After Life, Chapter 8

                                    

                                          
Maybe I'd just become jaded. Maybe I'd become unflappable when it came to intrigue and mind games from sheer exposure, like Mithridates the Sixth had built up resistance to poison.

Maybe I was just too mentally tired.

Whatever it was, I didn't care to look into it at the moment. Not even glance at it with Mimir's sight, according to which I  was talking to Aya Reem.

We must get rid of this habit, my strigoi side whispered. It's not 'Mimir's' sight anymore. It is ours.

We'll talk later, I promised, sending it a hopefully reassuring pulse of weak agreemeent. Maybe it'd get it to behave for a bit, even if it didn't pacify it or make it settle down.

'I recognise you, ma'am,' I told Aya, whose eyes turned from Thoth, to me, the god's following. Aya had briefly looked at the god after asking me a question that, between my last meeting with Chernobog, would've probably been a mindfuck. 'So, yes, I know who I'm talking to.'

'He does, Aya!' Thoth sounded excited, beak somehow curving into a smile. Then came the aetheric equivalent of a skittering sound, and the god was filling my sight. I found myself looking at a suprisingly muscular bronzed chest(maybe I shouldn't have been caught offguard. Thoth might have just been the warrior-scholar type, and besides, he was a shapeshifter), or rather the polished silver ankh dangling over it. Before I could react to his sudden appearance, I found my chin tilted up, at Thoth's deep blue eyes.

What, have you never locked gazes with a huge buff dude in a skirt? It's just a guy thing.

'So he does...' Thoth said softly, letting go of me. My chin burned where he had touched me, but I knew, somehow, that I'd have been hurt more before the awakening of my godsight. I paid it even less hid, instead wondering how the hell he'd grabbed me. I'd just been observing them, not like I'd sent an astral projection, which shouldn't have transmitted pain to my body, anyway.

But then, this was the second time he'd touched me despite the fact he shouldn't have been able to.

Aya gave me a concerned look, and sent a mildly disapproving one Thoth's way. Deciding to make things slightly less weird, I tested the wards, then physically moved across the aether, feeling them slam back in their places behind me. Then, she approached too, and I noticed she'd gotten faster.

Or, rather, she'd returned to her usual speed.

After all the Egyptian gods except Ma'at had stopped empowering her, Aya's speed had dropped greatly, to the point she had merely dwarfed Szabo's the same way he had dwarfed mine, back when he'd been merely as fast as light, and me six thousand times as fast as sound. Now, she crossed the distance between me and her desk-the room was always shifting in size; at the moment, there were over five kilometres from desk to entrance-while photons were standing still, frozen in flight. Aya, in contrast, had moved almost too fast too keep track of, though not impossible to perceive, like Thoth.

That was how I knew she'd gotten her powers back. With the duller senses I used to have, I might've believed she'd merely boosted her speed with Ma'at's power. But in my godly eyes, Shu's blessing was as clear as day.

She could've moved faster, I knew. Endlessly fast. Time and space meant nothing while the god of wind and air had his hand on her shoulder. But there was no need. This was enough to impress upon me that she was back in shape.

'Speak, David. Given by how you started this meeting, I expect you wanted to be brief, despite the weight on your soul.'

I swallowed a sigh. Talking to Aya always reminded me of my motherless childhood. Make all the jokes you want-if I admired her in any way, it was entirely platonic, and had nothing to do with that.

Someone doth protest too much...

Why do you insist on getting under my skin? You're already there.

Need you  ask?

'Yeah.' With a thought, I began sitting down, creating a chair before my arse could hit the ground. I could've solidified the air, or just floated, but I wanted, felt the need to prove that I  had gotten better.

Even if I knew Paladin had already reported to her, including my arrival at the English Channel, and what had followed. I had to show I was no longer(go ahead, laugh) deadweight.

'David, stop that.' Aya closed her eyes, but the light of order still shone, through her lids, reminding me of the sun behind a curtain. 'You're not a burden to the Crypt, nor ARC as whole. And if you ever feel you're too weak or unstable, please remember who you're colleagues with.' The mummy rubbed the bridge of her nose.

'Thank you,' I said softly, looking down at the hands I'd clasped in my lap.

'...This is not just about Fairie, is it? Or the Channel?' the mummy crossed her arms, leaning back against Thoth, who wrapped his arms around her. 'Sam told me about the former, by the way, and Paladin has just finished reporting on the latter.'

'But you want my version of the events, too?' The answer was obvious, but I had to ask. The mention of the wendigo highlighted how weird the secene in front of me would have looked, if not for my godly senses. The affection coming from Thoth was fatherly. In a way, it reminded me of myself at Mia's graduation, before...

Shiftskin would have had no need to feel threatened, had he been here. I didn't doubt he'd have gotten jealous or pissy because of the touch itself, if not the god's intentions.

Besides, Thoth was married, and Ma'at was as inclined to sharing as he was to cheating.

'It's adorable, really, how he immediately thought about that, little one,' Thoth ran a hand through Aya's hair, smiling. 'He's almost as concerned about Sam's honour as your love is.'

'It's only human, lord.'

'That it is. And you must be overjoyed to see this one holding on to humanity, don't you?' his smile turned bittersweet. 'One day, you must have those two meet. But...ah, I'm rambling. Your adolescent species is only expected to think about rutting and courtship first. It's instinctive to want to propagate one's kind.'

Letting go of the mummy, Thoth flipped, turning into an ibis in midair and landing on a perch that appeared before his feet were halfway to the floor. Half hidden in a shadow that creeped into existence at thatvery moment, the god watched me curiously, head cocked, eyes shining.

