ã€ŠGod Complexã€‹


 God Complex - Prologue

    A cloaked girl stands outside a run-down tavern. Three ogres, each smelling of freshly spilled mead, surround her. Old leather barely covers their swollen stomachs, their faces scarred by metal and ink. Derelicts of yesteryear try to lay claim to land that was never theirs.

    They stand amid scattered debris and leveled buildings: a former city, now a trench for freaks to fester and rankle.

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, little girl?¡± She flinches as the first Ogre¡¯s spit sprays her cheek. ¡°Who were you expectin¡¯ when you came a-knockin¡¯? Three Little Pigs?¡± The beast inches closer, goading her as his comrades laugh.

    Freaks, the girl thinks. Her mouth fills with words, but she stuffs them back down.It¡¯s not time yet.

    ¡°She¡¯s a bit small for the boss, so maybe we oughta break ¡¯er in,¡± a second Ogre suggests, breath stinking of cabbage, beer, and cheese.

    So they work for another, eh?

    She peers out from beneath her dirty hood, cataloging her surroundings and opportunities like one of the ogre¡¯s offset knee, the other¡¯s lazy eye, and the last one¡¯s swollen wrist.

    The third ogre makes his move. An arm thick with fat and muscle and tattoos of knives and blood and flames reaches for her, fingers stroking her hood, gray skin finally meeting a pink face. His patience snaps.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get a look at¡®cha. See how pretty y¡¯are,¡± he says, yanking her hood aside.

    Cold air brushes across soft, innocent features; a pale face littered by freckles. Her hair is a matted crimson mess, unruly from its time beneath her hood. A sharp horn protrudes from the left side of her head, contrasting with her soft blue eyes. Black plumage shuffles atop her shoulders.

    ¡°Oh, man. She¡¯s cute.¡± His lip curl as he speaks.

    ¡°Holy hell, how old y¡¯think she is? She¡¯s prolly still a godling,¡± the other whines while they crowd her.

    As if my age matters to them.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    The girl buries her disgust to gingerly stroke her fingers along one of the ogre¡¯s forearm. He smiles.

    ¡°Gettin¡¯ friendly already? Yer a smart lil¡¯ thing.¡±

    ¡°No fair, you ain¡¯t thinking about ¡®avin¡¯ her first, are ye?¡± the first says, shouldering around the others to peer at their prize.

    ¡°I¡¯m the one who spotted her trespassin¡¯. At least lemme get the first taste,¡± the second protests, complete with an elbow the other¡¯s side.

    Her hand rests atop the third ogre¡¯s arm, the one bold enough to touch her.

    ¡°See, boys?¡± He licks his lips. ¡°It''s clear she¡¯s made her choice.¡±

    Her hand strokes his, urging him to pet her.

    She trusts herself to speak in a falsetto whine. ¡°Can you¡­ won¡¯t you¡­ will you¡­ Worship me?¡±

    Her voice falters, stutters, halts¡ªbut that¡¯s all to the good.

    There¡¯s uneasy laughter between the men. They must be surprised by her question.

    Figures. They¡¯re as dumb as they look.

    ¡°Worship you? Don¡¯t you know you¡¯ll be the one begging us for more, lil lady?¡± The fattest laughs the loudest, her hand still over his.

    Laughter morphs into pained screams. His friends blink, surprised, as he rears back and howls. Fatty clutches his wrist as he falls to the ground, his hand broken in several places.One weakness exploited.

    The girl rushes another ogre, ducking, spinning, rising at his left side¡ªexploiting that lazy eye.

    Full of righteous indignation, her fist slams into his throat with a dull crack.

    His body thuds onto the ground.

    ¡°Oooh, Ilovethat sound,¡± she chuckles, her outstretched fist trembling.

    The last ogre standing gets brave. He picks up a club and points it at the slender young girl.

    If not for his knocking knees he might¡¯ve been intimidating.

    He brings the club up above his head, putting all the weight on his back leg, and there she is, kicking at that strained knee.

    He buckles, dropping the club onto his own head. The ogre falls to his knees. Before he realizes what¡¯s happened, both ears are clapped at full force.

    A single poke to that protruding gut is enough to lay him out flat.

    Her clawed foot presses his chest. She leans in close to whisper, ¡°I¡¯m gonna let you go.¡±

    Her voice is light like a child¡¯s, but her words carry the weight and malice of a monster.

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna run back to your base and tell your chief this land is mine now. If he knows what¡¯s good for him, he¡¯ll swear his fealty to me.¡±

    ¡°W-who the hell do you think you are,¡± he coughs, snot dribbling from flaring nostrils.

    A grin blossoms on her little face. This is her favorite part.

    ¡°What? Wasn¡¯t it obvious? I¡¯m Morrigan,thePhantom Queen.¡±

 Chapter 1 - Bond Ana

    On that night, like most, Ana has a nightmare. It¡¯s the same thing she¡¯d seen time and time again; Armageddon. It¡¯s like the sky is on fire, with the way all hints of blue were replaced by flashing orange. The Sun and Moon are both visible from every observable angle. The moon has a red tint and it dyes the streets in a blood-like overlay. Buildings struggle to keep themselves up, as they crumble apart. There are lifeless mortal bodies congesting every end of every road. Signs of battle ring out from all around in the form desperate howls intermixed with clashing metal and tearing flesh.

    Ana sees this torn apart world from a bird¡¯s eye view. She hears the beating of wings behind her, but she can¡¯t turn her head to look at them. Her gaze is a slave to the dream. It¡¯s like she¡¯s on a rail, forced to look in whatever direction the dream wants. The worst part about this is she can¡¯t close her eyes and on occasion, her glance does flit over something so cruel she can¡¯t stand to think about it. This recurring dream was often the same each time she had it, but there were, on occasions, differences. Differences vary between little things like looking off in a different direction, or bigger changes, like landing and moving about the battlefield. No matter how often this dream repeats, her gaze always falls on the same person at the same point.

    A queen stands amidst a war-torn street. She¡¯s tall, beautiful, with hair like blood splattered against the sky. As dark plumage tousles around her neck the world goes a little crazier. People -what¡¯s left of them- fill the streets just to fight; utter chaos with no discrimination. Siblings murder siblings. Parents drown their children. Friends, family, love; no bond proves strong enough to beat the rage she induces. It¡¯s scary, no matter how many times Ana sees it, she wants to do something about, wants to stop the pain the world feels.

    The worst part is how proud that woman looks. Hands park on her waist, and her crimson eyes survey the area as though admiring a job well done. Unable to take it any longer, Ana cries out, but she doesn¡¯t hear herself. Instead, she hears another voice. It¡¯s soft and warm, the kind of voice Ana would want to hear saying something kind or encouraging. ¡°I can¡¯t let you hurt anyone else,¡°the voice coos, getting the attention of the red-haired woman below. That woman scowls up towards Ana¡¯s point of view.

    ¡°Oh, so you¡¯re able to resist, are you? Interesting. Looks like I¡¯ll just have to dig a bit deeper and draw out the worst parts of you.¡± Her voice is like a razor and threatens to cut clean through Ana, but somehow she feels resolute, even when up against someone so scary; someone she¡¯d watched hurt so many people so many times.

    ¡°Even someone like you can care about others,¡± the voice briefly pauses,¡°you just need someone to show you how.¡± Suddenly, Ana¡¯s view rushes towards the woman below. Her eyes widen and she thrusts her hands out, causing some of her feathers to straighten up before shooting outwards. Feathers speed through the air like bullets, and Ana¡¯s gaze narrowly avoids them as she comes into contact with the woman causing a flash of red, white and pink, with black and white feathers floating rapidly about.

    <hr>

    ¡°Mmm,¡± Ana¡¯s eyes flutter open and she looks around her ordinary room. Ana pushes the blankets back and rolls out of bed, knocking several of her stuffed animals to the floor. Ana squeaks tiredly and pushes the plushies back into place.

    ¡°There,¡± she says, feeling her lips curl into a smile. Ana traces her fingers along the edges of her eyes, ridding them of any remaining sleep.

    Tiny footsteps carry Ana over to her window where she opens the curtains, causing sunlight to spill in. Her forearm blocks the intrusive light at first, but eventually, gives in so Ana can attempt to acclimate her eyes. There isn¡¯t much beauty to be found outside her windows. Much like in the dream she sees a world ripped apart by battle. Clearly, it¡¯s the aftermath, unlike in the nightmare where there was still a fighting chance.

    ¡°It was the most different last night,¡± Ana whispers to herself, glancing down at her hand. ¡°I think the dream me tried to fight that lady. She¡¯s the one who did all of this, isn¡¯t she?¡± Ana puts both of her hands on the windowsill while her gaze traverses the desolate cityscape.

    ¡°I wonder if anything like that could have prevented all of this.¡±

    This wasn¡¯t the first time Ana¡¯s thought like this. But what¡¯s happened, happened and there wasn¡¯t anything she could do to change that fact. So rather than be upset over yesterday, she should try to do something about today.

    ¡°Well, I can¡¯t let this stuff get me down, especially not today. Not when she¡¯s finally coming home.¡±

    <hr>

    "Rise and shine!¡±

    Ana shouts as she falls onto Jesus¡¯ lap, waking him like every other morning. He reaches for a crown of thorns on his nightstand and slips it over his head, nestling it against his long white locks. Ana giggles as she watches him rub the sleep out of his eyes and yawn into his hand, his mouth clearly visible to her through his stigmata.

    ¡°So what¡¯s on the schedule today, Annie?¡± He inquires as he claps his hands, summoning a flock of doves into the room. ¡°I feel like having a day of rest wouldn¡¯t be so bad. It¡¯s Sunday after all. That¡¯s the one day of the week even dad didn¡¯t wanna work..¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Ana interrupts. Nervously, she balls her fingers into little fists atop her bare thighs. ¡°-Actually, today is different. You see, Jay, today-¡± Few words make it out of Ana. It wasn¡¯t like she had a problem speaking, but she felt like maybe others had a hard time listening; at least to her. The way Jesus¡¯ gaze breaks from her¡¯s, it¡¯s as though her words didn¡¯t reach him. Personally, she didn¡¯t mind repeating herself, it gives her time to practice what she wants to say. ¡°Jay?¡±

    Jesus hooks his hands underneath her arms and lifts the younger goddess up off of him. He sets her down by his side then climbs out of bed. Those doves drop a red sash across his shoulders, it nicely compliments his white robes. He moves across the room as though walking on water, each step somehow lighter than the one before. Magically, the curtains and window shutters open with the wave of his hand.

    ¡°Let there be light,¡± he says with a laugh as the morning shines through the window and into Ana¡¯s eyes. She briefly looks away before glancing up at him through the golden morning hue. Try as she might, there was never a moment where the little godling could catch her friend off guard. Jesus never has bed head, never has bags under his eyes, and always wakes up more perfect than the day before.

    Jesus holds his hand out to her.Sunlight hugs his tan skin as it struggles to get around him. He flashes that friendly smile of his, the same smile she got up early every morning to see.

    Gods and goddesses rarely have to sleep, but Ana does it every night by choice. It is the same with eating, bathing and things of that nature. She imitates the one she admires. She is a vegetarian, like him. She brushes her teeth at the same time and in the same way as him. Ana doesn¡¯t think anything of it, and judging by the way Jesus smiles at her, he doesn¡¯t either.

    Ana beams as she takes his hand. He pulls her up and she accidentally trips into his arms. A brief pause lingers between the two. There¡¯s maybe the inclination of hesitation or perhaps longing intermixing with this aging pause. Ana pushes this moment, like many silly things, into the back of her mind in favor of more concrete facts, like the two of them being friends; just friends.

    Slowly, Ana¡¯s eyes climb up from Jesus¡¯ red sash to meet his sky blue eyes. Those eyes are full of compassion, slow to anger, and of great mercy; they shine down on her every day. He smiles a little and she smiles a lot.

    She would have gotten lost in his eyes like usual if today wasn¡¯t special. Suddenly, Ana remembers and shouts,¡°She¡¯s coming back!¡± Ana jolts away from Jesus, pushing him over in the progress.

    Jesus manages to catch himself just as Ana finds her way atop his bed.

    Her hands proudly meet her hips and she exclaims,¡°Tr¨²er(Throoth) is finally coming home!¡±

    In her excitement, Ana begins jumping up and down on Jesus¡¯ bed. After several hops she lets herself fall back, flat against his mattress. She playfully looks over at him, her head hanging over the side of his bed. Ana feels her hair rake along the bedside as she sways her head.

    ¡°R-really, are you sure she¡¯s coming back? This soon?¡± There¡¯s a seldom felt hesitance to his laugh. Jesus expression changes. Is that a grimace?

    ¡°Huh, is something the matter, Jay? Throoth¡¯s been gone a long time. Don¡¯t you miss her?¡± Ana¡¯s grin widens in an attempt to influence his. ¡°I¡¯m so excited for her to come back. I thought you would be too.¡±

    Jesus waves his hands in front of himself. ¡°No, of course, I¡¯m happy. Ecstatic even! Just hadn¡¯t heard much from her on my end. It¡¯s just surprising is all.¡±

    ¡°Well, she told me before she left that she saw three potential dates for her return. Not a day sooner, not a minute later.¡± Ana explains while rolling onto her forearms. She rests her chin in her hands and absentmindedly kicks her legs. Admiration for Throoth thick in her voice. Being privy to such information made Ana feel special. So special in fact that she lets out the briefest of giggles over the notion that Jesus Christ himself had been left in the dark by Throoth. It might be a bit naughty, but she¡¯d hold this little victory over her friends and hopefully, they wouldn¡¯t mind too much. ¡°She saw today¡¯s date the clearest, so that means today had the highest probability, right?¡±

    Jesus taps his chin and shrugs his shoulders. ¡°Yeah, I guess that is how it works, isn¡¯t it? Well, color me impressed. She told you three dates all that time ago and you¡¯ve been keeping track of them all. Look at you.¡± Jesus grins. ¡°An immortal who actually still keeps track of time. You¡¯re a really funny girl, Annie.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡°Ana inquires, suddenly in Jesus¡¯ face, staring expectantly at him. A soft feeling blooms in her chest. It¡¯s kind of embarrassing, but she feels this way whenever she¡¯s complemented by any of her friends, Jesus especially. ¡°I really didn¡¯t know I could be funny,¡± Ana says with a laugh. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m meant to be a goddess of laughter or scheduling. You know, something like that.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯s about we focus on Throoth?¡°Jesus says. Ana pouts, not knowing why he had to go and change the subject like that. Though admittedly, she is way more interested in Throoth¡¯s return than her own talents, or lack thereof. ¡°You want to do something big for Throoth¡¯s return, don¡¯t you? You can¡¯t say it¡¯s a special day and not actually make it special.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± Ana agrees. Her sapphire gaze flits about the room. She scratches her chin and narrows her eyes. ¡°But what should I do? I could throw a party. I could try and make her favorite food. Maybe wax Mjolnir for her...hm..¡±

    ¡°Well as her best friend I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll think of something,¡°Jesus reasons with a hand reassuringly patting Ana¡¯s shoulder. ¡°And if you¡¯re hard-pressed to decide on something I¡¯m sure the other girls can help. Whatever you decide on doing I¡¯ll support you 100 percent. Just let me know when and where and I¡¯ll be there.¡± Jesus flashes what Ana likes to call his ¡®double pistol point¡¯. Both of his pointer fingers whip in her direction, while his thumbs hike upwards and he winks; it¡¯s all brought together by a clicking of his tongue. While others are always quick to disagree, Ana does think it¡¯s a pretty cool pose. ¡°For the time being, I¡¯ve got some things to take care of. So you want to catch up with me in a few hours once you¡¯ve got everything sorted out?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Ana says before rushing out of Jesus¡¯ room. Having not waited for a response, she skids to a stop down the hall, then quickly rushes back. Once back in his room she gives him a tight hug. ¡°Thanks for everything, Jay! Promise to catch up with you later!¡± And with that Ana¡¯s off again.

    <hr>

    Ana enters a dark room illuminated only by a single swaying light fixture.There¡¯s very little furniture to speak of with the exception of several bookcases, each home to rows upon rows of mason jars that vary in size and shape. She knows not to look at any of the jars. If memory serves her right each jar contains another internal organ. She still remembers the very specific pale pink ofgray mattershe¡¯d accidentally happened upon during her first weeks here. Quietly, she makes her way over to a something that sits neatly tucked in a corner of the sparse abode. A sarcophagus, desperately hanging onto its gold sheen beneath cobwebs and dust, holds a friend.

    ¡°Hey Keb, are you awake? Hm? Are you?¡±

    Ana whispers as she gently knocks on Kebechet¡¯s sarcophagus. From the coffin comes faint groans. It¡¯s typical for this early, so she knocks again. ¡°Uuuuuuuuu...¡± She sticks around long enough to see if she wakes her mummified friend. All she needs is a slight crack of that tomb and a peek at one of those tired deep violet eyes. ¡°Kebechet is dead.¡± A dark figure murmurs from within the sarcophagus.¡°But I will take a message.¡± A heavily bandaged hand reaches out and touches Ana¡¯s face. It pats around, feeling out every contour of the visage.

    ¡°There¡¯s my mummy,¡± Ana exclaims as she tries to shake Kebechet¡¯s hand off of her face.

    ¡°I was having such a nice dream too,¡± says a voice Ana has come to describe as ¡®impassively curious¡¯. ¡°I was alive.¡± Two fingers force their way into Ana¡¯s nostrils. ¡°You were there. As was Athena. Throoth too. I don¡¯t know if Jesus was, I forgot to check.¡± Slowly, the fingers slide out of Ana¡¯s nose. ¡°I remember it being very nice. Being alive must really be nice.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s nice, Keb.¡±

    One of the first things Ana learned when making friends with everyone was to ignore close to ninety percent of what Kebechet had to say. Listening to her ramblings only makes her talk more. So, like everyone, Ana mostly ignores it. At first, she¡¯d felt really bad about it, but now it is just part of life here in this old apartment.

    ¡°You should come out. There¡¯s something I wanted to talk about,¡± Ana says then steps away from Kebechet¡¯s resting place.

    ¡°K,¡± is the only response Kebechet gives.

    Ana sticks around to watch Kebechet¡¯s mummified hand sink back into the sarcophagus.

    In a flash the redhead is across the hall, in another room, climbing into Athena¡¯s satin bed. Like everything else in Athena¡¯s room, her bed sheets are of the highest quality. Looking around, Ana can¡¯t help but take in all the remnants of high life kept alive by Athena¡¯s sense of style. From a small perfectly symmetrical coffee table to the stylized lamp that curves up along beige walls. Those walls are littered with weaponry, ranging from spears to swords and shields, all gloriously shown off in a very neat pattern. Of all of the rooms in the apartment, this is easily the most furnished.

    ¡°Athena, hey, are you awake? You should wake up. Today¡¯s the day I was talking about, remember?¡±

    Ana whispers into Athena¡¯s ear whilst gently shaking the older girl. The Olympian youth peers out from one open bloodshot eye. Ana registers the glare targeted at the one who prematurely ended Athena¡¯s beauty sleep.

    Try as it might Ana wouldn¡¯t let Athena¡¯s glare defeat her smile. Tired looking gray eyes soften while strands of violet are brushed away by her delicate touch. She doesn¡¯t seem to protest, and with one final yawn and a whispered,¡°Yeah, alright,¡± she climbs out of bed. A giggle rises from Ana, and she gives herself a metaphorical pat on the back as she gets out of Athena¡¯s bed and leaves her room.

    ¡°Meet you outside, Athena.¡±

    Ana waits to greet her friends in the hallway. She speaks loudly, hoping they could both hear her from their rooms. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I had to wake you guys, but today is really important. Throoth is finally coming home!¡± Ana¡¯s excitement couldn¡¯t be matched. Not that it looks like anyone else is trying to compete with her. Ah well, if they did, they¡¯d completely lose! As Throoth¡¯s number one friend/fan she is sure nobody could match her enthusiasm!

    Kebechet and Athena both shuffle out of their rooms and greet each other in their own groggy looking ways, with Athena slowly raising and waving a hand, and Kebechet shrugging briefly, as though she attempts to move her arms but gives up halfway.

    ¡°Oh, my.¡± Athena gasps at the sight of Kebechet. ¡°Look who finally decided to join us in the world of the living.¡± Athena¡¯s tone is as cool and casual as ever.

    Kebechet stares at Athena and several seconds pass before she responds. ¡°You lookrotundthis morning, Athena.¡± Kebechet¡¯s tone is as blank and impassive as ever.

    Athena daintily covers her mouth to hush laugh. ¡°You¡¯re inscrutable as always my dear. I believe the word you meant to use was ¡®robust¡¯.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Kebechet says flatly and then glances over at Ana with inexpressive violet eyes.

    ¡°Who¡¯s idea was it to give Ana keys to our apartments? I can¡¯t recall doing it myself. Would I do something like that?¡±

    Kebechet, the Egyptian mummy goddess of embalming, inquires dryly. Her green dread-locked hair looks as though it slithers when she creepily shifts across the floor. Kebechet doesn¡¯t raise her feet when she walks. She gets so close to Ana¡¯s face that their noses touch.

    ¡°It was my idea, remember? So long as I have room keys I can come and visit you all whenever I want.¡± Ana reminds the girl, even though she assumes Kebechet will probably forget again seconds later. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it get lonely if I wasn¡¯t around? You enjoy my visits at least a little, don¡¯t you?¡± Ana glances to Athena. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I was annoying while Throoth was gone. Just wanted to make sure nobody felt lonely without her here. But now that she¡¯s coming back I promise I¡¯ll be out of your hair.¡±

    ¡°Oh dear,¡± Athena sighs,¡°I was hoping she would return soon, but this is a bit sudden. Whatever shall I do?¡±

    As Athena speaks she runs her fingers through her long purple hair. Her hair settles gorgeously over her shoulders and she looks to Ana with her gray eyes. ¡°Perhaps I¡¯ll bring a game of some sort. I hope my skills haven¡¯t atrophied too much in her absence. I hope she¡¯s kept sharp without me as well.¡±

    ¡°AH! That¡¯s a really great idea, Athena.¡± Ana happily flips her thumb up at her Olympian friend. ¡°We should welcome Throoth back with the things she loved doing with each of us! It¡¯ll help her feel right at home again.¡±

    Ana looks over at Kebechet who is staring at the wall with a vacant look in her eyes. There¡¯s a small crack in the area of the wall Kebechet is looking at, is it really that interesting?

    ¡°Kebechet, you should think of something you and Throoth always did together too. So that way when she comes home it¡¯ll feel like she never left.¡±

    Kebechet reaches for that small crack in the wall but stops just shy of it. Her head is the only thing that turns, rotating 180 degrees to look at Ana. Ana pales, always forgetting Kebechet could do things like that. Kebechet shrugs bandaged shoulders.

    ¡°I ¡¯unno. I¡¯m usually asleep around Throoth,¡± Kebechet murmurs while raising her sleeve covered hands to her face. In a single motion, Kebechet grips her head and forces it forward. The sharp, bone cracking sound Kebechet¡¯s body makes is enough to cause Ana to wince. ¡°Hm, when was the last time I was awake in Throoth¡¯s presence? I don¡¯t remember. Maybe, it will come to me in a dream.¡±

    Kebechet lurks back into her room, gently closing the door behind her.

    A soft exhale passing Athena¡¯s lips gets Ana¡¯s attention. Athena quietly remarks,¡°I just sleep for medicinal purposes, but Kebechet, I swear that girl lives for it. I mean, if you even call what she does ¡®living¡¯.¡± Athena looks down at Ana. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it¡¯s been this long since Throoth left. I¡¯m a bit surprised we managed. I hope she accomplished a lot in her time away. Definitely more than I¡¯ve gotten done here, that¡¯s for sure. I¡¯m going to be a bit embarrassed when I see her to be honest. That Throoth, ever the overachiever.¡± Athena says it all with this calm little smile. It is always really hard to tell what Athena is thinking behind that cool look and mature attitude. Even so, Ana assumes something is bothering her friend. It¡¯s better to be safe than sorry.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be okay, Athena.¡± Reaching up, Ana puts a reassuring hand on her older friend¡¯s shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s Throoth, she¡¯s our friend. Even if we haven¡¯t done much since she left I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be happy knowing we¡¯re happy and vice versa. In fact, won¡¯t she be happier knowing she hasn¡¯t missed much? That just means there will be tons of stuff to do together when she gets back!¡±

    ¡°I understand you, but my relationship with Throoth is a tad more complicated than that.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not following,¡± Ana says as she tilts her head. ¡°what you mean, Athena?¡±

    Athena chuckles. ¡°It¡¯ll all make sense when you¡¯re older.¡±

    ¡°Huh? But Throoth and I are the same age. Kind of. At most she¡¯s like a century or two older, that¡¯s practically nothing!¡±

    With a haughty sounding laugh, Athena places a hand atop Ana¡¯s head. Gentle Olympian fingers tussle Ana¡¯s unruly hair. ¡°You¡¯re just too cute.¡± Athena tucks several strands of violet hair behind her ear. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sure there are other things you want to get done in preparationofThrooth¡¯s return. Don¡¯t let me keep you.¡±

    Athena doesn¡¯t seem to want to wait around for Ana¡¯s response and begins in the direction of her room.

    Ana watches Athena elegantly step through her door. It gently shuts behind her. That girl¡¯s grace is something else. Though there are times when Ana gets the feeling Athena is messing with her but she couldn¡¯t be sure. Maybe it¡¯s just her imagination?

    <hr>

    Ana knocks on several doors, hoping to convince other apartment dwellers to take part in the festivities.

    She clears her throat, puts on the widest smile she can muster and tries her best to happily speak to whomever she meets.

    Ana pulls her fist from the first door. After clearing her throat, she greets,¡°I know it¡¯s sudden--¡±

    Quetzalcoatl whips its large serpent body in an arc to slam his door in Ana¡¯s face. ¡°I¡¯m watching my stories.¡±

    Ana doesn¡¯t give up and tries another person. ¡°-but maybe you can consider-¡±The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Several harpoons whip over Ana¡¯s short stature. Sedna, an Eskimo mermaid, climbs out of her room-sized fish tank to shake a fist at Ana. ¡°No tapping on the glass!¡±

    Third time¡¯s the charm, right? ¡°-coming to Throoth¡¯s-¡±

    Trees and moss climb free from the opened door, and several butterflies fly around Ana invitingly. Tapio, a man comprised of beard and trees, chuckles. ¡°Kinda rooted here. So would you kindly make like a tree...¡±

    ¡°-Party.¡±

    Like so many doors before it, this one slams in Ana¡¯s face too. Defeated, The young goddess makes her way down the hall. As she walks she takes note of things she was too excited to notice earlier. The broken windows, the stained walls, the tears in the carpeting. Signs that this place lacks the permanency of a home.No one cares enough about upkeep and there isn¡¯t anyone managing it. Everyone had merely moved into the one standing structure that looked like it could hold them. Ana stops by one of the many dirty broken windows. She peers out beyond the cracked glass and cobwebs to see the dead world just outside, drowning in sand and ash.

    ¡°Who did all this?¡± Ana wonders aloud. A question she ponders on only when an impossible to describe emptiness grows in the pit of her stomach. It only happens when she¡¯s completely alone, which, admittedly, isn¡¯t often. She¡¯s sure everyone feels this way when alone, so she never tells anyone how she feels. She tries to assuage the dreadful feeling by being around people as much as possible, but there are times, like now, when there just isn¡¯t anyone to talk to. That¡¯s why she wants Throoth back. Throoth never talks much, but that¡¯s okay because even in her introversion Throoth never rejects Ana. Ana can spend as much time as she likes in Throoth¡¯s company. Of all the people Ana knows, it always feels like Throoth wants her around.

    In a hesitant pan, her eyes scan the debris of long gone architecture that surrounds their apartment. She doesn¡¯t look for anything in particular, her eyes just wander from one rusted car to another. Then she sees it, coming up slow, just beyond two large utility poles struggling to stay standing.

    A series of carriages approach the apartment, a caravan led by a chariot pulled by two large goats. Ana sees her clearly, even from up there. Throoth is riding front and center in that chariot. Her beautiful azure Aesir hair is tied into two long perfect braids that whip freely behind her. Her crimson eyes narrow coolly as she expertly navigates through the difficult terrain.

    ¡°It¡¯s her.¡± The ends of Ana¡¯s lips twitch and slowly fight their way up her cheeks, forming the largest smile she¡¯d had all day.

    ¡°Whoa,¡± Throoth says as she pulls back on both reins. Even from a few floors up, Ana can hear Throoth¡¯s voice is still calm as a setting sun. ¡°Easy Tanngrisnir, Tanngnj¨®str.¡±

    Ana doesn¡¯t wait around any longer to see her friend pull up in front of the apartment. All of a sudden, she¡¯s running down the hallway. She spins and whips around several corners in increasingly dramatic sharp turns. After running for several minutes she reaches Jesus¡¯ door, stopped by the same obstruction as always; A large boulder covering his door.

    Ana spits in both hands and tightens her grip on the stone. It got easier with every attempt, so by now, Ana could move it with much less effort than one would expect from a girl her size. Didn¡¯t even need to summon any divine power to do so.

    Ana opens Jesus¡¯ door and cries as she enters, ¡°Jay! It¡¯s too late, Throoth¡¯s here already and I don¡¯t have anything re-¡±

    Ana¡¯s words come to an abrupt end when her eyes fall on the sight before her. Jesus sits on the couch, sandwiched suggestively between Kebechet and Athena. Athena¡¯s arms drape over his shoulders, while his head rests against her generous bust, and Kebechet crawls on top of him. All three look up at Ana, each with increasingly different looks of surprise, ranging from Jesus shock and embarrassment, to complete apathy on Kebechet¡¯s part.

    ¡°Alright, I know how this looks Annie, but if you give me just a minute, I can explaineverything.¡± Jesus stammers as he pushes himself out of Athena¡¯s grasp. ¡°It isn¡¯t what it looks like.¡±

    What it looks like is Kebechet sprawled over the couch arm with her head softly nuzzling Jesus¡¯ crotch. It looks like Jesus tries to crawl away, but his attempt lands a hand on one of Athena¡¯s thighs. A deep mewl erupts from Athena, and she turns her deep beet red face away. ¡°Doing this in front of Ana,¡± she says in a husky voice. ¡°And here I thought you were supposed to be the one without sin. You really shouldn¡¯t take advantage of us virgin goddesses, you know!¡± It doesn¡¯t help that one of Athena¡¯s arms wrap around Jesus, forcing him back into her even more. So, technically, it is exactly what it looks like.

    This isn¡¯t the first time Ana has seen something like this. There are occasions, many in fact, where it seems like the other girls are vying for Jesus¡¯ attention; Athena especially. It usually presents itself in the form of flirting, and awkward moments like this, but Jesus often insists it ¡®isn¡¯t what it looks like¡¯.

    A long time ago such a sight would have troubled Ana, made her feel like she could lose Jesus to someone else. But he isn¡¯t her¡¯s, so why should that matter? Thankfully, Throoth was always around to comfort Ana when feelings of inadequacy rolled in. Confidently, Throoth would affirm, ¡°Leave everything to me, Ana. So long as your happiness is my responsibility, I¡¯ll see to it that you¡¯re always able to smile.¡±

    All Ana does is sniffle a bit and Athena and Kebechet crowd her, leaving Jesus to fall off the couch.

    ¡°Oh no sweetie, don¡¯t cry,¡± Athena coos, wiping Ana¡¯s tears away as soon as they appear. ¡°I was merely reacting to Jesus¡¯ body language. It looked like he was making advances on me. I assure you I had no intention of going any further without marrying him first.¡± Athena nods. ¡°I take being a virgin goddessveryseriously.¡±

    Jesus clarifies, ¡°My ¡®intentions¡¯ are a complete misunderstanding, and frankly a fabrication. Aren¡¯t you supposed to be a genius? How can you mistake a guy falling over for flirting? And is that really how you ¡®return your feelings¡¯?¡±

    Kebechet nods softly and assures,¡°I wanted to sleep. His lap looked very comfortable. It seemed inviting today. In a way, he was asking for it.¡±

    Jesus sits up on the couch, points a finger at the girls and asserts,¡°That doesn¡¯t mean you can just do that, Keb. You can¡¯t just assume you have my consent because we¡¯re friends.¡±

    Kebechet flatly responds,¡°Understood. I must seek consent before invading the crotches of others. I will try to remember that.¡±

    Ana truly appreciates her friends trying to cheer her up, but the sight of Jesus and the girls isn¡¯t what¡¯s bothering her. ¡°N-no, it isn¡¯t that,¡± she insists, stepping away. ¡°It¡¯s because Throoth is ba-¡± Ana backs into something. She looks up and around, and squeaks when she catches sight of who she bumped into. Warmth rises in Ana¡¯s cheeks.

    ¡°So you all gathered here to welcome me home?¡± Throoth inquires in a deadpan manner. Ana¡¯s soft sapphire hues meet Throoth¡¯s cool crimson. Quickly, Ana steps out from underneath Throoth and timidly takes a place between Athena and Kebechet.

    Slowly, Throoth glances down at Ana. She tilts her head, and those beautiful braids follow. ¡°Did you do this, Ana?¡±

    Ana buries her face in Athena¡¯s white dress. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Am I annoying, is this annoying?¡± She asks in such a quiet squeak she¡¯s sure only Athena could hear.

    ¡°Of course this is Ana¡¯s doing. Do you really think any of us are this thoughtful?¡± Athena¡¯s charming voice is almost like a song to Ana. ¡°I¡¯m far too busy with my search to orchestrate this. Something like this is perfect for Ana.¡± Ana takes occasional peeks out from behind Athena.

    She sees Kebechet impassively steps forward, where she looks to Throoth, then to Ana, then back to Throoth once more. She nods.

    Pushing himself up off the couch, Jesus chimes in,¡± Yup, she got us all up extra early just so we could welcome Throoth, daughter of Thor,Aesir Princessherself, home.¡± He pauses and briefly looks back at Ana, startling her and driving her face back into Athena¡¯s cloth. ¡°She¡¯s a very thoughtful girl. We shouldn¡¯t take her for granted.¡±

    Ana pulls her face away from Athena¡¯s back and looks up at Throoth. As always Throoth¡¯s expression is stoic. To most, she comes off as cold or aloof, but Ana knows to watch for subtle twitches in her face and changes in body language. Right now, despite that cold stare, Throoth lips quiver so she seems happy.

    ¡°Good job,¡± Throoth deadpans. Suddenly, she steps forward and embraces Ana. Ana¡¯s cheeks flush again, but she smiles, happily nuzzling into Throoth and returning the hug.

    ¡°I know it isn¡¯t much, but I¡¯m glad you like it. I just wanted to show you how much we all missed you while you were gone, Throoth. I¡¯ve been counting down the days until your return.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s weird,¡± Throoth says while flashing Ana a short-lived smile.

    ¡°Aha! T-that was a joke, was it funny?¡± Ana tries to deflect and save the moment.

    Throoth simply shakes her head. ¡°Not at all.¡±

    ¡°Send help!¡± Ana prostrates herself on the bare floor of Jesus small apartment. ¡°I¡¯ve died of embarrassment.¡±

    ¡°Alas, she was so young,¡± Athena says with a dramatic flick of her wrist. ¡°She will truly be missed.¡±

    Kebechet lays out on the ground beside Ana. She stares into the younger goddess¡¯s eyes. ¡°Really? You can die from embarrassment?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m retreating into my mind. I¡¯ll go to my happy place. That way no one can judge me.¡± Ana whines and rolls around on the floor for several seconds.

    She watches as Throoth crouches down over her. Throoth takes one of her braids and gently brushes it against Ana¡¯s nose, tickling it. ¡°Before you do, mind helping me? I¡¯ve got luggage in the chariots downstairs, and I spent a lot of my trip telling my goats all about you. They¡¯re neat. My dad left them for me.¡± Throoth pauses momentarily before explaining, ¡°They can be killed and eaten every night because Mjolnir somehow has the power to revive them. It¡¯s really weird but super helpful on a long journey. They are both transportation and nourishment.¡±

    ¡°Aww,¡± Ana sits up, ¡°you eat them? Every night? T-that sounds so mean...¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Throoth helps Ana up. ¡°They like it.¡±

    ¡°Is that supposed to be a joke?¡± Jesus questions while stepping towards the two. Throoth narrows her eyes at Jesus, stopping him in his tracks.

    Athena walks over and with a raised eyebrow prods at Jesus¡¯ chest. ¡°I suppose you consider yourself a comedic expert as well? There isn¡¯t anything the prince of princes, Jesus Christ can¡¯t do, right? Well, I¡¯d have to see it to believe it. I can¡¯t recall the last time you said anything the least bit clever.¡±

    Jesus hesitates, then snickers. ¡°Not in front of Annie. I still have a pretty flawless reputation with her.¡±

    ¡°You have a reputation? What crimes did you commit? Have you ever killed someone with embarrassment?¡± Kebechet is still laying on the ground as she flatly asks about different things. It seems like she¡¯s just trying to keep up with everyone¡¯s conversation.

    Throoth jokingly uses both of her braids to dust Ana off. It must be the sight to see the bubbly Ana running around the room with Throoth stoically chasing after her. Once Ana is led to the door to the door, she yields.

    ¡°Fine, fine. I¡¯ll go get your things. But save all the cool stories for when I get back!¡±

    ¡°No promises,¡± Throoth says calmly before winking at Ana. ¡°Now hurry. The sooner you go, the sooner you get back.¡±

    Ana leaves the room with a bright smile and a tingle in her chest. She is just happy Throoth is happy, even with such a small get together. As Ana makes her way down the hall the laughing voices from the room become more and more distant. The last things she can still make out is Jesus and Athena, loudest of the bunch, asking about the cold, bridges, rainbows, dwarves and construction.That seems interesting, Ana thinks to herself. That isn¡¯t the only thought to come to Ana¡¯s mind. She briefly wonders why Throoth chose to show up in Jesus¡¯ apartment as opposed to any other. As quickly as the thought comes to mind it¡¯s gone, Ana figures Throoth knew the most probable place to find them would be his room.

