survival collide as father and daughter face the reckoning they've been running toward since the very beginning.

Sometimes a promise can save your life… and change it forever.

Signed in Blood is a supernatural horror podcast set in early 2000s America, blending religious horror, dark fantasy, occult thriller, witchcraft, demon bargains, possession horror, small-town horror, cult horror, psychological suspense, gothic Americana, folk horror, and eldritch horror. Perfect for fans of serialized audio drama, paranormal fiction, slow-burn supernatural thrillers, cosmic horror, dark fairy tales, emotional dark fantasy, and character-driven horror.

CW: Suicide Themes, Multiple Character Death, Psychological Horror, Family Trauma, Emotional Distress, Violence, Occult Themes, Religious Horror, Grief, Demonic Possession

Written, edited, produced, and performed by Evan O'Cuana
Intro: "Suspension" by Anna Dager & Hanna Ekström
Outro: "A Hundred Windows" by Back_Drop

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Transcript

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SPEAKER_00 0:02

Hello, dear travelers. Evan here. Welcome to the end of season one. If you're listening to this, it means something in this story spoke to you, and I can't tell you what an honor it's been to have you with me on this journey. Before we begin, there are three things I'd like to mention. First, this episode runs a bit longer than our usual chapters, so in the interest of time, I've decided to postpone this month's ritual of thanks to take place next month during our bonus hiatus release. This episode also contains particularly distressing themes. Detailed content warnings are available in the episode description. I've always been up front that this is a horror story, and we've traveled dark roads together. But if your own road is particularly dark at the moment, feel free to pause here, read the content warning, and decide if you'd like to continue. We'll be here whenever you're ready. One last thing before we begin. There's something personal I'd like to share. On April 26th, 2026, in the early hours of the morning, my sister and I had to put our cat down. He was a beautiful 13-year-old tabby with a heart of gold, even if he was a curmudgeonly old bastard. Even in his final moments, he tried to comfort us. Caring for him, being someone he trusted, and being there with him at the end was one of the great honors of my life. The grief has been intense. Best believe I've spent many evenings since then holding the ball of light spell for him. If there's one thing I hope people carry with them from this story, it's that spell. But maybe we can learn to hold it gently. This story helped me hold and process my grief. If it helped you too, or kept you company, or helped you feel seen, I'd love your help in keeping it going. Ratings, reviews, recommendations, donations, even small gestures make a real difference for independent shows like this one. I plan on taking this story to far stranger places yet, and I'd be honored to have you with me for the journey. This episode is dedicated to Little Prince, the best, sweetest boy a storyteller like me could ever ask for. Papa loves you forever. Thank you for listening, dear travelers. And now, on with the show. Signed in blood is a ritual offering to the keeper of stories per the terms of our pact. Let all parties be aware, these are tales of horror. They may not be suitable for all audiences. Listener discretion is advised. He can hear it reverberating through the limestone corridors. Feels it in stark relief as clearly as the pounding of his own heart. This is wrong. This is all wrong. He clutches the heart of Lamashtu as he wanders through the halls of the labyrinth. This isn't his childhood home anymore. Looks nothing like it. But it's exactly as he remembers. Down to the pulse of that massive fist against the wall, and the fear clenching his gut so tightly he'd love nothing more than to vomit and purge the emotion from his system. He'd spent so many years hating himself for that fear. So many years masking it under the anger that he inherited from his father, who had in turn been gifted it by his own father. A long line of Argyle men passing down their trauma, stretching back through the centuries to when a young farmhand in Scotland watched his father's skull crumple like crepe paper beneath the weight of an English soldier's mace. Some families pass on wealth to their heirs. Others kick a can full of misery down the road to each descendant. Just keep kicking it, they tell their children. Ignore the bruising, and there'll be a reward when all is said and done. Should you fail, there'll be hell to pay. Of course, the joke is that hell is the prize either way. At least this way his ancestors got to feel like they could choose. The hallway smells like Raleigh cigarettes, and his stomach turns. It's only a wave, here in a moment, gone in a flash. But he finds himself spitting for minutes