Nabbing a plastic roll, he tore off a section, widening out the base. Bent over in an awkward position, he grabbed bloodied flesh and other gristle, stuffing them into the bag. The plastic ruffled around him, as three other moulding bodies picked up their brethren, or the pieces that remained of them, and threw the remains into the bags.


    “Can’t deny how creepy those half dead creatures look. It would give anyone a run for their money.” Lilith had her arms crossed, as she stood by the doorway. Her face was drawn in disgust, but her words were beaming with salient satisfaction. “And you don’t have to go in there yourself, either. Pray tell, why not leave it to them cleaners of yours?”


    “It’s a routine I was used to. Living the high life in prison, you come to expect a certain way to things.”


    “Sounds like your life prepared you to wield your miasma.”


    The redhead tilted his head, flinching. I am not thanking Mol’okh for what he wrung me through. Shaking his head, he continued with his task at hand. “Yeah, I have a lot to thank prison life for. Without the torture I’d endured, I doubt I could fight as recklessly.” His eyes narrowed, his heart pounded in his ears. Vague slivers of hair, from chocolate tangles to silvering grey, and corpses scattered about, from the headless to bodiless, were nothing new. All a part of a system he was used to.


    Rummaging through the dead, he averted his face away from a bubbling vessel that fizzled over. Grunting, he grabbed the limb whole and shoved the squirting artery into the plastic.


    “Real hard work there. Take a shower, and when you’re done, meet me by the entrance.”


    Lilith waved at him, as she let him be, tearing down what remained of the altar he had built.


    Wiping the red off his face, Azrael exhaled a breath. You never know where life takes you. But avoiding all that grey, is a damn pain.


    Throwing on an untattered shirt, pulling up his trousers, and stuffing his socked feet in a snug set of loafers, Azrael rushed out his room. Kneading his fingers through his hair, he worked through the tangled mess. “That oughta do, before I hit the shower again. Never know what Lilith’s planned for a surprise.” Knowing her it’s most likely another ambush.


    Stowing away the thought, his hands slid over his waist, as he began descending the stairway.


    Flashing by the tomes, there was a sinking sensation worse than guilt weighing his heart down. The same feeling he’d had when he was whisked away from his orphanage.


    “Those damn books just keep collecting dust.” He exhaled a sigh, frantically patting about his waist.


    The emotional pang riddling him, turned to unreserved panic.


    “Don’t tell me–”


    “Took you long enough,” cut in Lilith. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, a wide smile painted across her face.


    Azrael almost stumbled backwards, realising he was unarmed.


    “My bad Lilith. Seems like I need to head back and grab–”


    “Nonsense. You won’t need nothing else than yourself. Come along, before we risk running late.”


    “Uhhh. Shouldn’t I be armed in some capacity?”


    Lilith waved her hand in dismissal. “Nonsense. Don’t you trust me?”


    “No.”


    “That’s reasonable.” She rubbed her temples, a roll of bandage swinging over her face.


    Despite all that had happened, the redhead couldn’t help but swallow, at the sight of the wound. A guilty pang weighed him down, for all he’d gotten in return. Even if most of it was in tatters. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry about your hand.”


    “Oh that…” Lilith froze, her smile returning. “You know what, as recompense for it, I’ll have you follow me. No questions asked.”


    “Huh?” Azrael bit back a flash of anger, his triumph over his mentor morphing into annoyance. “You know, I am starting to see why your other proteges ran away!”


    “Too late for that now.” Lilith beckoned at him to get down, with a finger. A finger that could shoot miasma rounds or mould a miasma blade, on a whim.


    Rolling his eyes, Azrael tossed his hands into the air, descending the stairs.


    He had no way of trusting his eyes. His jaw ached, as a finger slid under his chin and forced his mouth shut.


    “No way! A place like this exists here?” Azrael could do naught else but blink in bewilderment.


    “Well, it’s seasonal. And you need the right pass for entry.” Lilith gestured to a horde of demons, shaking fists and bearing arms. The angry mob was held back by a set of bison and ram headed patrol guards, waving their weapons at the high strung, zealous members, tempted to cross the line.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Azrael couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, wondering if there was a pre-requisite for specific posts to be filled in the Abyzz.


    “With the right connections, it’s more a stroll in the park,” continued Lilith. He wasn’t sure whether it was in continuation of his thoughts or some other matter, but he shook his head and followed along.


    The entrance they were headed to, was marked with a VIP signboard. Underneath the board, a set of guards were posted, who were less intimidating by appearance, unlike their gargantuan colleagues. They had human faces and yet, held a certain poise, like a readied pair of shears set on nipping an awry bud, which he hoped he wasn’t.


    His hand reached for his flank. A finger slid over an unfamiliar emptiness, reminding him of his unarmed status.


    “Try and relax,” whispered Lilith, pulling up their passes.


    The guards nodded, allowing them to walk past.


    No doors fended off against their entry, lax compared to how heavily guarded the other entrance was.


    “You need to brighten up and slacken a bit more. It’s gonna be fun.” She draped her hand over his back, reeling him past the entryway.


    Azrael raised an eyebrow at his mentor, as though she played no part in festering his paranoia.


    Prying his raised-eyebrow-glazed-gaze off her, he looked on ahead. The merriment rained on, dazzling and strewn about in strings of changing lights and bright shows. Merry-go-arounds and rides spun in all their glory, wheedling out screams of terror and merriment.