    She hums as she makes her way down several flights of stairs and out the main double doors. Outside Ana finds several men of assorted shape and sizes around the caravan. AJotun, lifts massive barrels of mead, water, and fish off of the carriages. Dwarves with beards of blue tend to the horses by feeding them, grooming them and changing their ¡®shoes¡¯. Then there is one man who doesn¡¯t do very much at all. He¡¯s almost as tall as the Jotun but looks like an Aesir. He¡¯s familiar but only because he and Throoth share similar eyes and almost the same nose. If this man isn¡¯t Throoth¡¯s father then he must be her uncle,V¨ªearr.

    Vidar trudges forward with a slight limp, on account of one of his boots being much larger than the other. His eyes focus on the goats that pulled Throoth¡¯s sled. As he draws near he brandishes a dagger and licks his lips.

    ¡°No!¡± Ana cries as she steps out in front of the goats, Tanngrisnir and Tanngnj¨®str. She shakes her head. ¡°You can¡¯t just kill them after they worked so hard to bring Throoth home. That isn¡¯t fair. They should be treated as heroes, not livestock!¡±

    Vidar furrows his brow and it looks like he¡¯s going to argue with her, but instead shrugs and walks over to the carriage. He grabs a large loaf of bread and snacks on that instead.

    ¡°Phew,¡± Ana sighs then looks to the goats. She nuzzles her cheeks against theirs. ¡°You boys won¡¯t be dinner tonight. After all your hard work, you guys deserve a night off too, right?¡± Ana steps away from the goats and towards the chariot. She rubs her hands together. ¡°Okay, time to load up!¡±

    Ana wears Throoth¡¯s backpack, covers herself with several furs, and straps a myriad of weapons about her lithe form. She looks down to the bottom of the chariot where she sees Throoth¡¯s hammer, Mjolnir.

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be too hard. Throoth manages just fine.¡± With her free hand, Ana reaches down and grasps the handle. Ana tries to take a step but the hammer doesn¡¯t budge. So she stops and plants her feet before tightening her grip and pulling. Still, she can¡¯t seem to move the hammer. Even when she drops the other things she¡¯s carrying and attempts using both hands the hammer doesn¡¯t so much as shift.

    ¡°Wow,¡± Ana pants. ¡°Throoth¡¯s strength must be out of this world if she can lift this thing.¡± Tapping her chin, Ana ponders if strength isn¡¯t the determining factor for lifting this weapon. Could it be that the hammer doesn¡¯t find Ana worthy? That is a thing right?

    From the corner of her eye, Ana catches sight of Vidar. A quiet chuckle leaves the tall Aesir as he saunters over. He kneels before her and digs around through Throoth¡¯s belongings. Out of the sack, he pulls a pair of iron gauntlets and a belt lined with some kind of shinning metal. Vidar ties the belt around his waist then slips on the gauntlets. Once that¡¯s done Vidar lifts the hammer. Now, it isn¡¯t effortless the weapon does almost throw off his balance but the large boot seems to help Vidar even himself out. He nods down at Ana then walks off into the apartment. It¡¯s probably for the best that he does the heavy lifting.

    Even without Mjolnir, it takes Ana forever to get up the stairs. She passes by Vidar on her way up and the two exchange a quick glance. Once again he chuckles at her expense. He¡¯s used to seeing girls her size who can lift mountains.

    After much labor, Ana makes it to Throoth¡¯s floor. She makes her trek down that long hallway. It isn¡¯t long before she can hear the voices of her friends again. They reach her, almost beckoning her and telling her not to give up. The closer she gets the clearer the voices become.

    ¡°So you two will be getting married.¡± Ana hears Athena. ¡°I honestly never saw this coming. But I guess it¡¯s fitting that someone with your kind of vision did. If the benefits you¡¯re speaking of really do come true then you have my support.¡± Ana¡¯s steps become heavy, weighed down by something she can¡¯t describe.

    ¡°You and I could never get married.¡± Ana hears Kebechet... ¡°Death has already done us apart, unfortunately.¡±

    ¡°Have you found time to tell her?¡± Ana hears Throoth¡¯s voice and she comes to a stop. ¡°It isn¡¯t fair, making Ana the last person to know.¡±

    Ana stands by, patiently awaiting yet dreading Jesus¡¯ response.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± She hears his voice and tenses up. ¡°I want to tell her, but I¡¯m still kind of unsure, you know? Like, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going to happen to her if I become king. I won¡¯t be able to take care of her, not directly at least. If she ever falls into the wrong hands, well...¡±

    Ana trudges towards the door, listening in on the conversation the entire time.

    ¡°We¡¯ll continue taking care of her, protecting her. This won¡¯t change anything. Ana is our friend. As King and Queen, we¡¯ll give her a better life than she would have here in Midgard and definitely a way better life than she¡¯d have in Hell.¡± Throoth¡¯s voice is resolute, inspiring even, but Ana still feels uneasy. ¡°Together we¡¯re going to make a difference. Are you doubting my vision? Especially after everything that has happened?¡±

    ¡°N-no, it isn¡¯t that,¡± Jesus responds, his voice seems so sad. ¡°You¡¯re right. If you saw it then it¡¯s gotta be true. Us being together like this is gonna be the best thing for the nine realms.¡±

    Ana stops in the doorway just in time to watch Throoth and Jesus embrace one another. ¡°Thank you for the opportunity. Mysightwill steer us towards the most prosperous kind of future.¡± There¡¯s a brief pause. ¡°One where I can preserve Ana¡¯s smile for all time.¡±

    The loud sound of metal clanging against the ground catches the attention of those before Ana. Athena, Jesus, and Throoth look up, presumably startled by the noise. Kebechet doesn¡¯t look over until several seconds later.

    ¡°Ana,¡± Throoth and Jesus say in unison.

    Ana feels her tiny little fingers kneading at her skirt. She tries to smile but is sure her face looks really dumb, because of how much it wants to frown. She wants to look at her friends, but couldn¡¯t without her heart racing really fast. So she ends up looking beyond them, out the window and to their destroyed world again.

    ¡°I¡¯m happy for you,¡± she says in a quiet whisper,¡°r-really...let me...let me help in any way I c-can.¡± As soon as those words pass Ana¡¯s lips she turns away. ¡°Excuse me.¡± she hurries off down the hall.

    Ana runs as fast as her little legs will take her. Her gaze can¡¯t stay up, and melts to the ground, watching as that terrible, patchy floor rushes by. As she turns, her eyes flit to those cracked windows, where outside the dark begins to eat the sky¡¯s light. She shakes her head and grits her teeth. In one motion, she leaps and transforms from a girl into a crow. She flies up the stairs and doesn¡¯t turn back until she reaches her room. Her hand falls on the doorknob and she stops long enough to choke back tears. The worst part is she can¡¯t tell why she¡¯s crying. Shouldn¡¯t she be happier? Her two favorite people are going to be together, and from the sound of it, they are going to do a lot of great for the dead world outside.

    Ana trusts Throoth and her vision more than anyone, so why did it make her feel this way all of a sudden?

    Trembling, her hand meets the doorknob. Through sniffles Ana talks to herself, ¡°I¡¯m not envious or anything. N-no...I¡¯m happy Throoth is back, and I¡¯m happy for the two of them. They¡¯re my best friends, so...I am definitely okay with this.¡± She brushes her free handalongher chest. ¡°Even so,¡± she sighs,¡°it still stinks...¡± Finally, Ana finds the strength to turn the knob and enter her apartment.

    Ana¡¯s eyes widen when she sees that her apartment is a complete wreck. Tables are flipped over, pillows and blankets had been whipped about, and her clothing is scattered or in shreds. Worst of all she can clearly see her fridge from here; it had been left open and rummaged through. Her gaze travels from her fridge over to the nearest window, where she finds the culprit.

    With a foot propped on the windowsill and hands tight around a pillowcase, presumably filled with food, the intruder rears back and sees Ana. The lithe figure alone suggests that she¡¯s a girl of similar age and build to Ana. She wears a mask that¡¯s fashioned to look like a crow, or maybe a raven. There are Gaelic red markings etched throughout the black, feathered mask. Dark plumage feeds from the back of the mask into a fur cloak hood that rides down her back.

    ¡°A changeling?¡± Her voice is familiar, sounding like the voice Ana hears whenever she speaks. ¡°You managed to copy me without even getting a look at my face. Impressive. But ya got the hair all wrong.¡±

    She pushes the mask back and over her head. Two pairs of blue eyes meet, different only in hue. Her hair is a deeper shade of red and is a mess when compared to Ana¡¯s puffy ponytail. From a glance, Ana feels like she was staring into a disheveled mirror.

    ¡°Having to do the next part tomyselfis gonna be strange.¡± With a fang bared, the other Ana grins, and teases,¡°Though I¡¯ve heard an out of body experience can be good for ya. So, You caught me...now we can do this the easy way or the hard way.¡± Her deadly blue eyes narrow and flash with malevolent intent. ¡°Please say you wanna do this the hard way.¡±

    Ana doesn¡¯t know what to say at first but after taking a step into her apartment and looking at the mess, she huffs. ¡°I¡¯m not a mimic, y-you...copy cat! C-criminal. You haven¡¯t just stolen my food, which I¡¯d be happy to share if you just asked, you¡¯ve also stolen my face!¡±

    ¡°Me? Stealyourface,¡± her double replies.

    The other girl climbs down from the windowsill. As she steps into the light the resemblance becomes even more apparent, with the biggest dissimilarity being a nearly unnoticeable difference in height. She steps towards Ana, who finds herself inching towards the girl as well. That¡¯s weird, Ana is suspicious of her, but feels the need to get closer; she wants to touch her.

    The girl drops the sack of goodies at her side and circles Ana, prodding at her as she does so. Despite being a random intruder, Ana doesn¡¯t seem as worried anymore, especially in lieu of recent events. Maybe the fact that they look alike eases her nerves somehow. With every little touch from her other self, Ana lets out a small sigh, and with those sighs come that terrible feeling linked to the prior event. Just being around this girl, despite the circumstances, is calming. The emptiness that Ana felt earlier, when she was all alone, at this moment she feels the exact opposite.

    ¡°So this is what you really look like, huh? I was sure you were a doppelganger, maybe a changeling or mimic or something. But you¡¯re the real deal. Another me.¡± The other Ana smirks, barring her little fangs once more. ¡°You can feel it too, can¡¯t cha? It¡¯s like we¡¯re drawn to one another.¡±

    ¡°Another...me...¡± Ana repeats, almost wistfully.

    ¡°I guess it wasn¡¯t a coincidence, comin¡¯ to this apartment. I knew somethin¡¯ was drawin¡¯ me in.¡± The other Ana claps. ¡°So, I might as well ask since I¡¯m here, and you¡¯re another me, so you¡¯ll be more than willing to cooperate.¡± She looks to the upturned table and walks over to it. She flips it over then climbs on top of it. Black plumage sways across the girl¡¯s collar as she moves. She crosses her arms and looks down at Ana with a haughty smirk.

    ¡°You will swear your fealty to me, Morrigan:The Phantom Queen.¡±

    Ana¡¯s eyes widen, her lips part, and she feels a foreboding sense in the pit of her stomach.

    ¡°But I¡¯m Morrigan,¡°Ana whispers,¡°I¡¯m The Phantom Queen.¡±

    There¡¯s a brief bit of silence before the other Morrigan hops off the table.

    ¡°Of course,¡± she spits. ¡°If yer callin¡¯yerselfMorrigan than yer even more like me than I thought.¡±

    The intruder hops down, grabs the pillowcase of stolen goodies and walks to the window.

    She looks back to Ana and offers her freehand. ¡°Come on then. With a name and face like that yer not gonna wanna be alone here for much longer.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not alone,¡± Ana says. ¡°Besides, this is my home. Why would I go anywhere with someone I don¡¯t know?¡±

    ¡°So yer a fraud then,¡± her twin says. ¡°Stop usin¡¯ the name Morrigan and enjoy yer cushy sham of a life. Least until I or someone meaner shows up and rips the rug right out from under ya.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°If you were Morrigan you¡¯d understand. Morrigan or not yer in for a rude awakening. This domain is too good to pass up, so best believe I¡¯ll be back for it. By then, figure out if you¡¯re a fake or not.¡± As those last words leave her she climbs onto the windowsill.

    Ana rushes after the little girl. She wraps her arms around her and holds her in place, preventing her from jumping out of the window. To Ana¡¯s surprise, their strength is equal.

    ¡°Pathetic,¡± the trespasser coughs. ¡°Let go of me you lookalike poser!¡±

    By now Ana¡¯s face is brushing up against the black feathers around her other self¡¯s collar. The texture and color of the feathers is a perfect match for the ones that made up her skirt. Those feathers start ruffling, tickling Ana¡¯s cheeks.

    ¡°What the hell,¡± her twin growls, ¡°It isn¡¯t workin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°H-hey, stop struggling. Talk to me for a second. What do you mean lookalike? You said you felt it too, didn¡¯t you? Our closeness. I am Morrigan. Jesus told me never to use that name, so I don¡¯t. He says it makes people really sad. W-why would anyone want to use a name that upsets other people!?¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t be The Phantom Queen, just listen to the way you talk!¡± The little girl claws at Ana¡¯s head. Eventually, she resorts to biting Ana¡¯s wrist. Ana screams before biting intruder¡¯s shoulder, causing her to belt out a shriek of her own.

    ¡°You¡¯re a real idiot, you know that? The world is ripe for the pickin¡¯. Everyone thinks The Phantom Queen is dead...but more importantly, everyone fears her. This is the best opportunity to stage a comeback!¡±

    ¡°Why do you think people are afraid of me,¡± Ana asks, as though there was truth to be gleaned from this familiar stranger.

    ¡°Notyou!The Phantom Queen. The one who destroyed the world!¡±

    Ana¡¯s grip on the girl loosens, giving her just the wiggle room she needs to escape. The news leaves Ana floored. So her namesake was responsible for the world that surrounded her? Was she involved in such a thing, or did she just share her name with a complete monster? Is the monster who haunts her dreams The Phantom Queen? Is that her? Is that who she really is?

    There¡¯s a knock at the door.

    ¡°Annie, we need to talk.¡±

    Ana hears Jesus voice. The door opens and just as she looks over she sees him enter her room.

    ¡°I need to make things right. I know there¡¯s a lot I haven¡¯t told you, but-¡± Jesus¡¯ words ease pass his lips as he comes to a complete stop.

    She¡¯s sure it¡¯s the look in her eyes that shackle him. Though they hold each other¡¯s gaze for some time, his sight soon tilts towards the lookalike. A veil of uncertainty washes over Jesus¡¯ face. Christ wearing that expression leaves Ana with an uncanny feeling.

    ¡°Jesus,¡± Ana inquires quietly.

    ¡°Annie,¡± Jesus asks softly.

    ¡°What the hell is going on? Who the hell are you? Who the hell is he?¡± If Ana could answer her intruder¡¯s blaring questions she would, but she hasn¡¯t a clue what¡¯s going on either.

    Ana¡¯s wide, confused eyes watch Jesus and search him for answers. Her attention only falters when the wall to Jesus¡¯ right ripples. Such an impossible sight pales Ana¡¯s face. She points and tries to speak when that wavelet becomes a tear. Through that split she sees stardust. Dark, murky looking water oozes from the crease, staining the floor in a transparent black sludge.

    The little girl¡¯s body language changes, she climbs down from the window and takes a defensive stance in front Ana, her plumage standing on end. Of course, Ana notices the act but wonders ¡®why¡¯.

    From the hole in space-time comes a woman made of white. With cold eyes, she casts her sight on Jesus. A scythe appears in her skeletal hands. One long bony finger reaches up from beneath the woman¡¯s white robes and presses against her pursed pale lips. Jesus doesn¡¯t seem to notice the woman looming over him.

    ¡°Shhh. Children are to be seen, not heard.¡± The woman¡¯s voice is awful, cold, dead, and crawls from her mouth like something reaching out of a grave.

    Ana wants to scream, but her voice can¡¯t reach him. In fact, in this being¡¯s presence, she can¡¯t even hear herself. It¡¯s clear from the girl at her side¡¯s inaudible protests, that she can¡¯t be heard either. Jesus taught her things about magic and she figures that this must be some sort of silencing spell. Even so, Ana still attempts to get Jesus attention and motions for him to turn around. When Jesus doesn¡¯t immediately look away, Ana steps forward, pushing her twin aside, and lunges towards Jesus.

    In one simple, clean, careless motion, the woman¡¯s scythe pierces his chest.

    Red fills the air, but not a bit of it touches the chilling white nor stains her perfect blade. The first sound to pierce the magical silence is a soft gasp passing Jesus¡¯ lips.

    The woman of white sinks back into her little ripple, as though she were never there, to begin with.

    Red soaks through his white robes until they match his sash. Jesus reaches up, touches the red then pulls his hand back to examine his bloodied fingers. His glance slowly, painfully slowly, eases in Ana¡¯s direction whilst he falls to his knees. Before he can fall any further, Ana is there to catch him. Words are bubbling over in her chest. A froth of feeling is thick in her throat. Thereisbile and sadness and love and all these unsaid things that want to erupt forth in that moment, but something else beats them down. Some undeniable, unexplainable feeling that says ¡®this can¡¯t be it¡¯ that ¡®this can¡¯t happen¡¯. Blood eagerly escapes the sides of his lips and drips down along his twitching chin.

    ¡°What the hell,¡± The other girl shrieks. Sound returns to the room the moment the woman in white disappears. ¡°Shit, just who the hell was that!?¡± Ana feels a small hand grip her arm. ¡°Come on, get up, we gotta go before that crazy bitch comes back and tries to do us in next.¡±

    Like dead weight, Ana doesn¡¯t move. She sits there beside Jesus, cradling him.

    ¡°A...nn...ie...¡±

    Despite the blood filling his mouth and the life leaving his form, Jesus musters a word. Shaking, one of his hands reach up towards her, and she¡¯s quick to grab a hold of it.

    ¡°Be..¡±

    She should tell him not to speak, that¡¯s what you say to someone in this moment, right? Where¡¯s Athena? Where¡¯s Kebechet? Where¡¯s Throoth? Didn¡¯t she know this was going to happen? Didn¡¯t she see this coming? Did she let it happen? Why would she let Jesus... What do you say to someone who¡¯s dying? How do you keep them from dying? What should she do?

    ¡°...good.¡±

    That last word hits Ana and she gives up. Her body, limp and weak like his, is pulled up by the other girl. Final fleeting looks are paid to her savior as she parts with his passing body.

    Ana can¡¯t scream. Her eyes remain fixated on Jesus¡¯. Her tearful gaze gets lost in his dying hazel hues. Those eyes that were full of compassion, slow to anger, and of great mercy that shined down on her every day dim. He cries a little and she cries a lot.

 Chapter 2 - Monsters - Freya

    Chapter 2 - ¡®Monsters¡¯ - Freya

    They arrive in a flash of concentrated rainbow. Several carriages, each carrying more of that singular rainbow dust, travel along a multicolored bridge. Freya sits in her coach, patiently drumming evenly cut nails against the window. Her brother sits across from her, though she pays him little mind.

    ¡°That¡¯s annoying, you know.¡± Freyr, curt as always.

    ¡°What is?¡± Freya responds, purposefully unaware.

    The siblings look to one another. Not a night between them in age,oth share the same frosty sky colored hair. Freya¡¯s hair is pulled into a single braid that dances down her back while his is pulled into a neat ponytail, kept short atop his head. His garb is that of a warrior, hers that of a high priestess, but both share the Vanir trait of long pointed ears and fair skin.

    ¡°You are,¡± he says, expertly brief.

    Freya¡¯s lips curl upward, and her eyes deviously search her brother¡¯s face. Her drumming becomes louder, more frequent. ¡°Am I?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°This is to be a long trip brother. The queen will likely have us share a room, and you will act as my bodyguard, as always. We¡¯ll be inseparable for the entirety of the weekend.¡±

    ¡°Point?¡± Freyr¡¯s lips press together in a gradually souring look.

    Freya drums on the carriage with both hands now. ¡°If you are annoyed by my presence already it will make three nights feel like a fortnight.¡±

    ¡°Is this a threat?¡±

    ¡°No threat, dear brother, just postulation.¡±

    He rolls his ruby colored eyes. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°You and I both know.¡± Freya¡¯s voice is tinged with a challenge.

    ¡°You want to feed the cats,¡± Freyr says bluntly.

    ¡°I want to feed my cats,¡± Freya responds, just as bluntly.

    Freyr, with a sigh, reaches into a sack at his side. Out of the sack he pulls a pouch, and out of that pouch comes a tiny white mouse.

    ¡°For each,¡± Freya instructs, palm upturned to her brother.

    He groans and fishes out another mouse. He passes the mice to his sister, who instinctively pets and chirps at the helpless things.

    ¡°Try not to get too attached between here and the cats. You have a soft spot for poor defenseless animals.¡±

    ¡°Is my fondness for you really so apparent, brother?¡±

    Freyr belts out a sarcastic sounding laugh. ¡°Just feed the damn cats.¡± He slides over in his seat, making room for his sister. Freya steps over, climbs onto the seat, and opens a small window at the front of the coach.

    The coach is drawn by her two cats, larger than any Midgardian lion or tiger. She glances to the Aesir holding the reins. A glance back and a well placed nod from him grants Freya the permission she needs to toss the mice forward.

    ¡°I apologize. May you find peace in your next life,¡± she says with a hint of sarcasm. She watches as the cats speed up and leap in perfect time with their prey. The bounce will no doubt send Freya¡¯s tall brother¡¯s head crashing up against the coach¡¯s roof.

    ¡°Freya!¡± he shouts from the back of the vehicle, causing her to wince and choke back a laugh.

    ¡°Just a bump. You know what they say about Alfheim. It is as beautiful as it is treacherous!¡±

    Freyr sighs.

    ¡°Who says that? Nobody says that.¡±

    She takes her seat again and flashes her brother an apologetic little smile.

    ¡°My apologies, brother. Just a bit of fun. The change of scenery is quite refreshing. I was growing tired of the sights and sounds of incessant repair. Construction is now on my list of least favorite things.¡±

    ¡°Where do wolves fall on that list?¡± Freyr¡¯s question earns him a narrowed glance from Freya. The siblings jest with one another at a near constant rate, but she thought better of her brother than to believe him capable of joking about that.

    No doubt noticing her look, he quickly responds, ¡°Sorry, sorry. That wasn¡¯t funny. I shouldn¡¯t have- ...I don¡¯t know what I was thinking.¡±

    Freya sighs.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, brother. There¡¯s a reason I¡¯m the funny twin.¡±

    There¡¯s a pregnant pause between the siblings. She catches Freyr¡¯s quick glances. They seem uneasy, with good reason. It looks as though he¡¯s searching for some escape from her gaze inside the coach, but there is very little else for him to look at.  A soft grunt or two later, he finally speaks.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, again, you just seemed in high spirits. I can¡¯t remember the last time I¡¯ve seen you smile so much in one sitting. I didn¡¯t mean to take that away.¡± Their eyes meet. ¡°Will you be okay?¡±

    ¡°Probably not,¡± she says quickly. ¡°I¡¯ll never really be okay, but this can, and should, be talked about. About what went wrong and what can be done to prevent it from ever happening again.¡±

    He fidgets in his seat, the corners of his mouth creasing downwards.

    ¡°That¡¯s not-¡± he begins to say, but seems to think better of it. He glances out the window. ¡°That¡¯s fair.¡± Freyr speaks quietly, not looking at his sister. One of his callused palms brushes along the varnished wood of the windowsill before it clenches into a fist.  ¡°Wasn¡¯t it preemptive measures that got us here in the first place?¡± he finishes quietly.

    ¡°No,¡± Freya responds coolly. ¡°A fool tried to bottle fire. His problem was that he thought himself too good to be burned.¡±  Freya traces her digits along her torc. For just a moment, a jewel at the center flashes a cool blue.

    ¡°Well hopefully this congregation will change things. We¡¯ll know the extent of the damages and what all nine realms will be doing to move forward.¡± Freyr leans across and puts a hand atop his sister¡¯s knee. He locks eyes with her, his touch immediately serving to ground her, to let her know she¡¯s not alone in this. As Freya breathes out, the light of the jewel at her throat recedes again, assuaged along with her grief. At least for now. ¡°And justice will be served.¡±

    ¡°Eden inbound, approximately fifteen minutes to arrival.¡± The coachman¡¯s hoarse voice reaches Freya from his driving seat. She finds herself back at the window, drumming on the sill yet again.

    She watches as sparkling gold plated streets, thick golden forests, and perfect blue seas rush by, all beneath a sky that shows every other realm as though they were close enough to touch. Soon they will be at the capital of Alfheim, called Eden by the Christians, the meeting place of the gods. Sprawling ivory castles with gold accents kiss the mirror smooth sky. Most are perfect, their towers and walls uniformly straight, with little variation between them. Only the main castle, offhandedly referred to as ¡®The Garden¡¯ by most, offers any more grandeur than the rest, extending out in every direction with a sweeping roof that soars across the sky like the canopy of a tree with all its leaves in full bloom.

    There was a time when these sights still moved her. Now the novelty of Paradise has worn off. Even though the streets still glow when she walks across them, this realm will never shine like the day ¨®er proposed to her.  They pass the gossamer gates of silver that seem to give off their own shimmering, pale light leading right past Paradise and towards Eden. She thinks about how she cooed soft promises to two little girls, and how that beast made her a liar.

    ¡°We¡¯ll all go to Paradise together when your father returns,¡± she remembers whispering as she kissed the soft foreheads of those impressionable young darlings and shut off the lights with the snap of her fingers. Different thoughts come to mind suddenly, and she¡¯s briefly lost within herself.

    Cut him.

    Stab him.

    Break him.

    Drown him.

    Choke him.

    Tar him.

    Skin him.

    Fry him.

    Flay him.

    Kill-

    ¡°Milady.¡± The coachman offers a knotted old hand to Freya after setting a small step ladder down before her. She forces a smile and reluctantly reaches for his hand only for Freyr to grasp it in her place. Her thoughts were better left for the execution itself.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind if I do.¡± Freyr steps out and descends the ladder before turning to offer his hand to his sister. Freya smiles, rolls her eyes, and takes her brother¡¯s hand. He pulls her from the carriage with ease, and together the Vanir twins step around the side of the coach. Freya stops by her cats, taking a moment to nuzzle her face into the calico, while scratching behind the ears of her tabby.

    ¡°Freya?¡± Freyr catches her attention, and with a slight nod convinces her to bid her pets adieu. She holds the hem of her dress off the ground and scurries after Freyr. It becomes clear that the two are lagging behind the rest of their house as they walk, and Freya suspects that Freyr blames her for their late arrival.

    ¡°It¡¯s your fault, you know.¡± He clearly has no problem confirming her suspicions as they await the  painfully slow descent of a drawbridge.

    Freya glances back to the carriage from the bridge settling in place. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t we normally take our cart through the main entrance?¡±

    ¡°Eden¡¯s weird. They operate this entire place on the whole ¡®life works in mysterious ways¡¯ mindset. I think it¡¯s just an excuse to be difficult.¡±

    This isn¡¯t Freya¡¯s first time in Eden. She has been here twice before, back when she was younger. That was before Odin tried to bottle her fire. Back when she was her own woman. Back when she was Vanir.

    Several guards in gold armor with feathered white wings greet the twins.  There are enough of them to carry all the barrels of rainbow colored dust without anyone else lifting a finger before they escort the two deities and their goods into the castle.

    Silence lingers as the twins follow the armored angels down halls adorned with more gold. A place clearly untouched by battle is welcoming, yet upsetting when she thinks of the many things, the many people, lost by the rest of them.  As they get closer to the main hall Freya can feel her power diminish, even more so than normal. She¡¯d been told in advance that everyone felt the same when entering Eden. Due to its function as a common ground for all pantheons, the atmosphere of the realm worked to level everyone¡¯s power, acting as a great equalizer.

    They enter a ballroom brimming with deities. There isn¡¯t a place Freya can look that doesn¡¯t have a god or goddess of some level gracing her sight. There are flashes of smiles, perfect straight white teeth, and barely there nods each time she makes eye contact. They are all familiar gestures from unfamiliar faces. Many of the people here know her for what she did that day, but not one of them had ever been around to help her, not even after.

    ¡°Look Freyr, we¡¯re fashionably late,¡± Freya says curtly as she motions to the extravagant party before them. ¡°Never be the first to arrive, nor the last to leave.¡±

    Cherubs and lesser angels wait hand and foot on guests from each of the nine realms. Creatures of various shapes, sizes, colors, and ranks have all gathered here. Freya can count  the pantheons she actually recognizes on one hand. She first sees the Egyptian gods and several Olympians.  From what she can tell, they lost the least number of gods in Ragnarok, quite understandably. Unlike the Aesir, neither family has many warriors to speak of, and those that were among the fighters had been tasked with the lesser threats and disasters, so most had returned home unscathed.

    ¡°Do you recognize that banner?¡± Freyr asks Freya, stealing her attention. She glances to her brother as he snatches several hors d¡¯oeuvres from a passing cherub, then looks over at the banner in question. A proud emerald flag is being carried by gods dressed in clothing that seems to come from the far reaches of East Asia. Their sigil is reminiscent of the Midgardian ¡®yin yang¡¯, but the interlocking halves of the sphere are instead shaped like the heads of dragons, one black and one white.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Freya steals an hors d¡¯oeuvre from her brother.

    ¡°Well, whoever they are, they¡¯re also fashionably late.¡±  She pops the appetizer into her mouth and sticks her tongue out at her brother, though she has the decency to at least swallow her food beforehand.

    "Brother!" A familiar voice shouts out amidst the crowded banquet hall. It''s old, loud, and ugly, the voice of an Aesir.

    She soon recognizes Tyr pushing past the many cherubs and angels. Freya had thought Tyr was long dead. She hadn''t seen the brute since the better part of Ragnarok, before the beast got loose, but it had to be Tyr, no mistaking it. The matted blue beard, the chest as wide as a barrel, and that perpetual squatting walk inform her that it is indeed Tyr. Though he¡¯s different now, short an arm and an eye. He looks quite worse for wear, but then again the Aesirs see things like these as improvements. Battle scars are like trophies to them...to the Aesir.

    "Tyr!" her brother replies stepping forward to meet Tyr in the middle of the hall. She notices Freyr hadn''t called him ''brother'', which is common amongst Aesir warriors.  Even though Freyr fought by their side, Aesir were no family to him.

    "I thought you were dead," Freyr says as his grip meets Tyr''s.

    "Everyone did," Tyr shouts, laughing about it in the same breath.

    "You''re looking lighter Tyr. Have you lost weight?" Freyr arches an eyebrow. Tyr bellows another laugh in response.

    "You could say so! Fenrir took my hand, and then another bloody beast, Garm, took the rest. But you''d best believe he choked on it. Last meal he ever had," Tyr says, parking his remaining arm on her brother''s shoulder. "How''s about you? You''ve got quite the trophy yerself."

    Freyr reaches up and runs two fingers along his left eye instinctively. Most of his face had been taken by burns; a result of his fight with Surt, one of the many flames Odin had tried, and failed, to bottle.

    "Yeah, the bastard gave me the slip when he burned my face. He¡¯s lucky I didn¡¯t have L?vateinn with me, or I¡¯d have pierced his heart the moment he locked eyes with me. I''ll taste his blood yet. So if he knows what''s good for him, he''ll stay as good as ''dead''."

    Tyr can laugh about their injuries because these scars act as trophies of victory so long as their hearts still beat. Freya can see it in her brother''s eyes, though. It still burns. He hates it. He can''t stand it. But he smiles anyway. Pretends his hunger for battle is no different than  theirs. It''s how he survives. It''s how they both do.

    "Ah, Lady Freya," Tyr says, turning his attention to her. "I wanted to congratulate on you on a job well done. You and the Valkyries did an excellent job holding down the home front for us. I can barely recognize you as that little girl who used to do magic tricks. Now you''re a full fledged general in your own right.  You''re probably better at my job than I am." Tyr laughs and Freya laughs, too, just because it seems like the right thing to do. She glances at her brother, and notices Freyr isn¡¯t laughing with them.

    "Ah, I also wanted to, you know, give my condolences. To both of you. For your losses." Suddenly, Tyr¡¯s boisterous voice becomes little more than a murmur, and he holds his fat, heavy head low.

    Neither Vanir sibling says anything in response, Freya vaguely acknowledges Tyr with the slightest of nods in his direction. Tyr¡¯s head rises and with it comes that loud, grating voice again.

    "I bet you''re excited for what comes next, aren¡¯t ye? If it were up to me, I¡¯d say you should do the honors. Make it slow. Keep it personal. Don''t let him die until you''re satisfied. Hear me? Get your justice. Get.¡± He points two fingers at her. ¡°Your. Justice."

    Freya feels a hand on her shoulder. She looks to Freyr, the sides of her smile quivering.  Freyr turns and looks back to Tyr.

    "Hey, let''s grab a drink. Catch up, you know, Recount our war stories? I want every detail on the Garm battle." Freyr escorts Tyr away, and Freya¡¯s uneasiness subsides. She owes her brother for that one.

    Tyr¡¯s words linger, as does his obnoxious laugh, still audible even from down the hall. She could, she should, get her justice against the beast.  If it is anyone¡¯s kill, it is hers, right? But no, so many had been taken by him. As far as most of those involved are concerned, the ones she lost were just more numbers in his body count. To every other realm they¡¯d just be a statistic exploited to hasten the execution. Would she be permitted the long, intimate kill she owed her family?

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Cut him.

    Stab him.

    Break him.

    Drown him.

    Choke him.

    Tar him.

    Skin him.

    Fry him.

    Flay him.

    Ki-

    Freya exhales softly. Her fingers reach for her torc. Just as they are about to brush against that central blue gem, a hand touches Freya''s back, startling her.

    Freya turns quickly to see Sif, her queen. An Aesir who now looks like a truly aged beauty, she wasn¡¯t always this way, but her weariness does not manage to dim her radiance. Dressed in the Nordic garb of their former worshipers, two blue tresses rest along Sif¡¯s shoulders. It¡¯s assumed that her wisdom lines show from all her smiles, but Freya knows those creases were brought about by much frowning. But even with crow¡¯s feet tugging at the corners of her tired eyes, Sif still surmounts all other Aesir with her beauty.  Ragnarok left her bruised, but not beaten.

    ¡°Freya,¡± Sif greets quietly. ¡°I was beginning to wonder if you and Freyr were going to show. It wouldn¡¯t feel right discussing Ragnarok without those most affected by it present. We are all Aesir. We are all family.¡±

    They aren¡¯t family, not truthfully, but Sif¡¯s smile says they are.

    ¡°It was hard to leave, honestly, after getting to stay in Vanaheimr again after so long. I was just... I was just happy to be home again, is all.¡± Freya looks to Sif reluctantly, though she manages to offer her a small smile. Hesitance gathers more and more as the pause in their conversation lengthens. Is it okay to call Vanaheimr her home? For so long she had been forced to think of herself as an Aesir rather than a Vanir.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Sif replies encouragingly. ¡°That''s why it was my first act as Queen. I believed you and Freyr returning to Vanaheimr would be for the best. Now that I see you here, smiling even after all that took place, I can confidently say I¡¯ve made the right decision.¡±

    Freya¡¯s expression softens and she gently embraces the older woman. It might be foolish to let her guard down with an Aesir, especially one as close to the previous conflicts as Sif, but then again, everyone had been made a fool by Ragnarok.

    ¡°Tell me, child, are you okay?¡± Sif inquires, pulling away from Freya.

    ¡°Are you?¡± Freya asks, her eyes locked with Sif¡¯s. Tears gather in both their eyes, though they don¡¯t fall, not here, not now.

    ¡°No.¡± Sif gives Freya a sad smile and shakes her head.

    Freya shakes her head as well. ¡°Neither am I.¡± They embrace once more.

    Their brief conversation ends when they are approached by a man Freya vaguely recognizes. His skin is nearly pure white it is so pale, and his hair is the color of a starless night. He wears an ebony toga, a dark violet sash, and golden sandals peek from beneath the hem of his clothing. Adorning his back is a cape made of flaming darkness.  He bows his head and offers a bottle, Olympian in style.

    ¡°Greetings Lady Sif, Lady Freya. I am Erebus, God of Darkness,¡± he introduces himself. His eyes focus on Sif, flashing briefly like dying stars.  ¡°I present to you a gift from the Olympians, courtesy of our queen, the goddess Hera.¡± His lips curl into a smile as he continues to hold out the bottle. ¡°Some of the finest ambrosia in all the nine realms.¡± Erebus¡¯ expression suddenly softens, and he gives a respectful nod. ¡°Our¡­ condolences for those lost in Ragnarok.¡±

    So the Olympians still have gifts to give. They lost little in the war, then. Sif¡¯s hand grasps at the bottle¡¯s neck, her fingers viselike on it as though she is trying to strangle the object, and she  rips the wine from Erebus harshly.

    ¡°What good is a gesture-¡± Sif looks beyond Erebus as she speaks. ¡°If not given directly?¡±

    Freya follows Sif¡¯s gaze and her line of sight leads to a woman at the far side of the hall.  Her skin is quite fair, and there is a mature beauty about her, but it is far different than Sif¡¯s. Age is shown in her posture rather than her eyes, for her skin, no, her whole being, radiates perfection. Perfectly thin eyebrows arch from behind a gem adorned chalice, which she soon pulls away to reveal a slim, angular visage. Bright violet hair flows freely over her shoulders and down her back, framing her hourglass figure. A tight white toga accentuates her curves, exaggerating them even more. The smile she gives Sif disarms Freya, for even by godly standards, this woman is gorgeous.