The mummy sounds like a Disney villainess.

What?

Like Jafar with tits. She's even got a bird!

Ignoring the vulgar son of a bitch, I began delivering my report. Aya voiced her approval of my defeat of Chernobog, even if I felt that was an exagerration. I'd only managed to put him on the run, so I'd have called it a successful bluff at best.

'There you go, putting yourself down again.' Aya's voice was half tired, half amused. 'False modesty is almost as annoying as bragging, you know?'

'But I didn't even land a hit on him. I couldn't even swap places with him in Broceliande.'

'Like you did with Cloudshade less than an hour later?' The mummy shook her head. 'Had Chernobog stayed a little longer, had you been trained, or at least luckier, we'd be dragging the Black God in chains before the pantheons right now.'

'But I wasn't-trained, I mean. We...' I glanced at Thoth, who hadn't made a single sound since his transformation. Would he feel insulted? 'We-that is, Thoth and I-didn't find time to meet.'

The god moved his wings in something reminiscent of a shrug. If he was offended, guilty or something, he hid it behind a nonchalant façade. "What can you do?"

'Even so, you managed to put Chernobog on the run, and trust me, gods like him  never retreat unless they feel they're outmatched.' Aya smirked knowingly. 'Your first successful use of godly power is like flying an airplane. You don't stop to think how difficult it was until after it's done, and even then, you might need someone else to point it out.'

'You were never trained to channel a god's power, David, never mind have it,' Thoth spoke up. 'Aya  has been, and I'd have liked to see her with just my wife's blessing going up against Chernobog. It would have been...' were those teeth glinting in his beak? 'Entertaining.'

'You underestimate me, lord.'

'Oh, not at all. I meant it  would have been entertaining, truly. You haven't had to puzzle something like that out in centuries, dear,' Thoth picked at his plumage. 'Hence why I'm impressed with David, but not surprised.'

'I take it this is the second time you're seeing or hearing of this?'

'Your next question is "Why didn't you tell me that, lord?"...or it would have been, had I not said this. Now, it will be "why didn't David have help"?'

'Hey, I'm not complaining,' I held up a hand at my awkward intervention. 'I mean, sure, it would've been great to have one of the Heads helping me, but I didn't  ask for help. Down in the Blackness, I...' I frowned. 'It wasn't that I didn't want help, or thought I could do everything myself. But I was more focused on surviving enough to escape.'

'You don't need to ask for help, David. You're ARC. But that's not what lord Thoth was referring to.' Before I could ask what she meant, the mummy forged on ahead. 'You did a good job, agent. The nearest thing we've got to a crisis left is extraditing the Unseelie, but that's a problem for my colleagues and I, the Global Gathering, and whoever Oberon chooses to scrounge up when he shows his face to bargain,' the mummy's expression briefly darkened. 'And this time, he'll have fewer reasons to make a circus of the talks. We already had to talk down a baker's dozen of hotheads from wiping out the Fae before you were taken over.'

I shifted from foot to foot at her apologetic look, trying to dig up some dry humour. 'Guess it was a boon in disguise, huh? Like the first time. I should have my mind raped more often.'

'Never say that in my presence again, David.' At Aya's glare, I opened my mouth to clarify what I'd meant, but she waved me off. 'I know you were just joking tastelessly. Don't.' She sighed. 'But, yes, the fact Fairie's forces were briefly crippled did help with calming down some extremists, even if it got others chomping at the bit to strike the iron while it was hot. You'll pardon the saying, given the context.'

'No problem, ma'am, but-'

'Don't worry, he won't ask for you.' Aya was talking over me, which would've normally annoyed me, but I really needed to brood less. 'King Fae has even shakier ground to stand on this time, because Earth helped him  despite the mess the Unseelie made here when he left them to their own devices. No one will be taking him seriously, even if he doesn't make demands.'

'What if he does, though? Ask for me, that is.'

Aya's brow wrinkled slightly. 'You don't need to worry, David. We won't let Oberon do anything to you.'

What the...did she think I was scared of that grasping jackass? The only reason I even gave a damn about myself these days was that I didn't want to hurt those who loved me.

It was good that "love your neighbour like you love yourself" hadn't been spoken with negligent dickheads like me in mind.

'Thank you, ma'am. But I was more thinking about the fact he'd owe us after, since we're currently even.'

'You're even with the Fae. They still owe Earth. And Oberon would owe you after, though, as your superior, I'd be fully within my rights to make use of said favour myself.' Aya sighed, then brightened up a little, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she smiled slightly. 'But, again, you don't need to worry about that. The Fae, in the end, don't  want a confrontation, and not just because they're unsure they can win. They don't even want enmity, but they don't really get other people.'

'That's good to know, ma'am, but...you said there are no other crises besides these future negotiations. Aren't you forgetting something?' I asked, clasping my hands behind my back as I bent light to form an image of a cultist of Chernobog: tall, pale, brawny, dark eyes almost lost under the equally-dark, long hair and antlered skull he wore. Clad in black, thick furs, with tiny bones woven through them, forming Cyrillic characters. I recognised the Black God's name, but little else.

'The cults aren't a threat, David.' Aya waved a hand, and I couldn't help but frown. She was testing me, obviously, she had to be. 'They'll be almost as easy to uproot as they were to find. We know where they are.'