afterward, hands on his knees as he struggles to remain balanced. It's when he looks up that he sees her watching him, and he almost cries out. She's smiling, wearing her favorite dress that their mother had made for her. Kelly had always been the tomboy who reveled in skinned knees and adventuring in nature. Their little sister Mary, however, was delicate in her femininity. She loved being close to home, loved caring for others and playing house. It was one of the many reasons she and Kelly fought so bitterly and why it was so easy for Kelly to make her cry. No tears on her face now, though. Just a brilliant smile that photographs could never do justice. Mary? Oh my God! The girl spins on her heel with a laugh and runs down the hall, turning a corner. Jason tears after her, calling for her to wait, to stop, please. But when he rounds the corner, he sees nothing but an empty hall, illuminated by gas lamps. He looks down to see his hands raised, reaching with outstretched fingers. For a moment he can almost feel what it was like to pull her into one of his big brother bear hugs she loved so much. Now he holds only the empty air. He can feel the clench in his throat and chest, and closes his eyes gently, his breath slowing down. That settles it. There's something more at play here than just the heart of Lamashtu. It's supposed to give dominion over a space, but nothing he's ever read about it suggests this. Is this some piece of Sophie's essence within the stone fucking with him? Or did the spell that Kat taught him release something else when he tapped into the power of the heart? Either way, he's lost control of the battlefield. He has to find Kat above all else. Find a way through all this. He hears the pounding on the walls again, and his own fist tightens in response. Every labyrinth needs a minotaur. Of course he'd be here. Jason wants to run, and at the same time he wants to find the source of that pounding, whatever grotesque mockery the heart has conjured to resemble his father, and beat it to death with his bare hands. But he has a daughter to find. He can't afford to waste a moment lest the Jamies get to her first. Besides, he reminds himself, it was Theseus who slew the Minotaur. Wrong hero. His own namesake was crushed under the rotting timbers of his ship after betraying the woman he loved. Life might imitate art, and his own ship might be rotting. But this Jason isn't ready to die just yet. Slowly he raises the heart of Lamashtu before him. Take me to my daughter, he says, feeling the magic within him respond as the current of the stone surges through his body. The walls around him begin to tremble and the distant thudding quiets. After a moment, however, nothing happens. Fuck. He has to briefly fight the urge to chuck the stone down the corridor. He should be able to control this place. Force it to obey. Should. Control. Force. Obey. He's gripping again. Jesus. Has this been his whole life? He remembers the feeling of holding the light. Allows his jaw to unclench. Okay. He thinks. Okay. Once more he lifts the stone. Take me to where I need to be, he says. Please. The walls don't shake. The space stays the same. But the pull from within him is immediate and insistent. He turns and heads back the way he came, taking a left at the previous crossroads instead of the right that he'd taken before. The turns come faster now, and he takes them without question. Let's himself be drawn toward the center of the maze like a drowning insect circling the drain. The thudding is even further away now, which is both comforting and confusing. He turns another corner. With his luck, he was sure he'd be running into the old man. He takes a sharp right. But if that's not what the heart wants of him, then Oh. For any traveler who spent too long on the road, nothing quite compares to coming home. No matter how desperately you'd been aching to wander, or what thrills or revelations enriched your adventure. There's something about crossing the threshold of the place where you belong, for better or worse, that makes your journey feel complete. For some, home is safety. For others, it's a hell. Either way, it's the place you return to time and again. It's the people who wait for you. She's waiting for him there, seated at the kitchen table in a floral house coat, hands folded in her gentle way. Her hair is done up in a tight wave like Mary Tyler Moore, her favorite actress. Her makeup looks as effortless as it always had, not once ever betraying how early she woke up to do it, or how much sleep she sacrificed. A whisper of crows' feet lightly kissed the corners of her kind eyes. She'd fretted so much about them, he remembers. But in the end, those lines were never given a chance to deepen. Drifting in from the next room, he can hear Sam Cook's Nothing Can Change This Love playing on the family's record player. Her favorite song. Hi, Mom, he says, trying not to choke. Maggie Argyle smiles as she stands, arms reaching out.