    The goddess reaches for the hand of a child with pink hair, a girl who looks even younger than Throoth, the youngest Aesir left after Ragnarok¡¯s devastation. Freya¡¯s fingers trace her torc. The scene is as reassuring as it is depressing, for it reminds her that there are mothers out there who hadn¡¯t lost it all that day.

    The Olympian queen walks up hand in hand with her rosy cheeked child. Erebus quickly steps out of her way and takes a knee, his eyes meeting the ground and his head bowing obediently. Freya¡¯s gaze lingers on Erebus for some time. She doesn¡¯t recall him being this loyal to the main Olympian family before. In fact, she clearly remembers him being opposed to Zeus¡¯ rule. With a careful look around the room, however, she sees that Zeus is nowhere to be found. There¡¯s much Freya needs to learn about the world after Ragnarok.

    ¡°You know, you aren¡¯t the first noble to disdain one of my gifts.¡± Hera narrows her bright emerald eyes as she stops before Sif.

    ¡°Oh? Who else would have the gall to deny the infallible Hera?¡± Sif asks. Freya catches a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

    ¡°The Jade Emperor, apparently,¡± Hera responds with a coy expression. ¡°The fool had the nerve to tell me his empire¡¯s peach ambrosia is better.¡± Hera leans in conspiratorially. ¡°Though, between you and me, I gave everyone but you the cheap stuff. Only the finest in the nine realms for the Aesir Queen.¡±

    ¡°How many others have you used that line on? For all I know this wine could very well be poisoned.¡± Freya hopes Sif is being sarcastic and her eyes search Hera. It¡¯s probably a joke, for there¡¯s no way such a tactic could ever be employed in Eden. It is a sanctuary to gods of all pantheons and there is a peace treaty among all those who come here. It is, in fact, a law from the King of Kings that is enforced by his Archangels. Try as they might, not a soul alive can deny the King of Kings.

    The closer Hera gets, the more apparent the smell of aged ambrosia on her lips is. Thankfully the smell itself is pleasant enough, merely that of fermented grapes, so it doesn¡¯t bother Freya in the slightest.

    ¡°How many?¡± Sif asks, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes just a touch at Hera. Apparently, the smell did get to Sif.

    After a tiny laugh, Hera quietly responds, ¡°Just a teensy bit. I like sampling the offerings from the other pantheons.¡± Hera declares her judgement of those offerings by sticking her tongue out and shaking her head. ¡°It¡¯s all rubbish by the way.¡±

    Sif and Hera share a long gaze. Silence is broken by a chuckle. Then the space between them is closed with a touch, Hera¡¯s elegant fingers moving to caress Sif¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you made it,¡± she murmurs.  ¡°It¡¯s important that you¡¯re here. It will mean a lot to your people.¡± Hera¡¯s hand lightly dances up the edge of one of Sif¡¯s braids, inching ever so slightly towards her face. A brief smile crosses Hera¡¯s own. ¡°It means a lot to me too. I¡¯ve missed you, Sif.¡±

    Freya finds herself smiling along with Hera. The two older goddesses seem so close.

    ¡°I don¡¯t really have a choice, do I?¡± Sif asks with a weak laugh. ¡°I¡¯m queen until my daughter comes of age. Without Thor around someone will need to set a good example for her. She needs to see what a good leader is like before taking the role on herself. Odin was anything but that.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s been spending time with Athena on Midgard, right?  I¡¯m sure that will do her some good,¡± Hera says offhandedly.

    Personally, Freya worries about Throoth.  The girl is still just a godling, yet she is on Midgard, where the brunt of the destruction was, without anyone watching over her. She fails to find a good explanation as to why so many godlings are down there. She¡¯d heard excuses ranging from it simply being a good experience for them to live on their own, to a theory that because the mortals were extinct, the best chance any of the godlings now had for growing stronger would be through osmosis of whatever potential worship remained in Midgard¡¯s atmosphere. Freya didn¡¯t believe that.  These are the centuries in which the godlings were supposed to grow into full fledged deities. There is training to be attended and lessons they need to learn before taking on their own godly responsibilities. But with Ragnarok having occurred already, leaving so many of the nine realms devastated, it just seems easier to ignore the godlings for a bit. Right now, the gods themselves didn¡¯t even know what they were going to do without the mortals, their biggest source of power, let alone how the political climate was going to be affected by so many rulers losing their lives in the catastrophe.

    Freya sighs. It is just easier to let the godlings have their freedom for now, however dangerous it may be, rather than answer their many questions or tell them hard facts they might not be ready to hear. Freya has to wonder, though, if not now then when? Given her position within her pantheon, however, it is probably best she not speak up about this. Maybe Sif will be a better leader than Odin. In time, perhaps Freya can tell Sif how she feels, for in time, Sif might be able to make a difference.

    ¡°How is Athena?¡± Sif asks. ¡°I know she¡¯s a little older than Throoth, but these are her formative centuries as well. How has Ragnarok affected her? Throoth has been...different. Quiet. More so than before.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know,¡± Hera responds quickly. ¡°Athena has always been her father¡¯s daughter more than anything. We¡¯ve never been close.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Sif nods. ¡°I have a feeling you don¡¯t want to talk about Zeus right now.¡±

    ¡°Exactly right,¡± Hera says before picking up the girl at her side, apparently her youngest daughter. The poor little thing had been fidgeting about, trying to be patient.  Without Throoth or Athena present there weren¡¯t many godlings around, after all. She must be lonely.

    ¡°Shhh, Hebe, it¡¯s okay. We¡¯ll get something to eat soon. Mommy just wants to finish talking,¡± Hera coos, trying to soothe the little one. When the girl¡¯s soft murmurs become a quiet whine instead, Freya steps forward. She stops herself when she realizes she¡¯s moved towards the little girl without thinking, and inches back slowly.

    ¡°Maybe you can let Freya hold her,¡± Sif suggests, casting a quick glance to Freya.  ¡°She¡¯s amazing. She basically helped raise Throoth. In fact, she was her teacher up until Ragnarok.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Freya, the Vanir girl?¡± Hera asks, wide eyes now on Freya.  ¡°Look at how beautiful you¡¯ve become. Last time I saw you, you yourself were a godling and now you¡¯re-¡± Hera pauses. ¡°You¡¯re so brave, and so strong.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Freya says politely, much as she disagrees. It didn¡¯t take bravery or strength to do what she did. Freya felt her actions during the war should be second nature to all. But even she knew that once a direct order from The King of Kings was given, no one could deny it.

    ¡°You¡¯re both so strong,¡± Hera continues, earning a sigh from Sif.

    ¡°No.¡± Sif shakes her head. ¡°If I were strong then everyone would be- My husband would be-¡± Sif covers her mouth. ¡°I¡±m sorry.¡±

    Freya instinctively reaches for Sif, and sees Hera do the same, but both of them halt as a horn sounds from the center of the dining hall. It¡¯s angelic, almost harp like. Freya¡¯s carmine colored eyes turn towards the sound and she hears shuffling throughout the hall as many others do the same.

    Standing dead center is an angel. He wears white clerical robes laced with gold and accented with pointed shoulders. A blue sash is tied across his chest, and a flowing cape sits between his tucked wings. The strands of his honey colored hair are tied into an unruly ponytail, and he wears a serene smile as his cool blue eyes look over everyone in the room. She recognizes him from her youth as Gabriel, the messenger of The King of Kings.

    ¡°Good,¡± Gabriel chuckles. ¡°Now that I have everyone¡¯s attention, could I please direct you all to move to the stadium?¡± He nearly sings his words, his long arms moving with the grace of a dancer as he motions to the stadium entrance. ¡°Mikey believes it¡¯ll be best for morale if we start by The Apocalypse¡¯s criminals to justice.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s called Ragnarok,¡± Sif whispers, low enough that Freya is sure only she heard her. ¡°But I guess this is just another thing the Christians want to take away from us.¡± Her voice is full of undeniable malice as she watches Gabriel.

    ¡°Come now everyone, chop chop. We mustn¡¯t keep Mikey waiting. He¡¯s been itching to swing that sword of his all day. I know he¡¯s going to have an attitude if he doesn¡¯t get to relieve himself pretty soon,¡± the angel sing-songs as he enthusiastically leads all the gods and goddesses towards the arena. Freya doesn¡¯t follow, not immediately, waiting behind with Sif instead.

    ¡°Shall we depart, Queen Hera?¡± Erebus inquires as he rises. His eyes flash like fading stars once again as he fixates his attention on Hera.

    ¡°Just a moment, Erebus.¡± She gives a quick look to the god along with a nod that sends him walking off toward the arena.  Freya watches Sif and Hera exchange another glance before Hera carries Hebe away. She probably has to catch up with the rest of her pantheon for seating and what not. As Hera departs, Freya sees Tyr and Freyr approaching.

    ¡°You guys ready? Cause I know I am!¡± Tyr shouts. The large man laughs as he stops before Sif, but Freyr stops short in front of Freya. He locks eyes with his sister momentarily before taking her hand.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be okay in there, yeah?¡± He looks to Sif. ¡°Both of you?¡±

    Freya also looks over at Sif, who nods.

    ¡°I just want to see justice served. It¡¯s one of the reasons I agreed to even step foot on Christian land.¡±

    ¡°I hope those Archangels don¡¯t think they¡¯re entitled to Aesir kills,¡± Tyr grunts, then looks to Freya and inclines his head.

    ¡°Freya,¡± Freyr whispers. ¡°I¡¯ll ask again. Are you going to be okay in there? We¡¯ve talked about it, but seeing him in there, it¡¯s... Well, it¡¯s going to be completely different. If you can¡¯t handle it, you don¡¯t have to go through with it. You don¡¯t owe anyone anything.¡±

    Freya stares at Freyr, parting her lips as though to speak, but nothing comes out in the end. She simply nods as her fingers find their way to the torc once more. She fiddles with the neck ornament mindlessly for a moment. Words that don¡¯t dare cross her lips flood her mind, fill her veins, sing for violence through her hands and fingers.

    Cut him.

    Stab him.

    Break him.

    Drown him.

    Choke him.

    Tar him.

    Skin him.

    Fry him.

    Flay him.

    ...

    ...

    ¡­

    Kill him.

    ¡°After he¡¯s gone there won¡¯t be anymore monsters.¡±

 Chapter 3 - Bond - Fea

    Fea didn''t know why she had saved the girl. Maybe it was because they had the same face? She couldn''t stand the sight of her crying either, because it somehow made Fea feel weak, too. Maybe it was this other presence, this feeling, thissomethingthat drew Fea to her like a moth to the flame. At first, she figured it was just a ripe reservoir of divinity that led her to this apartment. But there could be much more between her and this other girl than just a matching face it seems.

    Fea grabs the girl''s wrist and pulls her toward the window. She isn''t sure whether the woman in white is gone, or if she''ll attack again. Fea''s feet are already perched on the windowsill when three other girls barge into the room. She pulls her corvid themed mask over her face, hiding her identity. One of the girls, the one with blue hair and red eyes, looks at the dead body. She doesn''t stare the deceased for long before looking to Fea''s doppelganger. Finally, the girl looks at Fea herself. Once the initial shock seems to pass, the girl bellows. Fea feels the howl flutter through her feathers, ruffling the plumage. She recognizes a subtle twitch in one of the girl''s eyes. Fea smirks, knowing she''s forced the girl''s anger to the surface. It would be too hard for anyone else to notice the red glaze over her crimson eyes, but Fea understood. There are no words exchanged before the girl hurls a hammer in their direction.

    "Look out!" her double yells, then yanks them out the window. Fea sees the hammer clip the girl''s shoulder as they both fall.

    It should have been easy, but signs of life in the area dissuaded Fea from claiming the territory as her own at first. She usually surveys an areas occupants to see if they''d put up a fight or if just dropping her title would be enough. Once that''s determined she could strike. The same plan as always. Force the inhabitants to their knees and make them swear their loyalty to her. With their loyalty, she''d add yet another domain to her growing map ofterritory.

    Not every run can be so perfect, though. Fea''s been to countless other apartments and stolen plenty of stuff just fine before. Maybe overconfidence made her sloppy this time? Fea looks at her double, who''s running a hand along her injured shoulder. She''s the reason this all went to hell. Fea could cut her losses and run away now. It''s obvious the girl in the apartment wanted a fight even before Fea encouraged her to make a move. It''s the logical thing to do, and Fea likes to think she''s got a good head on her shoulders. Yet, there''s a feeling she gets from the girl at her side that keeps stopping her. Despite the whimpering, the trembling, and the innocent looking eyes, Fea can''t deny it. She''s drawn to the other girl andneedsher loyalty for some strange reason.

    "Keep movin'' forward. It''ll be the first town. You can''t miss it," Fea says to the lookalike. She is an annoying little thing with the way her tears keep running down her face and how she whimpers into her hands. It''s more annoying than it should be because she looks like Fea, but without a single ounce of Fea''s strength or grit. It had been sickening to see, the way she had buckled when she saw his blood, how she fell to her knees and trembled. Hadn''t she seen that kind of shit before? They don''t exactly live in the safest of worlds, after all. Whatever, it was none of Fea''s business...at least, not yet.

    "O-okay," the girl says with a weak little sound. Is she still whining? Fea grits her teeth and pinches the bridge of her nose. Whatever she''s doing, it aggravates Fea. "C-can''t we talk to them? They''re my friends and t-they''ll understand." The girl rubs her shoulder again. That hammer must have gotten her good. "B-besides...Jesus, I need to..he''s..I need to go back and-" With an exasperated groan, Fea helps the girl to her feet.

    "Your friend is dead. You saw ityerselfdidn''t ya? Then, without so much as a question, that bitch threw a hammer at me. So what the hell do you want me ta do? I''m not exactly keen on talkin'' it out with her. She wants a fight, so I''ll give her a damn fight," Fea deadpans. She doesn''t want to have to repeat herself.

    "But she''s my-" Really, the girl is trying to reason with Fea once again? Isn''t it clear how over this she is?

    "I. Don''t. Care." Fea glares at her other, weaker self. "That look in your friend''s eyes, when she threw the hammer at me. Have you ever seen that before?"

    The lookalike glances to Fea then looks away and shakes her head just a tiny bit.

    "That''s what I thought." Fea sighs and shakes her head. "She wanted to kill me back there. Had you not intervened, I don''t know what would have happened." Fea is lying, but she does it with so much ease, she''s sure her gullibleother halfwill believe her. Her crimson hair sways to one side as she tilts her head in the girl''s direction.

    "You can feel our bond is strong, can''t you? Now that we''ve come together we shouldn''t part. Do you really think someone who wanted to kill me without any hesitation is the kind of friend you want?" Rolling her shoulders, Fea begins bouncing on the balls of her feet, pumping herself up for the upcoming fight. There''s no doubt the girls from the apartment are on their way. "Besides, I saw the look on your face when you came into the room. Something was bothering you. So between that, your friend''s berserk button, and your other friend getting wasted, I don''t feel that apartment is going to be a safe place for you anymore. So..." Fea looks at her and emphasizes each of her next words with a point forward. "Get. Yer. Ass. Movin''."

    They stand there, staring at each other through Fea''s mask. The girl''s soft sapphire eyes look as though they''re searching Fea''s for something. Fea''s gaze flits away. Several moments drag by and Fea coughs.

    "Well?" Her doppelganger lets out a tiny little sigh as she looks up at Fea. Their eyes meet again, but this time Fea stays resolute. "Trust me, alright? I''ve been down this road with people...with friends, time an'' time again. It''ll hurtfernow, but eventually-"

    "Okay." Well look at that, the whiny bitch finally complies! Thank whatever deities are responsible for that. The girl looks at Fea for another moment. Without warning, she turns into a crow and flies off in the ordered direction. Well okay then, she can shapeshift, too. Duly noted. The similarities between the two seem to be growing every minute.

    Fea hears the earth shifting behind her, and what sounds like trees coming down in the distance. Once her double is gone, Fea looks over her shoulder and confirms her suspicions. Damn, those bitches are coming up fast. There''s a grin growing on Fea''s face that she can''t fight. If she isn''t careful she''ll make herself stupid with excitement. Can''t be sloppy about doing her job.

    But Judging from the likes of her whiny doppelganger, these girls shouldn''t be much to deal with. She''ll make quick work of them, then get them to buckle and swear their fealty to her in...ten minutes, she bets. With the thought of all the divinity she can get from them, the other patrons of the apartment and her double, Fea''s mouth starts to water.

    And there they are, emerging from a dust cloud after tearing down several trees in their path, which is totally unnecessary in her opinion. Fea looks them over carefully when they all stop before her. They all have pretty solid stances overall, which means they should at least know how to fight.

    The girl with the twin braids and the hammer stands front and center. Tch, this bitch, she didn''t even try to get Fea''s name or ask what she was doing there before attacking. She just saw that dead asshole and assumed Fea must have done it. Doesn''t she know how much of a waste that would have been? Yeah, Fea could have killed him and stolen his divinity, but fealty is so much better. It gives her a lackey who can then go around and collect evenmoredivinity for her, so why waste a perfectly good subordinate? She''d be sure to instill that lesson in this girl once she made a slave out of her.

    Given their positions, the blue haired girl must be their leader or at least the most aggressive of them. She stands there staring at Fea with this cold little look. Is that supposed to be intimidating? Fea''s not expecting a smile, but at least give her a good hard glare. It''d make sense especially considering the girl thinks Fea murdered her friend and all.

    There''s a green haired mummy to the girl''s right who drops a sarcophagus down at her side. Just a shot in the dark, but Fea guesses that''s her weapon. Her eyelids look heavy and she can''t seem to raise her arms so Fea doubts she''ll be much of an asset to the others in combat.

    Last on her radar is the curvy purple haired girl. Fea doesn''t know why she''s smiling like that, but maybe it''s an attempt at a show of confidence. She looks rather casual all things considered. Crossed arms and a cocked hip don''t worry Fea much. It''s such an obvious ruse. Maybe if Fea was new to this she''d actually think the girl had left herself open.

    "Okay, before ye'' all do something yer gonna regret, I thought I should at least make my case first," Fea says with a confident smirk. She plans to make a big to do out of showing them she isn''t afraid. She''s fought and beaten much bigger foes. Though she might not want judge a book by its cover at this point, given her own success rate. "I didn''t kill yer friend. This lady in white just appeared and-"

    "What the hell did you do to me back there?" The girl with the braids steps forth. "I had no inclination to attack, but then I saw you and... I saw nothing but red." She raises her hammer and shakes her head, as though trying to clear her mind. "Where''s Ana?" she asks, voice flat.

    "Ana? Yer talkin'' about the other girl who was in that room?" The girl steps forward again, her hammer still pointed in Fea''s direction.

    "Return her to me. Now," she orders, deadpan. Fea chuckles.

    "Wow,y''don''tsound very motivated. Is she really that important to you? I sure as hell can''t tell."

    She gives no answer, just narrows her crimson eyes at Fea. Fea''s eyes bounce back to the other two and it looks like the purple one moved while Fea was focused on that hammer. The mummy is still in the same spot, at least, so that''s good. Fea needs to keep track of all their movements, so she can''t let her guard down for even a second.

    "Soy''don''teven care thatwhat''s-his-facewas just straight up murdered? Wow, that''s a surprise, seein'' how mad ya looked before over there," she goads them, before quickly changing topics. "So yer friend''s name is Ana." Fea taps her chin in a mocking manner. "Yeah, Ana seems pretty torn up about the whole thing. Maybe yer just playin'' it cool then. Y''know, if it hurts, you can let it out." Fea pauses and shakes her head after a moment.

    "Fer someone who claims to care so much about Ana,y''hadno problem hurting her,y''know. Yer reckless behavior with that hammer a'' yours is causin'' her a lotta pain. If just grazing her did that much damage, just imagine what would''a happened if ye actually hit her with it. Ye''dprollybe cleanin'' Ana off the walls, just like that other guy," Fea laughs. "Maybe she''s safer with me, then, away from people who throw weapons at her. Can you believe how she reacted when she saw death? Just how coddled has she been? It''s pathetic... You guys have been raising a complete coward. A coward withmyface." Fea narrows her eyes. "Do ye know how offensive that is? So yeah, maybe I''ll keep her. I''ll whip her into shapefersure."

    There it is, the first reaction. For the briefest of moments, The hammer toting girl''s stoic stare falters. There''s no denying it, Fea catches that subtle twitch of her eye. It''s time to make the offer.

    "Look, I''ll cut ye a deal. You obviously call the shots ''round here and ye look smart enough. I''ll give Ana back, and maybe even offer my help in avenging yerother friend. Ye just have to do one thingferme." Sporting a cheeky grin, Fea wags a finger at the three girls.

    Hammer girl seems to remain resolute and refuses to lower her weapon. Her impassive eyes lock on Fea''s corvid mask. Maybe it''s time for the big reveal, then.

    "Swear fealty to me. All of ya. Give me dominion over that apartment building and all who reside in it. I''m only gonna make you this offer once. And ya don''t wanna get on the bad side of Morrigan,the Phantom Queen." As Fea finishes speaking, she pulls her mask back, revealing her face to her opponents. As always, Fea relishes the moment and anticipates their reactions.

    Only one of the girls so much as blinks. The hammer toting Aesir''s cold stare melts away as her lips part. Something escapes her; a gasp, a sigh, a whimper? Maybe it''s the news that she''s the Phantom Queen? The reality of the situation setting in faster for her than the others who might doubt Fea''s claim based on her short stature. Then again, it might be something else. It could be that her face resembles that of ''Ana'' so closely. Whatever the case, she''s definitely psyched out their leader. So this should work to her advantage.

    A faint "Oh look." rises up from one of the girls, the mummy. "It''s Ana." The mummy turns to the other two. "Look. I found Ana. We can go home now."

    "No," the Aesir responds. "That definitely isn''t her." Her determined look returns. Her eyes narrow and focus on Fea, and she hears the sound of leather giving in under a tightening grip. Whatever shook the Aesir has passed.

    Fea tries to hide her own surprise but might''ve done a terrible job. Her own confident expression contorts into one of disbelief. Granted, it does make some sense. They''d all grown accustomed to her face through Ana, so of course, when they see Fea they don''t see The Phantom Queen, but their little friend instead.

    "That''s annoying," Fea sighs under her breath.

    The purple haired one starts chuckling. Did she notice Fea falter? Fea looks over to check, only to see a haughty expression on the girl''s face and a smirk curling on her lips.

    "So that''s your weakness, hm? Your pride? Adorable." She speaks in a refined manner, as though she''s better than everyone, and boy, is that annoying. As that final word passes her lips, the purple haired girl''s image then fades from sight. In her place is a mere spear, rusted over and stabbed deep into the ground. Inwardly, Fea begins to panic. This was some sort of bait and switch? An illusion? When did the change happen?!

    Fea looks back to see the girl with the hammer charging towards her. Fea only then notices how defenseless she is. Fea''s eyes widen as she sees the girl go for an uppercut with the hammer. They lock eyes, cold sapphire, and hot crimson meeting. Just before the hammer can connect with Fea''s body, though, her opponent spins, instead delivering a kick to Fea''s stomach. Fea was completely open, and she wouldn''t have survived the full force of that swing, she can tell that much. The girl had spared her, though not out of kindness. If she dies, they might never find their friend, after all.

    Fea goes careening through several trees before hitting the ground and skidding to a stop. It takes a moment, but she does manage to stand. She''s covered in bruises and cuts now, but her injuries begin to heal on their own, and she gets to her feet. Off in the distance, obscured by a mixture of the blanket of night and several thickets of treetop foliage, Fea sees something glowing. It ignites like a flame, a cool blue that pierces the darkness. It moves toward Fea slowly, malevolently.

    Fea braces herself when she hears the hammer girl''s voice from the darkness.

    "For a moment there you might''ve actually had me going." She steps out into Fea''s view, her left eye surrounded by the same blue flame.

    "However," whispers the girl with the hammer. "Now that I''ve gotten a good look, I can see right through you."

    "Oh yeah," Fea shouts back, balling her hands into fists. "That was a pretty lucky hit! Crazier shit has happened in a three on one fight before!" Fea hikes a thumb underneath her nose. Even if she''s impressed, she can''t let her confidence waver, not again.

    "At this point, you''re quickly exhausting any potential options you might have had earlier." The girl tilts her head to the side as she speaks, as though sizing Fea up with that fiery eye of hers but not really caring what she finds in the end. "You''ve given Ana orders to run to one of your domains. There are a lot of branching possibilities, but given how you''ve handled yourself so far, I''m going to assume you chose the simplest path." She points her hammer at Fea as she makes her guess. "She''s in the closest domain you can reach on foot from here."

    Fea remains calm, exhales, and tries to keep the smirk on her face. She''s about to speak when the hammer girl continues.

    "So then." The hammer girl steps forward. "Are you going to comply? Give me Ana and leave her alone.Anddon''tcome back."

    "Yer reverse psychology is terrible. That''s only makin'' me want her more. She''s got my face and obviously, there''s somethin'' special about her if you''re workin'' this hard to get her back."

    One of the girl''s hands runs along a dangling blue braid. She has a detached beauty, cold and untouchable like she knows she''s beautiful and couldn''t care less. Her words are just as icy and creep from her mouth like bugs drawn to light at dusk.

    "Oh, Midgard," she laments. "This realm sure does collect idiots at an alarming rate." She shakes her head, her braids whipping about. "Only an idiot would view people solely by their potential value and worth. That will lead you straight down the most probable path to complete and utter loneliness. Ana isn''t someone special because of what she can do, but because of who she is. She is someone precious to me. I must get her back at any cost."

    Fea can''t help but snicker at the way these girls wear their hearts on their sleeves. They may all be older, but Fea''s sure none of them could have lasted a day in her shoes. The world''s much too harsh to grow so attached to a single person.

    "Wanna know the difference between a fool and an idiot?"

    The hammer girl arches a thin eyebrow. Fea appears behind her in an instant, no doubt alarming the other girl with her speed.

    "Thedumberof the two actually think there''s a difference!" Fea drives an elbow back towards the hammer girl''s head. Hammer girl reacts quicker than Fea expects, though, sending an upturned palm back and catching the attack. Both girls spin in toward one another. Their knees meet in another clash, and even in that quick exchange Fea can feel her bones nearly vibrating from the force of the impact. She had assumed their strength would be evenly matched given their similar builds, but this girl is clearly stronger. Much stronger. Fea throws a punch. Her opponent raises her hammer just in time, and Fea''s fist slams into it full force. A shock wave of electricity fires off from the girls, leveling several rows of trees and splintering the ground beneath them.

    Fea uses the newly formed debris to her advantage and begins kicking any nearby boulders she can reach towards the girl. They go flying toward her opponent, but all meet the same fate at the end of her blunt weapon.

    Whatever, it was just supposed to keep her busy while Fea transformed anyway. A thick coat of black feathersstartto cover Fea''s arms and legs. As her arms become wings her legs contort and morph into razor-sharp talons. In this new harpy form, Fea takes to the sky.

    Any other day Fea wouldn''t run away from a fight this early, but the purple-haired girl had disappeared a while ago and was probably trying to catch up to Ana. A thought bullets through her mind- why not just let Ana go with them? They are obviously her friends, so she''d be happiest with them. Another thought soon dashes the previous one away, though.

    Not everyone can be happy.

    Now resolute, Fea prepares to fly off in the direction she sent Ana when she hears the hammer girl''s voice.

    "Kebechet, now!"

    A gust of wind rockets by Fea, spinning her around in the process. Fea looks down and sees that the mummy''s positioning has finally changed. She''s standing atop a nearby tree now, the sarcophagus still at her side. Fea wonders how the mummy got into position without her noticing. Perhaps she''s been waiting since her earlier tussle with the hammer girl, the green of her hair having camouflaged her until now. Whatever the case, she''s in the perfect position to knock Fea out of the sky.

    "Okay, Throoth."

    When given the order, the mummy, apparently named Kebe-whatever, lightly kicks the sarcophagus, causing it to shoot open. Bandages that seem to extend on forever shoot from the open sarcophagus. They rocket toward Fea, and, and she''s unable to avoid them in time. She ends up entangled in the wrappings, looking back to see Kebechet give one forceful tug on the bindings.

    "Shit!" Fea curses as Kebechet yanks her from the sky. Fea thrashes against her the wrappings, but they''re so tight around her she can''t flap her wings at all. She lets out a small cry as she slams down into the trees below. A sturdy branch breaks her fall, though it leaves her aching. Feawrithesabout, trying to free herself because it won''t be long before they''re on her again.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Fea''s feathers start to ruffle of their own accord, which isn''t exactly helping - that''s it! She takes a moment to concentrate, altering her feathers so they''re as sharp as knives. Now she''s able to shred herself free with a simple spin. In a flash Fea returns to her regular form, a few wraps still draping her while she picks herself up. Without wasting any time, Fea scrambles and up a tree and begins hopping from branch to branch. Not wanting to confront the hammer girl directly, Fea tries using the leaves as camouflage the best she can. Fea hears trees collapsing behind her now, alerting her that they''re still on her tail. Focusing on a point far ahead, Fea speeds up. She''s flown through these trees hundreds of times, so she knows all the shortcuts and the best ways to lose someone in this forest. The girls are outmatched, and she''ll be fine. She has to be.

    "It''s like that bitch knows what I''m going to do before I do. Am I really that predictable? Who the hell is she?" Fea wonders aloud. By now she''s traversed miles in just under a minute. As she lands on the next tree branch she notices something that makes her blood run cold. There''s a spear stabbed into the tree she''s standing on. She glances around and notices spears pierced into every branch and tree in the surrounding area. From deep within the forest, she hears the same haughty laugh from earlier. Each spear glows briefly before detonating in a small, powerful blast, one after another in a steadily growing chain reaction. On reflex alone, Fea throws up her arms but knows in the back of her mind that she can''t take all this damage unscathed. The massive force of the golden explosions sends Fea blasting through the trees. Along the way, Fea collides with branches before they burn to ash in the flames of the attack. One after another the spears explode, until there isn''t much left to the forest but a smoldering crater, and a heavily damaged Fea lying in the center of it.

    "Dammit." Fea coughs and tries to pick herself up but to no avail. Her body just isn''t ready to get up yet. The sound of footsteps snaps Fea''s attention over her shoulder. She sees the purple haired girl walking towards her at a relaxed pace. The girl comes to a stop at Fea''s side and peers down at her, looking like she''s hardly out of breath. Fea''s wounds start to heal once more, so the moment she feels up to the challenge of moving, she attempts to sweep out the other girl''s legs. As her leg comes in contact with the other girl, however, her image fades, turning out to be just another spear. Hitting that spear causes several more to rain down from above, stabbing around Fea''s body and into her clothing, locking her in place. The last spear just misses her head, stopping just shy of her right cheek. One drop of blood squeezes out before it heals.

    The purple haired girl finally makes her true appearance, or so it seems until proven otherwise. She lands right on top of the spear closest to Fea''s head and speaks in a soft tone as if Fea is a small child.

    "Your tenacity is quite fearsome." She steps down from the spear and crouches near Fea, leaning in toward her. There''s an amused smile on her face, as though she finds Fea funny. "But it''s dangerous when mixed with such reckless pride. From now on, consider the possibility that you can be outmatched."

    "I was outnumbered!" Fea spits. "Enough with the damn possibilities already! It''s gettin'' really annoying!"

    "Lesson number two: a loss is a loss, regardless of the circumstances." She waves a finger as though she''s reprimanding Fea like a naughty student who refuses to listen. Who the hell does this bitch think she is, talking down to her like this? "Someone out to take your life isn''t going to be listening to excuses when their knife is at your throat."

    The purple haired girl''s head tilts just a touch to the right, her hair swishing back and forth behind her. There''s nothing but mercy in her deep gray eyes. Fea scoffs. So the girl is smart enough to trap her but hadn''t made any demands, nor even a motion to finish the job. These girls must not know the first thing about survival. They aren''t like Fea, then, they haven''t seen what she''s seen. They don''t know what she''s been through, what anyone like her has been through.

    "Now just take it easy," the purple haired girl whispers, holding a hand out towards one of her spears, as though she''s going to free Fea. "We just want to ask you some questions. All we want to know is what happened to our friend back at the apartment, and where our other friend is. That''s it."

    "Well, the first one is dead," Fea starts boldly. "And yer other friend is somewhere else. There, how''s that for answerin'' yer questions?"

    The girl''s perfect looking, unscratched digits touch one of the spears and the whole mess of them start to contort in a flash of brilliant golden hued energy. They shift and bend and constrict until they form a cage that surrounds Fea. The girl sighs as she stands up, dusts herself off, then sits atop the cage.

    "You may look like Ana, but while she''s sweet as candy, you seem completely sour." At this point all Fea can see is the girl''s legging-clad limbs swinging back and forth from between the bars.

    Now that the spears aren''t sticking her to the ground, Fea can escape. Sure, the bars are much too small for her to get through, but that''s only given her current size and shape. Fea inches towards the bars, crawling on all fours, but just as she reaches out, she hears the girl''s voice again.

    "Why is that? Has something happened to you?" The spear girl''s question dances through the air, and it stops Fea in her tracks. A brief thought comes to mind. Eyes dull with hatred and hands balled into fists. There''s blood, blood everywhere. They''re mostly bleeding from the head, and she looks down at her hands, covered with the same substance. Once a memory, now a nightmare.

    "Athena!" The hammer girl''s voice brings Fea back to herself. Fea acts quickly, ducking down and crawling forward as her body begins to change. Muscles move out of the way for bone as they shift into new, drastically different positions. Her mass shrinks and dark hairs sprout from all over her pale skin. Fea, now a rat, is small enough to escape her makeshift prison. She scurries forward, slipping through the bars with ease.

    "Get out of the way," she hears the hammer girl command as she''s leaving the cage. "I need to get a good look at her to know what she''ll do next."

    Fea''s tiny rat hairs stand up on end, and a quick look over her shoulder grants her the sight of all three girls just now noticing she''s getting away. Tiny squeaks of laughter come from the rat as she hears the beginnings of an argument building among the girls. Using this to her advantage, Fea scurries out of sight behind boulders and debris left over from the recent explosions, trying to find her way through tiny crevices towards freedom.

    "You couldn''t sense her moving around in your cage?" Hammer girl starts while shoving the spear-toting one. "Why would you ever take your eyes off her? Did you deserve a break with all that strenuous running you did?" she scoffs.

    "Don''t give me that!" spear girl snaps back. "I''m the one who captured her. You, even with your fancy flaming eye, let her get away!"

    "I let her get away because I foresaw you catching her later!"

    "But you didn''t foresee me letting her get away? I guess, like with everything else, you can choose what you see and what you don''t, hm!?" The argument, the conflict, the building strife in that moment sends pleasurable ruffles through Fea''s fur. If things are going to get this juicy, she doesn''t think she wants to leave after all.

    "You should have kept your eyes on her!" hammer girl argues. The spear babe scoffs.

    "You shouldn''t have taken your eyes off her either!"

    "Athena. Throoth." The mummy''s sterile voice eases through the air around them. "She''s getting away. Don''t we still need to catch her?"

    Fea''s eyes widen. Her abilities hadn''t worked on the mummy. It''s tempting to stay around and feed on the thick tension between the girls. But with their attention turned on her again the anger she''s stoked in them is now a danger to her rather than a boon and that''s not a pleasant feeling at all.

    Fea makes it several feet away in rat form before changing back into a girl. There''s one more quick look sent back, so she can see all three girls behind her: Throoth, Athena and...K- Kah- Kee- ...the mummy. Shit, they''re closing in again. With no hesitation, Fea transforms once more, returning to bird form and taking to the sky.

    They''re chasing her now, she can hear them. The forest sounds like it''s crumbling behind her from the force of their anger as they try to follow her. That anger was all their own now because there''s no way her powers could still work on them from this far away. They want her bad this time. Even if it''s just for "questioning," the way they care about that other girl, Ana, makes it clear they''ll hurt Fea plenty just to get their friend back.

    There is one last thing she can do, however, because fighting the three of them just isn''t an option. Fea starts swooping about the sky, flapping with more force than necessary. On occasion, she dips through the trees, causing some of her feathers to fall behind her. Each feather left behind comes to form a trail she hopes the other girls will follow.

    The chase doesn''t last long before Fea lures them right where she wants them: her own domain. It''s a deserted old town that''s barely standing, with black feathers coating everything. It''s here that Fea chooses to land, hiding among the many piles of debris. She glances past an overturned streetlight to see the three girls stop just feet away from her hiding place, violent intent emanating from them.

    "Does anything look familiar Throoth? Did you see any of this in your vision?" Athena asks while peeking around the corner of some single floor building that didn''t even make an effort to stay standing.

    They all look aimless as they walk around. On occasion, they reach out and touch buildings then squint into alleyways for clues. The mummy is the only one who looks at home in this kind of desolate place. The other two look uneasy.

    "Kind of," Throoth responds in a near whisper. "The last look I got of her was a mere glimpse. I just saw the direction she headed in, but there was that trail of feathers anyway. So I''m almost certain she''s here." Throoth sighs and reaches up to stroke one of her long braids again, finding comfort in the habit. "We have to be careful when she''s around. She did something to my mind before, she made me want to attack her as soon as I walked into the room. I don''t know, she just- She made me see red, actual red. While I was like that I couldn''t even think about figuring out who she was or where she came from. I just wanted to attack." Throoth exhales and brushes a hand through her bangs. "I...I could have hurt Ana."

    "Hey," Athena coos. "Don''t beat yourself up. Even you can''t see everything coming. Now come on, let''s keep looking for Ana." Athena reaches down and gingerly picks up one of the feathers between her fingers.