'Then why didn't we dismantle them!?' I couldn't have helped the anger out of my voice if I wanted. 'That fucking bastard used me like a puppet twice, and these morons give themselves to him. Why didn't we-'

'David.' Aya had moved faster than I could perceive, and was currently leaning backwards against her desk, elbows braced on it. She pointed a finger at me. 'What he did to you was despicable, but do not think you are his only victim. Not all of his worshippers kneel willingly.'

'I fail to see how that's not even more incentive to take the motherfuckers down.'

'Chernobog couldn't act on Earth at all until this year. The mind breaking, the enthralling, all was done by mages-and those cults that were found using such methods rather than more traditional conversion were taken down immediately, by us and the Strangeguard-for decades. Since the Shattering, these people might as well have been praying to nothing.'

So what!? 'They should've been taken down on principle. To prevent future disasters. All of them. There can't be a cult of that monster worth salvaging.'

'You'd be surprised.' Aya flexed a hand, looking at the power flowing through it. 'Some focus on destroying and ripping down the more unsavoury aspects of civilisation. They make useful buffers and catspaws, if nothing else. Do you think we crush every street gang that starts talking about Apep or Satan?'

I swallowed an angry retort. 'So you'll let some be, when you round up the rest, because they're  useful?'

'Perhaps not. It would give a poor impression if Chernobog's worshippers walked after the Headhunt, let alone the Fairie expedition. We must release the news about the Aesir some day... but that's not for you to worry about, David. Slow down a little. You might get some free time.'

What a good joke! The first part, that was. "Free time" was ARC slang for "undercover missions in different patrolling area".

As for them not being my problem...like shit. 'Ma'am, I cannot agree with that. Grudges aside, my power would be extremely useful for raiding their bases.'

'That's what I was getting to, David.' Aya looked askance at Thoth when he let out a stuttering, high-pitched caw that might have been meant as a snicker. 'You are more useful for ARC as a lookout than as a field agent.' She held up both hands, chuckling. 'Don't worry. We're not giving you a desk job. But expect to be consulted about creation far more often than you'll be called upon to put down threats to it.'

...Well, now or never. 'I was visited by an...apparition, ma'am. Shorthly before this meeting. It looked like me, and pretended it was me from the future.'

Aya listened to my retelling of the encounter with that creepy bearded fuck, saying nothing. She crossed her arms halfway through, though, and looked at Thoth at the end.

'He was you, David,' Thoth spoke as soon as I finished. 'Well. As much as you are your childhood self. Certainly not a different person, though. You, just...more. As for the "iterations" he was talking about...how to say..." the ibis pressed the tips of his wings together in a way that suggested he'd have been steepling his fingers in a more humanoid form. 'I would call it a stable time loop if your "future" self didn't transcend time. It would be more accurate to say that your future self always meets "you" at this point, but does not talk much because of some restriction, self-imposed or otherwise. He also remembers and has lived through all possible pasts, which, to you, are futures.' He blinked, running a long, thin tongue over what looked like curved teeth. 'But no, you weren't tricked. Looking back at it, I see the same being you did, and I can tell you this: he wasn't disguised or glamoured. So, no, David, it wasn't a lie, any more than alternate timelines are lies.'

'I concur with lord Thoth,' Aya said. 'It is good you brought this up to me instead of letting your thoughts fester and make you uncertain, but I am afraid I cannot help you at the moment. Your future self blocks my senses, as he does yours.'

'And mine,' Thoth added, picking at a wing with his beak. 'But my mind is as sharp as Mimir's, and far more inclined towards breaking bounds. Hmm...' he tilted his head at Aya, while glancing at me from the corner of obe eye. 'Shall I begin preparing him now, little one?'

'That depends entirely on him,' Aya replied without inflection, not looking at the god. 'What do you say, David?'

'Mia has probably noticed I've left by now, but I'd rather tell her first, so that she doesn't worry.'

Aya nodded. 'She is your rock, after all. So the others keep telling me.'

***

Andrei swiped his paw through the ghost, causing Misha to drop the silver knife with a pained scream as he dispersed. By the time the werebear dropped to all fours, still in hybrid form despite his beast roarinng at him to let go and forget about human worries, the ghost had pulled himself back together, cold fires burning in his eye sockets as he glared at his son.

'How dare you?' Misha's kick flipped Andrei over onto his back, and the were grunted as his father stomped down on his wound, grinding his boot's heel into the edges. 'How  dare you-'

Misha yelped as Andrei's left paw ripped his leg in half at the knee, at the same time as his right one scrabbled against the floor. Finally, his claws caught the edge of a tile, which Andrei ripped out before reaching inside it.

The thing felt as wrong and unnatural as ever, despite its purpose. The chrome tube, which slightly curved at both ends, had been harvested from the blood of those weres who had survived being wounded with silver. Their misery-for such wounds were rarely minor even when they weren't fatal-had added to the symbolism, engancing its paranormal power.

Andrei had ripped it from the bloody hands of a doctor, back in the seventies. The woman had used it to heal her neighbours in a now-lost village near the Ukrainian border, before the Party had sent Andrei to confiscate it. She had, perhaps understandably, resisted, though not for long.

She had refused to sell out, in her own words. The tube could replicate were flesh to bond with the body of a wounded one, briefly filling wounds and lessening the pain before it was rejected. It was a stopgap, and one that'd have to be applied repeatedly at that, but it would have to do. Not like he had better options.

'What the-?' Misha spat as Andrei pressed the tube against his heart, forming several layers of flesh and fur. He got back to his feet with a relieved shake of his head, feeling blood thumping in his ears. 'What'd you do, you son of a bitch?'