    “All these people came from the same city as us? I can’t imagine as many people if I put ten of my villages together, where I came from.”


    “The cities here have a lot more occupants. Though it’s hard to say who’d live to see the day, depending on if they’re an assassin or about to be assassinated.”


    “Is it that popular to be a killer here?”


    “Money dictates the rules. Demons would kill for less, if pushed around. But in turn if you’re wealthy and well-reputed, there’s nothing stopping you from standing at the apex of it all.”


    “Like a king.”


    “Aye. We have one of those too.” Lilith’s expression flitted to the side, her focus trained on other matters.


    “He should have some semblance of control, no? Considering all the chaos?”


    “Our culture doesn’t work the same as mortals. You have laws and regulations in place. Putting the guilty on trial and executing them. Here, power is all that matters. You could challenge him and call yourself a king, if you want. Then all would fall into place, as you wish.”


    Azrael mulled over the notion. “Tempting. But I’d barely managed to catch you off-guard. And that came from a month of preparation and the element of surprise.”


    “Smart.” She swallowed back some spit, before ruffling his hair. Her fingers quivered but she retracted them quick enough. “If it were Nakta in your place, his head would have swollen to bursting.”


    “But he doesn’t have an ability like mine. Even if he’s unstoppable with his blade and miasma.”


    “You admire him, despite all that’s happened?”


    “I can respect him. Or rather his abilities,” admitted a sheepish Azrael. “Though I’d think twice before assigning him a mentor role.”


    “Guilty.” Lilith stuck her tongue out, flashing him a smile. “Now then, let’s get some carnival grub and enjoy some rides.”


    “I’ve always wanted to have fun at one. Never had the money nor managed to sneak in, unnoticed, back home.”


    “What!? And yet you managed to outwit the great Lilith?” Stopping in her tracks, she pulled him to the side. “Then what about some costumes?”


    Azrael blinked at his mentor, dumbfounded.


    “Oh, come now. You need to live out a lot more, for your age.” Lilith pried a hanged piece off the kiosk, blackening the redhead’s vision.


    “What’s happening!” He gulped, his hand reaching for his empty waist.


    “Relax,” prompted Lilith, adjusting the darkness over his face.


    Light flooded into his world, once again. Looking at a mirror, he blinked twice.


    “Doesn’t suit you as well.”


    Peering up at the mirror, he couldn’t shake off the dread he felt from a vulture staring back. Its beak was a half inch away from hitting the glass and mimicked his every move.


    “No, let’s try a couple of others.” Lilith sounded giddy, as a pale mask was stuck on, to the side of her head.


    “I think you might be wearing yours wrong.”


    “I don’t enjoy covering myself up. You could go for something more casual like mine too.” Lilith pulled the mask off his face, chatting away with the shopkeeper, asking for more options.


    *


    She couldn’t stray her eyes far from Azrael.


    The last of her proteges.


    The only one she could bring here.


    They grow up so fast. It felt like just yesterday since I had those four rascals here. A little reward after a grim task I had taken them on.


    “Did you ever take the others here?” asked Azrael nibbling on a candied apple.


    Lilith nearly raised an eyebrow, taken aback. “A long while ago. Back when kids enjoy this sort of thing.”


    “Do they come to hate all this when they grow up?” asked a questioning Azrael.


    “You prioritize other matters.” Lilith drew her lips up to a thin line. You run after ambition, felling a target or two, chasing after clout. But in his case… Her eyes were trained on Azrael. He’s got enough of what it takes. Far more under his belt than he knows. “Want to try out the giant wheel?”


    “Never been on one before.” He brightened up, devouring the rest of his snack.


    “It might be less exciting compared to your last several months of training and missions.”


    “Maybe. But I’ve always wanted to go on one!”


    “Alright, let’s grab ourselves a seat then.” She watched him go, reminded of someone younger. Someone taken away from her. The things I have to do, to become whole, once again.


    Roiling through the dark, the redhead watched the world shrink. It was an open cabin, the cold air snapping at his face, as the steel and plastic cabin clambered over to the top. At the zenith of the ride, he’d realised he could twist the cabin, swirling sideways with the wheel’s churn.


    When the cabin dropped, he could feel the rush. His body swirling, as he plummeted. Lilith was on the other end, watching him. She held a certain calm, a melancholic melody, unlike her usual teasing or strict self.


    It was strange to have her treat him. It was strange in all sorts of ways.


    But he realised, as much as he enjoyed his current reality, it felt like a world severed from what he was used to. The thrill of falling from the skies. The shock of hitting cold water. The pain from a hundred mutilations. It all felt different. And yet, the world marched on. Set on moving the cogs of the wheel forward.


    I wonder what my younger self from those tedious days at the orphanage would say. Is this what it takes to evade a grey existence?


    Azrael pondered over the notion. The fact he was still alive itself was a miracle. The rest of it, almost felt like a dream playing out. Despite it all, despite everything he’d gone through, he knew what his younger self would insist on.


    This is just the beginning.


    The continuous churning of the wheel, from top to bottom and over to the side, prolonged an eternity longer, severing him from the binds of reality for the span of a heartbeat.


    A moment that would vanish if he had blinked. But it was his reality, nonetheless.