    "Cheeky," Athena scoffs, examining the feather curiously. "A warning?" She casts a quick look over her shoulder before tossing the feather aside. Fea can see her domain through each feather throughout the town. It''s her own personal surveillance system. They aren''t just on the ground outside but on and in every tumbled building as well. "Looks like Ana''s little duplicate gave us the slip at some point. But now I''m really wondering about that spell she cast on you, Throoth." Athena rubs her chin in thought. "I couldn''t feel that much divinity radiating from her. It doesn''t seem like she should have been able to cast spells." She looks in Throoth''s direction again. "You really didn''t seeany of that coming?" Throoth looks at Athena and pushes one of her braids over a shoulder.

    "In combat, I only have time to search out the most effectiveimmediatesolutions. I wasn''t able to see this far ahead. She got out of my range of vision anyway." Her crimson eyes begin to narrow. "By the time I did show up to see what she could do, there was no way any of us could avoid it. It happened once. But it will not happen again."

    Fea scans all her territory while she has the chance and tries not to smile, though it''s impossible not to bare her little fangs. Ana isn''t even here.

    "Ana?!" Throoth calls out after taking several hesitant steps forward. "Ana, are you here? Can you hear me? We''re here! We''ve come to take you home! That girl won''t hurt you anymore!" Throoth leaps up onto one of the stable buildings. Maybe she thinks the height can help her find where Ana might be hiding? How funny.

    Fea snickers as she finally steps out from her hiding place. Athena and the mummy see her right away, good.

    "I found Ana." Kebechet points at Fea and looks at her comrades, then slowly back to Fea before realizing what''s going on and lowering her hand. "Oh. You are not Ana. Sorry."

    "Oh look, it''s our little friend again," Athena says, crossing her arms and turning to face Fea. "Is there something we should know about?" Fea just shakes her head and grins in the direction of the violet-haired godling.

    "No, I''m just thinkin'' about how funny it would be if Ana didn''t come to my domain, or worse, if she never even made it here at all. The world is harsh out there and I think I understand a little whyye''rso protective of her." Fea pauses when she sees Athena narrow her eyes. Got her. "The two of us are dead ringers for The Phantom Queen, albeit a fun-sized version. Y''know, people have wanted to flay me alive justbecausea'' my hairan''eyecolor quite a few times before. The biggest difference between Ana and I is that I''d never give ''em the chance in the first place, but I can''t say the same about yer gentle little Annie.."

    Throoth leaps from atop the building she''s on and lands before Fea, her hammer clenched tight between rough looking fingers. She reaches forward and grabs Fea by the front of her scruffy shirt. With what seems like little effort, she lifts Fea off her feet.

    Their eyes lock.

    "Don''t say another word," Throoth threatens. "If you continue then I''ll-"

    "You''ll what?" Fea challenges, a deranged little smirk curling across her face. "You can see different outcomes and possibilities, right? I kind of picked up on that after a while. So that means you can see it clearly, can''t you? You can see what will happen ta someone like Ana if she gets lost out there!" Fea starts chuckling and Throoth''s narrowed eyes twitch. "She''ll get ripped apart!"

    Throoth raises her hammer. Both Athena and Kebechet step in, arms raised, but they hesitate. They have no reason to stop her, after all, since they believe Ana is now lost out there somewhere. There isn''t anything Fea can give them in regards to their friend, so they might as well get it over with and kill her already. Then they can take all the divinity and territory Fea has worked for.

    "How long does a flower that blooms in the apocalypse last?" Fea asks, staring expectantly at Throoth. Throoth swings the hammer down, all her strength behind the blow. Fea braces for impact, even though she knows that as soon as the weapon connects that it''s over, she''ll be gone, completely obliterated in one hit.

    That mighty weapon stops just a hair shy of Fea''s forehead at the last second. Fea doesn''t flinch or even blink as the weapon halts right in front of her eyes. She stares at Throoth, completely confident in the play she just made. Throoth trembles, her hammer still just a hair''s breadth from Fea''s face. The moment stretches on in silence.

    "I knew it!" Fea gloats at last when it''s clear Throoth is not going to kill her. "I freaking knew it! You can''t do it! You can''t hurt me because of my face!" Athena and Kebechet look to Throoth, who steps away, her fingers letting go of Fea''s collar. "You can''t hit me cause I look like Ana!" Fea continues, really rubbing it in now. She glances at Kebechet who''s on her right, then to Athena on her left. "You know what''s even more amazing? You''re actually standing in my domain right now, and you didn''t even know it!"

    Throoth''s face goes pale. Grimacing, Throoth reignites the azure blaze within her left eye. But what good is that now when Fea''s already won?

    With newfound ease, Fea breaks away from Throoth. Using that momentum, she jumps at Kebechet and Athena. Spinning, she delivers a powerful kick to the mummy, before thrusting her palm hard into Athena''s abdomen. Athena manages to summon a spear to parry the attack but still goes flying back several feet. Kebechet, less prepared, shatters from the blow, her arms breaking from her torso as the rest of her body goes flying into a nearby building. Fea''s actually surprised, considering she wasn''t trying to kill any of them. A low moan coming from crumbling building confirms that Kebechet may be alive.

    In a god''s domain, they are exactlythat- a god. Fea demonstrates her own magnified power by flipping her wrist and summoning a huge gale that blasts through the immediate area. The strong winds pick up the feathers and cause them to whirl about. Finally, Fea stiffens her feathers and makes them as sharp as knives. Feathers slash at the girls and slice open both skin and cloth. Both Athena and Throoth go on the defensive and use their weapons to knock away the majority of the attacks. Fea knew they''d stop focusing on her in favor of surviving, so this is more of a distraction than a full-on attack. Even in her domain, Fea doesn''t think she''d be able to defeat the three girls by herself. And with the divinity among the three of them, they could no doubt take over her domain. So getting out of there is her best option for now.

    Fea''s distraction won''t stay active for long, but that doesn''t matter because when those winds do finally die down she''ll be long gone.

    --

    Fea rummages through Ana''s apartment once more, grabbing what she can before the other girls escape her trap. After searching for little over ten minutes she''s gathered twice the haul she did before. Once she finishes emptying Ana''s fridge she continues on to the next room.

    "Wow, this girl really likes pink," Fea says aloud as she observes Ana''s sugary sweet room. Despite Ana''s apparent age, her room is orderly. In fact, it''s so tidy that Fea feels a bit of reservation about moving anything, given how meticulously placed it all seems.

    Not really knowing why Fea walks over to Ana''s bed and sits down on it experimentally. It''s soft, kind of like Ana herself, so it''s pretty fitting. Fea falls back on the bed and her eyes meet the ceiling. In the instant her head hits the pillow she feels her feathers tremble. Like spines, Fea''s feathers harden to a point. A defensive measure at a time where Fea could afford to be defenseless. All it would take is a shift in her positioning and she''d shred all the bright colored blankets Ana left neatly folded on her bed. A slight turn of her head puts Ana''s collection of stuffed animals in her gaze. There''s an intentional order to the plushies as they are not only arranged smallest to largest but by species as well. Fea looks away from them. Without caring to pick one, in particular, she grabs a stuffed animal and holds it against her chest. When Fea glances down she''s greeted by the sight of two button eyes on a green felt sock. Even though it doesn''t look it in the slightest, Fea assumes it''s supposed to be a frog. Exhaling softly, Fea lets her gaze slowly return to the cracked ceiling. Her grip tightens around the plushie. "What were they thinkin'' givin'' ya thiskind a'' stuff?" Slowly, the spines draping along Fea''s collar begin to soften and return to their feathery form. She lays there with the plush held tight in her arms. Just to feel what Ana might have felt, she closes her eyes.

    When Fea sits up, she turns her head and her eyes fall on Ana''s dresser where a framed picture sits. A photo displaying Ana with her friends burns in Fea''s lingering sight. They look happy, and that pisses Fea off. Without much thought, Fea reaches forward and grips the frame with both hands.

    It''s too perfect, they''re too perfect. Everyone smiles and it''s like they don''t even know the kind of sacrifices others make to live in the harsh world around them. There''s the tremble again, and Fea''s feathers start to harden. If only her plumage could do their little dance of discord and affect the happiness in this framed memory.

    Despite how the picture makes her feel, Fea holds onto it even as she prepares to leave Ana''s room. With the picture frame in one handand the frog plush in the other, Fea lurks towards the door. Her footsteps are heavy and drag on the ground. Even though she''s only been in Ana''s room for a little while she''s finding it hard to leave. Maybe it''s something deep inside of her, a yearning for this kind of life. But she''d like to doubt that. Instead, she thinks there''s credence to her words from earlier, that she and Ana share some kind of bond. It isn''t Fea that wants to stay behind, it''s Ana, but Fea''s able to feel it.

    When Fea''s almost past the doorframe she stops. Taking one more look at the picture in her hand, she sighs, then tosses it onto the bed. This kind of thing won''t do Ana any good. Memories, especially happy ones, bog down the mind and make it harder to act. Unlike bad memories, which somehow make it easier to do all the bad things one needs to do to survive.

    Fea returns to the living room where the two pillowcases await her. She puts the plushie into one of them then hoists both over her shoulders. Heading toward the window, Fea has to pass the dead guy''s body again. With one foot perched on the windowsill, Fea stops to look down at him. She shakes her head once, then with a sigh she steps down.

    --

    Fea finds Ana crouched in an alleyway a couple towns over. Thanks to the large supply of surveillance feathers Fea has scattered about, she was able to remain calm during the latter part of the fight because she knew Ana had actually made it to the area safely. That had been one less thing to worry about during the battle, at least on her end.

    "Alright, that''s enough sulking. Get up."

    It takes longer than Fea wanted, but Ana does look up. Her eyes are red and puffy. She must have cried the entire time Fea was away. Fea coughs and looks up, more interested in the dim sky than Ana''s pathetic looking face.

    "I said stand up. I need help carrying the food." She tosses one of the large pillowcases down at Ana''s feet. She waits, tapping her foot until Ana does finally stand. The girl whimpers with every little move she makes. When she tries to pick up the bag she winces, drops it then reaches for her shoulder. Despite having divinity all her own the girl hadn''t made an attempt at healing her herself. That or she didn''t know how.

    "Useless," Fea mutters and reaches down, grabbing the bag. She tosses it back over her free shoulder and begins walking. "Follow me."

    Fea doesn''t look back, doesn''t even need to with all the feathers around. Ana movements are stiff, each step coming off the ground less and less. Her gaze doesn''t leave the ground once, and one hand rubs her shoulder while her other hand clings to her skirt. Fea can''t tell if she''s nervous, frightened, upset, or all of those at once. She could ask what''s wrong, but frankly, she doesn''t care. Well, and she already knows. It''s rather obvious, isn''t it?

    As they walk they pass rusted cars and corpses picked clean. Signs of battle are clear throughout the area, a war zone from years long gone with no one to record it as history.Hoping to make the walk more lively, Fea tries to make small talk.

    "Yer friends were pretty good." She isn''t very good at it.

    Through her feathers she sees Ana peek up at her. She can see every angle of the girl''s face now, and it looks like they really are identical, except for the innocent glint that remains in Ana''s eyes. Though if Fea isn''t mistaken, it''s a little less bright than when they first met.

    "W-what happened?" Ana asks. "Are they okay? You didn''t hurt them...did you?"

    Fea snickers.

    "Don''t worry, I left them alive. I obviously made it here in one piece as well. Not bad, considering there were three of them, and they were all trying to kill me at once." Fea cackles, and if she wasn''t holding anything she''d pound on her chest right now and give a victory cry. "They''re all smart, well, except for the mummy, Keeb- Kub- Kebe- something? But I don''t think mummies have brains, so that''s kind of a given..." Fea pauses. "But yeah, the curvy one and the blue haired girl, what was it, uh, Athens, and uh...Froof? They were pretty good. Just not good enough to keep up with me. Is everyone in that apartment as sheltered as you?"

    Ana doesn''t reply, just goes back to sulking and staring at the ground as they proceed.

    They''re coming up to their destination pretty soon, so she leaves Ana with something to think about.

    "Ya kept running, huh? Ya didn''t go to the place I told ya, but that isn''t what bothers me." Fea stops at the steps of a dilapidated cathedral. Her grip tightens around the bags in her arms. "Ya didn''t even try to go back to yer friends. Even now, yer here followin'' me without any resistance. Have ya sworn allegiance to me?"

    Fea doesn''t wait around for an answer, though she seems to have caught Ana''s attention, noticing her twin looking up from the ground. Fea drops one of the pillowcases of food in front of Ana.

    "Stay here. I''ll be back," she orders as she heads into the cathedral.

    Dealing with Throoth took the entire night, so the first signs of the morning are already shining through the roofless sanctuary. Fea maneuvers around the familiar pews, all flipped over and turned every which way. She can already hear the faint mewling.

    "Yeah yeah, I''m comin''," Fea says, reaching into the pillowcase and pulling out a red spherical food. She thinks it''s an apple. She tastes it. Definitely an apple. She makes her way up to the podium at the center of the church. There she finds the whining clump of blankets nestled in a bed of black feathers. She starts peeling back the white sheets while chewing away at the apple. "Carmmown.Fwoodahmostmone," she says while chomping away. Fea closes her eyes, opens her mouth and extends her tongue forward. "Aaah," she says, and like a mama bird, lets the wet, chewed up food slide down her tongue and out of her mouth.

    "What are you doing?"

    Ana''s voice startles Fea. Fea tenses up, then forces herself to relax, trying to look nonchalant. Turning her entire body, she watches her duplicate walk up. Her tongue is still out of her mouth, and the chewed up apple hangs by a saliva strand. How did Ana sneak over without Fea noticing? Right, she has to be more alert from now on. She tended to let her guard down most during this...time of day.

    Ana stares at Fea and blinks once. She looks down to the crying bundle of blankets and blinks again. She looks back at Fea...and blinks.

    "Were you trying to feed that baby chewed up apple?" Ana pauses for several seconds, and then...screams. Fea spits the apple out and waves her hands to try and quiet her down while shaking her head. Ana points at the blankets, at the baby. Yeesh, she''s still screaming...

    "You have a BABY!?" Ana exclaims, her sad expression gone in favor of a look of complete surprise. Fea shuffles in place, fingers tugging at her unruly red hair.

    "Well, uh, I mean, clearly it''s..."

    "A baby," Ana says as she looks at the little creature in its feathered creche. She attempts to reach for it but Fea steps over and slaps her hands away.

    "A baby? Likejusta baby? Like,nothingspecial kinda baby," Fea asks to which she only receives a long hard look in response from Ana.

    What Fea plans to do next is stupid.

    Fea shouldn''t be entertaining the idea of keeping Ana around let alone introducing her to the baby. The girl is a liability. They share some similarities, sure. But is that worth risking another fight Ana''s friends? Not to mention the murder she witnessed which she''s sure someone will try to implicate her in.

    So yes, what Fea plans on doing is stupid. Just like waiting around at that apartment was stupid. Just like telling Ana to run to her domain was stupid. Just like staying behind and fighting was stupid. Everything she''s done today is pretty much illogical and she''s certain she''s hit her year''s quota. And yet Fea decides to share with Ana. Some girl she doesn''t know, who just happens to have the same name and face. So stupid.

    "Ya really can''t tell? Just what were they teaching ya in that apartment," Fea asks. She reaches into the nest and pulls out the brown-skinned baby. She takes the baby beneath its arms and holds the crying thing up to show it to Ana. "Here. Get in real close and you''ll notice."

    "Notice what," Ana says. She leans in and squints at the infant. "It''s a baby, that you wrapped in blankets...and it...it...w-why does it smell like that?"

    Ana lurches back, covering her nose.

    Fea nods her head and repeats "It smells" with emphasis like she''s just proved a point.

    The baby starts crying and writhing around in a panic in Fea''s strong grasp.

    Ana tries to reach for the baby again but recoils soon after.

    "It...smells?"

    Fea nods again, still wearing that same resolute look on her face.

    "It smells!" Ana''s eyes widen. Aha! So she gets it.

    "It''s amortalbaby!"

 Chapter 4 - Psychopomps - Hel

    There was a time before the Psychopomps. Before contract killing became her job. Before she was forced to grow up in a place that shared her name, a cold prison: Hell. Rejected by the rest of her Aesir people because of her lineage, she resented her father. He gave her this face and blood that Odin hated so much. Hel and her brothers had been made to pay for their father¡¯s transgressions against the old Aesir king.

    ¡°Why are you doing this,¡± Hel asked Odin the day he and his men came to her home. She asked but never got an answer. That one-eyed curmudgeon stared her down, silent even as she cried, even as she begged him to tell her why.

    ¡°W-we haven¡¯t done anything wrong!¡± she screamed to the Aesir soldiers who dragged her from her room. ¡°Why won¡¯t you say anything to me? Please, why is this happening?!¡±

    Still, they hadn¡¯t answered her panicked questions. They tied Hel¡¯s hands behind her back and threw her down beside her Jotun mother, Angrboea. Her mother was still. So still that the unmoving sight of her caused an eerie feeling to bloom in the pit of Hel¡¯s stomach. Her mother laid there face down in a puddle of tears, hands bound to her ankles.

    ¡°Mum, do you know why they¡¯re doing this?¡± Hel questioned. ¡°Why? Mum, h-hey, say something...are you okay? Mum!?¡± More questions went unanswered.

    Her eldest brother was thrown into the sea. The other was bound and dragged away like a dog, doomed to the cage. They tossed her into Hell. By then she¡¯d given up asking questions.

    That cold, wet, place became her home. Most of her time was spent by an old river where she skipped rocks and watched souls sail by. Sinners came up the river in droves and were sectioned into one of the many circles of hell. Hel had to do her best not to be caught by any of the archdemons that would roam around searching for escapees.

    A life of hiding, scavenging and watching persisted until the day a ferry, unlike the others, stopped before her and a woman adorned with white lilies stepped off. Despite her colorless wardrobe, not a speck of dirt stained her outfit even as she trudged over to Hel. There was no doubt in Hel¡¯s mind that there was, in fact, a woman before her. Yet there was something about the way she moved. How silent her footsteps were, and how this realm¡¯s unending acid rain never touched her skin. It was as if she wasn¡¯t there physically but still had a presence.

    ¡°What exactly could a girl as young as you have done to end up here?¡±

    The woman¡¯s voice was like a distant star to Hel. Even though she could hear it clearly, something told her everything inside the woman was long dead.

    ¡°Come here. Let me get a good look at you.¡±

    Hel wouldn¡¯t let the woman touch her and tried to run away but the woman appeared behind Hel when she turned around.

    ¡°Good. You won¡¯t open up to a complete stranger. You¡¯re smart. I can find some use for you.¡±

    She made an offer to Hel that day. An offer to take her away from the perpetual cold, the stone that stretched far as she could see, and most importantly, Odin¡¯s watchful eye. Word is that a new reform was coming down throughout the nine realms. A new law had passed that meant the very nature of death was going to change, so someone like Hel was about to become very useful.

    She remembered being whisked away to a domain of scattered lilies. Stone architectures crudely formed from the ground overgrown with the white flowers. Hel followed the woman into a megalith that sat at the center of the island surrounded by water that was somehow murky and clear at the same time. They walked down several dimly lit corridors, and Hel could hear the structure shifting about with every step they took. The woman in white before her stopped once they reached a dungeon.

    Hel looked up at the ivory haired woman. The regal-looking goddess stared into the jail cell across from the two. Her cold violet eyes fixated on a frail figure behind the bars. Hel saw her too, a sickly thing with pale skin and maroon hair. Beneath her was a bed of black feathers. The girl trembled as her eyes flashed between red and blue, and her lips parted as though to ask for help, but she didn¡¯t make a sound.

    ¡°Is it really okay? To keep her locked up like that?¡±

    Back then Hel still asked questions, because back then she still cared about the answers.

    The woman in white glanced at Hel with the most peculiar of looks. With an elegant flourish of her skeletal hand, she summoned a scythe. It was a terrible weapon, its handle made of bones and a blade decorated with the blood of jobs well done. The woman turned her back on the curious godling, scythe extended in her direction.

    In what seemed like the coldest way possible, the goddess answered.

    ¡°To succeed in the world of dealing death one must cut all attachment to their former self. Only once one has died can they truly begin to reap.¡±

    <hr>

    While on the job Hel tends to get nostalgic. Some may call her reminiscing distracting, but it¡¯s quite the contrary for Hel. The memories of what Odin did to her family keep her focused. They help drown out everything else and help steady her finger on the trigger. Painful memories become like coal, working tirelessly to keep the fire inside her burning, a flame she plans to unleash without mercy one day.

    The story has it Odin foresaw big bad things for the children of Loki and took extreme precautions. In a way he was right. Her brothers made a mess of both Asgard and Midgard. Then there¡¯s Hel who brings immortal lives to an end without so much as a bat of an eye. So with all the knowledge of what became of her family, Hel surmised Odin did what he had to do. Doesn¡¯t always make her job easier, but she does try to remember it whenever she pulls the trigger. Hel wasn¡¯t left with many other options and for what it¡¯s worth, she¡¯s grown quite fond of existing.

    Every shot she takes leaves another deity dead. Each god killed means more orison for Hel. She hadn¡¯t the slightest idea what she¡¯ll do with all the money. She can¡¯t buy happiness, but maybe there¡¯s something similar for sale at the end of all this.

    When thoughts aren¡¯t on Odin, Hel reflects on her times with The Grim Reaper. She likes humoring herself, likes to joke about where she¡¯d be if she hadn¡¯t become a death goddess. Maybe she¡¯d have been happier cutting her bare feet up on the floors of Hell. Would that be better than killing for a living? It¡¯s a joke she never tells out loud so she laughs alone, in her head. It isn¡¯t even that funny of a joke. This is leagues better than rotting away in prison. At least now if someone catches her she¡¯ll be put in Hell with good reason. But she¡¯s good, really good, almost as perfect as The Reaper herself. They¡¯d have to send the highest Archangel down here if they hoped to take Hel, and even then she wouldn¡¯t go quietly. Yeah, she¡¯d give him the fight of his life.

    All these thoughts flit by as she stares down the scope of her sniper rifle. It¡¯s large, larger than it should be, but it fits her perfectly. She¡¯s also large, larger than she wanted to be. It¡¯s the Jotun in her. Her father had a thing for big girls.

    Her scope glows red when a large figure stumbles past her crosshairs. She¡¯d marked, earlier, so it made catching up to him that much easier. Admittedly, she let targets slip away from her much too often. Some thought her lazy but that was never the case. In actuality, Hel wants a bigger score. If someone knows they¡¯re being hunted, knows a fight is coming, they¡¯ll call for reinforcements, but never in the form of help; always in the form of raw power. They consolidate a nice ripe amount of divinity for the taking. It¡¯s the best way to turn a small score into a huge haul.

    Hel¡¯s finger leaves the trigger of her rifle and all at once the gun vanishes, becoming nothing but a few dying flashes of light. This guy isn¡¯t worth a shell. In the spirit of saving on divinity, Hel considers practicing the technique that she¡¯s been learning from The Reaper. Of course, it has its risks considering it can only be performed on targets with less divinity than her. Then there¡¯s the hands-on approach of the technique, especially in comparison to her very effective ranged option. But who better to use as a test dummy thanlow-ranking game? Besides, it isn¡¯t like she¡¯ll get much practice in the field after this. Every job from here on out is taken with the knowledge that it could be her last. Not because she¡¯s getting rusty, but because divinity is tight these days. So after weighing her options, Hel stands tall and cracks her neck. Time to go to work. Just several long steps and a jump puts her a block behind her prey. No worry in ever keeping up with legs these long.

    The target peeks over his shoulder where Hel lurks behind him. Her crisp white hair must look ghoulish up against the night sky. She peers out with one eye from beneath a mask that covers the rest of her countenance, one that gives the illusion of her face being half white and half pure black shadow. He looks away to the road ahead and she takes that chance to ¡®disappear¡¯.

    The large muscular figure attempts to flee in the distance. Every time her target checks back Hel makes sure to fall out of sight. Despite her size, she keeps to the walls and creeps like the expert she is.

    Death comes for everyone. There¡¯s no level of preparation to stop death, and at best any effort just prolongs the inevitable. These are the brutal truths that come with teachings from The Grim Reaper herself.

    Given his strained breaths, it wouldn¡¯t be long before the target exhausts his options. And there he goes, a desperate b-line into an alley Hel knows is a dead end. It¡¯s as fitting as it is unfortunate. It isn¡¯t until he¡¯s at the end of the alley that Hel reveals herself. She stands up nice and slow, giving her target ample time to take in the intimidating nature of her giant stature. On sight alone he stumbles, almost falls over. Once he regains his footing he pounds his fists together, causing a massive ax to magically appear in his hands. Towering over this man wasn¡¯t enough, he still thinks he can fight; how sad.

    ¡°Don¡¯t come any closer,¡± he warns. ¡°I can feel that my divinity is greater than yours. It¡¯d be suicide for you to fight me!¡±

    Good, so that¡¯s paid off at least. The Reaper emphasized divinity control in her lessons. With the right amount of composure, she could appear much more or less threatening than what might actually be the case.

    If he is so much stronger than her then why was he running up until now? Hel doesn¡¯t ask questions anymore, though, because she doesn¡¯t care about the answers. She doesn¡¯t speak, she just steps forward. The man backs away, gripping more tightly at the handle of his ax.

    ¡°That¡¯s a warning, woman! Take another step and I¡¯ll swing! ¡±

    Hel takes one more step then drops to a knee. Looming over him hadn¡¯t done her much good, so maybe meeting him eye to eye might help. There is that familiar look in his eyes, one that comes to all her victims at some point. Decision time: fight or flight? He lunges forward and beneath her mask, Hel frowns. He¡¯s chosen fight, and like that the job draws closer to an end.

    He swings his ax overhead. Hel doesn¡¯t bother avoiding the attack. On impact, the earth beneath them splits.

    ¡°W-what?!¡±

    Despite his ax connecting with her shoulder, it doesn¡¯t tear Hel¡¯s cloak, let alone reach her skin. She stands with his ax wedged in the crook of her neck, unfazed.

    ¡°My attack...it didn¡¯t work?¡±

    Hel looks into the god¡¯s eyes and decides to enlighten her target. While she no longer asks questions, she has no reservations about answering them.

    ¡°Votan. War God. Mayan House,¡± she murmurs. ¡°Your portfolio is being thinned out by request of another war god. My client didn¡¯t want this information disclosed, but I figure it won¡¯t matter as this is the end of your life. Oro of the Oceanic Pantheon has requested your immediate termination.¡± Her voice is edged and sharp, And Votan trembles before shaking his head as if to deny her words.

    ¡°Ha! You fool you¡¯ve admitted who you¡¯re working for! That information is already reaching my Mayan brothers and sisters! They¡¯ve been scrying me the whole time! You¡¯re screw--¡±

    A gentle cupping of Votan¡¯s cheek silences him. She stares into his eyes as she moves herjunoesquefigure into his arms.

    ¡°Overconfidence in the face of death. Is this really the most fitting time to start revealing what cards you have left in hand?¡± Shaking her head, Hel scoffs. ¡°Your messages were intercepted and your family no longer has a visual of you. Since the moment I touched you you¡¯ve been mine.¡±

    It¡¯s true, as soon as she made physical contact with him her presence began to spread across his skin. Her hand snakes behind his head, where she runs her fingers through his matted hair. He¡¯s shaking.

    ¡°Are you finally afraid? You can feel my power now, can¡¯t you? I¡¯m at my full divinity, even outside my own domain. How can this be?¡± Hel doesn¡¯t care to ask questions, but here she is, quizzing her prey. Well, she still doesn¡¯t care about the answers, and the questions are all rhetorical.

    ¡°Now you really feel it, don¡¯t you? You can¡¯t even send what divinity you have left back to your Pantheon. You¡¯re completely trapped.¡±

    Votan lets out a loud scream. Ichor oozes from his eyes, mouth, and nose. Hel forces intense pressure down on his body from every angle, both inside and out. She feels his bones break and muscles tear beneath her. Hel¡¯s hand never leaves him. She holds onto the man until he¡¯s little more than a small black ball. Hel holds him between her fingers and examines his new form.

    ¡°Go to Hel.¡±

    She crushes Votan with a simple clench of her fist and absorbs his divinity. After a soft exhale she rolls her shoulders and adjusts to her new strength. A pair of golden coins materializes before her. She lets theorisonfall into her hands. A bit of what she got from Votan needs to go to her leader. The Grim Reaper gets a percentage of every job they complete.

    There are times Hel wonders if the price is worth paying, but after seeing the result of the technique she just performed she remembers why she wouldn¡¯t dare cross The Reaper.

    As The Reaper said when someone has complete control of their body they can heal it on impulse alone. So it stands to reason that the same can be done with adverse effects. So the goal of the skill is simple, make the target an extension of her own body, then, kill off that extension. The Reaper makes it sound way more impressive, but also a hell of a lot harder to understand. So for Hel, it¡¯s easiest to just think of it as like a death touch.

    Having finished the job sooner than expected, Hel figures she might as well check in on the others.

    Hel flicks her wrist and a scythe forms in her hands. It¡¯s her large sniper rifle, though a large curved blade now extends out along the barrel of the gun. A flourished spin with the weapon cuts an opening in reality for Hel to step through. On the other side of the tear, she sees an unending river against a backdrop of infinite blackness. Normally this would be a sight to behold, but this mysterious place is the preferred route of travel for Psychopomps. So to Hel, this is nothing special. She makes sure to trace her scythe back up along the portal, closing it.

    Waiting for her, like always, is a gondola. As she steps into the boat her scythe becomes an oar, and she maneuvers the stream expertly, never going against the current and slipping down several diverting paths. It wasn¡¯t the fastest means of travel, but for Psychopomps it was secure and that was of paramount importance.

    ¡°There you are,¡± Hel mutters to herself as she stops rowing. She stands up, causing the gondola to rock. Once again she cuts through reality. This time she steps through to the top of a dilapidated building. Judging from the closeness of the other buildings she was in some small city. There didn¡¯t look like there were any cars or streets to speak of, though, just the remnants of an old bazaar. Perhaps it had once been an island or something.

    Hel catches sight of a figure running down the road, the look in his eyes indistinguishable from that of Votan¡¯s moments before she took him.

    ¡°Just in time for the show.¡±

    He doesn¡¯t make it far. Run as he may, his feet can¡¯t get him away from that dreaded thing that looms over all. Hel leaps from rooftop to rooftop, quiet as she watches the fleeing target. The terrified god would now find the road ahead of him seemingly stretching out forever, and just then two large slices appear on the horizon as though cutting through fabric.

    Two figures step onto the scene. The taller of the two, a man,surveysthe area before his eyes fall upon their target. Irises that glint like splashes of freshly spilled bloodswimin darkened sockets, studying their mark. The newcomer¡¯s skull-like visage is gaunt, pale, and...

    ¡®Oh, my Divinity.¡¯

    He¡¯s wearing the mask again. Hel has to fight the urge to roll her eyes; like, really, really try. Their job requires them to be professionals, but sometimes she thinks this guy takes his title way too seriously.

    Hel wears a mask too, but for the purpose of obscuring her identity. The same really can¡¯t be said about Azrael, who has a custom made skull mask. He¡¯s probably just trying to look cool in front of his partner. Speaking of which, her eyes dance away to his companion. The shorter of the two killers springs from the portal, twirling out of the void like a ballerina, her voluptuous figure shivering with excitement as maroon bangs bob and bounce in front of a brilliant ruby gaze and ear to ear grin. As she stops twirling she hikes up her black domino mask and lets it hang loosely from one of the two horns parting her bangs. Azrael and Nemain. They glance to one another and then to their game, who takes a frightened step back.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    Azrael swats at Nemain¡¯s hand and then tugs the mask back over her eyes, ¡°obscuring¡± her identity. With arms still at his side, Azrael glances to his target.

    ¡°End of the line,¡± he intones sternly.

    ¡®Is that the best he can think of? Wow.¡¯

    Hel decides to plop down and watch in comfort, her legs dangling off the side of the building. It wasn¡¯t often that she got to see these two work up close, as she¡¯d normally be perched on a building, miles away watching through her scope.

    Speaking of the target, theirs seems to panic and uses some sort of magic to manipulate the ground. Hel isn¡¯t an expert on magic, and can barely tell the difference between an incantation and an invocation so she watches curiously as he stomps and causes stalagmites to shoot up from the Earth. He then kicks the rocks at the two but they never hit their mark and instead become a series of small cubes that fall at Azrael¡¯s feet.

    ¡°I hate it when they fight back,¡± Azrael sighs.

    ¡°Oh, I love it when they fight back.¡± Nemain laughs.

    Nemain rushes forward, ducking and dodging around the incoming stalagmites. It doesn¡¯t matter how fast the stones shoot up, it¡¯s like she knows when they¡¯ll come and where they¡¯ll be. She reaches the man in seconds and with a small hop drives her knee into his chest, sending him skidding back. She flips several times in the air, summoning her scythe as she does so. Her scythe is small, like her, and has a shaft made of black feathers. That scythe swings down overhead and splits the earth as the man stumbles back, narrowly avoiding his fate for now.

    ¡°That¡¯s it, that¡¯s exactly how I like it!¡± She laughs, a twisted grin growing on her freckled face. ¡°Run from me! Make this fun for both of us!¡± Her pupils dilate and she takes frantic slashes at the man. It looks like it¡¯s becoming increasingly difficult for him to avoid those wild attacks. Hel shakes her head.

    The Reaper trains them so they can be efficient. But Nemain always wants to drag fights out. Hel stretches out jobs as well, but at least she has a good reason. Nemain isn¡¯t trying to create a sense of false hope or even dread in her target, she¡¯s just feeding off the pure tension of it all. Working with Nemain is difficult, and she commends Azrael for tolerating her ¡°wild side¡± like this. Though admittedly, his insistence on taking her with him all the time has only strengthened Nemain¡¯s tendencies. It¡¯s hard watching the girl skip around with her scythe in hand. She looks almost unrecognizable while so at home with killing. It could be the way the red ichor blends with her hair, or how her curvy figure makes a dance out of her maneuvers. Or maybe it¡¯s the tiny splashes of ichor spattered across her face, seamlessly adding new freckles to the ones that already pepper her pale flesh.

    Hel knows she¡¯s more useful in active duty but there¡¯s something pleasantly melancholy about watching Nemain¡¯s dance of death. Truth shines through the atmosphere with every swing of the scythe. Not the kind of truth that helps, but the hard facts that hurt. Failed dreams, broken promises, and ultimately a loss of innocence that comes with the knowledge of adulthood. Before Hel are not the attacks of a cold-blooded killer, but the flailings of a tool long since dulled over, trying her damnedest to be useful. What hurts the most is she¡¯s the only one who sees it, the only one who even cares. Everyone else seems to think this withered flower is more beautiful than ever before. So why can¡¯t she?

    Nemain gets in three really good cuts, but the target creates a gorge, putting some distance between them. Before Nemain can attempt jumping the ravine, Azrael raises a hand and speaks.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but someone has expedited your end.¡± There¡¯s a pause, no doubt for dramatic effect. ¡°Maybe a similar fate will befall those who have done this to you.¡±

    He clenches his hand into a fist and the target stops moving. There¡¯s an almost inconsequential glint of crimson throughout their surroundings and Hel can swear she hears a slight twang. Nemain jumps high into the air, still intent on finishing the job herself. The target coughs up a hefty amount of ichor before keeling over just as Nemain¡¯s scythe would have sliced his head clean off. Nemain committed to the swing though, so when she misses she ends up falling over with an undignified squeak. Hel¡¯s eyes follow the target as he falls, the body bisecting along a single, surgical-like cut made across the torso.

    How did he do that? She hadn¡¯t sensed any magic coming off Azrael, so it more than likely isn¡¯t any sort of spell. Unlike most Psychopomps, Azrael rarely ever used his scythe, yet no one would know that looking at the aftermath of his work. Azrael¡¯s stance relaxes almost imperceptibly, shoulders dipping down ever so slightly as if a weight has been lifted from him, as though he¡¯s relieved. The whole thing is odd and Hel feels like she¡¯ll never understand why the fallen angel always seems so tense when he works. It¡¯s not like he has much to worry about from a low ranking target like this. What¡¯s there to be afraid of when he¡¯s as quick and efficient as he is?

    ¡°Finally,¡± Hel says as she picks herself up. That had been going nowhere fast, especially considering both Psychopomps had clearly been holding back.

    Azrael strides over to Nemain, placing a hand on her shoulder before wiping a splotch of blood from her cheek with his thumb. Hel¡¯s glance flits back to the girl to see her flushed and breathing heavily. Her pupils are dilated, eyes flashing a scarlet hue and a toothy grin slowly creeping across her face, becoming more manic as it goes. Azrael¡¯s grip on her shoulder seems to tighten, and he uses his free hand to tilt her gaze up to meet his. His mask finally fades away, revealing the man¡¯s unreadable face.

    ¡°Raven. Time to land.¡± His tone is stern, weighed down by authority. After several seconds, Nemain gives a shudder and shakes her head, crimson locks whipping back and forth as her horns recede back into her forehead. The Red of her eyes shifts to blue, her stance relaxes, and her lips purse into a small pout as she blinks rapidly. Azrael continues to stare.

    ¡°Welcome back.¡± Azrael raises Nemain¡¯s chin, and their eyes meet. ¡°Are you alright?¡± Hel could have gagged, his tone is so disgustingly gentle now. It¡¯s so unprofessional, especially for him.

    ¡°Awww, Azzy, you¡¯re no fun,¡± Nemain complains, her scythe disappearing into wisps the moment her fingers let it go. Several feathers linger in the air momentarily before falling to the ground and receding into her shadow. She stands there, glaring up at him briefly before punching Azrael in the stomach to no visible effect. Following a sigh, he leans forward and clutches his stomach.