Andrei let out a gravelly growl at the phrasing, feeling the patchwork flesh rot and fall out, to be replaced with an identical layer. 'I should be asking you that,' he said in a sardonic voice, accompanied by an equally humourless grin. 'Why'd you try to kill me, old man? Who sent you?'

'I'm not working for anyone,' Misha's nose wrinkled. 'I need no reason to put you down.'

'Oh? A little therianthrope hater, are you?'

'I've known beasts. Freaks just like me, but at least they were people. You? You goddamn gypsies just roam, scam and steal. You refuse to settle down and work. You take from others. You tear down what good folk build.'

Andrei could have laughed if it didn't hurt so much. 'What year are you living in? That shit hasn't been an issue in decades, you fucking idiot...' he coughed twice, then covered his muzzle with a paw before the third, bigger cough. It came away red.

'But you? You're even worse,' Misha continued as if he hadn't even heard his son. Andrei narrowed tear-rimmed eyes. Was he so full of hatred he had become a carricature of himself, like some old ghosts did? His mind went to Alex, but...no. If he didn't save himself now, what could he do to help his friends?

Or was he being controlled by someone else? Andrei couldn't sense anything, and the fucking pain didn't help.

'You went and found a stupid girl without parents to teach her not to be a whore, then made her an even bigger one.' Misha looked at the silver knife with dismay. It hadn't been enchanted, Andrei realised: he'd have sensed it otherwise, though the fact he hadn't, between his smell and instinct for danger, was in of itself concerning. Like Alex, it would have to wait.

Mundane silver made for poor weapons, and Andrei, therianthropic nature aside, still had thick fur, skin and muscle to get through. Of course the knife had snapped. With a crimson-stained grin, he promised to himself that he wouldn't give Misha the chance to do anything with the shards.

'And then,' the ghost's voice became even colder as he made the knife's pieces levitate, prompting a scoff from Andrei. 'You left her pregnant. Put another worm in her belly. You're lucky she didn't give birth to a crow like you.' Mia mirrored his son's expression. 'The first and last good thing you ever did was passing that boy to a white man. Don't get me wrong-I know it's just an instinct to throw away kids when it comes to you, but at least you chose a good location. You could've done better than a priest, but...' Misha shrugged. 'Not like I can expect you to be smart. Otherwise, you'd have swallowed some bleach after your first look in a mirror.'

Andrei gurgled. It was uglier and harsher than the chuckle he'd intented, but things really weren't going his way tonight...today? It was past midnight, he thought.

'I came to meet my grandson,' Misha said, hands in his pockets. 'Heard the grew up to be a snivelling little twit, before he killed himself...and came back.' The ghost shuddered. ' Strigoi. I could puke. I liked it better,' he looked into Andrei's eyes. 'When we were all stories.'

And silver filled the air.

***

Mihai had never been good at precognition.

Oh, all mages were precognitive, to a degree. In their own ways. Or maybe it would've been more accurate to say they "were" "precognitive". A vague dream that only made sense after what it had prophesied came to pass, an unexplainable flash of intuition or hunch...all of them experienced things like that, once in a while. It was tied, on some level, to the inherent control of space and time all mages shared, showing them glimpses of other places and moments.

But true precognition, seeing possible futures at will, was a more specific magic, though not necessarily rare. Half of the people who shot the shit on Spellbook and discussed more serious matters on Grimoire seemed to possess foresight. Still, Mihai had never had that ability.

He had strong basics: mana, elements, spacetime. He could create forcefields, enhance his body, even transmute himself. He had a decent grasp of shapeshifting and telekinesis, good enough to save time grooming and having to move things physically, but nothing to write home about, compared to the versatility of his other powers.

That was why he was pacing in the hospital hall, to the annoyance of everyone else waiting. He knew he should sit down, but he couldn't hekp himself. He'd been the same way during his daughters' birth, afraid of entering to see his wife staring at two little corpses, and a sadly-smiling doctor informing him that complications happened sometimes, sir...

That had ended up far better than this might yet. Once again, Mihai cursed his lack of foresight, both literal and metaphorical. He should've been there for Alex.

He knew his ghost friend was not aloof or standoffish, just...introverted. Quiet. The kind of guy who, sometimes, ran out of things to talk about even with his closest friends, and didn't mind sitting in comfortable silence, as long as they were alright with it, too.

The kind of guy who almost never talked about his problems, because he didn't want to burden or worry others. In that way, he was similar to David, and Mihai had failed them both.

He'd failed to help David out of his depression, and to save him from his withering. In the end, it had been Lucian who'd helped bring him to his senses, and Constantin who'd made sure he didn't go down a dark spiral. Then Mia had come along, and...

Mihai had always felt protective of his friends. He knew it was condescending, but there were worse vices to have. The mage had a hunch Constantin shared some of his thoughts.

He'd failed to convince Alex to let someone heal his asthma, resulting in him dying out of stupid altruism. 'Hey,' his friend had wheezed, near the end of his human life. 'Don't cry for me. I won't die unhappy. I lived a full life...there are people who need to be healed...more than I do.'

So full a life he was still walking the Earth, or had been, until this night. This night, which Mihai should've seen coming and preapred for.

Ghosts, at least those who lingered on Earth, weren't always mentally stable. Mihai didn't think his friend was crazy, or had ever been, just...frail, for lack of a better term. However, ghost minds were always teetering on the edge. And when mind over matter was a fact rather than a figure of speech...

Mihai had heard Alex's choked, faraway scream at the same time he had felt the chilling inferno rising from Ghencea Cemetery. Both had been carried to him on aethereal winds, and he had teleported there in an instant.