SPEAKER_02 14:10

Welcome home. Come, hug your mother.

SPEAKER_00 14:16

He runs to her without a second thought, feels the warmth of her arms envelop him impossibly as she towers over him in the way she did in life. He buries his head in her dress and sobs deeply, painfully, openly in a way that he hasn't done since he was a child. Her perfume hits him full force. Chanel number five. For years after her passing, he'd stayed out of department stores just to make sure he wouldn't be caught by this scent again. He cries even harder. She holds him fast, hands rubbing his back and swaying gently. Shh, little bear. She used to read him those books every night before bed.

SPEAKER_02 15:09

It's okay. You're home now.

SPEAKER_00 15:14

Eventually his breath returns and he lets go to look up at her. I never thought he starts. I've missed you so much. I've missed you too, she says gently. Her hand caresses his cheek for a moment before she lets him go. Tell me everything. She takes her seat at the table and he climbs up onto the large chair that he used to sit in when they had their late-night talks. The ones he'd sneaked down to have when he couldn't sleep, and Robert snores with thunder from his parents' bedroom. He tells her all of it, watches her face light up in delight when he talks of Alicia, and when she finds out she's a grandmother. She reaches out to take his hand when he talks about the night that he and Kat went on the run. She listens to his triumphs, his failures, his fear. She takes it all in as much as he has to give, and holds it gently, quietly, until he comes to a close. My little boy, she says, a father now. The pride reflected in her eyes makes him feel ten feet tall. Yeah, he chuckles. Who would have thought? Oh please, she scoffs. I always knew.

SPEAKER_02 16:56

The way you looked after your sisters, how Jimmy followed you like you with the sun and moon. JJ, all that was missing was getting a few miles under your shoes and meeting the right woman. Sounds to me like you did both.

SPEAKER_00 17:14

I did, he says. I wish you could have met her, Mom. You'd have loved her.

SPEAKER_02 17:23

Well, of course I would have.

SPEAKER_00 17:26

And Kat. I swear to God, I've never known anyone as amazing as that kid. She's so much like her mother, and at the same time she's her own person. Smart as a whip, funny, gentle, like you. But she's got the Argyle temper too. And with everything she's been through, who can blame her? She just. She deserves so much better than me. I failed her. Maggie chuckles, and he feels almost embarrassed. That's my boy, she says. Still punishing yourself for doing your best. He doesn't have a response. Every parent struggles knowing they can't be everything their kid needs, or focusing on where they fell short. But believe me, JJ, you'll be okay. You didn't fail as a father. Her hand strokes his gently. He's surprised at how much he needed to hear someone say those words. The relief is so sudden, so strong that it's almost dizzying. She smiles. You failed as a son. The record in the next room keeps skipping silently, waiting to be changed. His throat is dry. What? That night.

SPEAKER_02 19:08

The night she came. You didn't fight. You didn't protect us. You ran.

SPEAKER_00 19:17

Her face isn't grimacing. There's no glare of accusation or reproach. Just a sad little tinge of disappointment in her eyes, like the shadow of a cloud passing over a lake. I was a kid. Sixteen. She nods. Just around the age Robert was when he enlisted to fight the Germans. Isn't that what you remind yourself? Her skin is colder now than a moment before. He pulls his hand back. She burst in here, screaming for him. Maggie continues, not seeming to notice him anymore. Robert was away, but you were here.

SPEAKER_02 20:05

Man of the house. When the explosion started, when the screaming started, you ran. You felt the fear clawing at you, and you couldn't stand it.