    ¡°Ow, Raven...nngh...that hurt so bad, I can¡¯t take it. I¡¯m going to die,¡± he deadpans. Nemain crosses her arms and shakes her head.

    ¡°You fool, don¡¯t patronize me! You didn¡¯t even feel that!¡±

    Azrael looks down at her. For a brief time, they live in each other¡¯s gaze. Her glare cracks and she begins to laugh. Hel even slips a smile of her own. Nemain¡¯s laughter lingers around all of them, and Hel kind of wants to find a way to make it stay a little while longer.

    ¡°What is it? Did I do something funny, Raven?¡± He stands up tall, towering over her.

    ¡°You? No way! You¡¯re like the opposite of funny. A complete bore, in fact! You should go in a hole somewhere and die.¡± Nemain looks up at Azrael with a cheeky grin and reaches for his hand. Once her fingers angle withhisshe brushes her shoulder against him. It¡¯s a truly sickening display, but it does keep Nemain beaming, so perhaps that¡¯s worth sacrificing a bit of thePsychpomps¡¯ gravity.

    ¡°That was sweet of you, though. You let her play with her food the way she likes. Don¡¯t think I don¡¯t notice when you do nice things for us.¡±

    Hel wonders why she¡¯s still watching these two.

    ¡°Nonsense,¡°Azrael replies placidly as he looks away. ¡°I just wasn¡¯t able to get a good beat on him. You threw him off balance and gave me the opening I needed to end things swiftly and cleanly.¡±

    Her expression softens further, making her look less and less like a Psychopomp.

    ¡°Whatever you say, fool,¡± she sighs. ¡°That guy had, like, no divinity. Either of us could have just taken him solo. Why is it so hard for you to admit you¡¯re trying to be sweet? Can¡¯t you drop the whole tough Psychopomp act when it¡¯s just us? It¡¯s perfectly acceptable to spoil your girlfriend.¡± She raises a finger. ¡°In fact, it¡¯s expected. Required even!¡±

    ¡°Girlfriend? When it¡¯s just us?¡± Azrael tilts his head. ¡°Well, right now we aren¡¯t alone.¡±

    Hel decides to interrupt them at this point. She lands within view and earshot of the two. She speaks quickly before either could get a word in.

    ¡°We¡¯re supposed to be emotionally distant. It makes keeping with the code that much easier. We have a way of life, a purpose. A goal. You need to remember that Nemain. Your gung-ho nature is going to get you hurt one of these days.¡±

    ¡°Hel!¡± Nemain bounces into a spin so that she¡¯s facing Hel. After a tiny wave, she grins and motions to tiny horns that sitalongher temples. ¡°If someone wants me dead I¡¯ll know it¡¯s comin¡¯. Besides, if anyone ever did get the jump on me, I know you and Azzy here have got my back.¡± She shrugs at the two of them. ¡°I¡¯ve got nothing to worry about.¡±

    ¡°That pride,¡°Hel sighs, finding herself tussling Nemain¡¯s hair. ¡°Is super annoying, but dammit if it isn¡¯t one of the one things I look forward to every day. It¡¯s like my own personal annoying little sunrise.¡± Hel glances over to Azrael then nods. ¡°I finished my jobs for the day. You guys hungry? I was gonna go scavenging before heading back to base.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d love to hang out!¡± Nemain beams in Hel¡¯s direction before looking up at Azrael. ¡°Well, what do you think? Seems like it¡¯ll be fun. Maybe we can find a place to spend the little bit of theorisonwe got. I could go for something sweet.¡± Nemain licks her lips. ¡°Nothing is better after a good killing than a delicious treat. Really takes the edge off and alleviates all that guilt.¡±

    Azrael shakes his head.

    ¡°Sorry Raven, not today.¡± He gives Nemain an extra serious look. ¡°We¡¯ve already done more jobs than usual in this short period of time, we mustn¡¯t push our luck any further. The fallout from the apocalypse is being dealt with and I don¡¯t doubt that The Archangels will begin searching for us again.¡± Azrael looks at Hel. ¡°Using the war as a scapegoat for these murders is over.¡±

    Nemain groans.

    ¡°What was the point then? Don¡¯t you know how muchorisonwe have saved up, Azzy?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not spending anyorison. Keep it as divinity and consolidate yourself.¡± Azrael looks down at Nemain with a stony expression. ¡°There are no more humans. What divinity remains in circulation is all there will be from now on. At this point, only the eccentric will value anything else over power.¡±

    Hel notices Nemain¡¯s shoulders dip. Her eyes widen and her lips quiver.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t that mean we could just become obsolete? Who¡¯s gonna wanna spend power knowing they¡¯ll probably never get it back?¡± she gasps. Her eyes fixate on Azrael¡¯s.

    ¡°Azzy,¡± Nemain whispers. ¡°If I can¡¯t keep being a Psychopomp then doesn¡¯t that mean she¡¯ll find me?¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t let that happen.¡±

    Azrael gently flicks her forehead. She winces and rubs her brow.

    ¡°And don¡¯t call me Azzy at work.¡± Looks like Azrael wants to change the subject then. Well, it¡¯s probably a good thing, seeing as Nemain was starting to frighten herself.

    Azrael pulls away. ¡°And use my codename, Raven. We¡¯re working.¡± Hel catches Azrael¡¯s look when he mentions work. Nemain groans again.

    ¡°Okay, whatever you say, Angel of Death.¡± Azrael reddens, though his expression remains stoic. Nemain looks back to Hel. ¡°Well, you heard the Azzhole. Guess we¡¯ll have to chill some other time. Thanks for the offer though. Once this all blows over how¡¯s about you treat me to something sweet?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t count on it,¡± Hel responds, a smirk forming beneath her mask.

    ¡°Later, hater,¡± Nemain replies with a toothy grin.

    Azrael nods to Hel and with the flick of his wrist slices open a portal back to Death¡¯s domain. There Nemain goes again. Off with Azrael to learn more harsh truths. Off to wither the flower of her soul even further. To Hel it¡¯s like Nemain¡¯s moved from one cage to another, but who is she to speak up about it? Who is she to ask something like ¡®why do you follow him?¡¯ or as outlandish as ¡®why do you love him?¡¯ Hel doesn¡¯t ask questions because she pretends she doesn¡¯t care about the answers. Honestly, she¡¯s just afraid of what she might find out. That¡¯s why there¡¯s plenty she won¡¯t ask herself. It should be enough that even though Nemain¡¯s flower withers her smile still brightens, and by extension, the sun in Hel¡¯s life doesn¡¯t have to set just yet.

    As Azrael and Nemain step through their portal, a second one opens to the left of theirs. Thanatos, another young Psychopomp, steps out. His hair is black as ash, and there¡¯s no heat in his skin. He looks, for lack of a better word, dead. As though to emphasize his ghoulish features, he wears all black. The only bit of color to him comes from the orange sash tied around his waist. His golden eyes peer out from beneath black bangs and seem to seek out her gaze. Hel looks away. The heat on her usually cold cheeks seems unwarranted as much as it is unwanted, unnecessary, and impossibly, satisfyingly inescapable. As a Psychopomp she can¡¯t be compromised by this, she isn¡¯t Nemain or Azrael, but like a target, she can¡¯t fight it. At least not with him.

    ¡°I just missed them, huh,¡± Thanatos asks in a monotone voice as he approaches Hel. ¡°Good thing I made it to you in time.¡±

    Hel tries way too hard to act like Thanatos bothers her. There was a time where she¡¯d sight the competitiveness of their business, but once Thanatos ¡®retired¡¯ from killing she needed to invent new reasons to justify her distaste. One such example was how closely he¡¯s kept to The Grim Reaper¡¯s side since his retirement, promotion or whatever it was. It¡¯s like he¡¯s become her pet.

    Though if anyone ever bothered to ask she¡¯d probably say it was because he abandoned Nemain. Before Azrael showed up the three of them were inseparable. They were the closest thing people like them could call friends while growing up as godlings of death, but when Azrael came along things changed. He and Nemain grew closer to one another and before too long their relationship became romantic. The two of them were, and are, compromised, at least by Psychopomp standards. Even so, they¡¯ve managed to carve out a little piece of happiness for themselves among all the death and bloodshed that rules their lives.

    Thanatos grew distant, so Hel figures he must have loved Nemain at some point. Hel couldn¡¯t blame him. There is a charm to her, she¡¯s ¡®alive¡¯. It¡¯s clear in the way her face still readily contorts and gives way to each passing emotion. When Nemain is sad she cries. When Nemain is happy she laughs. When Nemain is scared she hides. All of these are things that set her apart from them, and from Hel especially. Hel is happy sometimes, but she looks and acts no different than when she¡¯s scared or sad. Nemain can show she¡¯s in love. This alone made Nemain different, attractive. Hel can¡¯t do any of that.

    Just because Nemain and Azrael ended up together didn¡¯t mean Thanatos could just leave them, but who¡¯s Hel kidding? It isn¡¯t ¡®them¡¯ that Thanatos abandoned. It¡¯s been years now and it¡¯s abundantly clear that there¡¯s only one person left alone after all this. While Thanatos goes off to balance books andcountorison, Nemain has Azrael, leaving Hel to be the only one to feel the least bit nostalgic about their trio.

    Thanatos had gone from acting in the field alongside others to becoming the recluse within an organization of loners. The Reaper set him up with a job as the group¡¯s accountant when he had started to withdraw, making him the only real bridge to her. The more orison their leader collects, the less they see of her, which made sense. If she just walked around with that much power she¡¯d no doubt attract some unwanted attention.

    Hel¡¯s exposed eye meets his amber colored ones. Their impassive stares bleed into one another as Thanatos speaks. He¡¯s usually the first to talk, and she doesn¡¯t know why she lets it be that way. Would it be so bad to say ¡®Hello Thanatos, how are you doing today¡¯?

    ¡°Theorisonfor today¡¯s job?¡± Thanatos holds out his hand. Hel sighs and flips the golden coins in his direction making sure to miss on purpose. Thanatos crouches down to pick up the coins. As soon as his hands come in contact with them they break down into nothing but lights that dance around his hand before fading into his touch.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t very much. I hope that the cut you¡¯ve kept for yourself will suffice.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s whatever.¡± Hel shrugs. ¡°You¡¯d have to be an idiot to spend power now. Not like I would be accumulating it any faster if there were actually people prayingtome anyway. So I just break it down into divinity and use it towards earning more. Wash, rinse, repeat. It¡¯s a living.¡±

    ¡°So rather than saving up to buy something expensive, you¡¯re using it to grow stronger. Interesting.¡± Thanatos tucks his arms beneath his cloak. ¡°Do you have anything planned? How strong are you looking to become? What will you do once you get there?¡±

    ¡°Why are you asking so many questions?¡±

    ¡°Curious.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± Thanatos says, turning away from Hel. It isn¡¯t long before he looks back at her. Hel crosses her arms. She¡¯d be leaning against a wall right now if there had been one around.

    ¡°Not everything has to be profound, you know? There isn¡¯t always beauty in death. Sometimes it¡¯s just this ugly, unceremonious, inevitable thing.¡±

    ¡°Are you seeking revenge?¡± Thanatos¡¯ question is blunt. She glares at him, but he continues prodding. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be shocking. Very soon you will be all that¡¯s left of your family.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for that.¡± Hel shakes her head and sighs.

    Who just comes right out and says something like that? From the searching look in his eyes, Hel assumes Thanatos has no intention of abandoning this train of thought. Like a good little Psychopomp, he sticks to his target until the assassination is complete.

    Thanatos presses on. ¡°Despite what they did, you do love your brothers, right?¡±

    Hel doesn¡¯t say anything. To say that she, as a Psychopomp, loves anything about her old life could get her in trouble. Not in a literal sense, of course. But say she starts reminiscing too much one day. Instead of using the memories as coal to stoke the fire inside, her movements would get weighed down by nostalgia. Then again, this is Thanatos. Last time she checked they still consider one another friends. Even if his position in the organization changed, he was still one of the two people she could trust, right?

    Thanatos summons a small coin and rolls it between his fingers.

    ¡°Much like a coin, a story has multiple sides. So instead of standing here and flipping it over and over again like a jackass, how¡¯s about you just tell me your side of things?¡±

    Hel looks away from Thanatos, exhales softly and shakes her head. Leave it to Thanatos to dig up old stuff Hel thought was not only deeply buried but heavily guarded as well. Her brothers, two criminals of Ragnarok, one dead and the other awaiting execution. She takes on as many jobs as she can as a distraction, or maybe in an attempt to be as far away from them as possible. She herself doesn¡¯t really know. She can¡¯t remember them in that great of detail, and they probably don¡¯t remember her either. Hel crosses her arms, her eyes ease across the horizon. In a way, the Hel that was their sister died a long time ago. So it¡¯s like they¡¯re just finally catching up to her.

    ¡°Alright Hel, I won¡¯t press further,¡± Thanatos says, quickly, quietly, regaining her gaze in the process. ¡°So while managing the accounts today I noticed someone requested a kill. A name isn¡¯t listed in the ledger. Neither buyer nor the target. They¡¯ve paid an unbelievably high amount for this kill. So much so that Styx personally cleared it.¡± He pauses, as though to give Hel time to think about his words. All that really stuck out is that he referred to The Grim Reaper by a name. Though there isn¡¯t much to consider beyond that, he¡¯s digging and she hates it.

    Hel shrugs. ¡°Is it unusual? We¡¯ve always had a clause that allows employers to go unnamed so long as they¡¯re willing to pay double.¡± Hel summons her scythe. ¡°I guess it¡¯s strange that someone was willing to pay enough so that not only was their name left unarchived, but so was their target. Styx did the job herself, means she didn¡¯t wanna risk anyone below her screwing up.¡±

    Thanatos nods. ¡°Who has so much divinity that they¡¯d be willing to use that much after Ragnarok? Whatever they spend they will surely never see again. An amount like that would no doubt put a huge dent in any of the elite Pantheons.¡± His golden eyes aim to reach her¡¯s, but Hel, like always, is quick to look away from him. ¡°Perhaps the Christians or the Olympians? They¡¯re the richest after all. But assassination doesn¡¯t seem like the route either high house would ever consider.¡±

    As observant as Thanatos is, he never seems to notice how she feels. She always hoped he¡¯d find something in her she doesn¡¯t know she¡¯s hiding. Hel would play dumb for as long as she could, but he made it so hard sometimes. Especially when he bombards her with questions. He always asks so many questions, and yeah she didn¡¯t care about the answers, but, there is one question she did kind of, in the back of her mind, hope he¡¯d ask. He has to be the one to do it. She would never, she couldn¡¯t. It¡¯d be an admission of defeat on so many levels. But if he did, then maybe there¡¯d be some vindication in her feelings. Maybe it¡¯d be alright if she knows he feels the same way. Maybe they can have something like Azrael and Nemain. Being weak is one thing, but it¡¯s okay if you have someone to share it with. Someone to cover her weak points. Yeah, that¡¯s it. Looking through her scope watching his back for hundreds, thousands of years. It¡¯d be nice to know that he¡¯d watch over her like that too. Ok, now the sappy looks Azrael always gives Nemain are starting to make sense.

    Hel cuts an opening through reality. She makes it clear she isn¡¯t going to stick around to talk with Thanatos for much longer. With one leg through the tear, she glances over her shoulder at the stoic accountant.

    ¡°You work with numbers Thanatos, that¡¯s all. You¡¯ve got a safe little job within a ring of killers.¡± Hel pauses. ¡°You mentioned the sides of a coin earlier. As far as stories go Psychopomps are simple. We¡¯re either face up,.waiting to be flipped again, or face down, dead in the dirt.¡± She gives him the briefest of looks, allowing him to stare into her eyes. ¡°So long as you hedge your bets, you can have a say in how your coin falls, unlike the rest of us. So take care of yourself, Thanatos.¡±

    That impassive stare of his brands her. Always does. She remembers his looks, and they haunt her mind as much as they ease her pain. The way he looks at her isn¡¯t any different from anyone else, and it definitely isn¡¯t the way she remembers him looking at Nemain. Somehow, it hurts her worse than any injury she¡¯d taken in her line of duty. Cuts, stabs, bruises, broken bones; nothing hurt like the cold stare of a Psychopomp. His eyes glow for her as they do for his targets; the looks are basically interchangeable. Then again, she wasn¡¯t the kind of person to try to find a deeper meaning in something without hard proof, and he is supposed to be the observant one, after all.

    Hel takes her leave. She shakes her head as she does, her cheeks taking the opportunity to heat once she¡¯s sure he can¡¯t see. After all that grim stuff about her family and the intrusive questions, the dolt didn¡¯t even have the decency to tell her goodbye.

 Chapter 6 - Sin - Cain

    Green fields, sunny days, starry nights and pearly gates. That¡¯s how his mother always described Eden to him. A place so perfect that there was no need for desire, for anything they wanted would appear as the thought came to mind. His mother always had a hard time looking at the color red. According to her, a color so violent didn¡¯t exist in Eden. Nobody bled in Paradise. When they wept they cried tears of joy.

    Once upon a time, Cain couldn¡¯t imagine such a place, but here he stands before the gates of heaven. Just beyond the gold-plated rails stands his mother, blonder than he remembers, with a smile wider than any he knew when she was alive. Beside her is his father. His chestnut-colored hair and strong arms betray Cain¡¯s memories. Never before had he seen this strapping image of his father.

    To the right of the gate sits a podium and at that podium an angel. The angel doesn¡¯t look young nor old, strong nor weak. A being that¡¯s light made physical. Cain can tell what he looks like but feels he could never describe him. Given the manner in which he drags his quill upon an open book Cain assumes he¡¯s Saint Peter.

    The sight of an honest angel fastens Cain in place, as it would any sane mortal man. A tightness in his stomach starts working its way up until it¡¯s a fine lump in his throat. Like any boy, he looks to his mother for encouragement. He finds it in spades. It¡¯s in the way her lips part just enough to sigh and how she nods her head with such subtlety he¡¯s sure he¡¯s the only one to notice. Last and most telling of all is the slight gesture with her hand, a motion for her son to walk forward.

    Eager for happiness, Cain takes a step. He¡¯s stopped by a tight grip on his wrist. He looks and there he finds his brother, smiling. His hair is still a mess with twigs and leaves, and his clothes are much too dirty to wear to supper. Abel pulls Cain back then walks ahead of him. Abel strolls right up and passes those gates, no problem.

    Now it¡¯s Cain¡¯s turn. Yet again he¡¯s stopped by a weight on his arm. He looks, finds no brother, but a blade. A small dagger fashioned from the jaw of sheep. Luscious red drips from it with sinful avidity.

    If he tries to force himself forward the dagger grows heavier. Red leaks from his hand and dances up his arm, growing tighter as it goes. Horrified, Cain watches his family stare out at him as thin red lines overtake his body, pulling him towards damnation.

    Because nobody cries in paradise they just watch.

    ---

    ¡°Cain.¡± A voice calls out to him. ¡°Cain!¡± Again. ¡°Cain!¡± Gruff. Textured. Concern masked by annoyance.

    Cain doesn¡¯t get up right away. First, he has to shake off a shiver and combat his heavy eyelids. Sweat trickles down his cheek, bleeding into the peppered remains of a bad shave. Rough knuckles rap the side of his head, and at last Cain comes to.

    "You alright?¡± Longinus casts him a sideways glance before turning his attention back to the road. Large, bandaged, worked over hands clench an aged steering wheel; olive skin going taught over swollen fingers. One of his hands creep up and adjusts the rearview, before flicking the single, frizzed fuzzy die that hangs there.

    "I''m fine, Longinus."

    "Another one, huh?" Longinus¡¯ question comes with another quick look back. Pale eyes fall on Cain.

    "Just watch the road," Cain retorts and lets his head fall back against the car seat.

    When he looks up he sees a smile cracking Longinus¡¯ rough face. Longinus scratches his short cropped salt n¡¯ pepper hair.

    ¡°Don¡¯t have to keep my eyes peeled. Can¡¯t really. But if it gives you peace of mind, then I¡¯ll turn my head forward for ya. Let me have my excitement once in awhile, won''t ya?¡¯ Shit gets way too dull in our downtime. You don¡¯t want me falling asleep at the wheel do you?¡± Pausing, Longinus exhales and shakes his head. ¡°You¡¯re way too tense. You need to learn to relax, all that stress throws your aura out of whack, and that shit ain¡¯t pretty to look at. Haven¡¯t you heard of bad vibes?¡±

    Cain shifts his attention away from Longinus, and out the window. Rain beaten glass cools his forehead. The ground''s white and the sky¡¯s gray like an impending storm. It looked like winter. A winter made from ash. Turned, charred, dead trees and utility poles alike blur by. It¡¯s all infertile land as far as he could see. There¡¯s nothing worth salvaging here. Must be why The Archangels hadn¡¯t done much in the way of realm restoration.

    Another voice rips through the silence.

    ¡°If you¡¯re done enjoying the scenery, mind filling us in on who¡¯s next?¡± Judas inquires in a shrill voice. The young-looking vampire stretches out across the back seat with his legs propped up against Longinus¡¯s headrest. There¡¯s little dirt on the boy¡¯s sharp-toed heels shoes, in contrast to Cain and Longinus whose combat boots are now browner than they are black. In fact, the only grime on Judas are the bits of dried blood peppering his attire; a bit on his plaid slacks with the majority congealing around the collar of his peacoat. As he sits up his shoulder-length silver ponytail flops over his shoulder. ¡°All you said was ¡®we¡¯ll handle it¡¯, and that the details weren¡¯t important yet. Well, we¡¯ve been driving for hours, and I¡¯m sick of playing ¡¯I spy¡¯ with myself, so can you please spill the beans? Maybe work out a semblance of a plan? We¡¯ll have less of your blood to clean up later if we do.¡± The words flow like venom from his pale lips.

    ¡°I mean, shit. Haagenti thrashed us last time. I¡¯m surprised if Nephil still gives us leads after that last screw up.¡± Always criticizing, never helping.

    Once Judas quiets down, Cain responds, ¡°Haagenti won¡¯t expect us a second time. ¡±Cain motions towards the horizon, where buildings are coming into view. ¡°Haagenti set up shop in that city. Chances are he has a legion or two of demons watching his back.¡±

    ¡°Hold up. Did you just say a legion...or two? How many even is ¡®a legion¡¯? Why are you being so calm about this and-Wait, what?!¡± Haagenti? Again?¡± Judas reveals his vampiric fangs through mocking laughter before dropping the facade and becoming visibly agitated ¡°Are you kidding me? We couldn¡¯t take him down when he didn¡¯t see us coming, and now you¡¯re saying he¡¯s got extra muscle? Of course, he¡¯s expecting us! You said this time it would be something we can handle, so how do you expect us to handle this?!¡±

    ¡°6000 men.¡± Longinus voice muscles through the air. ¡°What? You asked how many guys were in a legion. As a centurion, it was kind of my job to know these things.¡±

    Judas sighs. ¡°That, Is a stupid amount. Hey back me up on this Longinus. He¡¯s off his rocker for wanting to go for Haagey again, right?¡±

    An eager grin growing on Longinus¡¯ face. There¡¯s a mechanical groan as Longinus leans his seat back, the aged metal creaking as he drops it on top of Judas, pinning him underneath.

    ¡°Last time was a fluke. Lucky for us ol¡¯ Haagen-Dazs won¡¯t see it that way, which means he¡¯s not gonna be expecting a round two.¡± The seat squeaks again, and pops back into place, freeing Judas. A massive, forearm finds a perch behind Cain¡¯s headrest, seeking his attention. Longinus looks away from the road again. Even with those empty eyes, Longinus can give Cain a long hard look. ¡°Besides, what doesn¡¯t kill us only makes stronger right?.¡±

    Cain nods in agreement. ¡°Exactly.¡±

    ¡°Dibs, by the way. You and that butter knife of yours are getting a bit too greedy. I can¡¯t keep spoiling you by letting you have all the fun! ¡±

    ¡°You should leave Haagenti to me. I can hold him off for an extended period of time,¡± Cain reasons while taking the time to reload his glock. ¡°While I¡¯m doing that you two can thin out the rest of his horde. Longinus will be our eyes. Show us what we¡¯re up against, divinity wise. Cain secures his gun at his hip and eyes Judas. ¡°You can use a crossbow right? You should be able to reuse the ammunition.¡± Cain displays his silencer to Judas, ¡°Nephil only gave me one and a few clips of silver bullets. They¡¯ll work on the lesser demons, but once we run into someone with actual divinity it¡¯ll pretty much be useless.¡±

    Looking back to the road, Cain whispers, ¡°Alright, this is far enough. Stop the car and get ready.¡±

    ¡°You have a gun and I...have a crossbow. Yours shoots silver bullets, mine shoots pointy sticks.¡± Judas whimpers, hanging his head and rubbing his temples with his palms ¡°I don¡¯t want to go back to Hell yet¡­¡±

    Longinus cackles while bringing the vehicle to a sudden stop. He rears back in his seat and looks to Judas. Nodding his head, Longinus encourages him,¡°So how¡¯s about you raise some instead?¡± With that said, Longinus unlocks the doors. Cain takes a deep breath then steps out of the car. While leaving the vehicle he slips into his leather jacket. The black coat is loaded up with extra ammunition and lined with kevlar. Additionally, there are a couple of runes sewn into the jacket that Cain can activate with a tiny incantation. Considering none of his team are adept in the magical arts he doesn¡¯t want use the spells unless absolutely necessary. After all, Nephil only offers one recharge per visit. The last touch to Cain¡¯s attire is a red scarf. Aside from one additional rune woven into the cotton, Cain just likes the way it looks.

    The air brushes against his skin, and he feels something linger in his stomach. It¡¯s fear, something that tells him without a doubt he¡¯s still alive.

    He hears Longinus chuckle behind them. A quick glance over his shoulder treats him to the sight of Longinus popping the car trunk and fishing out a long, shabby leather case. Longinus gives it an appreciative pat, before hooking it over his shoulder and facing Judas. ¡°You know, you can always just try whining them to death.¡±

    Cain hears a rustling and looks over to see Judas raising his crossbow and squinting an eye, as though sizing up Longinus. ¡°Hasn¡¯t worked on you. Doubt it¡¯ll work on them.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve built up an immunity¡± Longinus snickers, bookending the statement with two metallic clacks as he opens the case. He whistles at the sight of the contents before closing it.

    Besides his case, Longinus also grabs several tactical headsets and tosses one to Cain and Judas. They weren¡¯t the best condition, but they were battery powered.

    Cain takes a few steps forward towards a crusty old gateway sign. He runs his fingers along the edge, over indents that once spelled out ¡®welcome¡¯. One thing on the sign is still visible after all these years and that¡¯s the word ¡®population¡¯. Cain can¡¯t make out the numbers after that, but he knows not a single soul who inhabited this city is still alive. Fear is often replaced by something else the closer they get towards their would-be makers. Anger.

    Cain peeks back to see how his comrades are fairing. Like with just about every other time they¡¯ve headed to battle Cain see¡¯s Longinus kissing a small cross he keeps hidden beneath his military scarf. Despite every assumption, one could make about Judas, he too prays for their well-being in his own way. Two of his fingers dance from his forehead to both of his shoulders then end up clasped with the rest of his digits and he hangs his head for a moment.

    Cain¡¯s been around long enough to know that miracles do exist, but they don¡¯t come cheap. So instead of praying to people who won¡¯t hear him, to people who won¡¯t care, he goes over several names in his head; His family

    Each name comes paired with a face and a feeling. All of it mixes with the rage and uncertainty in his stomach till it becomes a serene brew that forces him forward.

    ¡±Alright,¡± Cain exhales. ¡°Let''s head out.¡±

    ---

    Cain glances around the corner of a building and catches sight of a stout demon standing guard before a nearby apartment door. Looking disinterested, the beast crosses his thin arms over his fat stomach.

    After a quick glance to Longinus who nods, Cain takes the shot. The silencer works as expected and the demon dies quietly. Once again Cain looks to Longinus for confirmation. The larger man runs his thumb pass his throat then Cain signals to move forward.

    ¡°Judas, get what you need from him, then make him a little more inconspicuous,¡± Cain says in hopes of finding a bit of coin on the beast.

    Cain checks the door; locked. He takes one step back before taking down the door in a single tackle.

    ¡°Longinus, with me,¡± Cain says as he walks towards the staircase. With every step, they take the splintered stairs creak. Cain¡¯s hand crawls along the dusty banister. As he climbs, Cain speaks into his headset. ¡°Top floor, when you¡¯re done Judas.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah¡­¡± Judas¡¯s voice buzzes in Cain¡¯s ear before clipping out.

    Once on the top floor, Cain locates the nearest room and hurries to a window. Cain brushes away the curtain, letting light spill in and temporarily hinder his vision.

    The clatter of metal on metal brings Cain¡¯s attention to Longinus who dropped the duffle bag he had been carrying on top of a rotting table in the corner of the room, along with the case he had grabbed from the car. He¡¯s assembling and loading a small assortment of firearms and holstering each in kind.

    There¡¯s an excited energy about the whole process, but also something somber as well, almost reverent. The man¡¯s a war hawk, he lives for this kind of thing, and he always seems to take an odd and disproportionate amount of satisfaction whenever they take a job. There¡¯s a glint of metal as he tosses a couple extra clips to Cain without a word. With the contents of the case draped over his shoulder, Longinus walks towards Cain. It looks like an ordinary spear, albeit extraordinarily old. The head is polished, almost pristine, and covered in all manner of latin scrawl. Their eyes lock, and Cain notices an ethereal, otherworldly glow dying down in those usually faded orbs. Longinus fist collides with Cain¡¯s shoulder as he lets out a disappointed sounding huff.

    ¡°A legion or two, huh? Haagenti only has a few hundred men stationed here at best.We should go back to the days where the blind guy got us the intel.¡±

    Longinus hooks a thumb under his nose, spear bouncing off his shoulder impatiently.

    ¡°Ahh well, just means we won¡¯t be here nearly as long, yeah? Which means we can be off to bigger and better fights that much sooner.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± There goes Judas voice screeching in Cain¡¯s ear again. Judas comes through the door, adjusting his satchel and shaking blood from his hands. ¡°I drained him then propped him up. As long as no one tries to strike up a conversation, we should be covered. So, what¡¯s the deal? Ya find Haagenti?¡±

    Longinus whistles and Cain turns to watch him hiking a thumb over his shoulder, pointing out the window and further into the city.

    ¡°Yeah, wasn¡¯t exactly hard. Ol¡¯ Haag hasn¡¯t changed a bit, egotistical as ever. Tallest building in the city is lit up like a damn Christmas tree. Only the best for the boss, right?¡±

    Cain nods. ¡°Good, find a path that will give us the least trouble.¡±

    Longinus looks back towards the penthouse. ¡°Well, most of the ways in on the ground floor are pretty guarded.¡± He pauses, probably pondering, analyzing the situation before snapping his fingers triumphantly ¡°But, there¡¯s a small window to the west side with only two bigguns blocking us off from it¡± He walks to Judas and grips his shoulder, giving him a playful shake and laughing ¡°No trouble for our little puppeteer, right?¡± Judas squirms out of his grasp and rubs his shoulder.

    ¡°Just two? Easy. I don¡¯t mind a fight when the other side¡¯s outnumbered. I expect you guys to handle the hordes later on, though.¡±

    Now that they¡¯ve got a plan of attack the trio heads back out. As they stalk towards their destination, they make use of Longinus¡¯ sight to scout out any upcoming threats. They safely make it to their terminus by using cars and open buildings as coverage

    Longinus has said in the past that there¡¯s a huge spike in Cain¡¯s aura whenever he draws his ¡®butter-knife¡¯. So Cain really has to save his trump card otherwise he might alert Haagenti of their arrive. For the time being, Cain picks off a few more guards with the silver bullets. It¡¯s a shame he couldn¡¯t make better use of them.

    Just as Longinus said there are two hulking demons standing guard at the door. They wear black suits and thin ties. Even when dressed like men Cain can see they¡¯re monsters. Their leathery red skin, darted tails, massive claws, and sharpened horns are dead giveaways.

    Bullets aren¡¯t working on these guys.

    ¡°Up ahead,¡±Longinus speaks up, his eyes on Judas,¡±go to work.¡±

    Fishing an arrow out of his quiver, Judas nods. ¡°Right..." Instead of loading it right away he twirls it between his fingers. He lets out a sigh then stabs the head into his arm. He rips it back out, the point coated in a syrupy red, but no blood leaves the wound. He rears the arrow into the arm-mounted crossbow, takes aim then fires at one of the guards. Direct hit. The arrow sinks into the creature¡¯s right shoulder. With haste, Judas raises both arms.

    ¡°Now the fun part,¡± Judas says with a grin. His outstretched hands tremble and his pupils flash gold. The demon he pegged starts twitching, drawing the other¡¯s attention.

    ¡°Hey, you okay there? I think you got something in yer-¡± before the demon can finish, the first one had already smashed his head between his massive claws. Just as a look of shock starts to contort the demon¡¯s face, he drives his nails into his own skull, killing himself.

    Judas relaxes his body, allowing his target to go limp and collapse. ¡°And that¡¯s how it¡¯s done.¡±

    ¡°Not bad.¡± Longinus slaps a palm on Judas¡¯ back, offsetting his balance. ¡°You¡¯re pretty good when you¡¯re not running your mouth.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s move,¡± Cain orders before continuing towards the penthouse. Cain glances left and right before helping Longinus up into a window. He turns his attention to Judas.

    ¡°You go in and give me a few seconds alone¡± Judas points his thumb to the pair of demon bodies. ¡°I need a drink.¡± Cain nods then climbs through the window himself.

    Once Judas finishes up they all reconvene within the designated area. A blind spot that Cain assumes must have at a time been the hotel''s kitchen.

    ¡°Ahhhhh, good eats. So, what¡¯s next,¡± Judas asks while licking blood from his lips with his serpentine tongue.

    ¡°Split up, we need to clear a path for our escape. When we fight Haagenti, we can¡¯t have him calling hordes of demons to his rescue,¡± Cain says then looks to Longinus. ¡°Where is he?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get bossy with me, chief,¡± Longinus laughs while stepping forward and staring at the nearest wall. Cain¡¯s blind comrade focuses on the wall, his neck turns as if trailing someone. ¡°Well, we¡¯ve got some big stuff on the sixth floor. Right wing. Looks like room 666, heh, class act Haagendaz. But then there¡¯s another big signature, moving in that direction from the other side of the building.¡±

    ¡°Anything else,¡± Cain asks, already beginning in the direction of room 666.

    ¡°Yeah, there¡¯s a lot of activity on the proceeding floors. If we run up and face Haagenti we run the risk of getting bottlenecked. Hell, we¡¯ll get shish kabobed no matter how we handle this.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Cain steps through the door. ¡°I¡¯ll distract Haagenti. You two start clearing the building. Be fast. I want you two to be the only one¡¯s left by the time he calls reinforcements.¡±

    Keeping his pace up, Cain takes the path Longinus laid out. Eventually, Cain comes to a stop before a door. The door looks like it had given in to wear and tear long before being forced open. While nudging the door open Cain puts his free hand on the gun at his side. The long creak of the dying door reignites Cain¡¯s feeling of fear.

    After another breath, Cain pushes the door open. His grip tightens on his gun and he draws it as he moves. The next sight makes Cain go still, like water.

    A woman sits before Cain, huddled over and trembling. He looks at his firearm, then to her, raising a pistol of her own in his direction. For a reason beyond him, these seconds feel extra long. Then there¡¯s a click, a loud bang and a pain at the center of his forehead. A shot with enough force to throw Cain on his ass pierces his skull. In that moment, like many times before, Cain dies.

    ---

    ¡°A-are you okay? Sir? Mister? Please be okay, please be okay.¡±

    Cain hadn¡¯t heard a voice like that in several lifetimes. A voice woven from sincerity and concern. It leaves him nostalgic.

    Normally, Cain doesn¡¯t come to right away. He found himself eager to open his eyes. Anxious to look upon the woman with the caring voice. In her features, he finds more nostalgia. Her eyes are wide pools of emerald and her skin is white like milk, with cheeks blushed to a perfect pink. Wild ebony hair rains down from her head over her trembling shoulders. She leaves him homesick.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be dead.¡±

    A whimper springs out of her, and Cain shoots up. His hands stop just shy of her shoulders. She squeaks. Cain¡¯s sure this is a woman before him, but her sounds are like something a mouse would make.

    ¡°Y-you¡¯re alive,¡± she says while leaning forward. Reflexes pull Cain in the opposite direction. ¡°Thank God.¡± She sounds so relieved.

    Unlike many of the attacks Cain¡¯s faced in his life, when the woman reaches for him he doesn¡¯t flinch. He feels her soft palm cup his cheek and he watches her green eyes search his forehead.

    ¡°Did I hurt you? I-I¡¯m so sorry, I thought you were a demon. I-¡± She gasps. ¡°Your forehead...there¡¯s not even a scar. Y-you healed?¡±

    Different thoughts beat around Cain¡¯s mind as she checks his wound. ¡®She¡¯s looking right at me. She¡¯s talking to me. She¡¯s touching me. And she isn¡¯t, she isn¡¯t afraid.¡¯

    Realizing his mind''s veered way off course, Cain whips his arm up and grabs her wrist. With a tug he pulls her touch away then gets to his feet.

    Around the corner, Cain can hear the sound of clicking heels coming down the hall.