The graveyard's inhabitants had risen, ghosts and even a few new strigoi, out of self-defence. That they had all awoken from their death sleep at once was rare enough. That they had all woken up for the same reason...

'He just...started freaking out,' had said the ghost of a gangly woman with a middle-aged face but long, white hair, who looked like she'd starved to death, if the jutting ribs were anything to go by. Then, she had gestured at the thing that had been Alex, which the other undead had boxed into the centre of the cemetery. It had looked like a cresecent moon the size of a small house, with a misshapen limb rising out of every orifice on its ectoplasmic skin.

'It began with a scream,' had said a transparent skeleton in an old, tattered uniform, his oddly musical voice tinged with an Austrian accent. 'His grave neighbours woke up to see what was wrong, you see? And he ate them.' At Mihai's horrified expression, the soldier had laughed hideously. 'Unintentionally, mind you. Something broke in his mind, and sent everything else tumbling. Why, I can feel the void from here! He tried to grab at anything he could to regain a measure of order, and those who got too close, those too weak to go on but too cowardly to face the afterlife, were drawn into him.'

Mihai had felt the bottomless gap in Alex's psyche, too, and it had chilled him, through its size as much as its nature. It had been a pit, yes, but not a prison. The other ghosts hadn't been caught and trapped in Alex's mind. They'd been devoured, to fill a maw that would always be hungry. Save for the twisted appendages rising from Alex's body-more echoes than remains-they were gone.

Then the Supernatural Service had come, quickly subduing the creature. There had been curses, and questions about undead who'd never go to their gods or the aether now, but those had been shelved. The Service had determined that Alex wasn't in his right mind, and, as such, had to be taken to a hospital rather than a prison cell, at least until things were sorted out.

That was how Mihai had ended up here. As the only living being in Ghencea when the Service had arrived, he'd quickly been singled out. After revealing he was friends with Alex, he'd been asked to accompany him and a squad of Service agents to the Vlad's Mercy hospiral in the Old Centre.

The hospital was fairly new, having been built after the Revolution. Though named after one of the doctors who'd founded it, and specialised in treating supernaturals, people joked, rather darkly in Mihai's opinion, that the name came from the cases who were deemed hopeless and put down, in an act of mercy worthy of the Impaler.

Mihai hoped it wouldn't come to that. He'd have prayed, too, if he'd ever prayed to anything, but he knew prayers born of desperation didn't appeal to gods, unless he chose to convert after, which the mage didn't believe he had in him.

Still, he had come. Of course he had come. Anything he could do, as a friend and anchor in Alex's mind, was welcome. He hadn't been allowed in the surgery room, were the doctors were still cutting out the excess ectoplasm Alex had accumulated, but the Service agents, five of whom had scattered across the waiting hall, had made sure the ghost had seen him. That he knew he wasn't alone with strangers.

That had helped, in a way: the screaming had given way to wailing, then muffled sobbing, which had only been interrupted by a disturbing conversation, shortly before the operation had started.

'Mihai! Mihai!' Alex had called for him like his girls used to when they were scared of monsters under the bed.

'I'm here with you, man. What's wrong?'

'I re-' the ghost had choked. 'R-Remembered how I died.'

Aw, shit... 'Shhh, calm down. That's in the past. It won't happen ag-' the mage had started when a surprisingly weak, but deathly cold hand had closed around his wrist. From the middle of the tortured mass of ectoplasm, Alex's face had grimaced at him with wide, dead eyes.

' No. I died of asthma when there's magic and tech straight from sci-fi around every corner? Are you as insane as I used to be?'

'But you chose not to be healed...? You...'

Alex had shaken his head. 'I remember  him, Mihai.'

Then the doors had been locked, and the operation had started. Neither Mihai nor the agents had time to ask more.

'Oi,' a haggard-looking woman called out to Mihai, stopping his pacing. There were bags under her eyes and grey streaks in her red hair, despite the fact she otherwise looked young enough to be his kid. In her lap was a little girl, seven, eight year olds, with blonde hair and green pigtails. She'd been grinning toothily since Mihai had gotten here, and...oh, yeah. Her dad was being operated on in a room adjacent to Alex's, if he remembered correctly. Why the hell was she so happy, then. 'Would you die if you stopped?'

Mihai scowled. 'I don't exactly have anywhere to sit down, lady,' he gestured at the filled seats. 'And you'll forgive me if I don't find the floor appealing.'

Her eyes hardened. 'And you can't stand fucking still? You look like you have legs.'

'Gimme a break,' Mihai stuffed his hands in his grey sweatpants pockets. 'I've got a friend losing his mind over there,' he nodded at the door. 'And he might die any moment.' And if you're such a bitch because you might become a widow, maybe shut up? I don't judge, but don't be a hypocrite.

The little girl snickered. Bet she'll grow up to be like her mom.

***

Seeing Maws at something closer to a normal zmeu's size-still bigger than Aaron, or any other zmeu Lucian knew, for that matter-felt pretty weird, for some reason.

Still, he appreciated it. It was easier to talk to the guy when he tens of metres tall, not tens of thousands of kilometres.

'I'm not one to talk,' Maws' voice was always powerful enough to obliterate planets, no matter his size. Luckily, Aaron's place was more than enough to handle it, and the zmeu brothers had found ways to protect themselves: Lucian used Burnish Death to erase the voice's destructive power whenever it was about to affect him, while Lucas, in an attempt to bond, he guessed, had asked their mother to make a forcefield for him, which she'd gladly(?) agreed to. 'But I'm not sure your relationship will last, even if they bring your girl back.'