SPEAKER_00 20:20

You've been running ever since. Everything feels sideways, a cold nausea descending on him. He wants to speak up, to deny the charges against him. But how can he possibly? Every word is true. And so you've come home, she says, and you snuck a girl into my house uninvited. Wait, what? He looks across the table to see Ella Rose seated directly opposite him. Her arms and face are bruised. The golden locket lies like a weight around her neck. Her hands are on the table, the right a jumble of broken fingers. There is a vacant look in her eyes as she stares past him into empty space. Oh fuck, he says. Language, Maggie replies. What? What did you do to her? She tried talking back, tried using that little toy of hers against me. Young women must mind their manners. He looks at his mother again, really looks at her, and suddenly the realization clicks. This isn't the heart. Not fully. He'd been so focused on using it in the one place that held the most power for him, so locked Into setting the trap. But he'd overlooked that this place was already enchanted. Forever arrested by magic as a shrine to a broken past. The dissonant waves he'd felt when using the stone before. The heart's desire for domination, the house's commitment to the past. Two clashing forces found balance the only way they could. You should have quit while you were ahead. He feels the old rage flare and he breathes through it, getting to his feet. Son, no, he says calmly. You're not her. Not really. You're what I miss about her. And what I'm afraid of. But she was so much more than that. She wasn't perfect, but she was my mom. And she loved me. The creature posing as Maggie Argyle stands, towering over him. He raises the heart of Lamashtu before him, opening himself to its power. In the far wall, a door appears buried in the limestone. On the other side of it, a woman is screaming. What are you doing? Letting go. The door swings open, revealing a woman wreathed in shadow. He can't make out her features. He hadn't been in the room when she'd burst in that evening in September of 1978. But he can see her eyes raw with hatred, pain, and wrath. The same eyes that wait for him in his nightmares. The same voice.

SPEAKER_01 24:01

Argyle, the woman bellows, you took everything from me! Now it's your turn.

SPEAKER_00 24:11

Not Maggie begins to back away, but Jason beckons the heart. His own heart is broken, but he doesn't try to push its pain down. He welcomes it, holds it, releases it. Whoever, whatever it is that's wearing his mother's face howls, clawing at the table before being pushed by unseen hands across the kitchen floor toward the doorway. He tells himself he'll watch until the end, but in spite of everything, it's too much. He closes his eyes until the door slams. Bye, Mom, he whispers. The exhaustion almost blindsides him, causing a stumble as he grabs onto the table. In spite of everything, seeing her again shifted something within him, as if some faulty gear in the clockwork of his soul has finally started moving. It hurts, like moving an atrophied limb, but there's a relief beneath the ache. Ella Rose slides off of the chair, crumpling with an agonized moan onto the floor. Jason turns and walks over to where she lies. You awake? No answer. Her breathing is ragged. Ella, I just watched my mother die a second time. I'm in no mood for this. Either you answer or I kick your fucking head in and call it a day. I'm awake. Can you walk? I'm not sure. Good. He reaches down, grabs a hold of the locket around her neck, and breaks the chain with a quick jerk of his hand. It comes free easily, and she winces in pain, her eyes flying open.

SPEAKER_01 26:26

What are you gonna do?