    ¡°Damn it. Get back,¡± Cain warns, his eyes flitting away from her¡¯s. He

    ¡°Damn gunshot must¡¯ve alerted him.¡± Cain brings his hand up and inches his fingers towards his right eye. A dreaded but necessary feeling fires from his chest and through his head, ending right beneath his closed eye. A warm feeling beckons his fingers to dig deeper. Cain growls as he feels an agonizing and burning sensation trail across his eye. It hurts like hell every time he has to do it. But this is just another part of his curse. The pain told him how much he deserved this life and how far he is from salvation. Gripping at the empty air in front of his eye, Cain opens it, at last, knowing that the throbbing sensation has left him with no pupil. With a forceful swing downwards, a massive weapon appears in Cain¡¯s hand.

    His sword, large red and ugly, growls. There are teeth that gnash at the sides of it and rotate along its edges like a chainsaw. Eyes open and close all over the weapon, pupils darting about the room before focusing on whatever is just outside the door. In the hilt, Cain can feel rumbling, a deep low tremble he¡¯s come to associate with his weapon¡¯s hunger.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Cain hears the woman squeak again. It¡¯s not the same as before, this time it upsets him. He looks back to see her taking tiny steps away. Her already big eyes widen further and seem to look pass Cain to his blade. He¡¯s much more familiar with this look. Seems it took a bit longer than usual for her to feel the effects of his curse.

    ¡°Get back,¡± Cain repeats as he looks away. ¡°I don¡¯t need you getting in my way. So try hiding.¡±

    He can tell she wants to say something. Instead of giving her the chance, Cain continues.

    ¡°I¡¯ll hold him off. My comrades are clearing a path. Leave when an opportunity presents itself. Do not hesitate..¡±

    Looking back, Cain finds she¡¯s taken a step forward, eliminating her earlier act of hesitation. It looks like her lips could push off one another at any second. Another small sound creeps from her, the beginnings of something she doesn¡¯t get to say as a surly voice eases into the room.

    ¡°What do you mean Raum lost his territory to a little girl?¡± Cain can hear Haagenti¡¯s effeminate voice creeping closer. ¡°He had thirty legions beneath him how could a mere godling-¡± His voice is just around the corner now. Cain¡¯s grip tightens around his blade. He takes a step back, putting himself in front of the woman. ¡°Oh.¡± Cain can see his shadow stretching into the room. ¡°The Phantom Queen you say?¡±

    ¡°Phantom Queen?¡± Cain repeats under his breath. ¡°There¡¯s no way¡­¡±

    ¡°That sounds...sexy.¡± The deep rumble of Haagenti¡¯s laugh refocuses Cain on the matters at hand. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, I¡¯ll miss Raum, but he was much too lax about his operation. And his fascination with little girls led him to an untimely end. Now, if this so-called Phantom Queen isn¡¯t a poser, and we can get our hands on her, we might be able to use her as leverage. I¡¯m talking about everything from expunging our records to first pick of Hell¡¯s biggest and baddest.¡± Another loud, deep, passionate sounding laugh erupts from outside the room. ¡°That world and this one will be ours for the taking.¡± He pauses briefly. ¡°I¡¯ll call you back, Asty. There¡¯s something I need to take care of real quick.¡±

    Cain¡¯s eyes widen, and in a swift step, he turns around to cover the woman. Next thing he knows the room is filled with fire.

    All he needs to do is feel the heat for a second to know it¡¯s magical but not hellish in nature. Good. Magic combats magic. Cain runs his fingers along the edge of his jacket¡¯s collar, igniting one of the runes. A sphere of light blue aura surrounds the two, shielding them from the flames.

    As the heat around them dies down the protective sphere dissipates.¡°Are you alright?¡±Cain asks, looking down at the woman. She pushes Cain away and looks around the room.

    Unfazed by the explosion, the woman gets to her feet. ¡°No, please no no no!¡± Despite the thick smoke surrounding them, she starts running towards the back of the room where she disappears from Cain¡¯s sight. He hears her cough, wait, no there¡¯s two voices coughing. From behind the thick coat of sulfur and ash, Cain hears crying. Not like the woman¡¯s whimpering, but instead the stirring of an infant.

    ¡°There¡¯s no way.¡± He mentally readies himself before holding out his blade towards the direction the woman scurried. Flashes of red light fly from the sword and illuminate the immediate area before Cain. His eyes widen when he sees the woman again. She''s crouched in the corner cradling a bundle of crying blankets. While Cain can¡¯t see it for himself, he¡¯s sure there¡¯s a baby beneath the cover.

    ¡°Yoo hoo! Is anyone alive in there?¡±

    Haagenti¡¯s voice creeps into the room just before the demon himself does. He strolls in casually, confidently, clawed hands dismissively brushing dust and debris from the shoulders of his indigo suit as his cold, yellow eyes slowly scan the area. He stops, a curtain of dancing smoke obscuring Cain¡¯s sight of him.

    Gripping the hilt of his weapon, Cain feels the blade rip a memory from his mind, of its own accord. A passing thought, an image carrying with it a name; Zephyrus. It takes the thought hungrily, greedily, eagerly drinking from Cain¡¯s own malice. All of the eyes scattered about his weapon blink, and their iris take on the color of a long gone enemy. In that moment Cain can see the deceased¡¯s face in the weapon, beating up against the red steel from inside. His weapon screams in an old victim¡¯s voice and fills the room with a mighty gust. All the smoke vanishes in the updraft. There¡¯s nothing standing in either¡¯s way. He sees Haagenti and Haagenti sees him.

    Haagenti¡¯s thin lips crease into a smirk. ¡°Well, well, if it isn¡¯t the baby brother butcher himself. How have you been, Cain?¡± Haagenti motions towards him and shakes his head. ¡°Why couldn¡¯t it be the cute one? You know, your friend? The funny guy?¡± He pinches his nose and turns his head. ¡°Or maybe the big one. Just anyone but you. You¡¯re the boring one.¡±

    Cain shifts his footing once again to make sure he¡¯s in front of the woman. Though he¡¯s certain Haagenti¡¯s noticed her by now.

    ¡°Your parents didn¡¯t teach you manners, did they? It¡¯s rude to show up uninvited.¡± Haagenti¡¯s eyebrow arches, ¡°It looks like you survived my attack¡­.¡± The demon rolls his eyes. ¡°Again.¡±

    Haagenti runs a hand through his deep maroon hair, smoothing down any rebellious strands before taking a breath. His lips part to let loose a soft chuckle. ¡°Honestly, you and your friends have such a talent for making yourselves quite the nuisance.¡± His eyes trail from Cain down to the woman. ¡°That is, assuming, of course, they survived as well. Please tell me they did, I¡¯ll need someone to keep me entertained after I¡¯ve torn you limb from limb. I am trying to save her for later, after all.¡± He finishes, jabbing a finger through the air to point at the woman, dragging his tongue across his lips for added emphasis.

    Cautiously, Cain positions his monstrous sword before himself. His eye narrows and watches Haagenti carefully. The first time they fought Cain couldn¡¯t land a single hit and his blade has hungered for Haagenti¡¯s blood ever since. After that battle Cain slew many with little prejudice. Not everyone deserved to meet their end by his weapon but Cain finds solace knowing all the wasted lives goes towards eliminating scum like Haagenti.

    ¡°Now let¡¯s see¡­¡± Haagenti presses one of his sharp fingernails against his chin while rocking back and forth on his tail. ¡°...last time I put a claw through your chest. Just now I attempted to burn you alive. Third time should be the charm... ¡° He rocks forward back onto his feet and takes two tiny, careful looking steps towards Cain. ¡°Well, I guess I¡¯ll just have to make sure you actually die this time. How does decapitation sound? Does that work for you? Because it really works for me.¡± With that said and a final, exaggerated flourish of his wrist, Haagenti¡¯s claws extend becoming the length of short swords. ¡°Now stand still, this will only hurt for as long I want it to.¡±

    The horrible symphony of Haagenti¡¯s claws scraping against each other leave Cain unsettled. Then another sound rushes into his ears, as though to overtake that terrible gnashing of keratin. It¡¯s the soft cry of the baby the woman is trying to hide behind him. Cain peeks to see her cradling her child.

    ¡°Shh, please don¡¯t cry...it¡¯s okay, it¡¯s okay. I¡¯m here. I¡¯m here..¡±

    When Cain¡¯s looks back he sees Haagenti walking by, his long demon tail caressing along Cain¡¯s neck as he goes.

    ¡°You should let me hold him. I¡¯m absolutely fantastic with children,¡± Haagenti whispers in a sultry tone.

    Cain whips around, throwing all his weight into the swing and letting the sword carry him towards Haagenti. Seems the demon was anticipating the move and already holding up a clawed hand to intercept the attack. Cain¡¯s oversized sword snags between two of Haagenti¡¯s extended nails. The demon seizes his gaze as the two men lock in a stalemate.

    ¡°Please, let¡¯s not play pretend here, Cain. We both know you¡¯re no hero, so don¡¯t make such obvious moves like one. At least keep things fresh for me, or this will go exactly like last time.¡± Haagenti pauses, the tip of one of those razor sharp claws tapping his chin. ¡°Oh wait-¡± he chuckles ¡°What am I saying? That¡¯s exactly what I want!¡±

    As Cain struggles with Haagenti, the demon peers down at his weapon. ¡°My my, you¡¯ve gotten bigger.¡±

    Cain hears the baby wail again, ¡®Have to get him away from them¡¯. He steps, trying his hardest to push Haagenti back. As though his weapon hears the infant''s cries, it begins to glow. A deep rumble sounds through the stained red metal as it pulsates, luring in Haagenti¡¯s yellow gaze.

    ¡°Your sword. You must have taken a lot of lives with that thing because it...has a heartbeat,¡± Haagenti says, lips quivering.

    Knowing the fight can¡¯t continue this close to the mother and child Cain makes a gambit. He reaches for his pistol but wasn¡¯t fast enough. He had to take a hand away from his sword, losing out on precious leverage and giving Haagenti an advantage that the demon immediately presses. Haagenti¡¯s push is enough to send Cain careening towards the nearest wall. Cain stretches his hand out behind him and his blade glows again. A swirl of wind catches Cain and lets him land on his feet. Cain rips his pistol from its holster and points it at Haagenti.

    Before Cain can pull the trigger, Haagenti is on him again. Using his tail, Haagenti slaps Cain¡¯s gun away. With Haagenti in range, Cain attacks. His sword is as heavy as it looks, so Cain¡¯s attacks aren¡¯t the fastest. A weakness Haagenti exploits.

    Every slash Cain makes is countered by a much quicker attack from Haagenti. When Cain swings right, there¡¯s Haagenti, when he swings left, there¡¯s Haagenti. Up, down, it doesn¡¯t matter where Cain comes from they just end up exchanging blows. By now Cain¡¯s sword has clashed with Haagenti¡¯s claws more than twenty times.

    Good, he¡¯s got Haagenti in a rhythm. Those ¡®obvious¡¯ attacks got Haagenti to dancing to his tune. His weapon is heavy and he is slow, but magic has always been a great equalizer. Once more Cain calls upon the name Zephyrus and by extension the powers of the west wind. Soothing air builds up around his glowing red blade before it rockets forward, propelled by a mighty gale. Suddenly, he¡¯s too fast for Haagenti to predict and as a result, Cain manages to wound the demon. A large bloody gash remains in the wake of Cain¡¯s first connected attack.

    They lock eyes; this time Cain smirks. For all of a minute, the room becomes like the eye of a storm, a hurricane made of fire and blood. No longer is the fight one-sided, as Cain is able to cancel the wind boost whenever he needs to vary up the speed of his strikes. At times where Haagenti does attempt to stoke fire between them Cain counters and cushions it with one of Zephyrus¡¯ great winds.

    Confident, Cain glances to the woman with her child in the corner. She still hadn¡¯t taken the opportunity to get away. When Cain¡¯s attention returns to Haagenti he notices the demon disengaging him. Shit.

    Quickly, Cain redirects the air pressure so that he won¡¯t have to commit to such a deep attack. There¡¯s no use, so Cain flexes in anticipation of the counterattack.

    A fine cold pain rushes through Cain¡¯s arm, tearing his muscles and shattering his bones. A scream rumbles in his throat but never passes his lips. It takes all of Cain¡¯s will to keep himself up as he watches his arm go limp on the ground. Haagenti chuckles before kicking the arm with the blade still in hand across the room.

    There aren¡¯t many options now. Maybe he can punch him? No, Cain knows his CQC''s lacking. He glares up at Haagenti, then to the scene behind him.

    ¡°Go!¡± Cain yells out to the woman then rushes forward in an attempt to tackle Haagenti. Given how Haagenti isn¡¯t budging, he must¡¯ve braced himself. Good, he wants all the demon¡¯s attention on him.

    Next thing Cain knows he¡¯s suspended up with Haagenti¡¯s tail around his throat. If Haagenti¡¯s to be believed then a beheading would follow.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been awfully quiet this whole time Cain,¡± Haagenti hisses. ¡°I know it''s cliche but, do you have any last words?¡±

    Rather than say anything at all, Cain spits in Haagenti¡¯s face.

    The sound of a gun cocking gets Cain¡¯s attention. It comes from behind Haagenti, and when the demon turns, Cain too looks over.

    ¡®Damn it, really?!¡¯

    There¡¯s the woman again. Even though Haagenti was preoccupied she still didn¡¯t take the chance to get away. Though his vision is blurry, Cain can make out her trembling form as she raises her gun to Haagenti. Even as the baby¡¯s cries grow louder by the second, she doesn¡¯t take her aim off Haagenti.

    ¡°P-please,¡± she whispers in a poor attempt at sounding strong. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hurt you. S-so let us go.¡± While she stammers across her words, her eyes narrow and she moves one of her hands back along her arm. Her hand grips her wrist as though trying to steady herself and combat the trembling. ¡°I repeat. I don¡¯t want to hurt you. So put him down, and please, just let us go.¡±

    Pointing in the direction of the woman, more specifically her gun, Haagenti laughs. ¡°That¡¯s a gun, right? Mortal weapons don¡¯t work on me, but if you must try for peace of mind.¡± Haagenti holds out his arms, closes his eyes and rears his head back, leaving himself open to the woman. ¡°Alright, go ahead, shoot me. I want you to have exhausted all possible options.¡±

    There¡¯s a click, a gunshot, then another, and one more before silence.

    ¡°W-what?¡± For once there¡¯s no arrogance in Haagenti¡¯s voice. Cain looks down and finds blood seeping through the back of Haagenti¡¯s blazer. ¡°How could this? With a mere¡­¡± The sound of Haggenti¡¯s strained voice rings through Cain¡¯s ear. Once uppity, now hoarse and weak as he chokes on his own blood.

    Once Haagenti¡¯s grip on Cain loosens he slips away from his tail. Seeing as Haagenti¡¯s still in shock Cain decides to use this opening. Once again he empties his mind, save for a single word; Zephyrus. Ichor, still ''in hand'', releases a mighty gust of wind, launching itself towards its owner. It makes a slight stop on the way, slamming into Haagenti¡¯s leg before tearing through them. This puts the weakened demon on his knees. When the sword reaches Cain he bolts forward, eyes narrowed on his enemy. There¡¯s no shred of remorse in the way he drives the barbed weapon into Haagenti¡¯s back. Fear helps carry Ichor through the demon. Though it¡¯s malice that hoists the demon into the air where he¡¯s allowed to bleed out like a sacrificial lamb. Only after Cain¡¯s satisfied with the puddle of ruby red beneath them does he slam the mobster onto the floor.

    Standing over Haagenti, Cain whispers, ¡°Ichor is thirsty.¡± Honestly, Cain never thought he¡¯d see the day where Haagenti¡¯s writhing around, bleeding out and trembling a scared pig. It¡¯s brief, but Cain does wonder if it¡¯s wrong to be enjoying this the way he is.

    When Haagenti tries crawling away Cain follows, steps on his leg then stabs Ichor into his back. ¡°Don¡¯t struggle. Let it drink.¡± The best thing about Ichor is that it gnaws on its victims. No matter what angle Haagenti tries to take to escape, his back would have to grade across the rows of sharp teeth.

    ¡°No worries Haagenti, you¡¯ll live on. And look at it this way, at least you won¡¯t be sent back to Hell.¡±

    Cain pushes down with all his weight so that he can complete his cleave through Haagenti¡¯s back. He sees Haagenti, or what¡¯s left of him, burst into a fine red powder. The concentrated demon dust seems eager to rush into the base of Cain''s glowing weapon. Ichor drinks. The last ghoulish wails of the demon bounce off every wall in the room until it''s silenced by Ichor¡¯s hiss.

    ¡°It¡¯s over,¡± Cain pants to himself. He looks down at Ichor, redder and heavier than it was when he drew it.

    When Cain turns the woman is there to greet him.

    ¡°Your arm¡­¡± The woman¡¯s shimmering emerald eyes bounce from Cain¡¯s bleeding stump to his gnashing blade. ¡°That weapon¡­¡± Lowering her gun, the woman glances away. ¡°It...ate him.¡±

    If she wasn¡¯t afraid of him before, she is now. Soft beginnings of a cry get the woman¡¯s attention and she drops her gun to run over to the baby. Looking around the room, Cain finds what was left after his fight with Haagenti; the bullets from the woman¡¯s gun.

    Pinching a bullet between his fingers, he holds it up to his eye and examines it. There are fine inscriptions, scripture etched into the rounded silver. These bullets are tailor made for killing demons. Now that Cain has a better look at her, the woman¡¯s tattered clothing is reminiscent of a catholic nun. The way she rocks the baby in her arms tells him it¡¯s her son. She looks young, and given it¡¯s a baby, she must¡¯ve only recently abandoned her beliefs; probably when the world went to shit.

    Ichor dissipates and his missing pupil returns. While watching the woman Cain contemplates interrogating her. Questions he should ask, but doesn¡¯t, come to mind.

    ¡®What were you doing here?¡¯

    ¡®Why do you have these kinds of bullets?¡¯

    ¡®Where did you get them?¡¯

    ¡®Who are you?¡¯

    ¡®Why are you able to smile at me?¡¯

    ¡°There you go, it¡¯s all better now. Mama took care of it. We¡¯re okay. We¡¯re okay.¡±

    Cain looks up at the sound of her voice; soft, effortless, as though she hadn¡¯t just taken part in slaying a demon. He watches as she rocks back and forth with that bundle in her arms. As she turns, the baby stops crying. Her hand dances up to the top of the blankets and pulls them aside. Cain¡¯s eyes widen in surprise.

    There¡¯s a tuft of bear brown hair atop the baby¡¯s head, and it shares it¡¯s mother''s shamrock-colored eyes. But that isn¡¯t what bothers Cain. A child is gonna look like its mother, and have traits from its father no doubt. What¡¯s alarming is that it doesn''t share its mother¡¯s most defining trait.

    Distinguishing features that once separated man from monster are so commonplace Cain hadn¡¯t noticed it at first. Nestled within her unruly black locks are floppy pointed ears. Yet her baby has round ears. He looks, even from a glance, completely human.

    ¡°Yo Cain! Backups here, you alive man?¡±

    Cain turns in time to see Judas and Longinus entering the room, both covered in blood; he doubts any of it¡¯s their own. Longinus looks around and Judas¡¯ mouth gapes. His sight flits between Cain and the woman several times.

    ¡°Ummmm...Did we miss something?¡±

    Sighing, Cain picks up his stray limb. Cain aligns his dismembered arm with its socket. All the feeling in his arm goes away, leaving him numb as he let his body heal. It only takes a few minutes before Cain starts noticing sharp pains throughout his once limp appendage. Signals of pain blitz through his nerves as they reconnect and the flexing of his fingers let Cain knows he¡¯s as ¡®good as new¡¯.

    The woman had watched the entire process as though she were studying him. It shouldn¡¯t bother him as much as it does. In fact, he thought he¡¯d be relieved if a person besides Longinus or Judas could look at him with anything but ire. But her gaze, it makes him feel anxious. He anticipates something. It¡¯s like a joke with no punch line. He just waits for her eyes to narrow and the ¡®gotcha¡¯ moment to set in.

    Noticing her grip around the baby tightening, Cain nods. An understandable reaction. Can¡¯t say he wouldn¡¯t do the same if he saw someone cleave clean through a demon. Plus there¡¯s this look Cain has when he does it. Judas says Cain¡¯s got the eyes of a killer who knows he¡¯s got more butchering to do.

    With nothing more to do Cain sits down in a corner of the charred room and rests.

    Hours are fickle things. In the thick of the battle they fall faster than warriors, but on the sidelines, they move like sap from a tree. Over the hours following Haagenti¡¯s demise, Judas plunders the penthouse and Longinus talks to the woman. Here and there Cain caught pieces of information. Longinus would go on about his day as though they hadn¡¯t just slaughtered demons in droves and she let him in on where she was headed, but not how she was getting there.

    ¡°There¡¯s a safe haven up north for survivors. I¡¯m headed there to reconvene with Jesus and-¡±

    ¡°Then if anything here is yours. Pack it. Because we¡¯re going.¡± Cain uses his words much like he would his sword; quick and to the point.

    Cain feels a hand on his shoulder and turns when he feels it pinch him. ¡°Can I talk to you in private?¡± Longinus says, staring Cain down with those grayed out eyes. He nods his head towards the entrance before walking to the door.

    As Cain follows Longinus he notices Judas smirk while strutting over to the woman.

    Once away from the woman, her child, and Judas, Longinus speaks in a hushed tone. ¡°You think it¡¯s a good idea to bring her along? She looks so¡­.soft.¡± Longinus pauses and he frowns. ¡°I¡¯m talking about her soul, by the way,¡± he quickly adds. ¡°It¡¯s pure. The kind of soul you don¡¯t see anymore. She¡¯s a good person. Wouldn¡¯t fit well with the theme we got going. Not to mention she¡¯s got a kid.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly why she¡¯s coming with,¡± Cain reveals with a tiny glance in the woman¡¯s direction. He catches her looking at him, but then she looks away, back to Judas who doesn¡¯t seem to be making much progress. ¡°It was her weapon that allowed me to defeat Haagenti. Not to mention she doesn¡¯t seem to be bothered by my mark.¡± Longinus chuckle cuts Cain off, causing him to glare at his comrade. ¡°Why¡¯re you laughing?¡±

    ¡°So that¡¯s why, then? The ¡®Mark of Cain¡¯ doesn¡¯t affect her, so you¡¯re thinking this might be the first trim you can get in what? How many thousands upon thousands of years,¡± Longinus whispers, a poorly hidden smirk on his face. Longinus tussles Cain¡¯s hair but it isn¡¯t long before Cain bats his hand away.

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand. It¡¯s only because you¡¯ve been assigned to me that you can tolerate my mark. Otherwise, you and Judas would be like everyone else I¡¯ve ever encountered. Aggressive, weary, uncomfortable. You wouldn¡¯t be able to be around me. But she doesn¡¯t seem to notice it. I want to know why. But these aren¡¯t even the most important reasons. That is,¡± Cain says then points towards the child in her arms. ¡°Right there. That baby is mortal.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Longinus steps forward, gripping Cain¡¯s shoulders in the same motion. ¡°All the humans are dead, and new one¡¯s don¡¯t just grow on trees. So what makes you think he isn¡¯t an elf like his mom? Maybe his ears just haven¡¯t come in yet.¡±

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s a hunch.¡± Cain starts over towards the others. Once again his and the woman¡¯s gaze pass over one another¡¯s. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s something else.¡±

    A smile comes to Longinus¡¯ face while he sighs. ¡°Well, if we¡¯ve got no choice but to bring her with, then I¡¯m going to say it now. Dibs.¡±

    Judas glares at Longinus. ¡°That¡¯s the dumbest shit you¡¯ve said today, a day where you¡¯ve said nothing but dumb shit. Besides,¡± Judas scoffs as he turns his back on the mother. ¡°A girl like her is wasted on a blind guy.¡±

    Turning away from Longinus, Judas speaks to the woman. ¡°So, have a name beautiful?¡± He smiles at her and ends up bearing his two sharp vampiric teeth. Cain shakes his head. Couldn¡¯t they save this talk for the car ride?

    Surprisingly, the woman doesn¡¯t seem very bothered by Judas¡¯s fangs. In fact, she smiles, giggles even, before answering. ¡°It¡¯s Mary, Mary Magdalene.¡± Judas gasps, and Cain makes note of the name as it sounds familiar. The woman, Mary, looks down at her child and bounces him in her arms briefly. ¡°And this little guy here is Adam.¡± A long time ago, Cain might¡¯ve chuckled hearing that name. Mary looks up and her gaze scans across the men. Cain finds her eyes on him again, but they flit away the moment his threaten to catch them.

    ¡°You¡¯re Mary Magdalene,¡± Judas exclaims with his arms out, nearly lunging at Mary. ¡°Like, THAT Mary Magdalene? The one my cousin dated?!¡±

    Cain arches an eyebrow. His back meets the nearest wall in an attempt to look disinterested in the conversation. Even with his eyes off in another direction, he focuses all his effort on listening to every word spoken in detail. On occasion, mostly whenever he hears Mary, he peeks over.

    For example, now is one of those times he looks, because he can hear a soft high pitch squeak coming from the young looking mother. There¡¯s an undeniable redness to her otherwise milky cheeks. Her emerald eyes are flitting back and forth between Judas and Longinus. Longinus steps up, cupping his chin, and asks, ¡°Wait, so you¡¯re the one Jesus stepped in for, right? The one about to get stoned. My, my, you had quite the reputation young lady.¡±

    A nervous sounding peep plumes out from Mary during long pauses between her words. ¡°P-please don¡¯t bring up those stories about me. You know they aren¡¯t true, right?¡± A tiny pout inches onto her face, replacing that wide smile from earlier. Her eyes still look back and forth between Judas and Longinus, as though seeking some sort of confirmation from the men.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. You were there, weren¡¯t you Judas? What do you say,¡± Longinus asks.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know? I guess? It was a long time ago. Jesus never really brought her around too often. But we were like, 120% certain they were a thing. Outside of his mom, Mary was the only girl he ever talked to.¡± Judas chuckles.¡°Guess it was an Oedipus thing.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not true,¡± Cain speaks up. He would have walked over, but being too close to the baby just makes it cry, so he¡¯ll keep his distance. ¡°In the middle ages, Western Christianity made her out to be a prostitute. None of that¡¯s from the first gospels archived.¡± This time Cain looks at her and keeps his eyes on her even if she were to look away. Mary¡¯s gaze locks back on his. She nods, smiles and seems thankful for his words.

    Such a simple gesture from her leaves Cain¡¯s cheeks burning. It¡¯s a sensation he hasn¡¯t felt in a long time, and it¡¯s nice. But as nice as the feeling is, it¡¯s short lived. The warm feeling fades when Longinus throws his arm over Cain¡¯s shoulder and pulls him into a headlock. ¡°Leave it to the world¡¯s oldest man to be our walking fact checker. Though it still makes me wonder why they were going to stone you in the first place. Nah, shouldn¡¯t matter, they were stoning people for just about anything back then. Man, those really were the good ol¡¯ days.¡±

    Judas raises his hand. ¡°Well, how¡¯s about the stuff with Jesus? Is that canon or what? I just wanna get stories straight.¡± Judas looks at Mary for answers. Understandably, of course, Cain had no reference for this. His own eyes might show some bemusement in the idea, as much as he might be trying to convince himself that he doesn¡¯t care.

    ¡°Uhm, w-well, ¡°Mary whispers as she looks down at Adam. Cain catches it, the subtle change in her emotions. Her face had been flushed, and her eyes an unfocused strain of emerald, but when she looks down at her son she seems to level out. She holds a finger above him, and the baby reaches out and grasps it. Soft giggles parade from the two. ¡°Jesus was someone very important to me. In the end, I loved him but loved his duty more than anything else...¡± She looks up at the three, Cain in particular, at least that¡¯s how he felt. ¡°Let''s just leave it at that.¡±

    Judas tugs at his collar ¡°Oh...sorry for bringing it up.¡± It¡¯s good to see remorse from Judas. Cain often wonders if the three of them have completely given up on being nice to each other, or if they simply forgot how to be kind in general. In truth, when Cain remembers the things they¡¯ve all done he wonders if any of them even deserve kindness in the first place.

    If this woman really is the Mary Magdalene then like the three of them she has lived longer than any mortal. But unlike them, he¡¯s sure that her case is more liken to a gift than a curse.

    ¡°I-it¡¯s fine...Judas, right,¡± Mary says, rocking Adam in her arms, and from the looks of it, he¡¯s falling asleep. ¡°It was a really long time ago. I miss Jesus a lot, but we¡¯re kind of from two different worlds. He¡¯ll always have a place in my heart, but I won¡¯t trouble him with silly things like my feelings.¡± She glances down. ¡°Good, he¡¯s asleep. We can start moving my things. Do you three have a car?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Longinus says, stepping in front of Judas. ¡°It¡¯s my car.¡± He offers her a hand. ¡°Name¡¯s Longinus-¡±

    Judas grunts, he turns into a cloud of smoke to circle around Longinus. The smoke comes together as Judas with his arms extended outwards towards Mary. ¡°Load me up. Trust me, I¡¯m stronger than I look.¡± He bobs his eyebrows up and down. ¡°You and I have a lot of catching up to do. We had a pretty important mutual friend back in the day. We can talk about him, then we can talk about us. Then we can talk-¡±

    Longinus quiets Judas with a chop to the back of the head. Cain sighs. He¡¯s kind of thankful, he can only imagine how long Judas was going to keep that up. ¡°Mutual friend? Yeah, tell her the story about how you kissed him to death.¡± Longinus pulls Judas back and puts himself in front of Mary again.

    Longinus isn¡¯t there long before Judas sends him flying across the room with an elbow to the gut. ¡°What would you even talk about? How you carried out his execution? Interesting story. Let me tell you how it ends: He survives.¡± Judas pauses brings a finger to his chin and squints. ¡°More or less.¡±

    Through the hopeless display, Cain can see Mary sitting there smiling at the two. She nods when they speak, and makes sure to look back and forth between them equally. It''s a really polite display, actually. When the two end up bickering, something Cain knew was inevitable, Mary seems to focus on him. She stands up and slowly walks around the two and up to him.

    ¡°I can¡¯t wait to learn about all three of you.¡± While looking up at Cain she rubs Adam¡¯s back, as though to keep him at peace while this close to Cain. ¡°I don¡¯t think I caught your name, sir. Did you know Jesus too?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Cain,¡± He states, averting prolonged eye contact without knowing why. ¡°Didn¡¯t know him. Heard he¡¯s great. Doubt he¡¯d like me.¡± He turns his back on her and trudges towards the door. He¡¯s stopped by the tiniest tug on his right arm, the arm that he uses to wield Ichor; the arm he uses to kill.

    ¡±I-I just wanted to t-thank you...Cain, mister, um, sir!¡± He doesn¡¯t want to turn around, but the muscles in his neck are already forcing his head back. He finds her staring up at him with her big green eyes. He catches all the nuances of her visage; A tiny nose, small pert lips, and little eyebrows arching above her eyes. It''s like everything about her face is small and fragile. Opposite of his hardened sullen mess of a mug.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I would have done if you hadn¡¯t shown up.¡± Cain feels something, kind of like when he was approaching the building earlier. An anxiousness he relates to fear, but it¡¯s different. His life isn¡¯t in danger, not immediately anyway, but his heart''s still beating around like it is.

    There¡¯s a long pause, and Cain feels himself counting seconds, as though they were precious, as though he weren¡¯t immortal. ¡°I¡¯m also sorry for shooting you in the head back there. That was my bad.¡± She ends the moment bluntly. Cain stands there somewhat caught off guard by the way she talks to him. Despite living for as long as he has, there weren¡¯t a lot of people who apologized to Cain. As he¡¯s about to respond the baby wakes up and cries.

    ¡°Oh, are you hungry Adam, here, I¡¯ll feed you,¡± Mary giggles while she holds Adam in one arm and starts undoing her top. It isn''t until Cain focuses on Mary''s chest does he notice how buxom she is. With every button, she flicks open more of her fair skin is revealed to Cain and by extension his team.

    Upon seeing the light lavender color of Mary¡¯s lacy bra, Cain turns away. He hopes that Longinus and Judas do the same. ¡°Stop that,¡± He barks while feeling a heat rise up through his body to his cheeks. The mood of the room has completely changed. It almost feels like Haagenti hadn¡¯t just been slain there.

    Cain isn¡¯t looking but does hear Mary¡¯s voice. ¡°Hmm, what? Is there a problem? I can¡¯t feed him here?¡± He hears the confusion in her words. To save her the trouble he turns around and walks past her and over to Longinus and Judas. He hikes a thumb over his shoulder towards the door, trying to visually communicate with them. Neither men complain and take their leave as asked.

    Cain stays behind just a bit longer. Mostly so he can tell Mary, ¡°The car¡¯s outside. Just come out when you¡¯re done.¡±

    Without waiting for a response, Cain walks out of the room. Once around the corner, he lets out another heavy sigh of relief. He¡¯s known Mary for a handful of hours and she¡¯s already proven herself more complicated than Judas and Longinus combined. Cain wonders if he¡¯s biting off more than he can chew, but then he remembers the mortal and his resolve returns.

 Chapter 7 - Decisions - Ana

    Ana doesn''t care to keep track of how long it''s been. She remembered the sun setting and rising and sees that it now looms overhead. Through a half-lidded gaze, she watches as a sea of blues and whites rush by. Hope cries, and Ana realizes she couldn''t fake being asleep any longer. Sitting up, Ana reaches for the baby and pulls her away from the noodles that held her in place. Ana briefly rocks Hope in her arms, but can''t seem to quiet the poor thing.

    "I think she''s hungry," Ana asks without looking to Fea directly. She hasn''t looked at Fea for a few nights now; doesn''t miss the sight of her evil counterpart.

    "Again? She just ate yesterday."

    Fea''s rough groan cue Ana onto the girl''s irritation. It doesn''t seem fair to Hope, or FSM or even IPU that they have to put up with someone so easily annoyed. One could look at Fea''s behavior and actually think she''s the one that''s annoying. "Hand her to me," Fea says, causing Ana to finally glance her way. They may look alike, but Ana knows they couldn''t be any more different.

    Fea wiggles out of her noodle strap and climbs across the spaghetti until she reaches them. She takes Hope, then with a nod of her head, tells Ana, "Take the driver''s seat."

    "W-what? Me? Really?"

    Ana pauses, taken aback by the request. Fea just gives her this little look that she imagines says ''isn''t that obvious''.

    Ana''s thoughts are confirmed when Fea oh so sarcastically responds, "No not you, the baby."

    "I don''t know the first thing about Flying Spaghetti Monsters...how am I supposed to-"

    Ana says up until she''s cut off by a straight look from Fea. Her cold sapphire hues callously strike Ana''s gaze.

    "It''s easy, even an idiot like you could do it.." Fea motions to the two long appendages that end in eyeballs. "Just push em forward. We''re nearin'' the place anyway."

    Ana sighs, nods and does as she''s told. There''s no telling what Fea would do to her if she put up a fight. Then again, even Ana knows it isn''t in her nature to fight back. Especially after seeing how easily Fea has handled her opponents. Ana doesn''t know the first thing about fighting and is starting to regret passing up on Athena''s offers to teach her.

    Ana takes Fea''s spot at the center of the spaghetti creature. Noodles wrap around her waist, tightening her in place. She hesitates to touch the stalk, having noticed just how slimy they are.

    "Come on Hope, shuddup already."

    Ana overhears Fea''s ''parenting skills''. She glances back and sees Fea holding Hope up, her hands tight beneath the whining baby''s armpits. It almost looks like Fea''s shaking her.

    If Ana were to escape, could she rest well knowing the last mortal is in Fea''s clutches? Ana''s eyes are on the two, and she''s about to make a suggestion. The words are making their way from her heart to her throat, when she stops them, expecting to be yelled at again. Even so, for Hope, she decides it''s worth it. Ana''s lips part, but she stops again, not by her own doubt, but by the display before her. Fea''s brought Hope close, closer than any other time Ana''s seen them together. Fea closes her eyes and presses her forehead against Hope''s. It''s almost like Ana can hear a hymn, but it''s quiet, so quiet she can''t discern if it''s Fea or the melodic sound of the wind flying by. Regardless of the source, Hope stops crying.

    "You weren''t hungry at all, were ya?" Fea says, pulling away from the baby, an almost smile on her rough little face. "I was annoyed. Gotta watch my temper around ye. Cause once you start goin'', then I''ll start goin'' and before long we''ll both be an angry mess." A hint of something new lingers in Fea''s voice, but Ana''s not going to mistake it, not again. After letting her guard down around Fea last time, she''s cautious. She can''t afford to think in absolutes anymore.

    Noticing Fea setting Hope down, Ana looks forward again, not wanting their gazes to meet. "Not bad flyin'' for a noobie." Ana hears Fea''s voice right next to her, then feels a quick pat at on her back. "Look," Fea''s arm stretches out past Ana, and towards the ground below. "We''re here." With that said, Ana feels herself being pulled from the ''driver''s seat''. "We''ll leave him on auto-pilot for a while. The breeze up here relaxes Hope. She needs a nap."

    "Wait? We''re going down there," Ana asks, already knowing the answer.

    "Alright boy, dinner will be served soon!" Is the last thing Ana hears Fea say before she leaps from FSM, pulling Ana along with her. Ana screams and, on instinct alone, clings to Fea. "What are y''doin''? You can fly, moron!" Ana opens her eyes in time to see Fea whipping her arms outwards. Suddenly, both arms are overtaken by deep black feathers, covering every inch of her pale skin. All it takes is several heavy flaps of those wings to slow their descent. It doesn''t take too long before the two of them land gently in front of what looks like a tavern. When Fea drops her wings the plumage bursts from them, leaving her regular little girl arms to fall at her side. Fea shrugs her shoulders and Ana takes the hint and looks down to notice she''s still clinging helplessly to Fea.

    "I''m sorry," Ana squeaks as she lets go of Fea and steps back. Fea shakes her head then looks ahead to the tavern.