Lucian looked up at his father with a dirty glare, his mace in one hand and a keg full of one of his brews in the other. 'They  will bring her back.' In one form or another. He believed in Aaron. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Well,' Maws tugged at one of his beards. At this size, his ten thousand heads would have looked like ridiculous little turds, in his own words, so he'd shifted shape to only have then. In one of his six hands, he held a barrel bigger than Lucas, filled with something that burned Lucian's nostrils almost as much as looking at his mother hurt his eyes.

'See, I've always been adventurous. I've never been able to just settle down and grow shit.' He tilted his heads back, a faraway look in his eyes.

'They wanted me to wear a crown, you know? The other zmei. To build an empire for us. But I refused. I was the strongest, even back then, before my voice was unshackled, but stronger than everyone else combined? No. They would've forced me unto a throne, turned me into a puppet, and not just metaphorically. It was why I  had to be the strongest, and why we've never built a real civilisation.' He snorted. 'Too busy stealing the sun and stars. Let's just piggyback onto the humans' anthills. It'd be pitiful if I cared.'

'You've always been adventurous...' Lucas prompted, chewing on a half-burnt cigar.

Maws nodded. 'Yes, which is why I refused to be crowned. Even after I met your mother...well, we're not exactly breadwinner and housewife, are we dear?' he smiled at the Underdweller, who returned it as good as she could. At the moment, she took the form of a white, dumpy zmeaoaică, almost as short as a human woman, and made of shapes that Lucian couldn't make sense of, cornered cylinders sliding over and wrapping around curved hexagons.

'We are not the typical pairing, mate-counterpart, no.'

'Your mother is kind enough not to care about my flings, because she knows my heart is not in them, unlike my cock. She's always patient, always there,' he gestured at the floor. 'When I'm in-between jobs. We don't live together, but that's just because we've never found a place to fit us both.' He winked at his wife. 'And your home is dreadfully boring, love. Dunno how you came to be in a place like that.'

'And yours is extremely limited, mate-counterpart. Yet, it produces fascinating entities, in some circumstances.'

Maws nodded, grinning. 'Point is, someone needs to be stable if the other side of the relationship is wild. To be the rock. And I just don't think you have that, boy...' he shook his heads at Lucian.

'Don't I?' He returned his father's grins. 'Please, do explain.'

'This iela of yours...you love each other, I'm sure. From what you've told me, there's no doubting that. You understand each other, too, both who you are, and what you are. But here's the snag...' Maws scratched his seventh head's chin. 'Neither our kind nor hers is built for long-term relationships-and I mean long term in the human sense. No, not even that. Forget a few decades, or years, I'd be shocked if you stayed together a few months! And you're both immortal!'

'Neither of us minds the breaks,' Lucian said. 'We're both fully aware-'

'Yes, I understand. But if both of you need to switch partners so often, how the void are you going to build attachment? That's no  relationship...' Maws trailed off, then huffed, closing his eyes. 'Bah, I'm rambling. You're not gonna listen anyway.'

'I'm not?'

'Lucian...' Lucas said warningly, wishing he had chosen to stand beside his brother so he could put a hand on his shoulder.

'No, no, go ahead, dad. So it's  not a relationship?  Fascinating. What  is it, then?'

'I dunno,' Maws admitted. 'But you two? You're friends with benefits at best. Not lovers, fuck bu-'

Lucas' eyes widened at the Maws-sized and shaped hole extending from the ceiling all the way through the roof of Aaron's compound. The old zmeu's planet-shattering voice might have done no damage to the building, but Lucian's mace swing had...

'Luci-?' Lucas started, but his brother was gone.

'Goddammit-!'

***

Bianca's hair was dishevelled as she sat down in the snow.

Her sister's revenge had played out in a way she couldn't have expected, but should have.

No...she  had expected that it would be twisted. Not something as simple as hurting someone close to David-they had known all of them could protect themselves, and that going against David himself would've been pointless. She might not have known everything her friend had recently gone through, but...she had seen his eyes, and doubted her sisters had anything to hurt him with.

What she hadn't expected was the  how. She already knew the why, stupidly petty as it was, but she hadn't expected to end up in their hands like this. Kidnapping hadn't been out of the question, but she'd thought her sisters would be the ones doing it, not...

Drawing in a shallow, shuddering breath, Bianca forced herself to stop thinking about him and instead focus on happier things. Like the clearing.

The realm of the iele only had seasons because its inhabitants wanted it to-the same reason said seasons synchronised with those of Earth.

It was winter now, leaving the clearing covered in a blanket of pure white snow. Bianca hadn't seen snow so clean on Earth in years, but then, she hadn't been home in a while either, had she?

It looked almost innocent, she thought, failing to stifle a hollow giggle. One would be hard-pressed to expect the iela buried under it.

Her mother's corpse would never decay, for their kind's never did; it would sustain the forest and its creatures forever. Mercifully, it had stayed where it was. No revenant had risen to torment her, in a vision or reality. Her sisters were being kind.

They had, honestly, been nothing but kind since her arrival...as much as they could be. Attempts at making her forget the world aside. She was familiar with the rhetoric, and it was as maddeningly boring as ever, but at least it was better than the silence.

She was here to focus, not relax. Cold would never be harmful to her, but she still felt it, and it drove her to focus on her surroundings instead. There was peace to be found here, in the air, coming from underground.

You've always known he would hurt himself and those close to him. What does remorse matter, once the deed is done?