SPEAKER_00 26:30

He meets her eye. You couldn't just leave us alone, could you? You know I can't. Yeah, he says. You know, any other day going through what I just had to, I'd make you feel it. The look in her eyes stabs at him. A subtle blend of hope, pity, and despair. He raises the heart. But I'm trying not to be that man anymore. If you have anything to say, any peace you want to make with your God, do it now. I'll make it quick. She nods. There are tears streaming down her face now, but she doesn't sully herself by begging for his mercy. She lays her head back, closing her cornflower blue eyes as she whispers her final words. He closes his eyes, once more opening to the flow of the magic from within the heart and himself. There is no joy here, no relishing of vengeance. He doesn't want her blood on his hands. But they will never stop coming. Just think of Kat. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. It's time. Argyle! Once more a voice is screaming from behind the conjured door. But this voice isn't from his distant past. It shares the same rage, but this time isn't drenched in despair. No, this voice is soaked in triumph. Come on out, you smug son of a bitch! It's time we got this over with. Gene Blackwood sounds like he's been thrown from the top of a tree and hit every branch on the way down. Good. This won't take long. I've got your kid, Jason. Come on out now. Bring my partner. I'm done playing with you. His heart stops. A bluff. It's a bluff. He's desperate and looking for leverage. Jason, if I get bored, I'm gonna start snapping bones. You really want to listen to that? Fuck. He sighs, lowering the stone. Silently he bends down and scoops his hand under Ella's arm. You can walk? I think so. Good. He braces her with one hand, the heart held ready in the other. We're going to get your dog back on the leash. If he hurts her, you die. They make their way toward the door. This was all unnecessary, she says, wincing through what he assumes are bruised ribs. You could have accepted the offer. What happens next is on your head. Whatever you need to tell yourself, Ella. He pushes her through the doorway first, one hand gripping her shoulder with the heart pressed between her shoulder blades like the barrel of a gun. They're back in the living room, its gigantic furniture and cavernous fireplace surrounding them. Gene is standing on the far side of the room, his back to the corner. His face is a mangled mess of blood and swelling, but his one good eye is locked on Jason while his wand stays pointed at the back of Kat's head. She seems relatively okay, though her face is awash in both fear and rage. Good boy, Gene says, teeth gleaming. I was just about to start entertaining myself. I get it, you're very scary, Jason says, his grip around Ella's shoulder tightening. Let's just get this over with. You send my daughter back, I let your partner go. Easy. Gene laughs. No such luck, Buckaroo! You're the only one here with something to lose. Ella and I took the vow, and unlike you, it actually means something to us. We both knew what we were signing up for. No, this all ends today. The two of you are going to meet judgment. The only thing you get to decide is whether it's at my partner's hands or mine. I don't really care which. But part of me hopes you decide to make things difficult. Dad, Kat calls out.

SPEAKER_01 31:58

I'm sorry. I messed up. I had him. I couldn't.