    Fea plucks two feathers from the plumage at her neck. She offers one of the feathers to Ana, while still holding the other one before herself. "Wear this." Without much thought, Ana reaches out and takes the feather. As soon as Ana pinches Fea''s feather between her fingers it begins to twitch as though it''s alive. Light blue energy starts swelling up around the feather and then it changes shape, growing larger and reforming altogether. The feather becomes a crow themed headdress, complete with a pelt cloak. "Let me do the talkin''." Ana hears Fea and looks up to see that she''s already wearing her''s. After a swallow and a nod, Ana drops the mask over her face.

    Surprisingly, there''s nothing loud or intrusive about the way Fea enters the tavern. Fea takes these slow long, almost elegant, bounds forward. Unsure how close she should be, Ana scurries behind Fea. She looks around and sees that they have the attention of the tavern''s many patrons. A wood shack filled to the brim with large men, scary looking women, and creatures, unlike anything Ana has ever seen. Some are fashioning pool sticks in anticipation of another game, while others sat down drinks to get a better look at the children entering their bar. To be honest, it makes Ana feel funny, but not in a silly way. She''s lost in the intimidating details, so it''s no surprise to her when she bumps into Fea and falls over. Quickly Ana gets to her feet and readjusts her mask. Laughter dances around the girls, and Ana knows it''s her fault. Despite her size, Fea does a good job at looking intimidating. Why did Fea bring her along? It isn''t like if a fight broke out Ana would be of any use to her, maybe a distraction at best. Though the most likely reason is that Fea doesn''t trust her with Hope. That''s right, now that she has an idea of how to pilot FSM there''s little else to stop her from taking off with Fea''s soon-to-be boon.

    "You two old enough to be in here," Asks a man from behind the counter. Judging by the single eye at the center of his face, the bartender is a cyclops. His skin is like clay, and his hair is short, spiky and orangish brown like rotten carrots. Aside from his sharp teeth and prominent eye, his most distinguishing feature is a large horn protruding from the back of his head. He uses a greasy rag to wipe the inside of a dirty glass.

    "Age matter? We''re goddesses, been around for hundreds of years." Fea answers in a sharp sounding voice. Several steps forward and Fea''s nearing a swivel chair at the front of the bar. After a little sigh, Ana inches forward after Fea. She makes sure to keep an eye on her surroundings, watching as others watch her, and by extension, Fea.

    Chuckling, the dapper cyclops puts down his glass and shakes his head. "Goddesses? All I see is a couple of godlings. What we sell here isn''t for you. Now run home to your mommy and daddy''s domain, and stay outta trouble."

    Ana agrees with what the cyclops has to say, and takes a precautionary step backward when she hears Fea chuckling. The laughter stops her, and she groans, having an idea by now what comes next. "What if we''re lookin'' for trouble?"

    There''s some laughing and clapping and stomping, much to the Cyclop''s chagrin. A hairy beast with ten eyes slaps his hand on the bar. His stomach, or at least what Ana thinks is a stomach, jiggles as he laughs. "Come on, let em drink! They want trouble, give em trouble!"

    "I''m not serving godlings," The cyclops barks back. He jabs a finger towards the window. "It may look like hell out there, but I still have standards. I''m gonna make an honest living, and I won''t have the Archangels on my ass, ''cause a little girl thinks she can do what big girls do."

    Nodding, Ana tugs on Fea''s wrist but can''t seem to make her budge. "He''s right, Fea, let''s just go." Fea laughs.

    "Who says the kind of trouble I want comes in a bottle?" Fea says, snatching her wrist from Ana and staggering her.

    "Don''t do this Fea," Ana says as she steps around her lookalike. She holds out her arms and shakes her head. "He''s just doing his job...Don''t tell me we came all this way just to..."

    "To take this all away from him," Fea responds before Ana even finishes speaking. "This guy''s making an honest living, alright. Peddling off cheap booze for high prices. Seems like all the assholes stranded down here have divinity to burn. So I''m thinkin'' it can go to somethin'' a lot better than their pathetic vices." Fea steps forward, but Ana tries forcing her back. It doesn''t work, and with each step, Ana gets pushed back until she feels the bar railing against her spine. "It can go to makin'' me a helluva lot stronger!"

    "Little girl." Ana turns when she hears the Cyclops'' voice. "Twice I''ve asked you to leave my bar."

    His one eye falls into focus on the two of them. The pigmentation of his cool blue skin begins to redden. As his pupil starts to glow, Ana can see red veins creeping in around his eye. In a louder, gruffer tone, he barks, "I don''t want to have to ask again." As the Cyclops says this he steps out from behind the bar, giving Ana her first full view of him. He''s a massive man, one of the biggest she''s ever seen. His forearms bulge and his biceps threaten to rip through his tight dress shirt. Even from here she can see his chest flexing against his strained top, the buttons barely holding everything in place. He bares his fangs, revealing rows of sharp teeth just past his parted lips. To make matters worse, he''s cracking his knuckles threateningly.

    The bar''s getting loud again. There''s hollering, clapping, and slapping on just about every hard surface around. Even the hairy creature is getting a kick out of it all, proclaiming, "Look, everyone, these lil girls are gettin'' to ol'' Corb!"

    It doesn''t make any sense, the cyclops, Corb, seemed reasonable just a moment ago. Ana looks at Fea and notices she''s just laughing as if this display has no effect on her whatsoever.

    "F-fea?" Ana shakes the other girl. "Come on, let''s just leave. Can''t you see how angry you''re making him?"

    Suddenly, Ana''s hands are slapped away, and she notices Fea''s gritting her teeth, and her expression is somewhere between a grimace and smirk. "Idiot," Fea snickers out. "Just watch." Fea walks towards the large figure. As she walks she speaks, and like her steps, her words are dripping in a confidence that somehow eases Ana''s nerves. "If this man knew his eye from his asshole he''d know he can''t win this fight." A hop puts Fea''s on a table, where she''s still not eye level with her opponent to be. "A smart god would just eject us from his domain, no questions asked. Unless..." Slowly, Fea''s hands work their way up towards her corvid mask. With her thumbs curved just underneath the beak, she continues, "...He wants a fight! " Those final words eagerly spring from Fea''s mouth before she flips her mask upwards, revealing her face to everyone. There are gasps and laughs intermixed with maybe an aww or two. "Once I''m done kicking your ass you''re going to bow to me...Morrigan, The Phantom Queen!"

    The room goes quiet, almost silent. There''s still voices, but Ana''s really gotta focus if she wants to hear anything. What she can pick are mostly ends or beginnings of loose sentences throughout the tavern, all about Fea. From a moment''s listen she hears "Phantom Queen" said again and again, usually paired either with a flippant or scared sounding ''no way''. The room seems mixed on if they believe Fea''s claim or not. Ana hears the door and looks up to see a few people running over one another to get through.

    Ana watches closely. Every move Fea makes needs to be noted. She can''t be left in the dark like she was when Fea fought Gilgamesh. While watching, Ana spots something subtle, a slight ruffling in the plumage at the Fea''s shoulders. The feathers shuffle, as though there''s a breeze in the room, but Ana feels nothing. Then all at once, she notices it, something in Corb. It isn''t just the snarl contorting his face, or the veins pulsating on his exposed flesh, it''s this aura he''s giving off. Ana can''t see, but she feels it in her own feathers. It''s nostalgic as though she''s felt it once before. It''s like the air is thick with his nasty intent. The last time she felt something like this was when Throoth attacked Fea. In fact, the look in Corb''s eye in the same as Throoth''s. Back then when Fea asked if she ever saw Throoth look like that she said no, and now she''s beginning to believe that Fea definitely had something to do with it.

    A blood-curdling scream forces Ana''s attention to Corb. He''s bolted towards Fea, both arms out, grasping repeatedly at the air. Once close enough, he leaps, closing any distance left between them. While wondering if Fea will move, Ana feels a twitch in her own legs. Just when it looks like Corb''s fist is going to crash into Fea, Ana winces and looks away. Even after all she''s seen, she still can''t handle violence. After watching Jesus in that intimate moment she couldn''t stand to see anyone hurt. That includes Fea.

    Only after hearing a crash does Ana look back to the scene. The sounds of gasps and huffs guide Ana''s vision To Fea. Fea''s standing with her fist out and a tremble in shoulders. In a straight line, her gaze moves from Fea''s fist forward. Past several broken tables, over a few unconscious patrons and finally through a fresh looking hole in the wall.

    There''s a clear look of disbelief painting the faces of those around her. Silence makes itself known by becoming a thick miasma throughout the room; Ana can almost taste it, and it''s stale, like days old bread. Next, comes a deep rumble; a chuckle that blossoms into a bolstering laugh. "Did all you assholes see that?" Fea spins as she shouts, as though to make sure her voice bounces off every remaining wall. "He''s not just the owner, is he? He was the strongest one here! A Fomorian!" There''s an emphasis on the last word Fea speaks, but Ana doesn''t understand why.

    Ana gauges reactions from around the room. Eyes are wide, people are easing up from their seats, and those close enough to the doors are making breaks for it. Ana''s gaze snaps back to Fea and she watches the girl pluck a feather from her around her neck. The feather straightens to such a sharp point it glints in the dim light. In a swift motion, Fea throws her arm out and whips that feather across the room. Like a small knife, it cuts through the air and comes to a loud stop in a dart board behind the bar; bullseye.

    Ana watches the single feather ruffle and glows a bright blue, then she notices a feather fall into her line of sight, then another, then two more. Like snowflakes, feathers fall freely from the ceiling. It isn''t long before the tavern is covered in the black down. Patrons are screaming her, no, their name. Some people rush for the hole left in the wall by Corb, others for the door. Then there are the few that just fall to their knees.

    "This is my domain now. Anyone here ought to bow down and swear their fealty to The Phantom Queen." It sounds like Fea might choke on her own sinister sounding laughter. "Even if you get away ya won''t make it far. I''ll come for y''all sooner or later!" Fea''s wide grin shows off her mouthful of sharp teeth. "If you do escape tell the world I''m back! The Phantom Queen is ready to finish what she started!"

    "My...divinity..." A hurt sounding voice beckons Ana''s gaze towards the hole.There she finds Corb, bruised and battered, climbing back into his bar. He reaches up towards Fea, with a hurt look having long since replaced the anger in his eye. "W-why?"

    Ana looks from Corb to Fea. She''s her staring down at him, a calloused look about her face. "I wanted your territory. Now I have it. Swear your fealty to me and I''ll let you keep this bar. You''ll sale in my name and any Orison you make will become divinity for me, got it?" Fea holds her hand out, with the backside turned up towards Corb.

    "I didn''t want to fight." Corb sounds like he''s choking, fighting something deep inside of himself. Ana feels sorry for the cyclops. A likely trend that will continue throughout anyone she and Fea encounter. "You can''t be her. The Phantom Queen...Morrigan, she''s...she''s supposed to be dead!" Clutching his head, Corb crawls towards Fea. "You look like her, sure, but that''s what all her kind look like. B-but the way you made me feel. You took my temperament out of my hands. You made me...want to kill you." Corb staggers to his feet but his stance is shaky. Fea looks like she couldn''t care less about the man''s epiphany. "You''re really The Phantom Queen..."

    Next thing Corb does is rush over fall to his knees and kiss Fea''s hand over and over again. As he does this he begins to glow, as does Fea. She exhales softly, and the faint aura surrounding him moves up and into her. This is what it looks like when someone swears fealty. Fea yanks her hand away and hikes a thumb over her shoulder. "Beat it. Be back here bright n'' early. Those drinks aren''t gonna sell themselves." Corb nods, again and again, fear clear in every little bob of his head. As ordered Corb leaves his bar, his territory, to The Phantom Queen.

    "Well," Fea finally lets out a much softer sounding giggle. "That wasn''t so bad. Went a lot smoother than I anticipated." Fea hops down from the table and begins over to the bar. "Give me a hand would ya? Let''s grab as much stuff as we can and get it to one of my larger domains," Fea says from behind the bar, where she''s no doubt rummaging through stuff the way she did at Ana''s apartment. "There''s gotta be something around here that Hope can eat..."

    Stealing is wrong, but stealing to protect a baby isn''t so bad. Though stealing for a baby, just so you can use that baby, to steal more stuff for yourself can''t possibly be right.

    "I don''t get it," Ana whispers, shaking her head as she does. "Why do you have to do this to people? It''s one thing to be a leader and ask people to follow you, but it''s another thing to force them." She ends up pulling off her mask, so she can lock eyes with Fea. " Why''re you so cruel?"

    Fea doesn''t answer right away, and Ana hopes it''s because she''s thinking about her words. Admittedly, Ana doesn''t know how any of this works and can only go off of what she''s learned from her time with Fea, and from what Jesus and Throoth have told her. So sure, she''s naive, even so, this can''t be the only way to gain loyalty.

    "So you think what I''m doin'' is ''cruel''?" Fea doesn''t glare at Ana, which isn''t so much reassuring as it is disturbing because she''s making an un-fea like face. Fea looks serene. "I''m no different than any other deity. This is what ya have to do to survive. If you think that your friends never had to defend their territory or take divinity from others to secure your ''perfect little life'' then you''re dumber than you look."

    "W-well, I look like you so..." Ana says in a huff, her eyes narrowing desperately. Even though she was trying to look angry, she fears she looks sadder than anything. "I admit that I don''t know how anything in the world works. I''m a stupid little girl. But, I was happier before. S-so I want that back. I want my old, safe, stupid life back. I''d rather be a happy idiot than a monster like you any day!"

    A gust almost pushes Ana over. It only took a second for Fea to go from behind the bar to right in Ana''s face.

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    "You abandoned them." Right then Fea hoists Ana up off the ground by the collar of her shirt. "Yer the one who pushed me out your window. Yer the one who ran to my domain. Yer the one who stuck with me, even after you knew your friends were willing to fight to get you back." Slowly, Fea tilts her head causing her red hair to brush along her freckled face. "Yer friends fought for you. Then I took you under my wing. But you don''t appreciate anything. You''re a selfish brat, ya know that?"

    Ana feels those words burning through her. She feels like crying and probably is. Yeah, there''s the wetness running down her cheeks.

    No one has ever talked to her like that. Ana wraps her arms around herself, as though it''d be enough to shield her from Fea''s words. What hurts most is the truth Ana finds in them. She did run away with Fea because she wasn''t sure she could face Throoth and Jesus again. Then she was so torn up about Jesus'' death she didn''t think for a moment how anyone else felt. They must be hurting just as bad, Throoth especially. If she loved Jesus even half as much as Ana did, then she''s missing him right now. And if Throoth misses Ana like she misses her, then her heart must be breaking.

    "I''m sorry...I shouldn''t have yelled at you." Sniffles fight back tears but lose out, and Ana''s words can only barely make it through her trembling lips. "I....I just... wanna go home..." Ana mutters, bawling and babbling from word to word. "I wanna see Throoth and everyone again. I wanna be with my friends...so please...please take me home now..."

    Ana hits the ground rear first when Fea releases her. "Then go. Leave. I don''t care." Sharp, cold, matter-of-fact, Fea''s words hit Ana so hard she can''t stand. She loses Fea''s gaze, and can only watch the girl''s back as she walks back to the bar. "I know your type. Incorruptible Pure Pureness. Thinking yer doin'' the right thing, you''ll tell your friends ''bout Hope."

    Fea stops and lets the pause linger, it feels purposeful like she wants the tension to ripen. Slowly, Fea turns her body, until Ana sees her glowing blue eyes. Fea tilts her head as she speaks in a hushed tone. "Then your friends will tell the whole world and everyone will come for Hope. Then you''ll see that there are gods in this world much worse than I. You''ll learn the same way I did."

    Once again, Ana loses track of Fea''s eyes and is left with only the sight of the swaying black plumage beneath her red hot hair. "Not everyone can be happy."

    Ana doesn''t know how to process Fea''s words, at least not immediately. There''s a shiver inside of her, and she lets it out so that she can speak, but only manages a soft whine.

    "Who let a couple of kids in here?"

    A masculine sounding voice gets Ana''s attention. She sees a young looking male, older than Jesus but younger than Gilgamesh, emerge from the back room waving his damp looking hands, drying them. He''s wearing a toga, much like Athena''s. Draped over his shoulders is what looks like a lion''s pelt, but it carries with it this odd golden luster. Beneath the head of the pelt, as though emerging from the lion''s mouth is his pinkish hair which comes into several fine pointed spikes. There''s a softness to his face that contrasts with his visibly muscular figure. He peers around the room with his pair of red dead fish eyes.

    "Was he in the bathroom?" Fea asks herself aloud, which raises Ana''s suspension as well. "What kind of god has to go to the bathroom?"

    "Hey, Achilles? Where are ya?"

    The young man calls out, his eyes tracing over the room. Following this Ana hears a sound, a loud sharp painful sound. A slap echoes throughout the tavern and soon enough two more figures emerge from the back. The first is a female cyclops adjusting her top, and looking rather angry, her one large eye narrowed. Another young man, of similar age, build and complexion to the one in the lion pelt, follows after her.

    "Sorry about that! Your eye looks kinda like a target."

    He''s got the beginnings of a beard in the form of light peach fuzz along his square jaw. He wears a gold chest plate, bracers and a rather thick greave on his right leg. Instead of a lion pelt, he''s donning a long white cloak, held together by a golden amulet. His hair also has a pink tint but it''s wavy and runs down along his neck. There are three spears strung up over his left shoulder.

    "Achilles," the first man turns to him, balling his hands into fists, before punching one into the other as he continues, "I go to the bathroom for one second and you just disappear? Look, the bar''s a total mess now. We must have missed a good scrap. You were supposed to be on the lookout and call me if anything fun was going on."

    The ''suave'' looking man, Achilles, chuckles and shakes his head. "Well, I got bored and sought out some entertainment." He flicks his wrist, lightly batting his hand against the first male''s chest. "Come on Herc. Just think of this way. You had to relieve yourself, I had to relieve myself. Now if another fight does break out, we''ll be at 100 percent."

    "Nobody can handle our 100 percent, Achilles."

    The first male, ''Herc'', responds in a groan and a palm to the face. "A slight disadvantage would be a lot more fun. I mean, come on, how are we gonna get stronger if we''re never pushed to our limits?"

    "Herc." Achilles shrugs his shoulders, looks to the ceiling and sighs. "I''ve got some news for you. We have no limits. We just might be the strongest SOB''s on Midgard." Herc looks like he''s going to respond when Achilles throws his arm out and laughs. "Are you not satisfied sparring with me anymore? I thought what we had was special."

    Herc rolls his eyes and shakes his head while crossing his arms. "Let''s just say there''s a charm to our fights. They last way. too. long."

    Fea clears her throat and gets the attention of the two boys. Their expressions seem uninterested at first, but then Herc''s hardens and Achilles, well, he gets this really wry-looking smile.

    "This bar''s under new management," Fea says with a cheeky grin, one hand on her hip and the other lavishly dancing around before her. "From here on out the owner answers to me. If you''re regulars you should swear your fealty to me as well." Shrugging her shoulders, Fea adds, "I might convince the ol'' one eyed wonder to give you a discount on drinks!"

    Neither boy responds at first, but Herc does begin digging in his ear. After twirling his pinky about for a bit, he pulls it out, examines it, then flicks the contents of his exploration elsewhere. "Athena said you''d be tiny and annoying, but I had no idea you''d be this bad."

    Ana''s eyes perk up, and she feels her feathers ruffle. This boy knows Athena.

    Narrowing her eyes, Fea grunts a response. "What?"

    Herc puts one of his arms into the sling of his toga and walks towards them. "Small. Cute. Ruby red hair. Sapphire blue eyes. Neat ebony feathers. A single horn on the side of her head." He says, gesturing with his index finger in a wide swoop along the side of his head, pantomiming a horn. He stops in front of Fea, unaffected by the fact that she''d just robbed Corb of his domain. His eyes narrow as he continues speaking. "She''ll be in the company of someone who looks similar, yet different. Tiny. Annoying. Blood red hair. Sea blue eyes. Wild black feathers. A single horn on the opposite side of her head."He repeats the gesture from before, this time on the opposite side. He glances at Ana. His eyes move up and down as though studying her, then they fall back on Fea. "I''ve been instructed to be on the lookout for the cute one. Didn''t expect to run into you two this soon though." His hardened expression cracks, revealing a rather kind looking smile. "This''ll make my lil sis real happy."

    When Herc smiles Ana notices a resemblance that she can''t believe she missed. It also helps that he referred to Athena as his little sister. So Ana''s easily able to piece it together given all the stories she''d heard from Athena herself. This boy must be..."Herakles! You''re Herakles, Athena''s big brother, aren''t you?"

    Herc scoffs and laughs all at once. "Herakles, haven''t heard that in a long time." He shakes his head and explains, "I prefer Hercules, or Herc for short." Slowly, he moves past Fea and towards Ana. "Now come on, let''s get you back."

    Suddenly Achilles slides in, blocking Ana''s view of Hercules. There''s a big grin on his face, and he''s reaching out and grabbing at the air. Eventually, his hand falls on a nearby chair and he pulls it before himself and sits with the back facing Ana.

    "Wow, your sister was right, Herc; she is cute." Cupping his chin, Achilles squints his eyes and turns his head slightly. "I mean, she''s a bit small for my taste, but I''m not one to shy away from trying new things. She''s definitely up your alley, though." Resting his chin in his hands, Achilles winks and asks, "So red, what are we drinkin'' tonight?"

    Admittedly, Ana is confused about everything going on around her. Heat rises to her cheeks as a result of being called cute time and time again. She didn''t really think or know if she was attractive in that way at all, but apparently, someone outside of Athena seems to think so. She always just thought it was the older girl''s way of teasing her.

    Herc grips Achilles'' shoulder. Ana can see him behind Achilles, his eyes narrow and a scowl forms on his face, there''s also a red tinge to his cheeks. "There was another special instruction from Athena." The cloth making up Achilles cape begins to fold around Herc''s tightening grip. "Don''t let Achilles near her."

    It looks like Achilles is in the motion of turning around when Ana hears a loud thud and sees Fea''s fist smashing into the side of Herc''s face. Ana gasps in surprise, but despite how powerful the attack looks, beyond the contorting of his features, Hercules doesn''t seem phased. Slowly, he reaches up and grabs a hold of Fea''s ankle.

    Before she even knows what''s happening, Ana hears a loud crash and turns her head to the side, only to see a smaller hole next to the one Corb had made earlier. Ana looks back up at Herc, the attack hadn''t done anything but worsen the frown on his scary mug. He blows a few loose tousled strands of pink hair out of his face, exhales, then lets go of Achilles. Hercules puts his arm back into the sling of his loose toga and walks towards the hole Fea had made.

    "Athena mentioned that too, y''know. That you had a mean streak a mile long and seemed to be itching for a fight. After hearing that, I was hoping you were going to make this fun for me." Loud cracks echo through the bar as Herc balls one hand into the other. Herc stops and looks back at Achilles, who has begun inching his way back towards Ana and points a finger at him, before gesturing to her.

    "No touching. No looking. No talking. No anything." he deadpans, before turning back to the hole.

    Ana sighs in relief when she sees Fea climbing back into the bar. Outside of a few tears in her dress and some rumpled feathers here and there she doesn''t look too bad.

    Fea takes a deep breath and lets her arms hang at her sides. Her eyes narrow and she stretches her limbs, starting with her arms and ending with her legs. "Okay, crunch time Annie. These jackasses are your ticket home." Ana watches Fea''s gaze move from her over to Hercules who''s back on the approach. "You can go with em, but know this. I''m gonna fight tooth and nail for what''s mine. That includes that baby."

    "Whoa." Ana hears Achilles pipe up from right behind her. Somehow, he sounds closer than he was before. "You have a kid already? Wow, they start younger and younger these days, don''t they?"

    Ignoring the peanut gallery, Fea continues her speech. "I''ll fight every army in the 9 realms. I''ll take on the strongest Archangel. I''ll even fight my way outta hell if they try to lock me up." In an exaggerated whip of her arm, Fea points at herself. "Nobody is defeating me because I''m The Phantom Que-!-"

    THWACK

    Fea''s head snaps back as Herc flicks her forehead with a single finger. Ana doesn''t think he hit her as hard as he could have because Fea doesn''t go flying back like last time. Still, Ana does wince and cover her own nose. With a bored look on his face, Herc points at Fea.

    "Yadda, yadda, yadda. Yeah, I get it, you think you''re a big shot or something. Doesn''t matter to me, we gonna fight already or what?"

    Fea keels forward, trembling as she clutches her face before straightening up and glaring at him. "Augh, that...you motherfu-"

    Herc rolls his eyes and taps her on the nose as though she''s some small animal.

    "Hey. Language. You said you had a kid around, right? So watch your mouth."

    "That rule only applies to her, right Herc?" Ana hears Achilles again. Though she''s barely paying any attention to him given the current situation. Ana finds her hands balling into fists at her sides, as though she hopes it will help Fea somehow. But she has to wonder, isn''t Fea the bad guy in this situation? Athena sent her brother to find Ana, he''s doing the right thing, so why does she want Fea to win? Especially after how hurtful her words were earlier.

    Fea flips away from Herc. When she lands on a table Fea plucks two handfuls of feathers from her shoulders. "Ya sucker punched me. Don''t expect to get that lucky again," Fea declares in a nasally voice, no doubt a result of her clearly busted nose. No more words are wasted, as she leaps into the air, kicking over the table in the process. While midair she spins several times, with each turn Fea throws out some of her feathers, which sharpen as they whiz by Herc.

    Grimacing, Herc turns and flips that pelt of his over his shoulder. Ana expects the feathers to cut right through, but instead, they bounce off and sound like clashing metal. In that quick exchange, the pelt flashes gold, before Herc whips it back behind himself.

    Ana feels a tap on her shoulder and glances over to see Achilles leaning forward, hunched over the back of his seat. "The Nemean Lion. Its fur was impervious to attacks, and its claws could cut through any metal." His eyebrows arch and he points at Herc. "Can you believe he was naked when he slew the poor thing?" He punches a hand into his fist. "Story goes he just knocked its block off with his bare hands...or a club. Can''t remember. Hold on a sec." He looks up to the fight and puts a hand near his mouth. "Hey, Herc, remind me; you kill the lion with your hands or the club?"

    Ana''s gaze hurriedly returns to the fight, where she finds Herc trudging towards Fea, pelt raised and deflecting more feathers. He peeks back, mouth agape. "I used my-" Is all Herc finishes before he''s silenced by Fea''s crotch.

    "Try keepin'' yer eyes on the prize, buddy!"

    Fea''s lithe legs tighten around Herc''s head. She twists her body and somehow manages to send the larger boy careening towards a banister. It looks like she''s finally got Herc, but just as he''s about to crash, his body flips upright and he lands perfectly, crouched like some sort of cat. Herc blitzes forward, managing to reach Fea before she can land after her last attack.

    Unperturbed, Herc picks Fea up her head.

    "I think this calls for a powerbomb."

    Fea''s eyes widen.

    "What''s a powerbomb?"

    Achilles whistles from alongside Ana. "WHOO YEA, POWERBOMB!" he nudges Ana, "You''re gonna love this."

    Herc glances back to Achilles."Table!"

    "Coming up!"

    Achilles shouts as he kicks the nearest table to Herc.

    The sound of the wood scraping along the ground fills Ana with dread which only grows when she watches it comes to a stop right in front of Herc and Fea. Fea glances over her shoulder at the table, before looking back to Herc.

    "Consider what you''re-" Fea doesn''t get to finish as Herc swings her forward, slamming her through the table with a tremendous crash and straight into the floor beneath it.

    On contact with the ground Fea''s body bursts. Ana gasps as she watches the girl become nothing but a mess of feathers spill out across the floor. When the feathers are far enough from Herc''s reach they become tiny baby crows. Chirping like mad, the miniature corvids fly to the bar. The flock congeals into a black and red mass that quickly reshapes until becoming Fea. At first, she''s panting, but those strained breaths soon become a deep rumbling chuckle.

    "Yer pretty good. Not gonna deny that. Stronger than me, that''s for sure," Fea says, a smirk creeping onto her face. "But it takes more than brawn to win a fight! I''ve fought plenty of gods that''re a helluva lot stronger than me. Didn''t stop me then, ain''t gonna stop me now!"

    "There you go talking again kid," Herc says while stepping forward. This time Fea cuts him off as a sudden updraft of feathers stop Herc in his tracks. The feathers beat around the room, slicing and dicing tables, chairs, and walls. Through squinted eyes, Ana sees Herc''s exposed skin being cut by the feathers. It''s then Ana notices she isn''t being harmed at all. Ana checks on Achilles and much like Herc, the feathers are hitting his body, but unlike his companion, they don''t seem to leave any marks.

    Ana stands up. Her hair dances in the wind and an endless swirl of feathers dart around her.

    "Hey Herc, ya wanna tag out?!" Achilles calls through the gale of sharpened quills. "Pointy things are kinda my specialty!"

    "I''ll ask one more time." Ana and Fea''s gazes meet through the tornado of back feathers and chopped wood. "Do ya wanna see how bad it really gets? Or will ya be able to keep my secret once you''re back home?"

    "You''ll really let me go with them," Ana questions while stepping forward, through sharp winds that part for her.

    "Just promise you''ll think of the brat." Ana can''t tell for certain due to the stream of whirling black muddying her vision, but she''s sure Fea''s expression softened. "Keep her a secret..."

    "No!" She hasn''t an idea what spurs her on to say that right then. Instead of thinking why, she just repeats it, "No!" Shaking her head, Ana continues forward through the gust. "I wanna go home. I wanna be with my friends." Each step feels heavier than the last, as though the wind is picking up the closer she gets to Fea. "I miss them so much, and I know they miss me too." Feeling around, Ana''s hands fall atop a swivel chair. She tightens her grip on the sides of the chair and pulls herself up onto it. A few slight turns of her body is all it takes to balance herself atop the stool. Her gaze rises up and finds Fea''s, right before her. Smiling through the cloud of quills and woodchips, Ana continues speaking softly. "But I think Hope needs someone like me around. At least for a little while longer."

    "You''re so..."

    Fea''s voice reaches Ana, and then a touch brings Ana closer. She feels Fea''s arm around her waist, then she''s lifted onto the counter. There''s something tickling Ana''s shoulder, and she finds it''s Fea''s plumage shuffling about. Ana looks out and sees Fea''s gale dying down. "Stay out of their line of sight." Once the gust subsides gone Ana sees Herc and Achilles again, now wrestling with one another. Herc has Achilles in a headlock, but it isn''t long before Achilles turns it around and gets his companion in an armbar. Herc answers with a suplex.

    "Ya comin," Fea whispers as she ducks down and starts crawling around the bar.

    "R-right." Ana steps down off the bar and follows Fea. She stays crouched, much like the girl before her as they walk around flipped tables, and sneak past the wrestling boys. Ana notices Herc and Achilles'' eyes both have the same red as Corb''s had earlier. Regretfully, Ana whispers, "I''m sorry..." before rushing towards the large hole left over from Corb earlier. She stops next to Fea, who''s standing guard at the hole for some reason. "Fea?"

    "Just a minute..." Fea narrows her eyes as she plucks a feather from her plumage. It straightens out, and Ana sees a sharp glint along the feather''s edge. "Steady....steady..." Just as the feather leaves Fea''s hand, Ana tackles her. "What the hell!?"

    Pouting, Ana pins Fea. "If I''m staying with you there are gonna have to be some serious changes." Ana glances back into the bar. "We shouldn''t attack people for no reason. You took over this territory and now we have a way out. You won. That''s great. Let''s go." As Ana finishes she hears the last bits of life escaping the tavern in the form of strained wooden groans. She looks over and notices that Fea''s feather stabbed into one of banister barely standing after her little trick earlier. It stays for maybe a second or two more before snapping in on itself, causing the entire tavern to collapse on top of Hercules and Achilles. Ana stares, mouth agape.

    "Nice one," Fea chuckles before slipping out of Ana''s grip and pulling them both to their feet. Taking the time to dust herself off, Fea walks a small circle around Ana. "Lemme grab some of this taverns divinity." Fea steps towards the yards of debris that used to be a tavern. "Heh, if you killed those two assholes, I might get their divinity too. " Hoping that isn''t the case Ana tugs at her skirt and yanks on her bangs. Fea crouches down, touches a single hunk of wood. Blue energy flutters up from the wood and into Fea''s arm. Soon the light encompasses the rest of Fea''s body and then swirls into her chest. She exhales softly then stands up.

    "So are they..." Ana asks expectantly, looking back and forth between Fea and the pile. Fea scratches her cheek and glances away. The physical display does nothing for Ana''s nerves. Just then, Ana hears two loud grunts and sees the debris shifting out of place to make room for both boys as they climb out. " Thank goodness!" Ana sighs in relief. They''re okay, and from the looks of it, the red glint has left their eyes as did Fea''s control of their emotions.

    "Dinner''s done! Come and get it! We''re having spaghetti!" Fea calls out while taking Ana''s wrist and running away. It isn''t long before Ana hears the loud sound of gnashing noodles. FSM causes quite the updraft as he descends before them. Fea tosses Ana up, and FSM catches her mid-air. Ana shivers as FSM''s noodle wraps tightly around her then settles her in nice and close to a sleeping Hope. Fea climbs up one of the larger noodles. Once she''s on the creature she sits down between his eye stalks and puts a hand on both tendrils.

    "Ana!" Herc shouts as he and Achilles come running up to FSM. "You don''t have to go with her! We can protect you!" He says while skidding to a stop and throwing up an arm that stops Achilles as well.

    "Get bent asshole!" Fea says from her seat and flips her middle finger up at Hercules, whatever that means.

    A horrible feeling plumes in Ana''s stomach, but a glance to Hope helps fight it back long enough for her to call out to Herc. "Can you please deliver a message for me, Hercules?" Tears form in her eyes, and her lips quiver, but she keeps shouting anyway. "Let everyone know I love them all very much and I''ll be home really soon! "

    Ana''s gaze rests with Herc''s for just a bit before she ultimately looks back to Hope, sleeping peacefully beside her. "There''s just something important I have to do first."

    "Hey, Herc," Achilles says while patting Herc on the shoulder. "First one to kill it gets a date with your sister." Next thing she knows Achilles is chucking a spear at FSM. She turns to see Fea yanking FSM''s eye stalks away from the tavern.

    ""Bon App¨¦tit!"

    They once again take to the sky at a tremendous speed. Ana takes one last glance down and watches her way home shrink away in the distance.

    ---

    "Shit!" Fea''s fist slams into one of the many coils of pale noodle surrounding her, and it causes FSM to groan. His entire body rumbles out the sound and Ana notices Hope''s face react. "Oh sorry,"Fea pets a stray noodle. "Just kinda pissed how much of a waste this trip turned out to be. I picked up more territory just to lose it a little while later." She grits her teeth and shakes her head. "Those guys wouldn''t have sworn fealty anyway. A shame, they were pretty damn strong."

    One of FSM''s noodles trails up Fea''s back and coil around her midsection. It travels all the way up her body and comes to a stop at the side of her face, where it brushes against her cheek. "I''m fine boy," she chuckles. "I got a bit banged up, but you know I''ve survived worse." The sound of Fea laughing up here in the sky with no one else around is a lot more comforting than her chuckles in the midst of battle. "That guy was nothin'' compared to them. Fights like that are just a reminder why I can''t give up yet. I''ll get stronger. Promise." Ana overhears Fea''s words and things make a little more sense. So there''s someone out there who Fea wants to fight. Maybe it''s someone who hurt her? It couldn''t just be a physical pain because Ana''s seen Fea take a pretty bad beating and shrug it off. Whoever the person is, they must be a whole other kind of bad to make Fea seem sympathetic.

    "Hey dumbass."

    Fea''s voice rattles through Ana''s ears and pulls her from her thoughts. Even though she''s addressed Ana, Fea''s attention remains on the setting sun in the distance. "She''s gonna be worth it." Those words weigh Ana''s gaze down to Hope. The baby girl yawns and Ana can''t help but comb her fingers through the baby''s hair. "You''ll see. You won''t regret it."

    Smiling, almost sadly, though she isn''t quite sure why, Ana responds, "Yeah. I know."

 Chapter 8 - The Killers Code - Azrael

    First law of the Killer¡¯s Code: Respect the elders.

    ¡°Azzy, why¡¯d you drag me out here,¡± Nemain complains from behind Azrael. He stands on a cliff across from what might¡¯ve been a landfill, or perhaps all that¡¯s left of a small town. Everything blurs together in this gray, burnt out husk of a realm.

    ¡°Azzy,¡± Nemain says again in a much higher pitch. ¡°Hey, Azzy. Are you ignoring me?¡± He doesn¡¯t respond, even as she prods his back with a straight finger.

    ¡°Azzy.¡± Every utterance of his name comes with another poke.

    ¡°AzzyAzzyAzzzy.¡±

    When Azrael looks over his shoulder he finds a ripple forming in the space behind them. Hel steps from the gateway and without so much as a passing nod, she picks up Nemain. Hel holds Nemain in her arms, where she writhes against the much larger girl¡¯s grip.

    ¡°You keep this up and I¡¯ll get the baby sling,¡± Hel says in a dry tone.

    ¡°No,¡± Nemain gasps, ¡°not the dreaded baby sling!¡±

    ¡°So stop distracting him.¡± Hel pauses and Azrael hears her cloak rustling, she must¡¯ve been putting Nemain down. ¡°He¡¯s studying.¡±

    Second law of the Killer¡¯s Code: Seniority is weighed in souls taken, not years lived.

    There¡¯s still so much Azrael has to learn. He hadn¡¯t sensed Hel¡¯s arrival. Even now, the only presences he can count are Nemain¡¯s and his own.

    Azrael refocuses on the sight before him. The lot is empty but doesn¡¯t stay that way for long.