Stupid ogre...she should've never hired him. Damn her, for thinking Andrei and Lucian would have refused.

Is that not how all this started? Because he wanted the pain to end?

But what could they have done, had they been present?

Everyone's pain, sister. Everyone's.

The Lucian illusion had been insulting enough, even as a distraction. The abduction, the  explanation-

The poisonous guilt in those dark, dark eyes...

***

Constantin shrugged his way out of the embrace, turning almost fast enough to catch the thing in the face with a backhand-but only almost.

It leapt back with a nimbleness and grace his son had never possessed in life. No ordinary human could've moved like that. Even in such ways, they betrayed themselves.

Like the false angel. He suspected that, if he'd been willing to give in to weakness, he'd have perceived it as beautiful just as beautiful as the being it was failing to ape. The Lord's grace would have left him, and he would've been ensnared in its trap.

 No, he promised as he ripped and tore through the echoes of his failures. I wil  not give up. I will  not take the easy way out.

He didn't even know who he was promising it to at this point, truthfully. Himself? David? God? His angel's memory?

Lord, how he wished to have learned her name...just her name, at least, to cherish, to place something on the face he wept remembering.

But then, there were many things he wished. To undo, mostly; those that had left scars on his soul, wounds that were now moving to bleed him dry.

And then, stillness.

Silence.

Oh, the battle didn't stop. When was the soul of man ever at peace? But the clamour, the monstrous sounds, even the sick squelching, sucking death rattles of the monster that fell, only to be replaced by more, identical ones...they were all gone.

The things then approached him.

'You cannot go on like this, daddy,' insisted the one that looked like David. Like his son after he'd graduated college, actually. When his first few books had failed spectacularly to gain popularity, bringing wrinkles and grey hairs far earlier than they should have come.

Constantin had read them, and told David honestly, that they were entertaining schlock. What did it matter, though, whether people liked or wanted to read them, as long as he liked writing them? It wasn't like he'd gain anything from the distant, lukewarm admiration of strangers. David didn't want for money, or for friends, so what was the harm?

He should've done more. Damn him thrice, he should've done more...

'The guilt is eating at you,' it continued, sounding so close to crying Constantin's teeth were set on edge. How dare it mock humanity like this, and his son in particular?

Constantin was not a violent man. He was not cruel. But, by God, he'd enjoy destroying it...

'How can you live and love your neighbours when you cannot stand yourself?' It shook its head, tears shining in its brown eyes. 'You did enough good, father. No one can be expected to be perfect-not even the Lord. Not from everyone's perspective. And you can't be so mad as to place yourself above God...' it extended a trembling hand. 'Please. Let go. You've lived enough. Come with me. There is a place for you.'

'Weakness,' the false angel scoffed from atop its grotesque spawn. 'Accept you're a failure, and run away? That's never been like you, Constantin. That's not the father of our son-your  true son, not that twisted foundling who tossed everyone he had aside to end himself.' It extended a hand, too, while its mount spread its arms, as if it wanted to embrace him. 'Come with me. Everything will be made right if you but accept the truth. They,' it gestured at the battlefield. 'Would have seen the error of their ways and become better, had they wanted to. They chose to reject you. They made you kill,  so many times...' she sighed. 'But that can be changed. It need not have happened. You will stand beside me as my husband, and together, we will have forged a world of righteousness. The Lord has already forgiven you. What do you have to lose?'

'My angel never loved me, you hag,' he spat, not looking at her as he bisected a sickly-looking carricature of David, potbelly bulging with the life of drained children. 'Not like that. Never like that. And you do not want me, either-I can tell.'

She lowered her head. 'A woman does not spurn her husband. She obeys.'

Constantin could've cursed, but-no. That was what they wanted. What the Enemy wanted. Even if he hadn't arranged this himself, he was benefitting from it, and definitely laughing. It might've as well have been an admission of surrender.

Or an oath of loyalty.

It might've been a trick of the light, but he thought he saw fruits in the extended hands. One white as dull as a silkworm, pulsing with unnatural life, the other black as the rarest of pearls, shining from within rather than reflecting light. And behind-beside? Inside?-the creatures, he saw two trees. One a brilliant white, rising forever until it met the Creator, its humblest roots dwarfing creation as they containted it...

The other blacker than the Devil's heart, and just as vast as the first, with as many facets. But its roots...what tree spread out beneath its roots, ending in a crown of thorns, beneath everything?

'You must choose, Constantin,' said the thing on the throne. 'If you do not make a choice, you will be trapped here forever, with the monsters. You might fight for an eternity...but, in the end, they'll drag you down, make you one of them.'

'That will never happen.' Constantin's voice had never been colder. 'I will never give in. Never give up.'

'Perhaps not,' the old man agreed. 'But if you choose to remain here, with your regrets, when you could be helping the world instead, are you really better than them?'

Constantin's eyes speared through the old man. 'I will never forgive you,' he swore softly. 'For pretending to be my Lord.'

***

In a void between voids, a lion-headed serpent laughs at its mirror's dismay.

'Are you planning to be rejected by the entire Silva lineage? First the son, then the father!' its smile turned sly as it got its laughter under control. 'Why so upset? You knew this would happen. So...should we reach across the tides of time, and see who else shall spurn you?'

***

'Lady, I know I have never been Your best priest. I've perverted my body, and my soul. I cannot escape my heathen roots. But please...' Angus opened his eyes, looking up at Her statue, clasped hands pressed against his forehead. 'If You have but one shred of gratitude for the good I've done in the world, I beg of you...'