SPEAKER_00 32:03

It's okay, Kid Kat. You did good. We're going to be fine. Jean scoffs. Oh, come on, Jason. Don't lie to the kid. Pretty damn certain, aren't you? Jason says. Makes me wonder if your partner ever told you about the deal she offered me. Jason, Ella begins. What's he talking about? Jean says, pressing the wand lightly into the back of Kat's skull. She clenches her jaw but makes no sound. Yeah, that's what I thought. You've had such a hard-on for me the last eight years, running all over the country chasing my trail. Meanwhile, your master gave Miss Rose here another directive, just in case. All sins forgiven if I play the prodigal son. I wonder why no one bothered to clue you in. Gene looks at Ella, who returns his gaze calmly. The same way we saved the McCaffreys, huh? I was under strict orders. Aren't we all? He mutters to himself. So what do you say, Gene? Let my daughter go, and you get me. I come back, your master gets his way, and I'll make sure you get all the credit. Dad, no, Kat shouts. Jason doesn't look at her. I say you can take that deal and shove it up your ass. Gene, Ella says, stand down. He spits blood from the socket of a missing tooth. Who the fuck do you think you're talking to? I'm not your subordinate. I'm your partner. I followed you because I respected the woman I thought you were. But I'm done doing things your way. You lost perspective, aligning us with demon filth like Stolis. Enough is enough. Jean is looking at Jason now. This is the best deal you're gonna get. You're going to release her. You're going to give her back her relic, and you're going to undo whatever you did to this place. In exchange, you can hug your kid one last time. The writing is on the wall, and Jason can read it clearly. And how can I trust you'll keep your end? Unlike you, asshole, I keep my promises, Gene says. But hey, if you'd rather I blow her brains out right now, that's also an option. Kat stiffens, and Jason feels the last of his resistance melt away. Okay, he says. Okay. He releases his grip on Ella's shoulder, then takes the locket and shucks it a few feet from where Gene and Kat are standing. Ella crosses the chamber, stooping down briefly to retrieve her relic before joining her partner. Gene, this doesn't have to save it. This is happening. And you, he calls to Jason. The spell now. Sure, Jason says. He lifts the heart in one hand, palm up. With the other, he reaches into his jacket and draws the dagger from its sheath. The heat radiating from it clashes with the cold emanating from the stone. He feels the house quake beneath him. His body responds automatically, recognizing the fear for what it is. Slowly, he traces the tip of the blade across the surface of the heart, and it bursts as easily as stabbing an open eye. Black icker spills onto the floor, and the walls surrounding them seem to melt. A terrible groan erupts from all around them as one half of the magical forces constructing this world gives its last, shuddering breath. In a small corner of his mind, Jason can hear a woman screaming. Within moments, the house enchantment takes back over, and the four of them find themselves squinting as the midday sun spills through the restored windows of the living room. Jason drops the remains of the heart, and it quickly smolders into ash on the wood floor. My daughter, he says, his voice almost hoarse. Jean pushes Kat forward with his free hand and she goes toward Jason. She's crying in spite of herself, more frightened than he's ever seen her. She's limping, as if she's twisted an ankle. She can't run. Not that there's any place left to go. He holds his arms out to her, the arms he swore would protect her no matter what. She's looking at him for reassurance, for some promise that, in spite of everything, things really will be okay. He'd seen this moment in the worst of his nightmares, spent every second of the eight years since making his bargain trying to outrun this. Now that it's arrived, an odd clarity descends upon him, a stripping away of all fear, shame, and sorrow. He sees what needs to happen. His grip around the dagger tightens. She's within arm's reach now, and he pulls her to him, feels her arms wrap around his waist. Dad! Her cries are muffled by his shirt. Shh, he whispers as he hugs her. It's okay now, Kit Kat. I've got you. The odd fellows had told him that victory lay at the edge of the dagger he's now raising. That his daughter's road would lead to hell. All this time fighting, thinking he could outmaneuver the ocean and struggle against the tide. He almost feels like laughing at his foolishness. He should have held her more. You'll be okay, he whispers, as he brings the dagger down. It finds its mark easily. Her grip around him stiffens. She feels the world go sideways as he falls, and she follows. The impact of the ground is cushioned as she lands on top of him, his arms still wrapped around her. Kat looks up, and a scream dies in her throat. The wooden hilt of the dagger sprouts from his chest, an invasive tree taking root in foreign soil. The strange symbols burned into its hilt are glowing now. His breath is coming hard, tears tugging at the corners of his eyes. Daddy! She sobs, scrambling to her knees, hands stopping just short of grabbing hold of the hilt. I'm so sorry, he gasps.

SPEAKER_01 40:24

You were right.

SPEAKER_00 40:29

Should have listened No no no no no no no no no no no He reaches his hand to cup her cheek and looks her in the eye. So proud of you, he says. But not for lack of trying. It's just that the scream that rips its way out of her is so large that there simply isn't room to pull air back into her lungs. The tears that stab at her eyes flow in torrents down her cheeks, and she buries her face in her father's chest, her body curling inside itself. Well shit! She vaguely pieces together Jean's words through the thick fog of her grief. I knew he was a coward, but I never thought he'd duck out before his own kid. I thought he loved her. His words are cut short by a thunderous slap, and Ella's voice rings out. God damn it, Jean! Enough! Kat doesn't wait for a rebuttal. She's already on her feet. You're fucking dead! She bellows as the inferno erupts from deep within her. These flames aren't blue, but a blinding white. Her vision is nothing but stars, and the merciless hatred within her is all consuming. Burn them both, it says. Don't even let ashes remain. As quickly as it comes, the fire recedes. She simply doesn't have enough left within her to keep fighting. Not with him gone. The Jamies stand untouched before her, safe behind Ella's shield. Jean raises his wand. Would you look at that? Been doing this so long we damn near forgot the most important part. The follow through. Don't look so down, kiddo. You're gonna be reunited real. Wick? We're both staring behind her now, jaws slackened. She can barely stand, but feels a hot, almost feverish hand grasp her shoulder and pull her gently backward as Jason steps forward to stand in front of her.