    A centaur gallops onto the scene. He has a briefcase beneath his arm and makes sure to keep the cloak around his shoulder pulled up high enough to hide his face. There are two other creatures with him as well, likely the centaur¡¯s bodyguards. They¡¯re lower than deities but greater than mortals; swine that doesn¡¯t even deserve classification.

    As expected of a military figure, the centaur¡¯s right on time. Azrael, like his master, had been fed this specific time and location. The one who ordered the hit on the centaur called him out here for some sort of exchange, no doubt over the contents of the briefcase. As the job isn¡¯t Azrael¡¯s he doesn¡¯t have all the details. What he does know is that the centaur was a member of The Olympian army during The Apocalypse and that he¡¯s been selling information about the family ever since Midgard lost contact with the other Realms. Given there¡¯s no way any of these proceedings could have reached Zeus, Azrael suspects this job was orchestrated by the members of the Centaur¡¯s own platoon. The Olympians may be considered snakes by every other pantheon but it¡¯s hard to deny the loyalty they show one another.

    It¡¯s funny how guilty the centaur looks and how shitty his situation is but yet he¡¯s still here. That¡¯s what The Apocalypse does to people. This guy is willing to sell out his own familia, come out to some shady ass ditch to be murdered and all for the chance to get his hands on a little bit of orison. Azrael can¡¯t blame him though. This could very well be the last shot at divinity he gets.

    In spite of the hard times, The Reaper refuses to budge on the organization¡¯s methods. Their prices haven¡¯t changed and their standards sure as hell haven¡¯t either. It was already hard enough for people to come up with the orison to stage an assassination, what makes The Reaper think it¡¯s going to be any easier with a recession looming? Or does she just not care if they go hungry so long as their stylish status is preserved?

    ¡°You still haven¡¯t told me why you brought me along, Azzy. He¡¯s not my teacher,¡± Nemain grumbles, and while Azrael pretends not to notice his thoughts cling to her words. He¡¯s at odds with himself. Stay and learn, or leave and satisfy Nemain. Well, she could go, but then he¡¯d get very little insight on the coming display.

    ¡°That¡¯s a good point. I wonder why he brought you here,¡± Hel says sarcastically.

    A rolling wind seizes Azrael¡¯s attention. The breeze doesn¡¯t come alone, as a soft whistle sheds from the biting air. By now Azrael has the tell committed to memory. A low hum beneath a careless wind carrying the bitter taste of soot and blood. It¡¯s his teacher¡¯s calling card. Funny, Azrael¡¯s earliest lesson involved calling cards, trademarks and signatures and how he shouldn¡¯t have one. His murders should be indistinguishable from fatal happenstance. Another lesson that followed was that Azrael could have a signature if he was talented enough to afford one.

    Azrael watches a stream of white lily petals float by the centaur. As he stares, eyes locked forward, he feels a nipping chill at the base of his neck. The unknowing prey looks around while rubbing their hands together for warmth.

    ¡°Azzy,¡± Nemain whispers in a shaky voice, ¡°did it just get really cold?¡±

    ¡°Quiet Raven,¡± Azrael whispers. ¡°I just need you to watch this as closely as you can.¡±

    For good measure Azrael lets his arms hang loose. His fingers go taut and the ends of his fingernails heat up. He feels blood running down from his heart, through his veins, over his knuckles, and to his nails. From the tips of his fingers comes his thread. Long, thin and gleaming in the light, his wires snake down to the ground and then some. Subtle twitches of his fingers command the thread, allowing him to position them around Nemain. All it would take is a single flick of his pinky and he could restrain her, any more pressure, or a tug with any other finger and he¡¯d cut through her skin. His scythe demands a steady hand.

    Nemain has the tendency to lose herself when exposed to blood. So Azrael has to make sure she doesn¡¯t get too excited during the show. At the same time, he absolutely needs her to watch his teacher¡¯s every move, even more intently than he does.

    Third Law of the Killer¡¯s Code: Never kill without pay.

    ¡°I don¡¯t wanna miss this.¡±

    Even when Hel sits down she still towers over Azrael. The giantess summons her rifle and stares at battlefield through her scope. Azrael looks back to the lot where the targets back away as a figure appears before them. In comes the smell of death then the sounds of creaking bones making way for muscle. Damp cloth drags along the sand. There¡¯s a flickering light that extends out from a helmet atop his head. The glow flashes in and out, diced up between the four targets standing like deer¡¯s in his headlights. Worn hands tremble atop a pickaxe used a walking cane. Wrinkles crease along his long, soot-covered face, curving around to the back of his head by way of pointed batlike ears. He reeks of coal and minerals, and every step brings with it an updraft of soot. The ¡®old man¡¯ is here; Supay.

    Supay comes to a stop before his prey. Looking up at them, the old man cocks his neck to the side, a crack accompanies the motion. The group of dead men approaches, the centaur front and center.

    ¡°You the guy,¡± asks the centaur, to which Supay says nothing. The centaur clears his throat. ¡°You the guy?¡± Again, nothing. So the centaur holds up the briefcase. Shakes it a little. ¡°About Ares. Remember?¡±

    Soot blows into Azrael¡¯s eyes, but he doesn¡¯t blink.

    ¡°Azzy,¡± Nemain¡¯s voice creeps along his ear but he doesn¡¯t look at her. ¡°Those men...they¡¯re about to...¡± He hears her panting and the way her voice shifts back and forth between sounding scared and aroused.

    It¡¯s different when they¡¯re in control. When they pick and choose who dies they don¡¯t feel this unholy helplessness. He¡¯s only felt this way once before, and he shudders in spite of himself. This must be what their targets feel like all the time.

    ¡°I don¡¯t wanna see it. It¡¯s gonna be bad, real bad, I know it. I know it...!¡±

    After that, she shrieks. It happens when she¡¯s ill-prepared and hasn¡¯t taken ¡®flight¡¯ yet. This is why Azrael needs to prep her, show her a bit of blood before the curtains rise. That screech lets Azrael know for certain that these men do die here. Nemain senses it, now she just has to see it happen, then he¡¯ll know.

    Nemain¡¯s loud scream shatters Azrael¡¯s eardrums and puts him on his knees. He glances over to find the targets keeling over in pain, though Supay and Hel seem unphased. Azrael whips his arms up and stretches his fingers. Wires tighten around Azrael¡¯s shoulders and hoist him to his feet. He steps towards Nemain, but her unending cry forces him back.

    Wires entangle around Nemain¡¯s horns and once Azrael feels he¡¯s gotten the leverage he forces his thread to tighten. Kicking his leg back and driving his arms down cause the wires to tug Nemain¡¯s head upwards, taking her eyes off the quarry.

    ¡°Eyes up,¡± Azrael demands, feeling the shake from the timbre of his voice. He¡¯s shaking so much he almost can¡¯t control himself. In that moment Azrael can¡¯t tell his twitching thumbs from his other fingers. His eyes widen when he hears a cry from behind him. ¡°Raven?¡± Azrael turns at once.

    Fourth Law of the Killer¡¯s Code: No distractions.

    ¡°Something cut me...¡± Nemain rubs her arm then pulls her hand away to reveal her painted red palm. Soon the ruby on her hand reflects in her eyes. A long, soft gasp leaves her quivering body; Banshee¡¯s taken flight.

    Banshee squirms in place. As Banshee gyrates, she runs her hands up her curvy midsection. ¡°Azzy,¡± she begins in a lusty voice. ¡°I wanna have fun~¡± Following a vapid giggle she leaps up into the air. She spins and summons her scythe mid-twirl. Black feathers dance around her, momentarily disarming Azrael with the beauty of it all.

    ¡®Shit,¡¯ he thinks to himself as he works to restrain Nemain while keeping an eye on Supay. He whips both his arms outwards, then flicks his wrist downwards. He flexes fingers over and over again until he gets his wires where he wants them. One more tug ties Banshee up, restraining her in midair. She moans and Azrael feels it vibrating all the way through his wires and into his core. Azrael lowers Banshee to the ground, where he props her up and shifts her in a way where she can watch Supay¡¯s display.

    ¡°So that¡¯s how you do it,¡± Hel notes from beside Azrael.

    He mentally chastises himself for having slipped up. Though an annoyance, Banshee¡¯s talents make it all worth it. Hel might have figured out how Azrael does his work, but now Azrael could find out how Supay does his.

    Azrael refocuses on Supay as the man finally reaches his grounded targets. The centaur glares up at him and tries to get to his feet, but stumbles, still discombobulated from Banshee¡¯s wail earlier. Azrael¡¯s breathing picks up and matches Banshee¡¯s own anticipating breaths.

    ¡°Come on...do it....dooo it...¡±

    Then, Banshee¡¯s wish comes true. The Centaur and his men fall to the ground, blood leaking from their mouths, stomachs bloated, eyes red and dimmed. Azrael shivers.

    ¡°Wow.¡± Azrael looks over as Hel puts away her scythe and stands up. ¡°That was awesome. S¡¯always a pleasure watching an old master reap. Wouldn¡¯t you agree, Azrael?¡±

    Azrael wants to grit his teeth, wants to lower his brow, wants to scowl, scream and call her a liar. He doesn¡¯t, he just stares impassively in her direction and nods.

    ¡°He¡¯s quite the example.¡± Azrael kneels before Banshee and tears his thread from around her. ¡°I learn more each time I watch him.¡± Azrael lies, having not been able to keep up with anything Supay did down there.

    His gaze flits up to Hel on occasion while he finishes untying Banshee. Hel¡¯s staring at him, and he fears her apathetic gaze is wary of his words. Could she tell he¡¯s lying? Did she know his eyes weren¡¯t as good as her¡¯s? There¡¯s no way. It¡¯s her, she¡¯s the one lying. She didn¡¯t see Supay either. She¡¯s just trying to psyche him out.

    Fifth Law of the Killer¡¯s Code: One never doubts the abilities of themselves or others.

    ¡°Okay Raven,¡± Azrael says as he uses a finger to raise Banshee¡¯s head up by her chin so that he can catch her scarlet gaze. ¡°It¡¯s time to land.¡±

    Banshee blinks until the red in her eyes becomes blue again. Her horns shrink and the wild smirk on her face fades.

    ¡°Azzy,¡± Nemain whispers. A soft smile comes to her face. She¡¯s about to open her mouth to continue when Azrael raises a finger near his lips, shushing her. He stands, turns and looks out to Supay where he¡¯s already finished converting his targets into Orison.

    ¡°Down here. Now.¡± Supay¡¯s voice is an old mess that sounds like it could collapse between words. Azrael bows then looks from Hel to Nemain.

    Hel nods and then opens up a portal. Nemain stands up and walks to Hel¡¯s tear before running back and tackling Azrael. She isn¡¯t all that heavy and he could have taken the force, but instead, he falls back, letting her think she¡¯d pushed him over. She sits up on top of him, a smile smeared on her face.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see you at home, Azzy. Don¡¯t have too much fun without me.¡± She gives him a peck on the cheek before bouncing off of him and speeding after Hel. Azrael takes two fingers to his face. Had he¡¯d seen the kiss coming he might¡¯ve smiled for her.

    When it¡¯s clear the two girls are gone Azrael proceeds to Supay. He slides down the side of the cliff then hurries to reach the side of his crouched master. Supay looks up at him with squinted eyes. His mouth trembles as though he¡¯s chewing something.

    ¡°Did you catch any of my technique Azrael,¡± Supay asks.

    With haste, Azrael responds. ¡°Of course. I saw everything, sir.¡±

    Supay rubs his chin then takes several steps away from Azrael. He pulls his pickaxe out of the ground then slices upwards with it, opening a portal.

    ¡°Hmmm, I guess I¡¯ll need to work even slower next time.¡± Supay walks through the opening and Azrael follows, angered that yet another person may have seen right through him. ¡°When we return to base applaud your little girlfriend for me, would you? Though a bit unorthodox, her scream did speed up the process. Not only did it deafen the target, but I¡¯m sure they went blind as well. Made my job a lot easier.¡±

    ¡°Yes sir,¡± Azrael says. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to let her know, sir.¡±

    ¡°Also.¡± Supay kneels down in front of the body of water waiting for them through the portal. He grabs ahold of Azrael¡¯s cloak and tugs him down so that they¡¯re eye level. Supay takes a handful of the water and pours it over each of Azrael¡¯s ears. Of course, Azrael winces but doesn¡¯t break loose from Supay¡¯s grip. ¡°Why don¡¯t you use that fancy thread of yours and knit some earmuffs or something so that she doesn¡¯t blow out your ears everytime she wails.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir. I understand, sir.¡±

    The two share a gondola as they traverse the river Styx. As pupil Azrael has to do all the rowing. When he first arrived he had to rely on Charon to get him to and fro, but now he¡¯s gotten quite accustomed to directing himself. Up ahead Azrael can see the river forking into two streams. One stream becomes a sea of steady flames, and the other pulsates with a faint green light.

    Shit, was he supposed to get onto Phlegethon or Acheron? Azrael looks back and forth between the rivers, but before he can make a decision he feels knock on the left side of his head. He glances back to see Supay nodding towards the glowing river. Right, Acheron leads to Lethe, which can get them to Death¡¯s Domain.

    Of course, how many times had The Reaper said it before? ¡¯Weeping proceeds Death¡± or something to that effect. A clever way to say that it isn¡¯t too long of a sail from the ¡°river of woe¡± to Death¡¯s Domain.

    As they sail, Azrael notices a pattern of pulsating light beneath their gondola. It¡¯s timed much like a heartbeat. The further they get the more time there is between the flashes. Not to mention the soft sound of crying growing from the river.

    ¡°Have you memorized the sixth law yet,¡± Supay asks, causing Azrael to straighten up. Azrael grunts and glances over the side of the boat where he sees a number of damned souls swimming by. After all that happened today, Azrael really wasn¡¯t in the mood for a quiz. Even so, he tries to answer.

    ¡°No matter what, remain focused,¡± Azrael says with complete confidence, or at least, what he hopes would appear as confidence; though Supay¡¯s raspy chuckle dashes it.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Almost.¡°The old man shakes his head. ¡°But almost isn¡¯t good enough. Remember this: Above all else. Be death.¡±

    Azrael glances back to the placid surface of the river, the corners of his mouth tugging downward as he pulls his hood forward. ¡®Be death.¡¯ He still doesn¡¯t quite grasp the meaning. He kills his targets as he¡¯s bidden; swiftly, indiscriminately, never leaving a trace of his involvement, yet there¡¯s something lost on him. Something elusive, just out of reach. His teacher always reassures him that if he survives long enough, that he would understand in time, but that did nothing to assuage the frustration that grows inside him with each passing day. In spite of that, he doesn¡¯t let it show.

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    Azrael¡¯s eyes drift to the craggy shore on either side of them. He leans back in his seat, a sigh slipping past his lips. It brings with it the faintest memory, nothing more than a wisp of sight and sound; of himself as a small child, cold, alone and sputtering on a beach. He remembers being so cold and having that feeling of utter helplessness only known to children. A woman in white he hadn¡¯t known at the time, and then a comforting light.

    He doesn¡¯t have much time for reminiscing as Supay¡¯s worn voice seizes his attention. ¡°Look alive, Azrael.¡±

    An ancient, decrepit pier hangs out above the water, jutting from the shore like a shattered limb. Docked boats, much like their own, rock at either side. Azrael¡¯s gaze makes it¡¯s way up the beach, to the fields beyond and the unassuming, crumbling ruins scattered amongst them. A few more strokes of his scythe bring them close enough to drop anchor. A spectral tether snakes out and ties their gondola to the dock.

    Supay swings his scythe up, hooking the blade onto the pier and pulling himself up in a fluid motion belying his age. He turns his attention to the end of the dock. Like always, Charon stands at the end of the pier, wordlessly holding out a pale hand. Supay slips a gnarled hand into his cloak. He flips a pair of orison into Charon¡¯s palm then steps around him. Azrael follows suit, striding past the ferryman onto the shore that lays before him.

    A path was hewn cleanly through the outcroppings that lined the beach, working it¡¯s way further inland until it disappears amidst the overgrown foliage. Stray, pale lily petals waft past on a stale breeze as the trail leads him through through a field of the ghostly flowers

    <hr>

    As they draw closer to the mess hall, Azrael puts distance between himself and his teacher. He falls back and lets Supay enter first. These halls were once packed with killers but now only the best, most elusive or luckiest remain.

    Supay joins the other Elders at the front of the room. Gathering near the end of the hall are two smaller cliques. Azrael watches as Veles tries seducing Ishtar. It¡¯s funny to see how the cerulean haired death god goes about his routine without cracking a grin. He presses a hand against the wall, right over Ishtar¡¯s blonde head. Her lion ears twitch as his forearm brushes against them. Veles¡¯ lower half is like a snake, and by coiling his tail he¡¯s able to give himself, even more, height over the tan goddess. From Azrael¡¯s perspective, the entire display is more intimidating than romantic. There¡¯s a difference in the way Azrael watches things now. He sees with much more clarity. Sure, he hadn¡¯t been able to see Supay earlier, but he can definitely read these two. Even though they look carefree, both death gods have to be alert and ready to kill at a moment¡¯s notice.

    The Grim Reaper made it clear to him when he joined; A Psychopomp¡¯s first attack should be their last attack. The Psychopomp to reveal their scythe and not kill is a Psychopomp who will end up dead themselves.

    ¡°Come on Ish,¡± Veles says, raising an eyebrow. ¡°I made a big score the other week, and a cut can be yours if you just-¡±

    ¡°I just what?¡± Ishtar glares up at Veles. She steps forward and flicks her wrist, which causes her fingernails to extend and sharpen at his neck. These are her scythes ¡°You think you can buy me? Just what kind of girl do you think I am?¡±

    ¡°The kind that kills for money.¡±

    ¡°For power,¡± Ishtar hisses. ¡°Besides. Not a single man has survived my love.¡± She says that last word with a hefty amount of venom. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be any different.¡±

    Veles leans back and scratches at the little bit of hair on his chin. ¡°Oh. I get it. You¡¯re still hung up over Gil-¡±

    At that point, Azrael notices something that once eluded him. It¡¯s like he sees the impulses traveling to from Ishtar¡¯smind to her muscles. There¡¯s a subtle twitch, a fine jerk right before her arm fires forward at Veles. With expert ease, she pinches his tongue between the sides of her claws. There she holds him, a flick of the wrist away from permanently removing the pink muscle.

    Closing her eyes, she purrs, ¡°What¡¯s the matter loverboy? Cat got your tongue?¡±

    Azrael groans.

    Another Psychopomp approaches the pair. Rhiannon¡¯s an odd assortment of parts. Her midsection is that of a headless young woman which tapers into the legs of an ebony Clydesdale. Beneath her right arm rests her head. She has a pale freckled face and stringy washed out carrot-colored hair. Her hair is so long it¡¯s parted into two twin tails that brush the floor.

    ¡°Cut it out you two. You shouldn¡¯t be fighting,¡± Rhiannon whispers.

    Ishtar doesn¡¯t let Veles go. So the Dullahan holds her head up and thrusts it out towards the two.

    ¡°Come on. Listen up, I¡¯m talking to you.¡± She beats her hooves into the ground and whips her tail. She groans then lifts her head over her shoulders. ¡°Remember the code. Law 4. No distractions.¡±

    ¡°Wow,¡± Veles says, his tongue free of Ishtar¡¯s grip. ¡°You have the code completely committed to memory, don¡¯t cha?¡±

    A common prank pulled among the younger Psychopomps was to ignore Rhiannon unless her head was above her neck. Azrael guesses it¡¯s some form of hazing, considering she¡¯s one of the newer recruits.

    ¡°Yeah. Is that a problem?¡± Rhiannon looks away while taking a step back; one of her dark gloved hands pressed against her heaving chest. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we all? It¡¯s Psychopomp 101, is it not?¡±

    ¡°Kind of,¡± Ishtar says as she crosses her arms, her tail darting around behind her. ¡°It¡¯s more of a loose guideline than anything.¡±

    Rhiannon stomps both of her front hooves down. ¡°What? A loose guideline? What does that even mean? A guideline is meant to guide. So it should still be followed to the utmost of our capabilities. Don¡¯t you understand how important the code is to us!? We should eat, sleep and breath it! It¡¯s how we stay alive! It¡¯s how we function! It¡¯s everything to us! It¡¯s what drives us forward towards our goals!¡±

    ¡°No distractions.¡± Veles points out while still scratching his stubble. ¡°These laws got you pretty sidetracked. Didn¡¯t think ol ¡®Rules Rhia¡¯ would become a rule breaker herself.¡±

    Ishtar glances up at him. Veles looks down at Ishtar. They both nod to each other in some kind of agreement. Rhiannon tosses her head over her shoulder, and it lands perfectly in a saddle on her back. She¡¯s faced away from the other two, but from where Azrael is he can see the red coming to her cheeks.

    ¡°Y-you can¡¯t just say that. It makes no sense! You can¡¯t break rules by following them. You two are delinquents, you don¡¯t know anything!¡±

    They¡¯re all delinquents, technically.

    ¡°Seeing as you¡¯re the one who broke her, wanna calm her down,¡± Ishtar asks, both hands covering her ears.

    ¡°How?¡± Veles uncoils his tail so that he¡¯s closer to Rhiannon¡¯s height. He peeks down at Ishtar then back to Rhiannon who¡¯s still stomping about.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± Ishtar groans and shakes her head. ¡°Just do whatever it is ya gotta do to get her mind off the rules. You know, give her a distraction from her distraction, I guess.¡±

    Veles shrugs before slithering around Rhiannon. He picks up her head and brings it towards his face. ¡°Here. I¡¯ll help you focus on what¡¯s important¡±

    It doesn¡¯t go much further than that. Rhiannon¡¯s hind legs kick back into Veles chest, causing him to drop her and go flying back.

    The situation didn¡¯t seem to phase Rhiannon as Azrael expected. Rather than looking upset or violated she seems...enlightened?

    ¡°I think I get it. Of course. It all makes sense now. Some distractions are necessary!¡± Rhiannon spins around, tosses her head up, then ducks down just in time for it to land on her neck.

    In a flamboyant arch, she points at Veles and Ishtar. ¡°My adherence to the code must be one of these necessary distractions! Thank you, Veles for being such an insightful individual.¡± Rhiannon crosses her arms and nods. ¡°Using a necessary distraction to block out unnecessary ones. I couldn¡¯t have thought of it myself!¡±

    Did she have to repeat it so many times?

    Ishtar lets out a defeated sounding meow as she helps Veles up. ¡°Great. You¡¯ve somehow made her worse.¡±

    As funny as these three are Azrael can¡¯t let himself get attached. He¡¯s already made that mistake once within these ranks. Speaking of which, he let this distraction keep him away from his for long enough. So Azrael turns and looks to the other table where he finds Thanatos, Hel and of course, his beloved Nemain.

    Nemain sits atop Thanatos¡¯ shoulders, and that makes Azrael angry. Nemain looks happy talking to Thanatos, and that makes Azrael angry. Both of her arms cling around Thanatos¡¯ neck, and that makes Azrael angry. He reaches the table, angry. He sits down, angry. He looks at Thanatos, angry. He glances at Hel and nods, angry. He looks at Nemain, and it all goes away.

    ¡°Azzy!¡± Nemain is first to greet him, as usual, as expected and as wanted. ¡°I was beginning to think you liked your neeeww friends more than us!¡±

    Azrael shakes his head and he feels the need to brush some loose strands of ebony out of his face. ¡°Of course not. They¡¯re...unprofessional.¡±

    ¡°Huh. Guess that¡¯s a word for it.¡± Nemain says with a shrug. ¡°Personally I¡¯d call it....¡®fun¡¯, but whatever.¡±

    ¡°Fun.¡± Hel peeks up from a notepad she¡¯s been scribbling in. Azrael thinks he might¡¯ve read Thanatos¡¯ name written a few dozen times over before Hel covers the page. ¡°Sounds boring.¡±

    By now they¡¯d all said something except Thanatos. Azrael peers at him but doesn¡¯t make it obvious. Tries to make it look like he¡¯s staring at Nemain, which honestly, he¡¯d much rather do, but this asshole is in his way.

    Of all the butchers gathered here, Thanatos is the worst. There¡¯s a pompous air about him that just makes Azrael¡¯s blood boil. Even though he no longer bloodies his hands he still breaks bread with killers. If the kid was even the least bit smart he¡¯d have left this organization centuries ago.

    ¡°Hey, Nemain. I¡¯m leaving,¡± Thanatos mutters. ¡°The Reaper will be making an announcement soon. I should be up there.¡± Thanatos stands and lets Nemain leak off his shoulders. She pouts and like that Azrael gets angry again.

    ¡°Okay, Thanny!¡± Nemain¡¯s grin does return, which Azrael likes even if it isn¡¯t of his doing. ¡°We¡¯ll talk to you later.¡±

    There¡¯s a touch between the two; Nemain¡¯s fingers drum along Thanatos¡¯ arm. Azrael knows it¡¯s just the way Nemain is, that she doesn¡¯t know any better, that for her it¡¯s a completely innocent gesture, but it still leaves him seething.

    ¡°Yeah. Later.¡± Hel tosses in quickly, and Azrael sees her take a quick look at Thanatos before looking back down to her notes.

    Thanatos nods and takes his leave; good riddance.

    With a sigh, Nemain plops down onto her seat across from Azrael. He feels a tug on at his pant leg and glances down to see her bare feet, toes pinching at the dark fabric.

    ¡°Heeeeey,¡± she says in a rumbling whisper. ¡°Thinkin¡¯ bout somethin¡¯?¡± She rests her chin in her hands and leans forward over the table. A smile creases her lips. ¡°Thinkin¡¯ bout someone?¡±

    Azrael feels something, then fights the urge, beats it back.

    ¡°Should I leave?¡± Azrael hears Hel¡¯s voice and sighs, almost thankfully; he¡¯d begun feeling hot. ¡°This is getting weird.¡±

    Nemain touches Hel. ¡°No, no stay. I¡¯m only razzing the Azzy a bit. He likes it.¡± She winks at him. ¡°Don¡¯t cha Azzy?¡±

    Azrael doesn¡¯t respond, not the way she probably expects at least. He¡¯s fighting down the corners of his mouth as they conspire to betray him. So instead of responding to her question, he reaches out, puts a hand on her¡¯s then pulls her forward. For the briefest of moments, while watching her draw near, lips part and eyes wide, he thinks about taking a risk. Instead, he turns her arm, so that he can look for the cut he made earlier.

    ¡°You¡¯re better. I¡¯m glad.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah, that? Hel took me by the river and got it cleaned up,¡± Nemain says, nodding in Hel¡¯s direction. Azrael appreciates that. He¡¯d been worried. A cut from his wires, like any Psychopomp¡¯s scythe wouldn¡¯t heal, not without the water from the river.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Azrael says, remaining brief.

    Azrael rolls around the idea of saying more. It¡¯s not a secret, at least not with Hel. So in front of her, it¡¯s okay to just care, right? As Azrael lets the thoughts move from his mind to the back of his throat, he feels a heavy silence descends upon the room. It isn¡¯t natural, never is. It hangs in the air, snuffing out any and every sound in the room, killing it before it has a chance to spring to life.

    ¡°Shhhhhhh¡±

    Even a pin dropping at that moment would go unheard. The Reaper has something to say.

    Reluctantly, Azrael let¡¯s go of Nemain and shifts his attention front and center towards the Elders. He feels something brushing along his side and passing over into his lap. With a glance down he finds that forest of auburn hair he loves so much. He doesn¡¯t get to be this close with Nemain too often so he decides to treat his senses with her presence. The slight tinge of cinnamon and death touches his nose and it¡¯s better than he expected. He feels her gripping his arms so he lets her guide him. Nemain wraps his arms around her waist and then pushes her head back against his chest. He looks down at her and she looks up at him.

    Even though he can¡¯t hear her, he can read her lips.

    ¡°Pay attention.¡±

    Azrael smiles inwardly then turns his attention forward and rests his chin atop her head.

    He watches as The Reaper puts some space between herself and the other Elders; Anubis, Izanami, and Supay. They are all just like The Reaper, there¡¯s something monstrous about them. Anubis muscular frame is tied in bandages that work their way up from his wrists to his face, leaving only his cold purple eyes exposed. Nestled atop his short dark hair is a pair of jackal ears that twitch and turn with the rest of his head. Beside him is Izanami, whose skin is a dead cold grey, and covered with a thin film of sliminess. She has shining white eyes that peek from beneath a curtain of long black hair that hides her face. Then there¡¯s Supay using his pickaxe to hold himself up. Last is the pale white reaper herself. While she does look mostly normal there are occasions where her skeletal hands do creep out from beneath her long white sleeves.

    Azrael sees Thanatos off to the side of her. Their gazes pass over one another. Azrael wonders if Thanatos would notice the malice in his eyes.

    ¡°So this is all that remains,¡± The Reaper whispers. ¡°Well, I guess you¡¯re just the best of the best, aren¡¯t you?¡± She looks to the other elders and finds Izanami motioning to her. So The Reaper waves a hand, and Azrael can suddenly hear the sound of Izanami breathing. That¡¯s right, she silences even the other elders.

    ¡°We¡¯re not just going to write the others off like that, are we?¡± Izanami, she¡¯s a good teacher. Azrael can tell because even with the body of a horse, and her head under her arm, Rhiannon does good work. Azrael knows little about her beyond that, and that she wields a kusarigama; she¡¯s probably gross under all that hair.

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we put our efforts towards confronting the hunter? The Psychopomps are the best killers in the 9 realms, yet there¡¯s someone out there who thinks they can make sport of us?¡± Izanami shakes her head, causing that wave of black hair covering her face to sway. ¡°Do you want us, ¡®death itself¡¯, to die?¡±

    Azrael looks at The Grim Reaper, mostly because he feels Nemain fidgeting in his lap, and clenching at his robes. She¡¯s anxious, and judging from the room, everyone is. Ishtar, Veles, and Rhiannon all peek up on occasion from lowered heads. Even Hel isn¡¯t making any kind of eye contact with The Reaper¡¯s visage.

    The Reaper doesn¡¯t reply to Izanami but does look over at Supay and Anubis. She waves a hand towards them, and like that Azrael hears their breathing as well.

    ¡°You two.¡± She calls for their attention. ¡°Do you agree with Izanami? Do you think that death is at risk of being killed?¡±

    She has this way of asking questions, talking really. Like, if one were to say the wrong thing that¡¯d be it. Cut clean through and left as only memory smeared across her scythe.

    There are only two people that The Reaper seems to give any leeway and that¡¯s Thanatos and Nemain. Azrael can¡¯t figure out why she favors Thanatos at all. But he does know how much of a necessity Nemain is. It¡¯s why she, of all the psychopomps, can¡¯t just buy her way out. Not that it matters, she would never want to leave The Reaper.

    ¡°For most death is an inevitability,¡± Anubis says. Azrael never thought it fit, hearing that soft, borderline sweet sound coming out of a monster. ¡°Even as gods we mustn¡¯t forget that. Death isn¡¯t treated as a natural part of our lives. So perhaps this should be seen as a symbolic death. The end of the Psychopomps. We came into this world to guide mortal souls to the afterlife. A lot has changed. But we shouldn¡¯t seek purpose where there is none. By killing this way we¡¯re asking to be killed.¡±

    ¡°Anubis,¡± The Reaper says. ¡°Why are you telling me things I already know? You¡¯ve never really liked my repurposing of our talents, have you? This won¡¯t be the first time the Psychopomps faced their end. We would have died out a long time ago but I decided the Psychopomps shouldn¡¯t become a memory. So we reincarnated into another form. That¡¯s what we will do again. I mean, look at the mortal world. Evolution is natural, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Anubis, without a word, simply nods. Next, The Reaper¡¯s sight falls on Supay. Supay looks up at her, coughs into his hand and gives a light chuckle, shaking his head. Figures, if there¡¯s anyone who follows her word it¡¯s him, oldest of the old.

    ¡°Back to my original point then.¡± The Reaper¡¯s eyes pass over Ishtar, Veles, and Rhiannon before grazing over Hel, Nemain and himself. ¡°I called you three elders here with your apprentices to offer you something. A name came up the river today.¡±

    Azrael¡¯s eyes widen he audible reactions around the room. Everyone is excited, well, as excited as a room of stoic killers are allowed to be. This is quite possibly the last chance any of them will have to earn any more divinity.

    Rhiannon trots forward. She kneels her forelegs and raises her head. ¡°Teacher,¡± she says, curving her palm so that her head faces Izanami. ¡°Please endorse me. I want the job.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve taken enough work recently.¡± Izanami looks in Rhiannon¡¯s direction. ¡°You can stand to keep low for a while.¡±

    ¡°But master-¡± is all Rhiannon musters before Azrael sees Izanami¡¯s hair fly up, momentarily revealing her face. He feels Nemain jump, and cling to him, so he looks down instead. By the time he¡¯s looking up again, Rhiannon has fallen in line behind Izanami.

    ¡°Teacher,¡± Ishtar whispers, stepping towards Anubis. She eyes him, holds up a hand and flicks out her claws. He just shakes his head. She retracts her lengthened nails then lowers her ears before shuffling behind him. Judging by the way Veles leaned back, he isn¡¯t even going to bother.

    Azrael could take the job, should take the job. He looks to Hel. Maybe he can ask for her help. If he¡¯s got her coverage then taking a job even with the hunter about is worth the risk. Right now he needs to amass power as fast as possible. Azrael shifts in his seat, but the weight of Nemain keeps him planted. Okay, maybe they can wait a bit longer.

    ¡°So. No one then,¡± The Reaper says then glances at Supay. ¡°I¡¯m surprised. Your apprentices normally have such hungry eyes about them.¡± She looks in the direction of Azrael¡¯s table. Azrael feels Nemain clench and he himself looks up to catch The Reaper¡¯s gaze. Quickly, he looks away, his skin cold.

    ¡°Cain.¡± The Reaper¡¯s word rolls off her tongue with an expert cunningness about it. Azrael feels her gaze locked onto him in particular. He knows why. ¡°That¡¯s the name of the target, in case it matters. How ironic. The first murderer is to be murdered. Though the payout isn¡¯t so great, I guess I can take the job myself...¡±

    Azrael feels something rocket him up. He¡¯s to his feet, and Nemain is tight against his chest and he hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d been holding onto her.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go.¡± Azrael is blunt, not even a look to Supay for any kind of approval.

    With a heavy step, he moves forward, setting Nemain down as he goes.

    ¡°Azzy,¡± Nemain says, and he pretends to ignore her. He hears it, maybe again, faintly, he can¡¯t tell anymore. There¡¯s a tugging on his robe, but it can¡¯t stop him.

    ¡°Law 1, Azrael, respect the Elders,¡± The Reaper whispers.

    ¡°Law 2,¡± Azrael says as he draws closer to her. ¡°Seniority is weighted in souls taken, not years lived. In my short time here I¡¯ve nearly overtaken Izanami in kills. So I haven¡¯t spoken out of turn if that¡¯s what you¡¯re trying to imply.¡±

    Azrael catches Thanatos staring at him.

    The Reaper tilts her head. ¡°Allow Supay to endorse you. Get his blessing before going out there. I¡¯m actually surprised.¡± Her eyes narrow. ¡°Do you not fear The Hunter?¡±

    Azrael fears The Grim Reaper more than The Hunter. But, he hates Cain even more than he fears her. ¡°One doesn¡¯t doubt the abilities of themselves or others. Law 5.¡±

    ¡°Is this personal?¡± Azrael knows she¡¯s searching him and finding everything she needs. ¡°Because, if it¡¯s personal I can¡¯t let you go. Only kill for pay. Law 3.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll still get paid, won¡¯t I?¡± Azrael¡¯s own eyes narrow now. He¡¯s heating up inside. ¡°Who cares if it¡¯s personal? I¡¯ll go alone so there are no distractions. I¡¯ll end him. I know how I want to do it and-¡±

    The Reaper cuts him off. Not with a scythe, but with her words. ¡°You¡¯re sounding a lot like-¡±

    Like a battle between blades, Azrael cuts her off right back. ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡± Azrael grits his teeth and emotion starts to leak through. He knows at this point he¡¯s broken the code so many times over, and he¡¯s verbally attacking the Grim Reaper herself, but he doesn¡¯t care, because he has to kill him.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to kill him.¡±

    After that he expects it. To cut through, the clean cold steel. It¡¯ll feel the way he imagines. It wouldn¡¯t hurt for long, and after that, he¡¯d be reunited with so many as a trophy staining The Reaper¡¯s blade. He has a mission, a goal, yet the mere mention of that man¡¯s name puts him at a hair¡¯s length of losing it all.

    ¡°Boy!¡±

    He didn¡¯t know what put him on his knees. If it was his respect for Supay or the bass in his voice. He¡¯s on his knees, staring at the ground, shivering, sweating. He hears what those men earlier must have heard, the way Supay¡¯s rags drag along the ground. Unlike those men, Azrael knows what comes next. He hears Supay come to a stop at his side and sees his coal cluttered robes out of the corner of his eyes.

    ¡°Let him take the job. He wants it bad and I¡¯ll be damned if I¡¯m not curious why. I¡¯ll even supervise in case things get...messy¡±

    Azrael doesn¡¯t look up, not until he feels a hand on his shoulder; Supay¡¯s. As it rises, so does he. Azrael turns to see The Reaper staring him down. He watches her eyes, follows them as they fall on Nemain. He grows cold like he thinks he would if The Reaper herself ever touched him. Then, with a simple nod to Nemain, whose expression is somewhere between confusion and fear, The Reaper speaks.

    ¡°Don¡¯t say I¡¯ve never done anything for you.¡±

    The Reaper summons a goblet which she offers to Azrael. It¡¯s filled with water from the river. As with each time before Azrael takes the chalice and drinks from it, bounding him to the contract.