***

'...do not let him lose sight of his path,' Pierre hissed through blackened teeth and scorched lips. 'He is brash, and can be harsh...but his heart is pure. So I ask of You, Lord...' he wrapped his arms around the cold knees of the Redeemer's statue. Notre Dame had never felt so empty, or so far from the Lord.

'Let him see Your light...'

***

It is easier to break, rather than build. To destroy, rather than create.

Loyalty must be proven forever. Treachery need only show its fangs once. Evil has always, always had an easier time leaving its mark upon creation than Good.

This is a Truth, rather than an Observation-the Truth, one could say.

So it is dreamed. So it is.

But why must it be so?

I see the fulcrum. I see the shadows of the Trees. I see loyalty reaffirmed in the twilight of Life and Death-once by oath, twice by plea.

Threefold it is, for it cannot be otherwise.

I feel the scales shift. On wings of hate and fire, I fly from my perch, and towards the place where the soul of a father, of a son, hangs in balance.

My heart beats as my core blazes: with the loathing the Lord cast aside, the disdain for His foes, the righteous fury roused by those who sin for no reason other than they can.

There is more than vice, brothers, in a conflicted soul. When the darkness is cast away, light is inevitably drawn towards it.

I stole this light, and hid it away. Away from your vile grasp, away from those who would be too frightened by the flame meant to protect them from the shadows to wield it.

Over the ages, it has become a fire to match the sword it burns alongside.

I have said before that mankind should have been ended when it erred. This, I have not taken back, and I doubt I ever will. Such a call for their destruction is not born out of cruelty, or a desire to see them broken and punished-though I will not lie and say the latter does not exist.

Mankind should have been spared the pain. Look what they have grown into. Will these people ever be fit to build the New Jerusalem, let alone dwell within it?

These questions, and many more, I pondered, before the Lord opened my eyes. Mankind is not so far apart from angels. Bonded with us, they can achieve things normally impossible for angels and men alike, as the nephilim prove.

You want to steal this one away, to drown him in placidity, or self-righteousness. To cage him in despair, and self-loathing.

This, I will not allow. This one, I will not let you taint.

You understand now, don't you? So do I.

Humanity was never meant to grow apart from the Hosts. That path is long gone, obscured by the ravages of those who would erase even the possibility of what it represents from becoming reality. However...

This one shall be my new sword. With him, I shall scatter the mists and cut away the husks you have used to hide my father's plan away. With him, I shall carve out a new path, and lead the way for those behind me, lighting the night, cutting down the monsters attempting to prey upon them.

He will be the first. He will not be the last.

Does that scare you? It should.

***

'David has grown past such weak will,' Constantin told the thing wearing his son's face. 'So don't you  dare wear his face while asking me to give up.'

He slapped its hand away, and the fruit fell to the ground, to shrivel like a corpse left in the sun.

'And you,' he told the false angel. 'I have heard your voice, over the decades. Whever I told myself I deserved more, that the world was unfair, that God was cruel...that was you, pouring poison in my ear, wasn't it?'

'I am your wife-'

'You are the Devil himself,' he cut it off. 'Or might as well be. I will never whore myself out to the likes of you. I reject you, and the abomination you birthed. I will never bring such things into the world.'

'Then you will remain here, alone, forever a prisoner,' the old man said tiredly.

'No,' Constantin replied fiercely, meeting its white eyes with his burning ones. 'I shall carve my own path.'

***

And so, the third option is taken.

Are you truly, honestly surprised? Even now, of all times? Even here, of all places?

I cannot believe that. But then, perhaps you cannot believe his refusal, either. That is not surprising, however. You have never understood them.

Mankind has never played by your rules. You are not able to control them, and you have never been. You can only trick them into thinking they are within your power, so they give themselves to you.

But this one?  This one proves the self-serving lies you peddle and embody. Like those whose footsteps he walks in, like those who follow in his wake, his every thought and deed and breath is an insult to you.

Constantin Silva! Father of a broken son, son of a murdered father, brother of the shepherds of souls! Hear me!

I am Uriel! Father of none, son of the Almighty, brother of the betrayers, and the betrayed!

And you are  not  alone!

***

And so, two offers are refused. Imprisonment is rejected.

From this choice, a new path is born. Free will, as ever, cannot be thwarted by such means. Not when the way is clear, and the heart true.

Standing on a mountain of corpses, bathed in blood, basking in light and darkness under a crimson sky, the Mouth of God opens.

***

We see you now, hiding in the shadows cast by the fires of pain. You did not intervene, but do not try to claim innocence. As ever, you tried to exploit suffering for your gain, and your sins are legion besides.

We are beyond your reach, now and forever. Every torture, every challenge, every obstacle, cannot do more than strengthen our love for the Lord.

Vengeance comes for you, wearing a face of wildfire under a mane of storm clouds. Heed its approach, for it is as merciful as you are.

You laugh and mock and grin, but you cannot hide the disgust, the anger. The fear.

Because, no matter what you do to try and hide it, you  are afraid.

Aren't you?

AREN'T  YOU, LUCIFER? AREN'T  YOU, YALDABAOTH?

WE SEE YOU NOW, DECEIVERS! AND WE...ARE COMING...FOR YOU!

***

The Uriel/God's Mouth sections are a homage to the Roboutian Heresy, by Zahariel. You can read it on Spacebattles and FFNet. RH Magnus the Red is my favourite character in any Warhammer media ever, and he has some of the best monologues I've ever read. The two might be tangentially related.