SPEAKER_02 43:47

What in God's name?

SPEAKER_00 43:49

Ella gasps as Jean launches a gigantic fireball straight at them. Jason bats it away easily. Cute! A voice that Kat has never heard before erupts from her father. You kiddies just fucked up. Let Daddy teach you how to play with fire. He takes a deep breath, and a torrent of pitch-black flames bursts from his mouth. Oh shit, Jean mutters just before shoving Ella through the living room window as the flames burst easily through her barrier. The fire is unrelenting, and the screams that escape from Jean Blackwood quickly fall away. In mere moments, nothing remains but soot staining the floorboards. Kat lets out a long, slow breath as her father walks to the edge of the broken window. I can smell you, little mouse, he calls into the frigid December air. Run back and tell your little rodent friends what happens to those who come after the girl. Come back and play whenever you like. I'll be waiting. She stammers. The figure turns and Kat watches as he calmly pulls the dagger from his ribcage, wiping it with his hand before putting it back in its sheath. He looks like her father. Could be the spitting image if not for the orange eyes that dart all over the place. The grin on his face is manic, like a child who's been surprised with a trip to Disney World. Incredible! He giggles. I can smell it all. And the colors. Everything up here is so vibrant. How do you all not spend every day dancing for joy? This is magnificent. Dad, is that you? The orange eyes stop dancing to land on her. As if he remembers where he is, he kneels before her. He made a deal some time ago that, should you all ever face an enemy that you couldn't escape, yours truly would step in and handle things. My name is Marcosius, the great Marquis of the Lower Circle and Commander of Thirty Legions. It's good to meet you, Cat.

SPEAKER_01 46:49

Dad, she whispers, Dad, please, if you can hear me, I need you to wake up.

SPEAKER_00 46:59

Marcosius sighs. He's not here, Cat. Your father has relinquished this body to me per the terms of our agreement. In exchange, I will protect you from here on out. Where you go, I go. You can rest easy, kid. You're finally safe. She looks into the eyes of the beast inside her father's body, sees the truth staring back at her. It all makes sense now. She feels her jaw set. Where is he? Marcosius seems uneasy, unable to read her gaze, but answers immediately. His soul resides in the lower circle now, and will until the end of time. She nods, saying nothing for a moment. Show me. What? You heard me. You say you're gonna protect me? That you're going where I'm going? Then show me where in hell my dad is. We're going to get him back. Jason Robert Argyll. Born May 13th, 1962, died December twenty-sixth, two thousand, loving husband, devoted father. At the end of a life gripped by fear, he finally learned how to let go. As one journey comes to an end, another begins. Catherine Asada Argyle, the new Argonaut, sets out to find her father and bring him home. Return this Halloween and we'll walk that road together. Until then, travel safely wherever you may roam. Thank you again, dear travelers, for your faith and friendship on this journey. Keep an eye on your feed for our bonus releases during the hiatus. For up-to-date announcements, as well as opportunities to discuss this season and share your thoughts with yours truly, come join our Discord. The invite link is in the notes for this and every preceding chapter. Should you have any problems with the link, reach out to me at evanokuna at gmail.com and I'll make sure you're sorted. Also, I'm planning to record a QA in the coming weeks to air before season two. If you have any questions you'd like me to answer on air, join the Discord and post those questions in the QA channel. This episode was written, performed, produced, and mixed by Evan O'Kuana. Our intro music is by Anna Dagger and Hannah Ekstrom. Outro music is by Backdrop. You can find more at Signedandbloodcast.com. If you liked what you heard, follow and subscribe on your favorite podcast platform. It makes a huge difference for an indie show like this. Want to feed a little energy back into the magic that keeps Signed and Blood alive? Leave a rating or review. For those who wish to go further, there's a Buy Me a Coffee link in the show notes. Every donation helps, regardless of size, and I'll send you blessings through my Chaos Magic practice during our monthly ritual of thanks. Thank you for listening. Until next time, keep your heart open, your destination in sight, and your intentions signed in blood.